When I first started writing screenplays, I thought I needed to learn all the rules before I could be good at it. Where does the inciting incident go? How long should Act One be? How many pages should a screenplay be? Can I write “we see”? Can I use camera directions?
And yes, you need to understand formatting and structure. You need to know the rules before you start deciding which ones you want to break.
But I’ve learned that most of what makes a screenplay feel amateur has very little to do with whether your inciting incident happens on page 12 or page 15.
Usually, it comes down to the writing.
Here are ten mistakes I see new screenwriters make, including plenty I’ve made myself.
1. Action Lines That Go On Forever
This isn’t a novel.
I have an English literature background, so learning to write action was actually one of the harder adjustments for me. In prose, I can spend an entire paragraph describing something. In a screenplay, nobody wants to fight through a wall of text.
I try to keep my action blocks around three lines whenever I can. That doesn’t mean three lines is some unbreakable rule. It just forces me to ask myself what actually matters.
What does the audience need to see?
Show me that and move on.
Screenwriting is visual. You don’t need to describe every detail of the room, what everyone is thinking, or every tiny movement a character makes. Give me enough that I can see the movie in my head.
Be visual. Be efficient. Be ruthless.
2. Dialogue That Tries Too Hard
People don’t usually walk around explaining exactly how they feel.
They lie. They deflect. They interrupt each other. They make jokes when they’re uncomfortable. They say they’re fine when they’re clearly not fine.
Your characters should too.
One of the biggest things I’ve learned about dialogue is that dialogue should reveal character, not carry the entire plot.
Let your action carry the story.
If a character is furious with her husband, she probably doesn’t need to say, “I’m angry because you never appreciate me.”
Maybe she’s aggressively loading the dishwasher while telling him she’s completely fine.
That’s more interesting anyway.
Use subtext. Let characters avoid saying what they actually mean. Give the audience something to figure out.
3. Character Introductions That Are Flat and Boring
You only get to introduce a character once, so do something with it.
Writing JANE (35), smart, kind, emotionally damaged, doesn’t actually tell me very much about Jane.
Those are labels.
Show me who she is.
Maybe Jane leaves a twenty-dollar tip on a four-dollar coffee and then realizes she doesn’t have enough money for gas.
Now I know something about her without you having to tell me.
The first time we meet your character is an opportunity. Let their behavior tell us who they are.
4. Bad Formatting and Way Too Much Direction
You do not need to direct every second of the movie from the page.
CLOSE ON.
ANGLE ON.
WE PAN ACROSS.
CUT TO.
Yes, you can use camera directions. I use them when I actually need them. But if they’re everywhere, I’m not thinking about your story anymore. I’m thinking about your formatting.
The same thing happens with parentheticals.
If you have to explain how every line should be delivered, the dialogue probably isn’t doing enough work on its own.
Keep the page clean.
A screenplay needs to give us the movie without trying to control every single thing that will eventually happen on set.
Your script is a blueprint, not a shot list.
5. Only Understanding Save the Cat
I like Save the Cat.
I use Save the Cat.
It is not the Bible.
It’s a really good introduction to structure, and the beat sheet can be incredibly useful when you’re trying to figure out why something isn’t working. But storytelling is so much more than hitting a specific beat on a specific page.
Learn character arcs. Learn tension. Learn pacing. Learn wants and needs. Learn setups and payoffs. Learn different approaches to structure.
And read actual screenplays.
Seriously. Read scripts.
You start noticing things that no screenwriting book can really teach you.
A beat sheet is a tool. It shouldn’t become a cage.
6. Characters With No Flaw or Wound
Perfect people are boring.
Your character wants something. Great.
But why do they want it?
What do they actually need?
What are they afraid of?
What happened before this story started that shaped how they see themselves and the world?
That’s the stuff I’m interested in.
The external plot should force your character to deal with something internal. Their flaw affects the choices they make. Those choices create consequences. Those consequences force them to either change or refuse to change.
That’s where the emotional part of the story comes from.
Want versus need creates the arc.
The flaw and wound give it some juice.
7. No Conflict in the Scenes
Conflict does not mean everyone needs to be screaming at each other.
It just means somebody wants something and something is getting in the way.
That can be huge or incredibly small.
Maybe one person wants to leave, and the other wants them to stay. Maybe someone wants information the other person doesn’t want to give them. Maybe two people are having a perfectly polite conversation while both pretending they don’t hate each other.
There’s still conflict.
When I’m looking at one of my scenes, and something feels wrong, I ask myself what actually changes because this scene happened.
If the answer is nothing, I probably don’t need the scene.
Even a small scene should shift something.
8. Protagonists Who Just Let Stuff Happen
Things can happen to your protagonist, obviously.
But eventually they have to do something about it.
A character who spends an entire movie reacting to everyone else starts feeling like a passenger in their own story.
Your protagonist needs to make choices.
They don’t have to be good choices.
Please let them make terrible choices. That’s usually more fun.
Let them screw something up. Let them chase the wrong thing. Let them hurt someone. Let them convince themselves they’re doing the right thing when they absolutely are not.
Then make them deal with what happens because of it.
Choices create consequences, and consequences create story.
9. Trying to Sound Like Other Writers
Read writers you love. Study them. Figure out why their scripts work.
But stop trying to sound like them.
If you’re trying to write like Guy Ritchie when nothing about your natural voice sounds like Guy Ritchie, people can tell.
Your voice comes from you.
It comes from where you grew up, the people you know, your sense of humor, your experiences, the things you’re obsessed with, the things you’re afraid of, and all the weird little details you notice that somebody else wouldn’t.
That’s the good stuff.
Learn from other writers, but don’t erase yourself trying to become one of them.
10. Explaining the Theme
Please don’t make your character give a speech explaining what your movie is about.
If your theme is working, I should feel it without anyone having to tell me.
Theme comes through choices, patterns, consequences, and payoff. It comes from watching your character keep making the same mistake until eventually they have to decide whether they’re going to change.
Let the story make the argument.
You don’t need to stand next to it pointing at what it means.
Trust your reader to connect the dots.
And One More Thing
I think one of the easiest traps for a new screenwriter is getting so worried about doing everything correctly that you stop taking risks.
You can read every screenwriting book ever written. You can memorize every beat sheet. You can spend three months outlining the perfect screenplay.
Eventually, you still have to try.
And it probably won’t be perfect, but it’s okay to be bad at first. You’ll get better.
Write the vomit draft. Write the scene that doesn’t work. Let your second act be a disaster for a minute. You can fix something that exists. You can’t rewrite a blank page.
Learn the rules. Understand why they exist. Read great screenplays. Write a lot.
Then figure out what works for you.
The goal isn’t to write a screenplay that follows every rule perfectly.
The goal is to write one people want to keep reading.