Screenwriting

Good morning Creatives,

I recently read an interesting scientific article about imagination — the fuel that, in many ways, sets our creative soul in motion. It argues that imagination isn’t just a replay of sensory experiences, but a much more complex mental process that actively reshapes what we’ve lived through.

In other words, imagination isn’t a “copy” of reality. It’s a higher-level reworking of experience that seems to activate deeper and more hidden areas of the brain.

When we imagine something — memories, future scenarios, story worlds — the brain doesn’t only activate sensory regions. It also engages areas linked to language, planning, and abstract thinking. That’s probably why imagination helps us do so many things: predict the future, simulate situations (which sounds very familiar to writers!), understand others, and make decisions.

So, imagination doesn’t simply reproduce what we’ve seen or experienced. It builds new simulations using memory + thought + language.

I find this fascinating — especially for storytelling. We’re not just recalling reality… we’re running complex mental simulations.

What do you think?

Best,

AB

For writers, it can be easy to focus entirely on the page, the characters, the dialogue, the structure, the story itself. But the reality is, writing for this industry also means understanding the business behind the art.

After more than three decades working across international distribution, production, and now publishing, I’ve seen the entertainment industry from many different angles.

From selling films territory by territory at global markets…

to producing projects…

to helping creators develop stories.

Over time, a few patterns become impossible to ignore.

Here are some of the truths the industry eventually teaches you. Feel free to add more in the comments below!

1. A great idea is not enough.

The industry runs on execution, relationships, and timing. Many brilliant ideas never make it to the screen.

2. The math always matters.

Behind every creative decision sits a financial reality: budget, recoupment, market demand.

3. Distribution determines destiny.

A beautifully made film without a distribution strategy can easily disappear.

4. Festivals are not a business model.

They can elevate a project, but they rarely guarantee financial success.

5. Casting is often a financial decision.

Recognizable actors or trending talent can unlock distribution discussions and investor confidence.

6. Relationships build careers more than projects do.

Projects come and go. The people who trust you and believe in you stay.

7. The market never stops changing.

What worked ten years ago—or even five—or even last Film Market may not work today.

8. Intellectual property has become incredibly valuable.

Books, articles, podcasts, and true stories increasingly drive development because they bring narrative depth and audience interest.

9. Ego has destroyed more projects than lack of talent.

I’ve seen films fall apart because of pride, politics, or power struggles, or just plain ignorance.

10. Reputation compounds over time.

In a relationship-driven industry, your name eventually becomes one of your most valuable assets.

Despite all of this, I still believe deeply in storytelling.

Because every once in a while, the right story finds the right collaborators at the right moment.

And when that happens, something extraordinary can still be created.

Going to Cannes this year? Let me help you refine your presentation (and mindset) in my very popular Stage 32 workshop.

Which of these truths do you think screenwriters need to understand earlier in their journey, and why?

Hello everyone,

I’m currently working on my third story and I would really appreciate your feedback and honest thoughts on it. I’m still growing as a writer, so any advice or suggestions would mean a lot to me. Thank you in advance for taking the time to read and share your insights

Synopsis: Thanksgiving: No One Leaves Alive

On Thanksgiving night, twenty teenagers—bored thrill-seekers—discover a forbidden game known as “No One Leaves Alive,” a ritual said to be cursed and tied to mysterious disappearances.

Sara warns them not to play, explaining the dark history behind the game, but she is mocked and dismissed. Pressured by the group, she reluctantly follows as they decide to proceed.

What begins as a reckless challenge quickly turns into a nightmare when the game proves to be real. One by one, the teenagers are hunted by an unseen force that seems to manifest their deepest fears. As paranoia spreads and alliances break, Sara is forced to survive the consequences of a game no one was ever meant to play.

I’ve managed writers and actors for 19 years, and I wanted to take a second to post about using devices in your scripts. Flashbacks, flash-forwards, dream sequences, voiceover, etc. I feel like all are theoretically fine, but I do think you have to really look at each instance carefully.

Why are you using that device? If using it somehow moves the story forward, great. If not, then what are you doing?

I also think the placement of these devices matters a ton. I’ve read so many scripts with flashbacks that don’t relate at all to what’s happening in the current time frame in that part of the script. It can feel really jarring when reading.

