A Screenwriter’s Process
Every script begins with an idea. A line of dialogue I overhear in a coffee shop. A fragment of a dream I can’t quite shake. A question I can’t stop asking myself. For me, screenwriting is less about waiting for inspiration and more about listening closely because the story is almost always trying to find me first.
When an idea comes, I don’t judge it. I capture it. The notes app is the most used app on my phone, sticky notes spill out of my backpack, and voice memos crowd my phone full of random lines, character quirks, and “what if” questions. Most of these thoughts don’t evolve, but sometimes, when you're lying in your bed at 2 am on a random Tuesday, a spark of imagination hits you. The next thing you know, it’s 8 am, you’ve gone through three cups of caffeine, and you have a 120-page script written.
Before I begin outlining and writing, I sit with the world and the people who will live in it. What does the air smell like? In a room full of people, how would they interact? If a character has tattoos, what are they, and why do they have them? For Corkscrewed, my series, I didn’t just imagine the land. I drew maps, designed houses, and thought about how a cliffside breeze might change the way a character pours a glass of wine. My characters become as real as family members. They argue in my head. They interrupt me when I’m supposed to be doing dishes. That’s when I know they’re ready.
Next, I move on to the foundation. This stage feels less like structure and more like a storm. When I’m shaping the story, I rely on beat sheets to chart the emotional journey. The storylines I’ve created are like debris swirling in a tornado - chaotic and unpredictable - while the beat sheet becomes the clear path carved out by that very chaos. I don’t think of it as “plot first, feelings later.” Instead, I ask: what transformation is this character resisting? What’s the wound they don’t want to expose? The external story always bends around that. I often find that once the emotional journey has been mapped out, it helps me to set the tone for my writing.
Once I’ve established the beats, I move on to what I consider the hardest, yet most freeing step. The first draft.
My first drafts are far from polished. They’re raw, filled with spell check errors, full of half-formed jokes and dialogue placeholders. I try not to edit as I go. Momentum matters more than perfection at this stage. I constantly remind myself that I can’t revise a blank page.
At this point in the process, my first draft is complete!! This is when I hit pause and take a day or two to let the writing marinate while my brain goes on DND.
After I’ve given myself some space from the script, it’s time to move on to the next step. It’s key to remember that drafting is excavation, revision is architecture. I chip away what doesn’t belong, add texture, and polish down to the bones of the story until it shines through. Sometimes I rewrite a scene 10 times before it clicks. Sometimes one tiny tweak, such as a word, a pause, unlocks everything.
When I am done revising and feel confident with a script, I choose to share pages with trusted peers and mentors to gain new perspectives. Do they laugh where I hoped? Do they catch the clue I planted? Do they care about the people I’ve spent months building? Those reactions guide my next pass.
Screenwriting, for me, reflects my real life. Chaos channeled into creation. It’s balancing a corporate job while being a single mom with late-night writing sessions. It’s building worlds out of heartbreak, humor, and hope. It’s the belief that stories matter, that they can spark conversations, shift perspectives, and maybe even make someone feel a little less alone.
That’s my process: capture the idea, build the world, embrace the messy, revise, gather perspectives, and fuel it all with caffeine.