The Anatomy of a Script (How to Write a Script)

Hello script fans! In part four of the How to Write a Script odyssey we have a quick think about research and the instruments we might use to do some writing, before delving into the anatomy of a script.

We'll ponder elements such as scene headings, action lines, parentheses and transitions so as to understand what the heck they are, what the heck they do and how we can use them effectively as we write our wonderful scripts.

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Music by Chris Stamper
Illustration by Matt Miles https://www.instagram.com/datmattmiles/
Design by Adam Smith

Transcript

Hello you creative dynamos. What’s happening? I’m less ill than last episode, so that’s a relief. And here we are, up to part four of our series on how to write a script. We’ve got our concept, we’ve got our characters, we’ve done some plotting, so at this point, after we talk about research, we’re pretty much ready to do some writing. And it seems smart to understand how you do that writing, what software you might use and most significantly, for this episode anyway, what the anatomy of a script actually is. What components are used, what they do, and how do we employ them effectively. So come on friends, let’s worry that we’ve done so many of these metaphor intros that we’ve started repeating them, replace the one we had before in a last minute panic with this version, then do some thinking about how to write a script.

Thinking About How To Write A Script: Part Four, The Anatomy of A Script.

Hi, I’m Robin Taylor, writer and script editor unextraordinaire, and this is Thinking About Writing, the podcast which aims to explore and demystify some of the terminology and techniques involved in script writing. It’s for anyone who is writing, or possibly in the midst of thinking about writing, for theatre, audio, film or TV, as well as anyone who hasn’t listened to an episode of this show before so doesn’t know if this bit is a repetition of a previous “As well as anyone” bit. Salut!

So yes, in life people generally don’t read scripts as much as they do books and the like, and it can be quite a different experience to read a script. They have their own anatomy and different techniques and approaches which may vary depending on the medium or just the way the writer wants to write them. And these techniques don’t just assist in providing clarity but also can allow different personal styles. So there are standards but also flexibility within them, which allows for some thoughtfulness  - our favourite thing! But before we get into that, let’s cover the topic of research and then how you might write a first draft, because this feels like the best place to cover those topics.

Thinking Bout Research

Research is another of those valuable element of writing. If you’re writing about the hundred years war and are striving for historical accuracy then obviously it makes sense to learn about the period and apply that knowledge. It’s possibly easy to assume that you’re just trying to prevent boffins writing angry letters because you referred to Czechoslovakia which didn’t exist at the time, but it can also be about creating a convincing portrayal for the audience. In the episode thinking about believability we talk about the suspension of disbelief, and basically if something feels off then like a house of cards, people might start questioning everything and stop buying into the world you’re portraying for them. Obviously some information is more well known than others, and particularly if you’re depicting something from the law or medicine, for example, audiences may be quicker to detect inaccuracies. And, you know, if you realise you don’t really know much about how money laundering works or how a small launderette would go about doing that, you either need to find that out or decide maybe I shouldn’t be trying to write about that. I mean the other option is making it all up, but then you have to accept you’re writing something decidedly less serious and which people may struggle to relate to because it’s simply far fetched or detached from reality. Or just have Napoleon fire a cannon at the Pyramids and tell historians to get stuffed. But if you’re writing and you suddenly think “Wait, is that how that works?” or “Would that actually happen?” it’s smart to fact check it and find out, whether that involves a quick Google, going to the library, or finding someone who’d know and asking them.

An interesting discussion around accuracy is The Great, a very whimsical take on the court of Catherine the Great. The approach feels quite unusual, it’s not your typical stuffy period drama, which can almost feel anachronistic, and the show declares its story to be occasionally true. That’s not to say they wouldn’t have done research on that show, they no doubt did a boat load and applied it to certain figures, events and well as the general ambience of the period. And indeed research isn’t just about leafing through dusty tomes in a library to make sure you don’t refer to the wrong type of masonry for that period. It can also be about building up your understanding so as to bring confidence and character to your script. So, if you’re writing about a certain location, it makes sense to spend some time there, get a sense of interesting locations, if you’re writing for audio then you may well pick up and even record certain ambient sounds which would influence your approach. 

