SCREENWRITING

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Ten Finger Pitch 1

What is story structure? 2
The Three Act Structure 2
Alternate story structures 4
Thoughts on character 5
An exercise to develop character outlines 6
Constructing scenes to tell our story 7
Dialogue and character voice 8
An exercise for developing character voice 9
A workflow for writing your first draft of a feature-film screenplay 10
Screenplay formatting 11
Our educators respond to the question: How do we get the first draft together? 12
Four ways to learn more 12
1. Dive Deeper 12
2. Read, then read some more 13

TEN FINGER PITCH

The first three fingers cover what would be a second act:

● The Thumb will summarise the first half of the second act. It’s all about the protagonist heading off
with the original plan. At this point, the action may go more or less to plan, despite the obstacles.

● The Index Finger will address the story’s midpoint. Events at a story’s midpoint often address the
changes that occur within the protagonist(s). Until this point, the audience may see the characters
more clearly than they see themselves. Midpoint action often forces the characters to recognise
their own changes, bringing some of the internal wants and desires to the surface. It may be falling
in love, growing to trust another character, or perhaps seeing someone else as a fraud or bad
influence. At this point, the characters often must take note of their inner needs, as well as the
external goal that drives the plot.

● The Middle Finger will summarise the second half of the story, right up to the crisis moment, when
everything goes wrong. As the story moves toward a conclusion the range of options narrows and
the obstacles or opponents begin to close in on the character. If it leads up to a victory, it will be a
false victory. In most cases, it leads to near disaster.

The last two fingers cover what would be a third act, the resolution.

1
 ● The Fourth Finger covers the character’s moment of doubt and change, which sets him or her off
to the final confrontation.

● The Pinky Finger describes the story’s climax, the final events, confrontation or action that will,
once and for all, resolve the story question.

The process for this expanded pitch remains the same: each entry must be short enough to write inside
a finger. Brevity is your friend, as it will force you to summarise effectively. You can always fill in more
details later, but a simple, clear summary will keep you on track and your listener engaged.

WHAT IS STORY STRUCTURE?

Now that we have a basis for a story, we will consider the idea of “story structure.” It refers to the
process of organising the story and constructing the screenplay’s plot.

Story structure is concerned with the order and timing of the events that take place in the film, so, it’s
concerned with the flow of information – who knows what, and when – and the pace and rhythm of that
flow. As audience, we only think about this when something goes wrong: a story begins to drag, or
maybe we miss something important. Otherwise, the structure disappears into the story background.

Screenwriters, however, spend a lot of time thinking about structure. It’s a very important part of
screenwriting and the subject of many books and courses. In fact, American screenwriter William
Goldman famously remarked that, “Movies are structure and that’s all they are. The quality of writing –
which is crucial in almost every other form of literature – is not what makes a screenplay work.” i Novelist
John Irving, who won an Oscar for adapting his own work, The Cider House Rules, goes even further:
“There is no (LITERARY) language in a screenplay. (For me, dialogue doesn’t count as language.) What
passes for language in a screenplay is rudimentary, like the directions for assembling a complicated
children’s toy. The only aesthetic is to be clear… A screenplay, as a piece of writing, is merely the
scaffolding for a building someone else is going to build… However many months I spend writing a
screenplay, I never feel as if I’ve been writing at all. I’ve been constructing a story…” ii

We’re taken by the idea of CONSTRUCTING the story, because it brings with it a sense of craft and
purposefulness. Yet it goes nowhere without the characters. The structure sets in motion the character
action, which, in turn, creates more story. Structure helps the audience to become absorbed or
immersed in the story, the source of its great emotional impact. We empathise with the lead character:
his/her wants become our wants; their risks become our risks; their rewards our rewards. The visual
storytelling tools of cinema are very, very powerful, which link with our empathy to make for a deeply
moving audience experience.

The character-driven Three Act Structure remains the most common approach, as it delivers the most
immersive experience. Other forms may actually work to limit the immersion in order to emphasise
themes or elements of the story.

2
 THE THREE ACT STRUCTURE

This article will focus on the format that’s most commonly seen in contemporary movies, the
causal, character-driven “Three Act Structure”. While modern films don’t have intervals or ‘real’
acts, the model refers to a particular way of organising a story’s Beginning, Middle and End.

