South Dakota Skies
Journey to Screenwriting: Week XXXVIII
Good morning, friend,
It’s week 38 of my Journey to Screenwriting, where I dive into the weekly steps I’m taking toward becoming a professional screenwriter, with all the ups and downs, the thrilling and mundane adventures it will inevitably entail. This week and the following are a bit different as I’ll be recording more about the travels and observations and reflections about the next chapter and previous chapter.
Where are we now?
Moran, WY - 7:15 pm - 05/11/25
20 days until we arrive in L.A.
If you’re new here, feel free to check out the first journal (now “week”) to see how this began and to catch up.
What I’m Watching Right Now
What I’m Reading
Weekly Screenwriting Baby Steps
Upcoming Screenwriting Baby Steps
For the next few weeks, I’m going to change this blog a bit to better articulate this journey. The headings above are the categories I had been using to guide this blog and I think for now, I’m going to divide into the following:
New Places and Pleasures
Additional Contemplations and Reflections
Steps Toward Finding a Place to Live
Let’s begin! This last week was PACKED with incredible sites. A dream trip realized with lots and lots of return destinations earmarked for the future.
New Places and Pleasures
Wednesday - Thursday | South Dakota
Badlands National Park
After driving 8 or 9 hours from the east, through the large expanses of wide open mostly flat plains of Minnesota and South Dakota, we rolled up on the Badlands.
Our minds were blown open at the stark differences and sudden change. I was immediately reminded of our time in El Desierto de Tatacoa in Colombia…very similar rock formations — otherworldly, awe-inspiring, but not so orange and reddish here, more brown, dark red, and grey rock in this part of North America.
I marveled at the layers of history exposed by the apparent erosion. We watched and contemplated the way rain carves paths down the sandy spires. It was very sandy. Sand —what you don’t expect to see in the middle of landlocked North Dakota. In Colombia, they call it a Desert. And here, I understood that we too were looking at an ancient sea. We arrived in early May, so the weather was still chilly, but the billboards advertising “ICE WATER” every which way gave us the inclination that this place had some unforgiving heat in the summer months. The presence of cacti clued us in, as well. We were in a sort of high desert and I loved it.
Most of all, I loved the Prairie Dogs and the Bison. They roamed close to the road, unbothered by the cars whipping by on their way to look out over the great expanse of the Bad Lands. We even saw some big horned sheep but they were much more adverse to us humans.
During our time there, I kept thinking how mystifying it must have been for folks who had a lot less knowledge of geographical features to come upon this place. I also couldn’t stop wondering how Indigenous folks used to regard and treat this land. Though the entire southern area of the park is bordered by the Pine Ridge Reservation, there was little reference to their existence and what this land was like pre-colonization...at least where we were in the Northern area of the park. So, as I suspect I might be doing a lot during this trip, I looked it up.
The Oglala Lakota Sioux people have lived there for centuries. This land, while unforgiving for just as long, was still abundant with resources. Particularly the North American Bison. While the Bison seemed abundant to me as we drove through the park, I learned there used to be millions and millions more across this area and all of North America, except coastal areas. It was the people’s primary source of sustenance. Colonizers came in and hunted the lands dry, reducing the population to less than 400 by the end of the 18th century.
Between the decimation of food sources, increased immigration during the gold rush, and the ever-encrouching treaties from the United States Federal government, the Sioux lost much of their land including swaths of the badlands and the Black Hills.
This was all very interesting (and heartbreaking) to learn because when I think of westerns and all the typical “Cowboy versus Indians” stories we’re inoculated with in our culture, I never really imagined South Dakota. Montana, Wyoming, even Nevada, sure— but as we drove further along we realized so much of that “Wild Wild West” lawlessness and lore originated right where we were.
Wall, South Dakota
That Wild Wild West iconography was on full display in the little town of Wall, just minutes away from the Northern entrance of the Badlands.
We checked out the famous Wall Drug store and ended up grabbing a beer and a bite to eat on Main street — we’re on vacation, after all!