You can interview people who have knowledge and understanding of that place, or other lived experiences that aren’t familiar to you. If you’ve never been to war or been through social care, then speaking to someone who has can enlighten you and shape how you write about that, without plagiarising anyone’s life, of course. Even if it’s something as common as writing about motherhood, if you’re a man who has not been through childbirth and parenting, speaking to someone who has can build upon your empathetic and imagined understanding. Even performing exercises of imagining yourself in the place of a character can assist in giving your writing depth and nuance when a less conscious comprehension can be blunt and simplistic. I mentioned in the episode on character creation seeing a script which basically says, oh yeah, she’s a mum, she’s worried about what they’re having for dinner. That’s a bit blooming basic isn’t it? You know, we’ve talked a lot about understanding your story and your characters, breathing life into them, and research can be a way to think about all of the details which enrich your writing. Even researching similar stories can provide perspective and enlightenment, while also pushing you to think how you can explore ideas with an overlap in a different way. So basically I wouldn’t just take it for granted it that you get it, you can write whatever, just make it up or something, when really this can easily devalue a script, and there are many ways to avoid such pitfalls.

We should maybe also touch on the idea of whether a story is yours to tell, which I think can cause some confusion. This isn’t to say that you can only write character who reflect yourself, because that would be incredibly restrictive. I absolutely believe diversity and representation is important, and providing roles for all performers who reflect all audiences is a good thing, in my opinion. Obviously it’s wise to avoid tokenism and stereotypes, so if your script has one Asian character and they have one line and it’s about them being good at maths, that’s not representation. I’ve written scripts with black female leads before, while being a white man, because they were based on women I was very close to in my life who influenced the character and felt right in the story. Their race and gender were factors, but I felt I could portray that reasonably accurately, while hopefully creating parts for great actors to play. However if I were to say this script is all about growing up in a religious black Nigerian family, well I haven’t lived that experience and to be so focused on a subject I only have very light second hand knowledge of doesn’t feel smart. It’s not likely to feel particularly truthful. If my friend asked me to write her story for her, there’s more of an argument that that’s okay, but I’d definitely credit it as her story and would consult her to an excessive degree with several metric tons of research on top of that. So if it’s about something particular and personal which you may not fully understand, it makes more sense to leave such stories for people who do understand that world or culture or experience. And even when writing characters, if possible it can be nice to focus in on their personality as the main priority. If there are aspects of them which are relevant to the story, such as they have a disability or come from a particular culture, then that can be included, of course, accompanied by the usual research and understanding of what you’re depicting. But beyond that, open possibilities can allow for casting opportunities where you just find the best person for the part and maybe that then influences the depiction in some way, where you speak to the performer and find ways to potentially incorporate more of their identity into the part. Oh, woke old me.

But once you’ve done your research (Of course with the option of doing research during the writing process when helpful) you’re ready to think about how you’ll do your writing.

How You Gonna Write

Now you may be thinking what’s so complicated about writing, you just start tippy tapping away on the old keyboard and magic happens. Well, I’m going to throw in a suggestion right away of considering trying a hand written first draft. There are a few benefits to this approach, beyond its retro charm where you can imagine your Charlotte Bronte, whether you’re wearing a lace bonnet or not. Firstly you can do it anywhere, anytime, so don’t need to be restricted by having a computer. It can potentially be more thoughtful and also allow a stronger bond to the script then another new file on your computer. You can see changes you’ve made with far more clearly, as something crossed out is still there, whereas, unless you’re saving every adjustment in a new draft on your computer, once something’s deleted it’s potentially gone for good. And perhaps most importantly, the eventual act of transcribing it onto your computer can act like a draft in itself, as you are likely to make natural adjustments as you type it up. Of course, if time is limited then you might not want to add in an extra step of having to transcribe, or you might just hate hand writing stuff, plus it can be difficult to know how handwritten pages will translate to typed page numbers, if that’s a concern. But it could be an interesting approach to try and see if it helps or hinders you in the long run. I’ll talk a bit more about how to ensure you do the writing, in whatever way, on episode seven.