George Abbott, the theatre and film director-producer, reduced the structure to this: “In the first act,
your hero gets stuck in a tree. In the second act, you throw stones at him. In the third act, you get him
out of the tree.” Most film stories still work the same way: Somebody - OUR HERO - Wants Something - TO
GET OUT OF THE TREE - And Has Trouble Getting It - BUT PEOPLE ARE THROWING ROCKS AT HIM…

The first act usually lasts twenty to thirty minutes and has the task of setting up the story. It’s all about
our ‘Somebody’ and the ‘Wants Something’. The act introduces most of the basic story elements -
setting, period, genre, characters, themes, conflicts – and more important, it introduces us to the
protagonist, or lead character. In most cases, we’ll meet this person in his or her own world, only to
soon see them jolted into action. It may be the opportunity of a lifetime – to climb a mountain, woo the
person of his/her dreams, start a social network – or it may be a dilemma – escape an advancing army,
reverse failing A-levels, or tend a dying spouse. This choice will send the character in pursuit of a clearly
identified goal that will ask the ‘story question’ - the “What’s this about?” - that defines the story and
drives the rest of the action.

The second act usually lasts for half of the movie, up to an hour, and it’s all about the ‘Has Trouble
Getting It’. We follow the protagonist in pursuit of the goal, only to see them thwarted by obstacles at
every turn. The effort to overcome these challenges and setbacks will force the character into new
situations, ask important questions and forge new relationships. It usually ends with the failure of the
original plan of action, and often leaves the character lower than at the start of the story.

The third act takes the movie’s final half hour to resolve the story. In most cases, the character has
learned from the struggles in the second act, so a changed person will gather their strength for a final
confrontation that will answer the story questions and bring the story to a close. It may be a battle with a
dragon or a race to stop a wedding. Either way, it will force a conclusion and establish a new, if only
temporary, balance in this story world.

This approach hasn’t changed greatly from that of Aristotle’s Poetics, written close to 2,500 years ago.

The Three Act Structure will be the ‘scaffolding’ that John Irving mentions, but the story’s dimensionality
will flow from the character changes, subplots and revelations that are produced by this story
movement.

In recent decades, we’ve seen greater emphasis on the personal growth of the lead character,
sometimes called ‘Conversion Narrative’ or ‘Restorative Three-Act Structure’. In this format, the
development arc of the protagonist is tied closely to the arc of the story action. Some writers liken it to
the ‘Hero’s Journey’ described in mythologist Joseph Campbell’s influential work, The Hero With A
Thousand Faces. Others go on to describe a protagonist that must begin the story with a flaw, a defect
or ‘psychic wound’ that needs to be corrected, healed, or redeemed before the story can end. This
narrative structure can be a very satisfying aspect of many stories, providing the great emotional
catharsis that Aristotle described so long ago.

3
While this approach can be effective in many films, it can be burdensome or clunky in others. And some
film franchises would be ruined if the lead character conquers his or her inner demons. (Are we
interested in the Hulk if he learns to control his temper?) At any rate, it’s important to match the type and
degree of character development to the style and content of the story.

ALTERNATE STORY STRUCTURES

In the last discussion of story structure, we looked at the dominant form in theatrical films, the
character-based causal Three Act Structure. Now we’ll look at other approaches to story
organisation.

There is little reason why films must be told in this particular arrangement of three acts, with its
25-50-25 rhythm. Some sort of beginning, middle and end is helpful, but we have no trouble following
other formal configurations. Modern stage plays seldom feature more than two acts; television drama is
often constructed in four acts, to accommodate the adverts; and “serial” television films often break a
single story into many parts, each functioning as an act.

Some filmmakers work in a causal three-act structure, yet provide surprise or uncertainty by subverting
our expectations of the form. The story may begin with what appears to be a protagonist, who is then
killed off well before the end of the story. You see this most famously in Hitchcock’s Psycho, but also in
more recent films, e.g., No Country For Old Men or The Homesman. The effect can be momentarily
disorientating for the audience, who must search for a new point of view on the story, a new home for
their empathy. It produces an unsettling effect that may enhance the suspense in a film.

Some stories may find a different rhythm or a different act structure. For example, Enough Said which
appears to have a first act that poses a clear dramatic question, only to introduce another major
element almost forty minutes into the film. The change is very effective, re-energising the plot and
adding more complexity to the themes.

Other filmmakers, e.g., Abbas Kiarostami or Michael Haneke, may intentionally subvert our expectations
of the story by refusing to reveal the dramatic question or avoiding a clear resolution.