We stopped in this place called Badlands Saloon & Grille and ended up watching live as the new American Pope Leo was announced. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. We chatted with the bartender and laughed about the conspiracies and end of the world predictions that have been marked by the naming of popes. I thought, are we safe in this town? Two lesbians coming from Milwaukee moving out to Los Angeles. Our safety concerns tend to create a wall in me, nervous to engage for fear of discrimination…or worse. But that benign, silly conversation drilled a little crack in that wall that would continue to widen and stretch throughout our travels through middle-america and beyond. '
Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
It was around 2pm when we took off from Wall, and after about two hours of “ooos” and “aaahs" winding through the Black Hills, we arrived at Mount Rushmore.
We were told that it was overrated, so our expectations were severely hedged. Yet when we pulled up, parking lot mostly empty (thanks low season!), we continued to be stunned by the natural beauty all around us.
As we walked up the steps toward the mall lined with state flags leading up to the monument, our mouths fell open. The grandness of the whole scene took our breath away. We looked at each other dumbfounded, “Overrated? What the helly?”
As we made our way toward the monument, we wondered, are people so desensitized to the might of nature, to the feeling of awe? I understand some folks want to understate the importance of this monument since it was indeed a colonial power move to desecrate a sacred Indigenous area that was stolen from them. Still, the feat of carving such a thing was undeniably impressive. And the sacred essence of that space I think still remained.
As soon as we stepped away from the marble pathways into the pines around the base of the mountain, we felt ourselves submerged in this muted calm. It was like a balm of peace. It was very much the same feeling of sitting beneath a big old tree or dipping into an empty church for quick touch base. A place where you could certainly connect… with your spirit, or whatever you might believe.
Anyway, despite the historical injustice this represents and the desensitized folks, I highly recommend stopping by if you’re out in the area. Weaving through the Black Hills is a treat in of itself.
Deadwood, South Dakota
Even more western still, tucked in a valley in the Black Hills, we decided to take a detour to the infamous town of Deadwood. Lining the tiny quintessential western main street were saloons and casinos. I had no idea there was such a huge casino culture in South Dakota. We had to immerse ourselves, obviously.
We popped into one called Mr. Wu’s and I got giddy when we saw we could spin to win a beer for a dollar. Quart got a Michelob and I won a Busch Lite! Finally indulging in some of that ice cold water we saw advertised everywhere. We played on a few machines, and tried to enjoy it (we’re not big gamblers). We soon learned we could have just started gambling and got a free drink. But we did enjoy a “free” hotdog after losing $40. Best $42 hot dog and beers we’ve ever had.
After this we went and had an old fashioned cocktail at Wild Bill Bar where Wild Bill, the famous bandit was murdered. What was cool to me was learning how they had to transport liquor into town: they had to bring it all in raw form because bandits would hijack any shipment of alcohol and/or the rough roads would often cause carriage tips that would break any bottle on their way. So, they’d receive the sacks of grains and have to make the alcohol right inside the bars.
The town was neat and we thought, “Glad we came, but we don’t need to go back.” Gambling and boozing isn’t exactly our cup of tea.
That night we drove the hour and fifteen out to Devil’s Tower, Wyoming.
Additional Contemplations and Reflections
I am pretty overwhelmed with the giddy feeling of being somewhere new. My body actually feels like it’s caught up with my mind in the realization that we aren’t turning back around for quite some time. I feel it in my chest— heart on a tight rope wavering over the abyss of the unknown, teetering between excitement and anxiety. I feel it in my throat — the grief washing down like whisky. My belly is warm with the paradox of it all. I don’t know what’s going to happen next but the senior quote I penned 16 years ago captures the feeling well: “Frightened yet thrilled for something new is breaking the horizon.”
Yes, I quoted myself. Sue me.
Steps Toward Finding a New Place
While we were in Minnesota, I spent a lot of time looking for places and wasn’t having any luck. I decided for these first few days of the trip I’d give it a rest and just enjoy being out on the open road. Besides, I’m driving quite a lot so Quart can continue to work— very grateful for her and her position right now. The stars have aligned for this and I’m trusting that they will for where we land in L.A.
Come back next week for more! Coming up we’ve got Wyoming, Washington, Vancouver, then Oregon & California. Eeek!
Cheers to pursuing your dreams,
Alaina