Once you feel ready to get to the tip tap typing stage, which might be immediately, then the question becomes which program do you use to do so. Probably the most well known, and the self proclaimed industry standard, as they keep telling me on online ads incessantly, even though I already own it, is Final Draft. Now as these things go, it’s alright, it does the job. It automatically formats the script as you type which is obviously useful and little quality of life assists such as autocompleting character names can be a big time saver. That being said it still has some frustrating quirks, such as refusing to accept what you want a particular script element to be or putting in page breaks in bizarre places. And the biggest concern is the price, at an eye watering two hundred pounds. Is it worth it? Eh. I’d say it’s overpriced, personally. Now there are similar alternatives out there such as Scriptworthy and Celtx, the former has a free to use option, the latter works on a pay monthly scheme, which might be better if you’re just dipping your toe into screenwriting. I don’t have firsthand experience of using these programmes, so I can’t speak on their user experience personally, but I’m told they’re fine. You guys probably know better than me, so if you’ve any opinions then send them my way and I’ll pass them on to your fellow writer community.

One thing to consider is that some free software uses a watermark feature on your script, as a means of getting you to pay, which you might not like aesthetically. I would never judge a script because it was using a free version, so I wouldn’t worry about any snobbish prejudice there. And of course just using Word or any other word processing app is valid too. The complication there is that it does require your own formatting, I have memories of having to repeatedly tab then control U, control B, to get it looking right. If that kind of faff doesn’t bother you then it’s fine, as long as you can maintain consistency. Because here’s a little insider tip, most people who are going to read your script, be they producers or performers, don’t have Final Draft or the like themselves. So if you save things in a .fdx file, they won’t be able to open it. So most scripts are sent as PDFs, and as long as the software you’re using can export to pdf, it doesn’t matter what you’re using. As long as it looks like a script and isn’t an illegible shambles, it’s all good really. But of course if you’re not using a programme which automates your formatting, or even if you are, it’s going to help to know what a script format is and what the separate elements do. I might do a proper old fashioned jingle for this.

The Anatomy of A Script: Scene Headings

So yeah, it's useful to understand the different parts of a script, what they do, how they might be expected to look, and all their little idiosyncrasies. That’s why we’re going to do that now. I have covered some of this before in the episode on Exposition, but I’ll try to use interesting different words or something. It might help to find a sample script to look at while I go over this, so you can see first hand what I’m blathering on about.

So the first thing we’ll see, well, that might well be the title page, but let’s leave that for now, as that’s usually something we sort out at the end of the process anyway. So the first thing we’ll see, well, if it’s a play or radio script it might be a character list, but let’s put that aside for the moment too, I’ll touch on that another time. So, right, the first thing we’re likely to type is a scene heading, informing us when and where the scene takes place. With a filmed script this will begin with INT or EXT, indicating interior or exterior. If a scene shifts between and interior and exterior then you may utilise INT/EXT, though it’s worth evaluating whether they are actually separate scenes. I mean, I get confused myself. If a scene starts in a car then the character gets out of the car, that’s an interior into exterior, right? Or is it cleaner to say outside of the car is a new scene? After all, all of the recording equipment has to reposition from filming inside the car to outside of it. Don’t worry, there’s more complications like this to come.

Next in the scene heading will be the specific location. Now you might just put “Kitchen”, which is sort of specific. But you might want to include the contextual location of that kitchen, so it might be “Emma’s Flat, kitchen” so we know who’s kitchen it is, and if there’s a further scene in Emma’s living room, we know it needs to feel a part of the same building and befit Emma’s personality. If the wider location such as country or city or whatever is relevant than you may well include it here also. I should point out in reference to that interior slash exterior conversation that you would include the dual locations with a slash mark here, and if relevant an Intercut in parentheses, also known as brackets (Ooh, I’m foreshadowing) I think intercut tends to be most relevant to a phone conversation where you wish to see both sides of the conversation. Without putting this instruction in the script the assumption would be we only see one person speaking and the other is heard via the phone. Using intercut removes the need to create a new scene heading each time the perspective switches, I have a traumatic memory of doing that in a script once when I started out which resulted in a very painful read through. Of course with a conference call there could be any number of locations to list. And there may be other contexts which utilise this technique. 