There are also entirely different ways to approach story structure. We’ve been discussing a model that
follows one major storyline that most often follows a single protagonist with clearly defined goals. Some
movies, however, feature multiple storylines.

In most cases, the multiple storylines are joined by a common event, place or theme. Each of the
storylines may have a plot of its own, the story’s overall coherence comes from the relationship between
the storylines. Some recent films, such as Crash or Traffic, use this technique to make social
commentary. Love, Actually takes on romance with ten mostly-interlinked stories. Max Ophuls’ 1950
adaptation of La Ronde featured a chain or “round-dance” of ten stories: “A” falls in love with “B”, who
falls in love with “C”, and so on.

Robert Altman’s Short Cuts was adapted from Raymond Carver stories into a film featuring twenty-two
principal characters and ten storylines. The final film has been described as a “mosaic”, because its
stories come together to form a larger picture that can only be understood in its totality. The movie’s

4
theme denies the causality at the heart of a three-act structure, taking a rather more pessimistic look at
the human condition.

There are still other ways to organise a screen story, some intended to break the emotional hold of the
immersive three-act structure. These stories want to make us think, as well as feel. These films may
employ “alienation” techniques akin to Brecht’s “Epic” theatre.

We haven’t the time to discuss all of the possible approaches to story, but it’s important to note that the
overwhelming majority of films use the character-driven three act structure. Other forms demand more
of the audience and, as a group, tend to be less popular than movies constructed in the familiar
structure. These movies may play at the local speciality or art house theatre, rather than the multiplex.

Commercial considerations aside, it’s important to choose the approach that best tells your story, rather
than trying to force every story into the same mould.

THOUGHTS ON CHARACTER

In this article, we’ll take a quick look at how cinematic characters are constructed, and then see
if we can come up with broad approaches to creating our own characters.

As we’ve already discussed, film is a dramatic form, an external form. We’re performing the story -
literally physicalising the story - in contrast to the novel, where we depend on the writer’s description to
stimulate the imagination of the reader. Our script is a set of directions – composed of dialogue and
description of places and physical action – that instructs the performers and filmmakers. So, by its very
nature, a script is incomplete until the film is made. When we’re thinking about character, it means that
we’re creating roles to be performed, not finished characters. As writers, we must leave space for the
performer, so it helps to imply, suggest and insinuate, rather than define. For many of us, this will be a
new way of thinking about character.

In a drama, it’s all about behaviour: characters are what they do. Full stop. Each character will make
different choices and act on them in a distinct way. The story will be driven by the consequences of
these choices. If the novel is concerned with the flow of thoughts and feelings, then the screenplay will
be concerned with the flow of dramatic action, of change within characters.

When we develop stories, we may begin with a character or we may begin with a situation or we may
start with a theme. In all cases, it soon comes back to whose story is this? What does this character
want? What will they do to get it? We’re back to, “Somebody wants something and has trouble getting
it.”

For most films, the major “wants something” is clearly stated, as it drives the main storyline. Win the
game. Escape the killer. Care for a parent with dementia. Lose fifty pounds before Christmas… But if the
character is no more than this one goal, then the story can quickly become simplistic or trite.

In fact, each of us wants many things, and we’re not always aware of these desires. And sometimes
these desires are in conflict with each other, or represent opposing values. It’s the mix of these desires
that will create complexity in our characters.

5
It needn’t involve psychoanalysis; in fact, this can be very simple. For example, each of us balances a
love of adventure and excitement with an instinct for caution and self-preservation. A trip to Grand
Canyon may see one character cautiously inch toward the lip, while another character may race forward
and slide the last two metres to end up with toes hanging over the chasm.

And we see a slightly more complex drama play out in pubs and bars every Saturday night. Our
twentysomething character is a little tipsy, all alone, and he or she hasn’t been in a relationship for a
long time – years, months, weeks, days, hours – whatever is a long time for this person. The character
locks eyes with someone else down the bar… and the drama begins. Rationally, the character knows
that pulling people in a bar is seldom the road to long-term happiness. But emotionally, the character
hasn’t been in a satisfying relationship in – months, weeks, days. A long time… And at an instinctual,
unconscious level, our character happens to be in prime reproductive condition, so the hormones are
screaming, “Reproduce. Now!” Throw in a little alcohol, and things sometimes happen…

The same sort of drama plays out in a soldier waiting in a trench moments before the attack. Rationally,
the character knows his duty; emotionally, he’s terrified; instinct tells him to run for this life.

