I can’t count the times an aspiring writer complained to me, “But I read a script by So-and-So Famous Writer and they did that! And now you’re telling me I can’t?”
Yes, they did break so-called sacrosanct screenwriting rules. But you can’t break conventions until you have mastered them.
These conversations inspired my last three ScriptMag columns on Breaking The Rules, particularly the dictatorial “Show, Not Tell.” Each explores a different type of masterfully breaking the rules, and offers examples from screenplays and teleplays by revered writers across genres and decades:
And, possibly my favorite,Breaking The Rules Part 3: Pro Secrets – The Deft Cheat, explores techniques to create memorable scenes, evoke mood, and reveal unspoken character dynamics in engaging, cinematic, magical moments.
These articles showcase how A-List writers, having mastered the fundamentals, skillfully bend, break, and reinvent the rules with intention and finesse. Once your storytelling reaches that level, you can, too.
Read, Read, and Read
Rather than feeling frustrated, see these scripts as opportunities to learn. The great writers who came before you left a roadmap – scripts that demonstrate what they did and how they did it.
Aspiring writers no longer have to visit a museum to study the masters. While you can make an appointment at the Writers Guild Foundation Shavelson-Webb Library, or travel to the AMPAS Margaret Herrick Library, now thousands of scripts – dating back to the early decades of film – are readily available for free online, with just a little bit of sleuthing.
Search for:
[TITLE] screenplay OR teleplay PDF download free
While some sites feel shady or host useless transcripts, award-nominated scripts are often officially released by the studios to promote them to the industry. Ignoring these resources is like trying to become a surgeon without studying anatomy or observing live surgeries.
Learning from the Masters
Throughout history, mastery required apprenticeship and often hardship. Michelangelo began apprenticing at 13. He studied the masters. He dissected cadavers to grasp the underlying musculature of the body before turning to sculpture. By 24 he had completed the Pietà. Michelangelo wanted to create a work he described as “the heart’s image.” His most famous sculpture, David, was completely when he was he was 29.
Studying and mastering the skills of the experts is your opportunity to dissect and examine what is beneath the surface of human emotion before you become a renowned sculptor.
As a writer, you don’t need to cut up bodies or clean paint brushes, but you should study the master writers to grasp how they reveal what lies beneath the surface.
Essential Reading: Career-Launching Spec Scripts
To inspire your reading list, I’ve selected some of my favorite scripts by first-time screenwriters, whose debuts led to box office success, critical acclaim and even Academy Awards® for nominations for Best Original Screenplay.
Before the 1990s, many nominees had extensive experience in theatre or television. But the 90s were a Golden Era for spec scripts as studios were still eager to buy them in the 80s, leading an abundance of unique, original works. Bygone days for the industry, I’m afraid.
12 Angry Men (1957) – Reginald Rose technically this won Best Adapted Screenplay, but it was based on Rose’s own original teleplay, so it’s my call to put him on this list
The Producers (1968) – Mel Brooks (Won) (What arena hadn’t Mel Brooks notched impressive achievements prior to this, with a career that started on the Borsht Belt just after WWII and flourished in television and theatre in the 1950s. Nevertheless, this was his first feature film, beating 2001: A Space Odyssey by Stanley Kubrick and Faces by John Cassavetes.)
Breaking Away (1979) – Steve Tesich (Won)
Moonstruck (1987) – John Patrick Shanley (Won) (note he had written and continues to write numerous successful plays)
Thelma & Louise (1991) – Callie Khouri (Won)
The Fisher King (1991) – Richard LaGravenese (Won)
The Sixth Sense (1999) – M. Night Shyamalan
American Beauty (1999) – Alan Ball (Won)
Being John Malkovich (1999) – Charlie Kaufman
Gosford Park (2001) – Julian Fellowes (won)
My Big Fat Greek Wedding (2002) – Nia Vardalos
Little Miss Sunshine (2006) – Michael Arndt (won)
Juno (2007) – Diablo Cody (Won)
The Big Sick (2017) – Emily V. Gordon & Kumail Nanjiani
Get Out (2017) – Jordan Peele (Won)
Promising Young Woman (2020) – Emerald Fennell (Won)
In The Beginning
What fascinates me most is each writer’s origin story: Each “in the beginning” is different. Some writers were ready to quit – just one more idea that they simply had to write. Others were just starting out. Some wrote a first draft in days, others went through hundreds of versions.