This kind of example may sound complex, and at first thought it kind of is, but it’s about recognising the script as an informative tool, letting us known the intention and vision in the writing. Maybe you want to try something complicated, then you need to figure out how to communicate that to whoever may end up shooting or staging it. If you want to stay on the simpler side of things in a first outing, it seems smart to do so. But experimenting can be beneficial just in terms of seeing what does and doesn’t work so well and can help you think about your script as a cohesive aesthetic experience - if what you end up with feels kind of ugly or awkward, then you may want to reassess and reshape it into something which just works and looks more engaging to read.

Anyway, the final part of the scene heading is the time. Now that doesn’t mean you need to put 7.38 PM, unless you’re being very precise with your timings. Normally day or night will suffice. If there are multiple days in the script then you’d put day one to differentiate from future changes of day. And if the script is set in a different time period or shifts between time periods then you’d incorporate that, be it 1923 or four weeks ago. This time issue can become complicated when moving into following scenes, of how you communicate that. So with our move from the car to outside the car, if those are two separate scenes that would be described as Continuous, because there’s been no time between the two scenes. We might say “Later” if it’s happening later, I bet you figured that out already, or the controversial “Moments later” if some time has passed, but not much. 

An example here could be someone turns up at the front door for dinner, the host says “Come on in” then the next scene they’re sitting in the kitchen, that’s moments later, because we skipped them entering taking off their coat etc, but if they were at the end of the dinner instead, that’s later, and if they entered and started taking of their coat, that’s continuous. If one of the characters then remember when they got ready earlier then you’d probably put earlier and then in parentheses (Flashback) Another option may be if cutting away to another scene which is occurring concurrently with the previous scene, then you’d say “Same time”. Again, it’s an informative tool, letting the reader, or the director, know when this is happening so they can communicate this to the audience and we don’t get lost in a vortex of space and time. The two essential things we’re relaying here are the place and the time/how it fits into the chronology of the script. So that’s a scene heading! This might take a while, eh? Normally these are written in block capitals, and you might want to put it in bold too, just to make it stand out.

Action Lines

Next up, an action line! What the hell does that do? Well it describes action, but also anything visual. Just to confuse matters, these may also be called stage directions, even when the script is not set on a stage, it’s just a thing. So the first action line in a scene very often, but not always, includes a description of the setting. In theatre this may be a bit longer and more precise because it’s about indicating the set, which may well be the predominant and even sole location of the play. I’ve said before that overly detailed descriptions aren’t necessarily the best, that they can slow things and bog the reader down in excessive detail. Basically I’d suggest that it’s about focusing on what matters and feels essential. If there’s a big painting of a donkey in the room and it’s important because someone refers to it or it falls down on top of someone later, and it’s really significant that it’s a donkey, then yeah, you ought to mention it. Otherwise it’s often about finding concise ways to get a sense of a place. Something that sums up a mood for a reader, or gives a set designer or location scout an understanding of what you want while also allowing them the artistic freedom to bring some of their own creativity to it. So if it’s an upper middle class kind of living room, the general description might be “Laura Ashley wallpaper, unnervingly pristine” that gives a stronger vision than just “A fancy living room” without needing to say “There’s a supposedly authentic persian rug and an L shaped sofa, next to which sits potted plants in need of a water” Like, we don’t necessarily need to know all that, unless it matters. Though if the argument is you’re painting a picture, then you may want detail, as long as it’s interesting to read.

Also if you don’t want an overloaded scene heading, you might include date and setting details here, 1940’s Caracas, or whenever and wherever you were thinking. Let’s note that the opening action line of a scene doesn’t just tell us where we are, but also who is present and what they are doing, for visual or blocking purposes. If a character isn’t identified as present and then they suddenly have a line, and they weren’t intentionally being hidden, then it’s an odd jolt effect for a reader, like “Oh, what are you doing here.” Overall it’s a setting of a scene, innit, helping us envision what you are aiming to show, so omitting this is asking the reader to fill in the blanks, which they may not enjoy, or be very good at meaning they misconstrue what is supposed to be happening.