The action that comes out of these encounters - whether it’s the Grand Canyon, the bar or a foxhole
–will define our character. And in each case, the decision will take the characters to new situations,
where they will be presented with still more choices. The story will be built from the responses to this
chain of questions.

Of course, it’s more than mere desire that defines a character. At the start of the race, each competitor
wants to win. But each character will exhibit a mix of strengths and flaws; all will have different mental
processes; and each will have a variety of physical characteristics. All of these considerations go into
the mix that defines our characters.

The process is never static. This is how the character and story structure work together. The story
begins because “Somebody Wants Something”, but it’s the “Has Trouble Getting It” that will define the
character. It’s the writer’s job to construct a story that keeps testing our characters, asking new
questions and forcing hard decisions.

Over the course of the story, the response to these challenges will trigger the internal changes
commonly known as a “character arc.” In most cases, this will see the character change in a beneficial
way. They may grow, heal, or perhaps find redemption for past misdeeds. This is most common story
approach, and it can be very satisfying for an audience that is emotionally invested in a character.

But we also see films that feature an anti-hero or a character who undergoes some sort of shadowy
transformation. This is famously seen in The Godfather, where Al Pacino’s Michael Corleone begins the
story as a war-hero with no interest in the family ‘business’, and then gradually develops into a
murderous crime boss.

There are films that feature little or no character change, but it’s become rare. Sometimes it is done in
satire, for comic effect, or in some genres, e.g., Horror, that aim to suspend or thrill. And sometimes it’s
done to carry a specific theme or make a statement about a particular aspect of the human condition.
There is no one right or wrong way to construct the character arc, as it will be determined by the needs
of each story.

6
 AN EXERCISE TO DEVELOP CHARACTER OUTLINES

When we start the process of character development it helps to create character outlines.

Drawing on Michael’s article and the panel discussion, create an outline for a character from a film that
you’ve recently seen or use it as an opportunity to develop a character of your own.

● List the character’s major actions. Start from the end and work backwards. (Don’t analyse how or
why; just create a list of actions.)

● Analyse the list to reveal the character’s wants and needs. Is the character aware of what they
want?

● Describe how the character thinks and look at his or her basic psychology. Intelligent?
Intellectually engaged? Cognitive Biases? Impulsive? Cautious?

● Describe the character’s superficial affect. How might a casual acquaintance describe them?

● List any important physical characteristics

This is just an outline, so stick to that format and make lists; avoid long prose descriptions.

CONSTRUCTING SCENES TO TELL OUR STORY

Most screenwriters create a complete outline (referred to as a ‘step outline’ or ‘beat sheet’)
before writing the script.

This gives the writer a list of clear story ‘tasks’ to accomplish, tasks that will almost always unfold in the
dramatic context of a scene or sequence. (A sequence is a group of scenes working together to carry a
story point.)

The primary function of a scene is to push the story forward, one step at a time. Early in the story, we
might want to introduce a character or characters. We do this by creating a scene or scenes that show
the characters actually doing something that reveals who they are and how they operate in their world.
Action movies often begin by showing the hero in a thrilling chase sequence – think about the opening
to any James Bond film. A domestic drama may show a different sort of action, with harried parents
struggling to get kids off to school and themselves to work, say in Blue Valentine. This type of material
will tell us about character, but it will also establish the genre, the world of the story and the filmmakers’
visual style.

As we move deeper into the story, the scenes will have less obligation to introduce story elements, so
the scenes may find a leaner style that focuses more on character change and thematic development.
As we near the story’s conclusion, scene length may shorten to quicken the pace, as we gather
momentum to send us into a climax that must resolve our story’s question, once and for all.

7
To begin writing the script, we begin with a single dramatic task, but it’s always considered in the
context of the entire story. It may be a small transition or major confrontation, but we’ll have a pretty
clear idea of what it needs to accomplish.

We usually tell our story from a character’s perspective, so we consider the specific circumstances by
asking questions. What has just happened to the character? What does that mean in relation to his/her
goals? What does he/she want to happen now? What does he/she fear might happen? What might
stand in the way? These last two considerations determine the ‘has trouble getting it’ of the scene and
will naturally create conflict. We like this collision of goals to force the characters to face hard choices
and make clear decisions that determine the direction of the story.

