I started writing a book a little over a year ago (which is a futuristic tragedy). I've also created many trailers for the company I used to work for, so if scripting/screenplay type content is what you're thinking about, I can help you out there as well.
Here is an excerpt from the first chapter of the book.
"His eyes opened. He halfway lamented the depth and the somber quality of his own thoughts. He looked out the window at the briskly passing trees. Why couldn’t he just wonder at the beauty of nature without need for answers…for analysis? He welcomed shallow thoughts, the relief of them. But they were few and far between. He drew a deep breath, his eyes heavy. He wished to doze off, but had always been severely uncomfortable doing so in public places. He began to readjust his thinking...he attempted to readjust his thinking. Momentary clearance to real life, to relevance, was granted. Remembering his destination (though it had never really left the forefront of his mind), he was shocked at his previous minutes of bored, listless thoughts. The heaviness flew from his eyes and his senses sharpened. He lifted his head from his hand as he again peered out the window, this time trying to grasp his geographic location since the monorail had begun transit. He had turned his gaze just in time to catch the digital sign that read “Seattle 200 Miles”. He was nearing Portland and would arrive in Seattle in less than an hour.
He wasn’t prepared. If only he hadn’t spent so much time stuck in the mire of his mind. He shook it off. “This is it. I’m really doing this…I’m doing this”, he repeated. An invigorating mixture of excitement and bold fear washed over him. He sat upright in his seat, hands folded between his legs. His right foot began to tap incessantly, a telling sign of nervousness and impatience. His hand moved to his mouth as he began to work on his nails. “Why the hell hadn’t somebody invented a cure for this?” A bite taken at a miscalculated angle left his pointer finger in great discomfort and mild blood. “Nicely done”, he censured himself. He turned his head around, for the first time noticing all those on board with him. He felt naked for a moment, feeling as if they had all been an audience to the ramblings of his mind. The embarrassment crept into his stomach, which was filled to the brim with butterflies of every species. He sat amazed by the realities of his race. All those that sat around him in silence, what was in their minds? What were they dealing with in their blackness? Nope, not now. He pulled himself out of the mire before he was waste deep. “Seattle 100 Miles”.