As a special treat, here are some enlightening interviews with the writers on how these specs came into being, their writing, and what they want to say with their stories:
While I urge you to consume a steady diet of good scripts, don’t shy away from the bad ones. Analyzing where and why they fall short will sharpen your skills and strengthen your storytelling techniques. Growing up, once in the theatre, I never walked out of a bad film; there was always something to learn.
Your best education is right at your fingertips! Start reading, studying, and dissecting.
Ernest Hemingway is credited with saying, “The only kind of writing is rewriting,” although countless writers have expressed a variation on “Writing is rewriting.” While this conventional wisdom is solid, in screenwriting, continually doing a traditional Page-One Rewrite yields diminishing returns.
While I’ve offered up seven essential pointers for the polish and hone phase of rewriting, these innovative techniques that can boost your next draft, creating an impeccable script and an exceptional reading experience – key to impressing readers and advancing your career.
Rewriting is always work, but it comes with rich rewards. Adopting this new system can make the labor easier and produce more impressive results.
Press Pause
Congratulations! You did make it to “Fade Out.” But before you jump into a rewrite, step away. A little time off can yield big benefits. Set a time limit of a day or two so you have a plan in place, setting boundaries in advance.
After staring at the screen, writing, reading, and reworking, a break is an opportunity to refresh. Get out – of your workspace. Do an activity you enjoy, utterly unconnected to writing. Choose something active that doesn’t involve a lot of thinking but has a tangible result. Whatever floats your boat: baking bread, hiking to a scenic spot, working in the garden, or working out.
My favorite benefit of pressing pause is the phenomenon of “Sudden Illumination” – that spark of creativity that happens when we stop hunting for answers and instead to allow for the creative magic of the solutions that pop up when we stop seeking them.
So step back and take a not only well-deserved break, but an essential opportunity to refresh, re-energize, and let your subconscious take the wheel.
Press Print
I remember thinking I would never be able to write creatively on a computer. Now I can’t imagine how I survived writing on paper, with arrows and asterisks drawn all over the page whenever I discovered a better way to say something. Cut and paste – yes, please!
But rewriting is different.
I never post a column or a blog without printing it out. An astonishing amount of little errors slip by when reading on the computer. The inevitable better ideas can be scribbled in, and a couple of good old arrows and asterisks can move text around, then back to the computer to implement it. I can’t explain it, but there is something powerful about having words on paper and a pen in your hand.
This is a crucial aspect of the Just One Thing Rewrite, so please print. Don’t bother with three-hole punch paper – you’re not gonna need it. And that also means no brads necessary. Now you’re ready to work.
Scene-by–Scene
Solid scenes stand alone, as if they are a small story unto themselves. The best way to check is by reading one scene at a time – but not in order, or you’ll become caught up in the through line. The strongest scenes do two things at once – advance the plot and develop character.
Ask Yourself: Are you giving characters time to digest new information or shift emotional states? Is there a build in the big moments? Are you getting into the scene as late as possible? Does the scene build and end on a strong note? Can you wrap it up with a “bow” or a “button” – a great line and/or a meaningful action or reaction? If the scene was cut, would the screenplay still work? If so, it’s not essential. Does the scene add something new to the story? If not, then revise it or cut it.
Be on the Look Out For: Scenes that are filler. Expository scenes, transition scenes, and flashbacks are all scenes to consider trimming, revising, incorporating into other scenes, or cutting.
Dialogue Only
Each character should have a distinctive voice. By the time readers are in Act Two, we shouldn’t have to read the slug to know who is speaking. Read it aloud to hear the flow. If it’s awkward coming from your mouth, even a terrific actor won’t make it work. Great dialogue has a flow, a build, and a rhythm. See my ode to Aaron Sorkin as part of my discussion of “The Rule of Threes” in dialogue, along with many other terrific examples here.
Be on the Look Out For: Characters whose voices don’t remain consistent. There might be a distinctive cadence to their dialogue. If they use slang or have an accent at the outset, then they shouldn’t suddenly switch from “ain’t” to “shan’t,” or from “y’all” to “youse.”
Description Only
I’ve devoted entire ScriptMag articles to description, but here’s what you should focus on in the description-only pass:
Are you giving us what is essential to know about the character when they are introduced? Is this something that can or will be conveyed cinematically?