When it comes to the writing of action, there can naturally be variations. Me, personally, I like it pretty concise and clear. Others can like it a bit more florid. Some write more like they’re telling a narrative within the action lines, which can be interesting, though it’s important that there’s a sense that what they’re doing will translate to the audience too, not just a reader. Apparently the Oppenheimer script was written in the first person, fancy that. Some writers can aim for an evocative approach, writing things like “A door slams - WHAM!” to conjure up feelings of what the audience will experience. In such cases it’s about how it’s done, so it doesn’t feel too laboured, and how well it’s maintained so it feels consistent and thought through, not just a stunt gimmick to feel different, or also that it doesn’t end up feeling like a fight scene from that 60s Batman. 

There’s also debate about the perspective in the writing, whether it speaks from more of an audience Point of view, so for example “We see a man in the distance” or more separate “A man is visible in the distance” I know some people don’t like using “we”, it doesn’t bother me, again as long as it’s consistent and effectively used. It could be tempting to write about the camera following or panning, not a favourite of mine, because it takes away a bit of the magic and makes things rather more mechanical, but, you know, if you think in that kind of directorial view, maybe that’s right for you? What is worth noting is that you most likely want your script to feel tight and dyanmic, and big swathes of text can instead make it feel bloated or cumbersome, and not particularly enjoyable to read. Breaking up action into separate lines can help to bring that feeling of pace and precision, and can even imitate camera angles by suggesting shifts in perspective and framing simply by placing distinct moments onto separate action lines rather than one big block. It is interesting to see people trying out different approaches, and there should be that kind of artistic freedom, as long as it is reasoned and effective. Again this is where it’s worth looking at a range of scripts and seeing what different people do, what you like and aren’t so keen on, so as to shape your particular method. I’d also say if you’re looking to work on an existing show, like a soap, you’re going to want to know how to write a traditional script, because they won’t have time for avant guard experimental writing approaches, and it would definitely be good practice to read a script of a particular show and fully copy that template as you attempt your own version. 

Action Lines Continued

Now is probably a good time to point out the inherent differences in an audio script, and indeed they are rather different beasts from their screen play siblings, so it’s worth having a look at a few to get a feeling of how they operate. And if you want to learn more about writing for audio you wouldn’t go wrong listening to a previous episode chatting with radio producer Penny Leicester. Most notably of course is that most audio scripts don’t have traditional action lines. It certainly doesn’t make sense to describe anything which is purely visual and has no means to communicate that through sound, literally the person reading it is the only person who would have awareness of it. I’ve seen scripts purporting to be for radio which go to great lengths to describe the look of a room, and it basically suggests they’ve done a half-hearted job of transferring it to audio. 

Indeed it’s the use of sound which is much more significant, and there are three main descriptors for sounds. Atmos is background noise, so if it was set in a pub there could be general chatter, or something more rowdy if it was a Friday night, so you might write Atmos a busy pub or a quiet pub, depending on your needs. Effects, usually written as FX, are more active sounds, such as the noise of a glass smashing. And grams are music separate from the scene itself. With the latter there’s the possibility to suggest specific pieces of music, and we can ask is that a good thing to do with screen plays? Well… I think if there’s a particular song that you think is absolutely perfect for a scene and you’re desperate for it to be there, then that’s a strong reason to suggest it. Bearing in mind that some music licensing is more expensive and you’re not guaranteed to get it. I sometimes see scripts with a music suggestion and maybe a youtube link and I’ll go and have a listen and think, oh okay. Does that dramatically impact my perception of the script? Not really to be honest. And it can be one of those tricky things where, if you’re going to do it once, does that mean you need to do it every time there’s music, and if you don’t refer to music further on, does that mean there isn’t any? It’s possibly a complication when there are bigger concerns BUT, if it does feel like a significant concern to you and how you want to present your script, then as usual, it’s not really going to be a negative mark against your writing.