Once we establish these character considerations, we ask the most important question: what does
he/she try to do now? In a drama, the scenes happen because someone is doing something; we can’t
begin to write until we identify that ‘something’. At this point we will know the ‘who’, the ‘what’ and the
‘why’ of the scene. Then we can determine the ‘where’, the ‘when’ and the ‘how’. These final elements
may be fixed by the story, or the writer may have flexibility, but it pays to consider what ‘place’ can
bring to a scene. Material that’s dull in private may come to life when moved to a public setting.

The nature of the conflict is a very important consideration. It may come from within the character; it
may be conflict with another person; it may be conflict with societal groups (armies, the police, the cool
kids in school); or it may be a conflict against nature or the cosmos (a mountain, a hurricane, space). In
most cases, the character must face internal conflicts, as well as at least one form of external conflict. In
common practice, scenes with little conflict will be short, while the story’s major turning points will be
situations fraught with difficulty.

Once we’re clear on our dramatic approach and the basic details, we can begin to write the scene,
proper. As we’ve stated earlier, the screenplay is not ‘written’ in the way that a novel may be written.
Instead, we’re going to ‘construct’ it from the dramatic action and whatever expository details we need
to make clear to the actors and crew. The screenplay cannot contain every element of the final film, nor
should it try.

Question: What we do we actually include in the script?

Answer: The dramatic action.

We describe what the characters are DOING, where they’re doing it, and under what conditions. We’re
limited to what we can see and what we can hear, and that’s it. The characters’ speech and physical
movements are there to help the characters succeed in achieving their goal in this particular situation.

We don’t describe thoughts in the characters’ minds, or what lens the cameraman should use, or where
the camera will be; those decisions will be made by other filmmakers. The screenwriter describes the
flow of action and provides enough expository detail to make it clear. The screenwriter may suggest a
direction for the director and other members of the crew, but the script does not pre-visualise every
detail.

The script is a very slim form. The art comes in using these few tools to capture the full emotional flow
of the story.

8
 DIALOGUE AND CHARACTER VOICE

Great dialogue is one of the great pleasures of the movies, and it’s often one of the most
memorable elements of a film.

While film dialogue carries less story weight than theatre dialogue, it’s still a major part of scene
construction. Some writers are known for their great dialogue, e.g., Aaron Sorkin, screenwriter of THE
SOCIAL NETWORK, but all screenwriters must be able to deliver good, natural sounding dialogue. This
article will look at some of the considerations that go into creating good dialogue.

Like the scene itself, dialogue has several specific functions in the screenplay. Its primary function is
dramatic, that is, to carry the story forward. Characters speak because they need something and saying
something will help them get it. In practice that’s never as simple as it seems. It may seem
counterintuitive, but the actual purpose or goal of the scene is frequently the one thing that CANNOT be
said aloud. The character pursues the many steps that lead to that goal, rather than stating his or her
intentions. The character needn’t say any more than necessary, as we frequently talk around important
issues that are too sensitive to discuss. As in real life, language is often a way to displace or deflect the
emotion of a scene. And what’s not said is often as important as what is.

Dialogue will reveal character, both in WHAT is said and HOW it’s said. The dialogue will reveal immediate
needs and desires, but it also reveals background, education, social class and a host of other attributes.
The interplay between the characters will reveal their relationship and power balance.

Dialogue can also illuminate the screenplay’s themes. They might be revealed in the point-of-view or
intellectual context, or the dialogue might address directly the ideas.

Dialogue can be used to carry expository information necessary for the audience to understand the
story.

And it all must happen in a dramatic context. These last two functions can be especially tricky, as the
story cannot stop to allow the writer to expound on his themes or explain details of the story. We notice
immediately if the writer is speaking, rather than the character.

Good dialogue can do all of these things simultaneously. It will sound natural and give distinct voice to
each of the characters.

Great dialogue makes it seem effortless and memorable. It will be surprising, insightful, and original.
And it will reveal the unique voice of its characters.

These qualities are easy enough to describe, but much harder to produce. For most writers, creating
effective dialogue is a by-product of the character development process. The way that a character
speaks is determined by factors from the character’s background and their individual make-up, the type
of traits we explored in the article on character development.

Relationships are very important, as some believe that all speech is driven by the desire to raise status.
Seen from that perspective, the character’s background, the balance of power and the attempt to attain
a goal combine to produce speech that’s natural and appropriate to the dramatic situation. When we do
it right, it produces dialogue that only the one character could have spoken.

When we do it right, the lines can live for decades.