Are you conveying the atmosphere of significant settings? Just enough to give us the flavor.
Is your detail too specific? Small details slow the pace. Unless they’re essential to conveying the atmosphere or establishing the character, we don’t need them. Leave the color of the shirt to the costume designer and the pile of the rug to the set designer.
Are you telling us what we see as we see it? A character doesn’t flinch before the punch is thrown. Using “as” is a dead giveaway here.
Do the sentences read smoothly? It should flow for the reader. Avoid lengthy sentences. Punctuate perfectly.
Ask Yourself: Are you using the same verb or adjective in close proximity? This signals weak writing and gives the piece a repetitive feel. Push yourself for variety, without going overboard.
Be on the Look Out For: More than three things in introducing a primary character or significant setting is giving us a grocery list, not a description. Avoid obsessing over small actions that our brains automatically fill in. Of course a character extends their arm to shake hands or turns the knob to exit through a door. Speaking of exiting, watch out for description that sounds like a play, such as having characters “enter” or “exit” a scene. It feels flat, not cinematic.
Backasswards
This may seem counterintuitive, but the backwards pass is a terrific tool because it pulls your focus to the look and the formatting. The last page is a terrific place to start. If it’s a half page long or less, now is the time to hunt down widows/orphans – lines with only one or two words – and rewrite the sentence so it is tighter. With strong word choices, you can say more with less and have greater impact for a better read. That’s the real goal. And, although less significant, you’ll also have a shorter page count.
Ask Yourself: Are there big blocks of dialogue or description? If so, what can be tightened and trimmed, or cut altogether. Is the page cluttered? As I said in “Five Things Readers Wish Every Writer Knew,” reading is literally hard on the eyes. We’re not asking you to make our job easier, just don’t make it more difficult. Keep it clean, clear and consistent. Scene numbers are for shooting scripts. If you have characters whose dialogue is in a language other than English, just above the first time it happens try this:
NOTE: Portuguese dialogue is in italics and will be subtitled.
I’m sure this will controversial, but I’m encouraging my consulting clients and the pro writers working on projects with me to eliminate unnecessary formatting, even if it means overriding the software. We really, truly do not need (CONT.), or (cont’d), (MORE) and CUT TO. Call the software company for help if you can’t figure out how. Keep parentheticals to a minimum and never use them in description – it’s either significant or it’s not. I also find characters exact ages in parentheticals to add annoying visual clutter. Unless significant to the plot, or in the case of kids from babies to teens, “thirties” will do fine and not limit casting. All CAPS for sound effects is outdated, but if you’ve got a particularly significant one, the BOOM of an explosion or the furious SLAM of a door that needs to land with impact, then have at it. Underlining or CAPPING for emphasis in dialogue adds clutter. It’s cleaner and every bit as impactful when italicized, just as it would be in a document. Honestly! Nevertheless, be judicious.
Be on the Look Out For: Inconsistent formatting. The spacing between lines and scenes can be thrown off in the best of programs. How you choose to convey the text of a sign or a jump in time should always look the same. No long slug lines. This is no place to convey the setting; that’s the job of description. Dashes and ellipses in dialogue are two different things. Dashes indicate a pause or hesitation, stuttering or sputtering, or being interrupted. Ellipses indicate trailing off, such as a character searching for what to say, and imply a longer pause. Lots of ellipses add a lot of clutter. Don’t be heavy-handed with either.
Just One More Thing
An experienced reader can – and will – pick up your script and be able tell in one to two minutes tops if you’re an accomplished writer or an aspiring amateur. One of my earliest ScriptMag articles, It’s Not Easy Being Green, shows you how to convince us you’re inexperienced, brought to you straight from Sesame Street!
Any of these rewriting techniques can elevate your writing, which is essential in impressing readers with your execution.
All of them are designed to trick your brain into seeing your words on the page with fresh eyes.
While a great consultant can catch these fumbles, practicing them with these rewriting strategies will train your brain to become aware of them as you write. Strengthening these muscles one at a time makes the heavy lifting easier with each script and every draft you do, as it becomes instinct instead of effort.
In my ScriptMag.com article, “The Tortoise and The Hare: A Tale of Two Writers,” I told the story of two screenwriters, one behaving like The Tortoise in oft told proverb and the other more comparable to The Hare. But in this story, unlike the fable, The Hare seems poised to win the race.
