Fixing Scenes Before the Story: A Hazardous Approach

The writers' room I was in ended unexpectedly. I had just finished a pilot script. Good one. Really good. It was about a mythical place where British Lit characters all lived in one town - characters like Mowgli, Watson and The Queen of Hearts. But scripts have always had a tiny audience — managers, agents, producers, the small circle whose job is to decide if your thing gets to exist. That's not new. That's just the reality of the format. I had hundreds of stories in my head. So I started writing them. But in stories. Short stories. Before that I'd shot tons of short films. Something people can actually see. Real feedback. Not waiting six months for a pass. But shorts were an even faster process. I had a system for writing them. I started with concept — the "what if." Then theme. Characters. Story. Draft, which would then get feedback from readers and I’d improve. This how sprints work! Sprint. Ship. Test. . I had turned a creative process into a product loop and it was working. But more importantly, it taught me something critical. Voice doesn't come from staring off into the sunset and thinking harder as if that’s what Hemingway did. It comes from making more. Enough reps and your actual obsessions start bleeding through. You can't think your way to that. Hollywood didn't iterated, instead they industrialized. Three-act structure had already been proven over centuries. Stage. Oral tradition. Page. By the time film arrived the formula existed. Hollywood just plugged in the stars, the money, and the distribution. Then Jaws happened. It was a national release... at first. Then international. Suddenly, the industry blew up. People love talking about stories over drinks and if someone else is paying, why not? So development became a thing. It bloated. It worked — while DVD revenue and residuals covered the overhead. But now, that revenue is gone but drinks are still on the cal and calls are still being rolled. Creators operate differently. We iterate in public. Social video was the first wave — an exponential explosion of people making things, testing things, finding what lands. Here's a shot from one of my iterations! With AI, the cost of a rep — a short, a scene, a proof of concept — is collapsing toward zero. The first generation of AI-enabled creators may not all be great writers yet. But they'll learn. Either way the content flood is already here. But as a creator it’s important to continue despite the blizzard headed our way because voice leads to IP. And that's what everyone is after. Hollywood built an entire infrastructure to protect its IP once it existed. Creators are discovering IP through reps — testing concepts in public until something connects, an audience forms, a world worth owning emerges. After tons of shorts. 20 scripts. A Google Doc with 200 pages of story ideas. A pilot that deserved more readers. Now a sci-fi film in my apartment hallway, I know what my voice is so it’s time to create! IP awaits.

I don’t hate UGC I hate lazy scriptwriting. Most ads out there are selling from the start. Which doesn’t make sense because most of your traffic don’t even know who you are as a brand. We took all of our winning scripts this year and an AI broke down the 10 most important traits in them. Here they are: 1. Every script starts mid-conversation. 2. The first line creates instant tension through shock, fear, or contradiction. 3. Two actors always create a natural “push/pull” dynamic that feels overheard. 4. The product enters only after a discovery, not a pitch. 5. Objections are voiced by the other actor so the viewer never feels sold to. 6. A unique mechanism is always explained in plain language through casual dialogue. 7. Proof is embedded inside reactions, screenshots, sounds, or sensory details. 8. Alternatives are discredited indirectly using humor, comparisons, or subtle frustration. 9. Transformations are shown through metaphor, behavior, or relief. 10. The CTA feels like the viewer is being let in on something, not pushed toward something.

I love rewriting other people's scripts... About seven years ago, I discovered I like rewriting existing scripts [for money] more than I like writing original pieces. As this is a part of the industry that doesn't get a lot of attention, I'd like to unpack why I love this work. My approach to doctoring a script has always been based on the premise that the script doesn't need fixing, what it needs is for someone to clearly see the hidden potential of what's already on the page. This is something I learned from my years of script analysis, the creative answers the writer and producer are looking for are almost always already in the existing script. Often hidden in a seemingly innocuous action or line of dialogue. Most of the time, the script fixes itself. I suspect that this one factor is what differentiates the way I work from the approach of a lot of producers, where their gut instinct is to add in new or different ideas instead of exploring what's already there. The thinking seems to be that if you find the right patch, you can cover over the flaw. In my experience, it's usually more productive to pull solutions from the text. In fact, the best approach is to discard as much clutter as you can from the pure heart of the story. Just in the same way that good dialogue is discovered by crossing out the clutter that surrounds it, the same its true of most cinematic stories. They're sculpted from the existing material rather than fixed. And I think that's why I love rewriting, because it's a job that requires me to see the best of what's on the page. To see past the mess to the clarity hidden underneath.

Good professional script development seems to work best with three different roles in place, each with a specific lane. Let’s unpack this. The writer is the first element. Their job is to solve creative problems and to do the actual rewrites. The producer is the second element. Their job is to advocate for the project as a product. To be clear about what they need and why they need it. The final role is the development exec. Their job is to provide analysis, to act as a bridge between what the producer wants and the writer needs. They are the plumbers of the film industry because they diagnose, troubleshoot, and they also tend to arrive with a bag of tools. 90% of development problems are caused by either the producer or the writer straying outside of their lane. The most common versions being producers who use notes as an opportunity to play at being a writer… and writers who insist their script is a perfect product as it is.