Action lines are also where we are introduced to characters. It’s common to write a character in block capitals the first time they’re introduced, basically to register that someone has joined the script. Some people continue using block caps for character names throughout the script, not exactly necessary, but it does perhaps help a reader register who is in a scene and avoid that “Ah, stop sneaking up on me!” feeling. I sometimes see writers block capping character names in the dialogue and that’s weird, as it feels like someone’s saying “How are you HELEN” and maybe that’s a classic find and replace edit gone awry. It’s a simple touch, but including a surname, if appropriate to do so can just assist on making the character feel rooted in reality, while also possibly providing additional clues to class or nationality. And if they’re consistently called by a nickname rather than their full name it can make sense to make that their official character name, just to avoid any confusion. 

Character introductions are usually followed by brief descriptions in parentheses (Brackets) which is normally their age, either a specific number or 20s, or late 30s, whatever you like best or fits the character most appropriately. If they’re anxious about their pending 40th birthday it makes sense to say 39, if it’s a less looming concern then mid or late 30s. Then a couple of personality descriptors, maybe reference to their appearance if it’s important or conjures up a visual image. I’ve ranted before about saying someone is handsome or good looking is not particularly interesting as a quality, so I won’t do that again, but I will say don’t fall into that men writing women trope of something like “She’s fiercely intelligent, yet also attractive.” If you describe women like that, well you’re a pig. And while I’m being all social justice warrior like, if you mention that a character is black or Asian for example and put no such descriptors for other characters, essentially suggesting all other characters are white, which is ‘normal’ I’m very much doing inverted comma fingers there, then that’s discriminatory too, so either include everyone’s ethnicity or no one’s, I’d say. Oh great, the podcast is fully woke now. 

But yes, don’t get carried away, writing extensive essays about your characters and their back stories. They’re a tricky beast really, if the only descriptor is something like ‘angry’ that feels simplistic, when this is a potential opportunity to conjure up an image while showing some creativity. But then people can get caught up in that idea and overdo a quirky descriptor, like “Partial to a Kitkat”. I don’t know what that would mean or why it’s relevant. Which leads to another factor, that there’s no real point describing qualities the script doesn’t actually exhibit. So you could call a character a loving mother, do we see evidence of that in the script? And if there’s no reference or appearance of their kids, what does it even matter or mean? One method to deal with this is basically leave it until you’ve finished the scripts, when you’ve had a chance to fully explore the characters and hopefully find it easier to encapsulate the relevant qualities they’ve exhibited in a pithy way. See, that makes it sound easy, doesn’t it? 

Also, should casting suggestions be included in character descriptions? I’m more inclined towards no, personally. It’s quite nice to get a sense of a character independently, and casting ideas can sometimes shift perception, particularly if you don’t rate the suggestion! And when it does come to actual casting, if you send your script off to Judi Dench and in the character intro it says “Think Maggie Smith” dear Judi may think, well sod off and get Maggie then. A bit ahead of ourselves there maybe, but performers do like to think a role is meant for them, not that they’re a second choice. Generally I think sticking casting thoughts in supporting documents is a better way to go, as that’s for the producer to then mull over.

But, yes, that’s action lines. I think I must have read a script that put action in block caps once and did it for a while myself, but it kind of looks like shouting and having in regular lower case is just nicer to read.

Character Names

Character names! We talked about how to name your characters in the episode on character creation if that’s of interest to you. But as for how names are featured in a script, this one’s pretty easy. Usually centre aligned, though it can also left aligned too, it’s basically the name of a character, typically in block caps, denoting who is speaking the following dialogue, obvs. Is that it? We might be speeding up! Hang on though, let’s quickly consider the difference between named and unnamed characters. And by unnamed I mean they’re called Waitress or just Man. Now in a recent talk I went to, Jesse Armstrong pointed out that giving a character a name rather than just their profession opens up possibilities not just in terms of how they might expand as a character across a series, but also in terms of who you might attract to play the role, after all Rebecca is a more enticing part than Passing Woman. And this is a thoroughly valid point of view when something has been commissioned and is being cast, but it’s possibly not so useful in the early life of a script - that’s right, I’m saying I’m wiser than Jesse Armstrong. No I’m not. But, at script level if someone is reading your script and a character is named it tends to note importance. So if someone pops up and they’re called Clive and then all they do is say “Your car is ready, sir” then we never see them again, well, the reader doesn’t know we’ll never see them again and potentially feels the need to store Clive in their brain to remember who he is next time he appears, and then he doesn’t. 