9
 AN EXERCISE FOR DEVELOPING CHARACTER VOICE

Drawing on everything we’ve discussed so far, let’s consider concrete ways to develop character
voice.

To begin, it helps to practice with sketches designed to develop your sense of the character and how he
or she speaks. Try to use material that does not appear in the final story, which frees the action to go in
any direction it leads.

Character ‘questionnaires’ can help, but only when answered in the FIRST PERSON. The exercise forces the
character to describe themselves. If the character is bland or unresponsive, change the person asking
the questions and give them a clear reason to answer. Allowing the character to elaborate will produce a
short monologue.

Creating full dramatic scenes takes the idea even further. Every character must eat: some will eat at The
Ritz, while others will scavenge from dumpsters. Some will select only organic produce to take home
and cook. And just maybe they shoplift it. What happens when they get caught?

Let’s try this with a character of your own: explore your character’s eating patterns, and then stress
them. Rob them, arrest them, or make sure that their credit card is refused. Whatever it is, make sure
that the character will have to struggle to extricate themselves from the situation. The character’s
dialogue and action will combine to create the basic elements of voice.

A WORKFLOW FOR WRITING YOUR FIRST DRAFT OF A FEATURE-FILM SCREENPLAY

This article explores a common approach to screenwriting process.

Writers Guild contracts specify that screenwriters have a minimum of three months to produce the first
draft of a script. That’s not a lot of time, so it helps to work in a clear, organised way. The method may
differ from approaches to writing in other forms, because in screenwriting much of the creative work
occurs BEFORE we begin to write the script.

This is important for a variety of reasons, but it helps to remember that screenwriting is a quasi-closed
form. Novels can be just about any length, from one hundred pages to over a thousand, but feature
films run between ninety minutes and two hours. While we do see longer films each year, there are not
many, and they make theatrical exhibition more difficult. Television is even more restrictive, often timed
to the second. Professional writers must have the craft to reliably create complete stories in these
relatively narrow time frames.

Let’s take a look at a workflow that can help to produce a script in this timeframe. First…

DEVELOP THE STORY IDEA:

10
We may find our story ideas from any number of sources - a character, an incident or situation, or a
theme – but it soon comes to back to basic questions: Whose story is it? What does he/she want?
What’s keeping her/him from getting it? If we’re employing multiple storylines, what unifies the individual
stories?

CREATE THE PITCH:

We ‘test’ our story by developing it, building on the base idea to see if it has the heft to carry a
ninety-minute film. A good next step might be to create a Five Finger Pitch. This will force some clear
questions about your intentions. If you like what comes out of this step, then you go forward; if not, then
you go back and rethink elements of the pitch. When the Five Finger Pitch flows correctly, develop the
Ten Finger/Two Handed Pitch that covers the whole story in a broad fashion.

GIVE IT STRUCTURE:

Once you have a satisfactory pitch, you might try to take it further, perhaps by thinking about the key
turning points in the story. There are many books and websites devoted to codifying the three-act
structure, so you may take a look at one of these structure outlines or paradigms. This may help you,
but it’s important to use the paradigm to develop your story; don’t write the story to fit the paradigm.

BUILD A FULL STORY:

By now you should be close to filling out a whole story, so produce a synopsis or ‘treatment’. A one
page synopsis can put your ideas together in a more story-like form, but it will remain relatively general.
A longer treatment will explore the story in more detail. Many writers dislike creating the treatment, but
it’s an important step in professional story development in the United Kingdom.

CREATE A BEAT SHEET:

This is the most important step in the process, but it can be tedious. To make an effective “Beat Sheet”,
also called a “Step Outline”, you must list each dramatic step in the story. It needn’t contain great detail,
but it helps to see the steps from start to finish. There are many approaches to outlining: employ the
common three acts; you might break up the long second act to create four or five acts; or build the story
in eight sequences. One way or the other, work through the entire story and plug all story holes. And,
yes, the first attempt always reveals holes in your story.

WRITE THE SCRIPT (FINALLY):

Once we have a complete outline, we begin to write the script. Script formatting software is very useful
here, as it automates the otherwise time-consuming task of creating the correct format. (A later step will
discuss formatting and recommend formatting software.)

There are several ways to approach the script. Some people start with the major scenes first, while
others start at the end and work backwards. We recommend that you start at the beginning and work
straight through the outline: no stopping; no editing; no going back.