Are you wasting time doing the wrong things? Sounds dumb to ask, but.... Biz owner "I want a script writer for my channel" Reply "What problem do you want solved, exactly?" It could have been someone to take his idea one each week and script it. It could have been someone to create a full strategic content calendar and map out a year of scripts and then create them. (very different hire) He didn't really know. He didn't have it clear. He didn't ask enough good questions before taking action. He also didn't consider than someone one his (less busy than usual) team might be able to plug the gap. He didn't ask any AI questions (horror!) ----------------- What problem are you actually trying to solve? Get good at asking yourself lots of questions. Ditch the rules. Bring them back if they make sense - but then you've truly delved into all the options. Being thorough doesn't have to take a long time -and like everything else, it gets better and quicker the more you do it.

As I go deeper into the reel editing world, I’m learning fascinating things. Yesterday I learned a little more about the opening 3 second science. There is a checklist of things you need to incorporate into your teeny narrative that provides a certain kind of an opening so that people actually take the time to watch what you’ve created. And if you deviate from that checklist, you risk not being watched. This blew my mind a little. 3 seconds. 3 damn seconds. So the rest of the video’s narrative doesn’t matter as much as these 3 seconds. You could have made a masterpiece but if the first 3 seconds don’t adhere to that checklist it just won’t matter. Uneffingreal. This is the monster we’ve blindly fed and continue to feed that now runs everything even long form storytelling. The bozos in development teams use this logic while approving scripts for theatricals and series. We’ve steadily and stupidly built an environment of media consumption that is inconsiderate, impatient and completely incapable of allowing organic human connection. It’s just terribly sad. I wish I wasn’t a creative professional in these times. It’s stifling, unfulfilling and exhausting.

Scripting is where every great story truly begins. Before the lights, the camera, the voiceover, or the final edit — there is a script. A blank page that slowly transforms into emotion, structure, rhythm, and impact. But scripting isn’t just about writing lines. It’s about: • Understanding the audience • Building authentic characters • Maintaining tone and consistency • Balancing creativity with clarity • Structuring ideas that flow seamlessly • Adapting content across languages and cultures One of the biggest challenges in scripting is saying more with less. Every word must serve a purpose. Whether it’s for films, series, ads, corporate videos, or dubbing projects — the script needs to inform, engage, and resonate. Another challenge? Rewrites. Great scripts aren’t written once — they’re refined. Feedback, revisions, timing adjustments, localization constraints, and production limitations all shape the final draft. It’s a collaborative process that demands patience and precision. In a fast-paced content world, scripting also requires speed without compromising depth — a balance that takes both skill and experience. At its core, scripting is problem-solving through storytelling. And when done right, it becomes the invisible force that holds the entire production together. Here’s to the writers who turn ideas into impact — one line at a time. #Scripting #Storytelling #ContentCreation #CreativeProcess #ScriptWriting #MediaProduction #Dubbing #CreativeIndustry #WritersLife

I have a confession to make. I had this same problem until I built the solution. Most agencies don’t have a “writing problem.” They have an edit-tax problem. When you scale past a few clients (or hire junior writers), the hidden costs show up fast: You spend hours rewriting “almost right” drafts Brand voice drifts across team members Feedback turns into long threads with no single source of truth You can’t prove what was approved, when, or why For The "Scale-Up" Content Agency (High-Volume), this isn’t a creativity issue. It’s an operations issue. Here’s the shift that reduces revision cycles without turning your team into prompt engineers: Lock the brand profile once Not a PDF. A reusable profile your team can’t ignore. Run deterministic QA gates before humans review Rule-based validation catches quality gaps early (tone mismatch, missing disclaimers, off-lexicon language). Use Genius Copilot for options, not decisions Generate 10 ranked options, then select what fits. Humans decide. Admin lock the final output When it’s approved, lock it into an immutable version with a complete audit trail. That’s how you scale output without scaling your editing hours. If you want to see what this looks like in practice, Start onboarding at Agency Draft OS with a 14 day Pro Tier Free Trial at: https://lnkd.in/gFGnQMMb or Request a demo by filling in the contact form. Results may vary based on team adoption and integration with existing processes. AI-generated content and recommendations require human review and approval. #AgencyOps #CreativeOps #BrandGovernance

A good editor knows the software. A great editor knows the audience, the story, the emotion, the pace, the brand and maybe even the deadline. The best editors are not “button pushers”. Here’s Rabia Ghaffar and Jakob Twidle. Between us, there are a lot of hours in the edit suite. And a lot of creative conversations that are rarely about shortcuts. I’m seeing more and more about AI editing and promises of perfect edits in a fraction of the time. But sometimes the “perfect” take isn’t the one we’d use. Sometimes it’s the breath before the answer. The glance off camera. The outtake that reveals something real. Those moments don’t surface because the timeline is clean. They surface because someone in the room says, “Wait. Go back to that bit.” Great editors like Jakob and Rabia bring taste, judgement and instinct. And that still matters.

A year ago, I edited a video on Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj for Jinto Joy. It remains one of the most important projects in my journey as an editor. When you edit content around a historical figure like Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, accuracy and structure matter more than style. As an editor with storytelling knowledge, my focus was clear: •Strong structure – Clear introduction, build-up, and conclusion. No random cinematic shots. •Controlled pacing – Slower cuts during emotional moments, sharper cuts during powerful sections. •Music discipline – Music supported the narrative, never overpowered it. •Relevant visuals – Every frame matched the historical and emotional context. •Purpose driven transitions – No unnecessary effects. Every cut had a reason. Editing is decision making. What to show. What to remove. Where to pause. Where to build intensity. This project reinforced a simple principle: Good editing is not about effects. It is about clarity, context, and control. Respect the subject. Protect the narrative. Deliver the message clearly.