In my story, The Tortoise is a screenwriter who dragged out the rewrite process and burned himself out, ignored notes, and ultimately just wanted to get his spec out into the world. His agents and I reluctantly sent his high-concept spec into the marketplace. It was ably written, but fell far short of delivering the promise of the premise.
And that’s what the Internet tracking boards reported, essentially saying, “Don’t bother.”
Since then, we’ve had a conference call with the agent.
It was painful for everyone involved.
She filled us in on the feedback she had received on the script. Again and again she heard, “Great concept, be we don’t connect with the characters.” “Great concept, but it wasn’t there.” People loved the idea but the characters didn’t engage readers and the script failed to deliver on the promise of the premise.
“The town has spoken,” she said. “We have to listen.”
She won’t make any more submissions until there is a major rewrite. And even then, that tracking board bad rap won’t go away. Even if we could change the title, which we can’t in this case, people will see that it is the same writer and the same premise.
BREAKING & ENTERING LESSON: The town has a long memory. Always has. The Internet made the exchange of information rapid and permanent, but we’ve always kept records. Each studio has a Story Department, with coverage on every piece of material ever submitted. When I worked for a producer with a deal at Disney, the first thing we did when we got a submission was to call the Story Department to see if they had coverage on the script. Nothing under that title? What about the writer? If we found coverage on the writer, we would look at character names to see if it was simply the same script with a new title, which was the case more than a few times. I pulled coverage from the Disney Story Department on projects that had been submitted to Walt. WALT DISNEY!
After the call, The Tortoise was in shock.
I spoke to him for a few minutes, and he clearly needed time to process what he’d heard.
We’re now set to talk at then end of the week. I’ll see where he is at now, discuss options with him, and can only hope that he is open to really tearing this down and reworking the script. Even then, we will have to have a new strategy for bringing the script into the marketplace, likely by packaging it with an actor or actress.
As for The Hare, after pushing herself to meet the contest deadline, she rewrote the script to incorporate some of the minor changes from my notes. I read the new draft, and I liked it a great deal – but I didn’t love it. Not enough to commit to producing it. The characters were not as gritty as her concept, nor the dark world she had created, and the tone of the story. And character-driven material – combined with a big concept – is where my heart lies.
We had a lengthy conversation beginning with some key logic points. There is a fantasy element here against a real world backdrop. Those must always be perfectly defined with clearly spelled out rules. We were able to quickly resolve the issues here.
Then we dug into the characters. There’s a hero and a love interest, and both need to be more fully developed characters, become more dimensional and edgy, and finally, their romance can’t fall into place so easily and be believable.
This writer just gets it. It was a productive discussion. She is eager to dig in and add an entire new dimension to the script. I think this is the step that will elevate the entire piece and ensure that the story delivers, and the execution is flawless.
In the interim, The Hare had won a small contest and someone involved with the contest wanted to share it with producers who were looking for material. What to do? My advice was to compose a very polite reply, enthusiastic yet authentic. “You’re delighted that they are enthusiastic about your script, you appreciate their support but, you are in the midst of a major rewrite – as in no one can see it. And then mention that a manager who is a fan of your work is expecting the new draft. And you will be happy to keep them posted.”
BREAKING & ENTERING LESSON: As I’ve said before, as Orson Welles promised in the Paul Masson commercials, “We will sell no wine before its time.” If someone is enthusiastic now, then consider it an open door. Don’t rush through before your material is ready and have it slammed in your face.
There’s still more to be written here about The Tortoise and The Hare. But the lessons for screenwriters hoping to break into the business are plentiful.
I’ll keep you posted as the story unfolds.
Meanwhile, remember the moral of the story – to succeed as a screenwriter, you must be both The Tortoise and The Hare.
Take your time learning how to write a screenplay, but never stop moving forward as fast as you can.
Be steadfast in your vision for the story, but don’t hesitate to consider insight and input from others with a fresh perspective and experienced eyes.
Don’t focus only on the finish line, but when opportunity comes leap!