As you create the first draft the story may change in a way that requires tweaks to previously written
material, but hold your adjustments until the end. Keep a ‘punch list’ of changes or additions. And some
writers find it useful to keep a file for the material that’s been cut along the way, a technique that
removes some of the angst by ensuring that original material is not truly ‘deleted’.

We recommend writing little and often, working through the entire draft. After you’ve finished that first
rough draft, go back and bung in the material from your punch list. And then give yourself a pat on the
back. You’ve done it.

NEXT STEPS:

11
Don’t show this version to anyone. After you finish the draft, take a couple weeks away from the story to
gain some critical distance. Then you begin the REWRITE…

SCREENPLAY FORMATTING

Screenplay Form and Style

It helps to use professional scripts as a guide, so read lots of scripts.

The BBC Writers Room offers a wide selection of sample scripts. Check often, as the list is frequently
updated.

BAFTA/The British Academy of Film and Television Arts offers a wide range of resources for writers. You
can access the Screenwriter’s Lecture Series, Guru Podcasts and many other services.

The Writers Guild of Great Britain and The Writers Guild of America, West offer a host of resources on
their websites.

The Black List library of award-winning screenplays is a terrific resource, so give that a look. These
scripts are free and legal for download, so read as many as you can.

SCREENPLAY FORMAT

Your scripts must be submitted in proper format.

If you’re working in the UK, take a look at the The BBC Format Guide for Screenplays. The guide tells
you all that you need to properly format a screenplay, written in screenplay format.

Screen Australia offers an article on creating loglines, synopses and treatments. Follow the examples in
their Story Docs: And Info Guide to learn a very useful approach to presenting your ideas.

The Academy Of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences - the folks who give us the Oscars, offers a concise
guide to screenplay format Do’s and Don’ts. The site also offers downloads of scripts the won their
prestigious Nicholl Fellowship.

SCRIPT FORMATTING SOFTWARE

You’ll need a dedicated script formatter as a word processor for your screenplays. Commercial software
is readily available, but there are many free choices, too.

Writer Duet offers free online script formatting. Online formatters are accessible from most
internet-enabled devices, but that can be a problem if your internet access is limited. Writer Duet does
much of what the others do, offers collaborative editing, and it can save in Final Draft .FDX format.

Celtx is another popular online formatter, but it’s a little fussy to manage and the free trial lasts for only
three projects.

Trelby offers a free offline formatting program that’s worth consideration. It lacks some of the bells and
whistles offered by other programs, but it’s free and won’t nag you to upgrade. In addition, it’s a
program that you can download and use even if you’re without internet access.

12
You may want to purchase Final Draft, the industry standard software, but it can be costly. Fade In
Pro is excellent software that is much less expensive than Final Draft, and it uses the same templates
and saves in the .FDX format.

OUR EDUCATORS RESPOND TO THE QUESTION: HOW DO WE GET THE FIRST DRAFT TOGETHER?

The panel discuss their steps to prepare their story and get to the point of being able to write a full draft.

Definitions:

Treatment or Synopsis A treatment or synopsis puts your ideas together in a more story-like prose
form, but it will remain relatively general.

Beat Sheet or Step Outline This lists each dramatic step in the story. It needn’t contain great detail, but
it helps to see the steps from start to finish.

FOUR WAYS TO LEARN MORE

We hope you have enjoyed the course, there’s lots more you can learn and do, here are some of
our suggestions.

1. DIVE DEEPER

We know that many of you who take online courses by UEA are interested in how you can take your
learning further with us so take a look at the UEA Creative Writing website.

Postgrads might want to look at the MA Creative Writing Scriptwriting course or the Creative and Critical
Writing PhD.

Prospective undergrads might consider the BA English Literature With Creative Writing or the BA
Scriptwriting and Performance.

Everyone should go to #NewWriting, which covers a range of issues of interest to writers.

2. READ, THEN READ SOME MORE

It helps to use professional scripts as a guide, so read lots of scripts.

The BBC Writers Room offers a wide selection of sample scripts. Check often, as the list is frequently
updated.

BAFTA/The British Academy of Film and Television Arts provides a wide range of resources for writers.
You can access the Screenwriter’s Lecture Series, Guru Podcasts and many other services.

Websites for The Writers Guild of Great Britain and The Writers Guild of America, West include material
that covers contracts and professional issues, as well as articles on writing.

13
The Black List library of award-winning screenplays is a terrific resource, so give that a look. These
scripts are free and legal for download, so read as many as you can.

14