Sometimes just saying the character’s job or status as a passerby or whatever is useful because we then know they’re only relevant in this moment. But it’s interesting to then extrapolate from this and ask how many unnamed characters you have, because an audience equally can’t always be sure if a new character is important or not, unless they’re being played by Olivia Colman, then chances are they are important. So there’s an opportunity to assess if an unnamed character is vital, if a relevant named character could fill that role, or there’s a way around including them at all. Sometimes a scene can end up with a strange passer by who doesn’t say anything, even though they probably should, because it costs more money to pay for speaking parts. So you can avoid such headaches and general misunderstandings of priority by thinking tactically. At the same time, if there’s no way around an unnamed character, finding a way to still give them a bit of personality and presence can make them feel more than a necessary story device, and yeah, when you get commissioned and you’re casting you can think “Hey, I can do something with this character in the future, I should give them a name and we’ll hire Miriam Margolyes to play them. Gosh I enjoy being successful.” A bit of positive visualisation for you there.

Parentheses 

Now you might have noticed some foreshadowing - am I going to have to do a section on foreshadowing? - but yes, I mentioned the idea of a parenthetical, parentheses, or something in brackets, and that is an element of a script. We don’t tend to say parenthetical much in everyday life, do we? Or maybe you do, in which case, kudos. So a parenthetical can be a separate line within a dialogue section. You can put things in brackets within an action line, but you wouldn’t break it up in the same manner. Now these can be directions on how to read a line such as Quietly or Angrily, but they may also be a practical notification too. So for example if a line is to be delivered in voiceover then we would put VO, though voiceover is fine too. If it is being said off screen, then that could be written as OOV, or out of vision, but again, I don’t think it really matters if you don’t know or use the code. If they are addressing a particular character without using their name then it makes sense to include (To Laura) or whoever your character might be. If they say “What do you think, Laura?” then you don’t need to indicate (To Laura) If they’re shifting between a phone conversation and speaking to a present character then you would indicate (Into phone) and so on. If they are speaking and then pause, a pause in parenthetical helps, whereas if there’s a pause before a different character speaks that could be on an action line. Sometimes just an ellipses, by which I mean a dot dot dot can do the job. Sometimes instead of pause some people use beat, just to confuse us when we talk about story beats. What’s the difference between a beat and a pause? Well a beat might be “You don’t have to - unless you want to.” and a pause could be “You don’t have to. Unless you want to” Then there’s long pauses, and, I dunno, it’s all relative isn’t it?

Just to loop back, when I said a parenthetical can indicate how a line should be read, that’s true but should be used sparingly and logically. Essentially if the meaning of a line could be unclear, the parenthetical can clear that up. So if the line is “What have you done?” but it’s supposed to be “What have you done?” then you might want to put (Shocked) or (Horrified) or (Bewildered) before the line, whichever feels most appropriate. Arguably the same effect can be achieved though punctuation, but I’ll get to that when talking about dialogue. Is this entire series just me saying I’ll get to that, or I’ve already talked about this? I’m having an existential crisis here. But yes, it’s not really wise to use a parenthetical when the tone is apparent in the writing itself, it can undermine your own writing or it can irk performers if they feel they’re being told how to say everything, when really that awareness is part of being an actor. You can recognise context clues in the writing, if someone walks in on their spouse standing over a bloody corpse with a knife in their hand, the character is unlikely to say it as “What have you done?” Unless that’s the point in which case it would need a parenthetical to say (Oblivious) or (Strangely calm) because in this situation their response is unusual and needs that indication. And this is a bit of an odd one, but sometimes I see writers put the parenthetical after the dialogue, which doesn’t do it’s job, because it requires going back and rereading the line, rather than knowing beforehand how it should be read. So don’t do that, yeah? Essentially parentheses are a useful tool for clarifying anything which needs to be clarified, and should be used as such rather than willy nilly. Again I think text in parentheses looks nice in lower case, using capitalisation at the start, naturally, but people do use caps sometimes. Caps are just a bit ugly, right?