My friend, the talented screenwriter and director Glenn Gers, whose work includes Fracture and Mad Money has my all time favorite “Little Engine That Could” story. Glenn wrote his first spec script in 1984. First scripts never go anywhere, right? Glenn’s got him an agent right off the bat. “People liked it. No one would make it, but they liked it,” says Glenn. “They offered me jobs writing other scripts.” Five years later, it was optioned by a major producer. Five years after that, it was optioned by a studio for A-list stars. Glenn was promptly fired off his own project. Three years later, he got the rights back. “More stars and directors have wanted to do it since; one got a company to finance it but then the company went out of business.” Last year, a producer and director were working to put it together as an indie production. And, as of today, a producer has just reached out to Glenn in hopes of making the project happen with a major star…
Thirty years and still going. Here’s Glenn’s story of the Energizer Bunny of Spec Scripts:
In “the business,” getting a script made into a movie is the holy grail, the big brass ring, the kingdom of heaven. But the truth is, most scripts don’t get made. Most don’t even get sold. How, then, do we estimate the worth of a script?
I personally vote for reader response. Not in a professional sense, from paid estimators of the current enthusiasms of corporate entities and marketing departments, measurers of adjustment to formula. I mean the response of a human being, whatever their job description, to the story and the way it is told. It’s often hard to sort through the morass of professional opinionizing, but after a while you can tell if a script works by — simply — whether people “get it”.
If you wanted them to laugh or cry or get angry — and they do, then you win.
If a script “works,” it doesn’t always have to sell to be successful. I wrote my first feature screenplay on impulse. I was not aware of any “rules,” I just tried to make stuff happen like it did in movies I liked. Alas, many of those movies were made in the 1970s, so I get a lot of, “But you can’t do that.”
But I did it, and it kind of worked. It was a mix of comedy and thriller and romance. People liked it. No one would make it, but they liked it. They offered me jobs writing other scripts.
They also offered me advice on what didn’t work in my script, and sometimes that would show me something I could fix. So I’d rewrite it. It got better. I liked it more. So did other people. It was optioned. It came out of option. More people liked it. They mentioned things they didn’t “get” – and sometimes I rewrote it to fix those things.
This script has been around for almost 30 years now. It is vastly different than when I first wrote it. Characters use cell phones, for example. It’s also a lot better. (Rewrite something for 25 years…it’s pretty solid.) People still try to get it made. People still hire me to write other scripts, because they read it.
It is, according to the standard estimate…kind of a failure. I still haven’t sold that spec script.
Back in the olden days, when screenplays existed on paper, aspiring writers devoted an astonishing amount of time to discussing how many brads a script should have. It was fodder for heated Internet debate. What a waste! As if the number of brads would get your script read any sooner or taken any more or less seriously. For the record, as someone who sustained more than one brad injury toting around stacks of scripts: a) two and b) not the cheap ones.
Now that we’re not counting brads, there’s more focus than ever on page count. There’s no hard and fast rule here; don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. What counts is what makes you look like a professional. You’re in the zone at approximately 103 to 118. Approximately!
Remember, each page of script translates to a minute of screen time, so the running time of what’s in movie theatres is a guideline. One hundred and twenty pages is a 2-hour movie – plus credits. But those guys getting movies made can break a heck of a lot more rules than a new writer trying to break into the business.
Does page count count?
As a producer, if you’ve gotten so far as to have me request your script, I’m going to take a look no matter what. I think any industry professional would say the same. Whether it’s too long or too short, you’re still going to get read. Page count, however, is one of the ways you make a first impression as a writer.
If we receive a 133-page script, we may suspect there’s a focus problem or that the writer hasn’t edited and tightened their work. But honestly, if I’m reading 133 pages of a great script, I am not an unhappy camper!
If a screenplay is 83-pages, we might guess that the story and/or writing is thin and perhaps the writer hasn’t dug deep enough. It’s also possible that the script is too lean because there’s more in the writer’s head than is on the page.
If you turn in a 153-page script, you look like a green writer who is unaware of industry fundamentals. You absolutely cannot fool us with cheating the margins and make that 153-page behemoth pass as a svelte 112. We can instantly tell when formatting is off. Don’t fudge it.
Page count counts, but it is not what seals your fate.
Each word counts by leanly painting a rich picture. Each character counts by serving a significant function in the story and supporting the theme. Each scene counts by advancing plot and revealing character – preferably both. Each effective twist or intriguing reveal delights our story-loving brains. Each time conflict escalates you’re adding tension and heightening the stakes. Every time your story creates a visceral reaction in us, you’re drawing us in.
These are the things you should be “counting” before sending your script out.
Why? Because size DOESN’T matter when the writing is strong and the story is compelling.