If you’re looking at the time and thinking how’s he going to cover dialogue without grossly going over time. Well I’m not, we’re leaving that for an episode all of its own next week, which means we’ve only got one more script element to go, which is good. 

Transitions

Transitions mark the end of a scene, so it’s the last one we’re doing here, yay! So transitions are usually right aligned, in block caps with a colon at the end, and indeed with scriptwriting software if you write an action line with a colon at the end it’ll automatically format it into a transition and then go into a new scene heading, which saves you literal seconds. The most typical transition is Cut To: because the scene cuts, like a director shouting cut, sort of, then a new scene begins. There are other options such as fade to, blend to, and these are more generally used for flashbacks and the like. Basically they’re only worth adopting if you know what they’re doing and why you want them. Otherwise it can feel a bit like when someone’s using editing software for the first time and gets a bit excited about doing star shaped wipes and the like. Once in a blue moon I might use a smash cut which is basically a really quick cut into the next scene, handy when doing our old friend the straight reverse as mentioned in Thinking About Funniness, which is a jolt of a contradiction, so for example a scene ends with a couple and the husband says “Stop worrying, we’re going to have a lovely time” Smash Cut to the room they’re in is on fire, two people are having a fist fight and the married couple are cornered by an angry bear. But, you know, just saying cut to would work equally effectively. Again, if you have a strong, almost directorial vision, then researching transitions which help you achieve that, but most directors will know what kind of transitions will work, and in fact if you start putting in peculiar transitions without understanding why, the director might feel obliged to follow them and then no one quite knows why that scene faded out in that really weird way when no other scenes did.

Perhaps the most exciting transition, which isn’t a transition at all is writing the end, or end of episode, which is advisable just so no one thinks any pages are missing, but also for the satisfaction of acknowledging you’ve finished. A little treat for the writer. Then again you could hold off on writing the end until you feel the script is in a strong enough state to be considered a completed draft, a little encouraging carrot waiting for you. Or not, it’s up to you really.

And having gone through all of that, now I get to say these are guidelines and suggestions of how to present your script, ultimately with the aim of providing clarity and making it easy to read and understand. If anyone is dismissing your work because your scene headings aren’t underlined then that’s just gate keeping, basically. The important thing is always the content, not the presentation. And yet, and yet, I’ve said in the past, decision makers facing a huge mound of scripts to go through are often looking for reasons to justify saying no to a project, and a difficult to read script could be one of them. Bad script construction can take away some of the energy and excitement that the idea could have if better proportioned. And it’s difficult to insist that you’re passionate about writing and scripts if your efforts suggest you’ve never looked at a typical script and you’re just winging it. And some simple choices can be surprisingly detrimental, like a larger than average font or excessive spacing, because that throws off the page count and makes it harder to ascertain the actual duration of the script. (I will come to page counts eventually, promise) But to throw another cat amongst those pigeons, there could be an argument that making your script extremely cookie cutter may make it blend in with the pack. Maybe that’s good for professionalism, but sometimes slight variations can help something stand out. As long as it’s not zany and incomprehensible, because again that goes against the point of comprehension. I reckon look at a variety of scripts and think “That’s a nice looking way of doing that, I think I’ll do that too.” Until you come up with a style that you like. But yeah, still expend more energy on content, which it is easier to focus on when you feel comfortable in your script anatomy. And speaking of content…. that’s precisely what we’re finally going to be talking about…  next episode.

Blimey, we’re still running a bit long, so let’s whizz through this bit robinleetaylor.com is my website,@writing_pod on Twitter and Instagram. If you’re working alongside this project then I’d say this week’s task would be to go and read some unfamiliar scripts, have a look at a screen play, a radio play, a feature and some theatre. I always say the Writersroom is a good resource, Philip Shelley has a script library too, or just google script examples and something will probably pop up. Then have a go at writing a scene heading, the opening imagery and some character descriptions, to get used to effective scene setting. Next week is writing dialogue, and maybe even begin to find your style and voice. That’s not a daunting topic at all! Until then have a think about writing a script. Okay, take care, bye bye.