I’d also say to be careful overusing any device. Flashback within a flashback. Flashback to a dream sequence that plays out in montage. Voiceover for every character while in a flashback within a montage. Flashback from a character but the flashback is not from that character’s point of view…Complete chaos!

There are no real rules about these types of things. It’s different for every piece. Just be thoughtful about devices, and don’t use them just to use them.

As always, happy so answer questions.

The most important thing I’ve learned with following up with people (after being able to successfully package, not 1, not 2, but 3 projects) without a manager or agent assisting..

Your follow up email is missing a call to action. Your email has to make them want to respond.

You have another project with a producer attached, mention that in the email. The production company you have a project with has a first look deal, mention that. You have actors attached, mention that.

That person reading that email has to feel like they are missing out on something. 

And they’ll respond fairly quickly. If not. Move tf on.

Only follow up when you have major updates. 

You’ll wait forever to hear back just for a read on a project with no momentum. No matter how good of a writer you are unfortunately. Another thing I’ll do, is I’ll also say “I’ve updated so-and-so about your update as well. We look forward to hearing back”. That is also a call to action due to how small the industry is haha.

Hope this helps! 

At what point is it fair play to use your own works as comps, or is that never a thing even if you're at the top of your game?

Hollywood is becoming international, and if you're a writer, filmmaker or tanet anywhere in the world, that's the best news you've heard in years.

For most of the twentieth century, breaking into the industry meant one thing: moving to Los Angeles. The geography was the gatekeeper. You needed to be in the room — literally — to have a shot at the room. Pitch meetings, staffing seasons, writers' rooms, networking events. All of it was physically located in one city, on one coast, in one country. If you weren't there, you weren't really in the game.

That is no longer true. And the shift happening right now is one of the most meaningful structural changes in the history of screen storytelling.

Production has gone global — not as a trend, not as a talking point, but as a permanent reconfiguration of how film and television gets made. Tax incentives, world-class infrastructure, and the streaming revolution have collectively redrawn the map. The UK has transformed into a genuine production powerhouse. Pinewood and Leavesden are booked solid. Wales has become a serious destination. Canada — Vancouver, Toronto, Montreal — has cemented its role not just as a shooting location but as a creative hub with real development activity. And South Africa has emerged as perhaps the most exciting story of all: Cape Town is now hosting major international productions year-round, building crews, building talent pipelines, building something durable.

But the really significant shift — the one that matters most for writers specifically — is what's happening in television. Because film was always somewhat porous. An independent film could always come from anywhere. Television was different. American TV, especially network and cable, was famously, almost aggressively, insular. Writers' rooms were physical, hierarchical, and almost exclusively Los Angeles-based. You had to climb that ladder in person, rung by rung, for years. The showrunner system — creatively powerful as it is — created a bottleneck that filtered out almost everyone who wasn't already embedded in the LA ecosystem.

Streaming has cracked this open. Netflix, Apple, Amazon — they don't just buy American content. They commission originals in dozens of countries, many of which go on to massive global success. They have established writers' rooms and development infrastructure in London, in Toronto, in Sydney. The model of the single centralized room is giving way to something more distributed, more genuinely international. HBO, Netflix and Apple have all made serious commitments to British productions and British talent. Canada's co-production treaties, built up over decades, now function as real creative partnerships. South Africa's writers are increasingly being brought into international projects shot in the country — creating knowledge transfer that is building actual, lasting infrastructure.

The practical result for writers is significant. A British writer no longer needs to relocate to staff on a US show — the show may come to them. A Canadian writer in Toronto now has access to productions that would have been unimaginable without an LA address ten years ago. A South African writer with a strong voice and a compelling sample is now genuinely on the radar of international buyers in a way that simply wasn't true before.

Writers everywhere who are serious about their craft now have a genuine shot. Not a consolation prize. Not a regional footnote. A real, viable path into the rooms that matter.

That's worth paying attention to.

It was fun being interviewed by the Palm Springs Screenplay Awards for being a finalist.

https://www.palmspringsscreenplayawards.com/mike-fitzer-interview.html#/

Today, while developing my script, I had a huge fight with one of my characters--the male lead to be precise. Now, this might sound weird.

'How does one have an argument with a fictional character?'

I'm telling you, it's absolutely possible. Those who know...know.

See, that's one of the things that differentiate a good script from a great script. It's why actors like Heath Ledger, Cillian Murphy, Margot Robbie were able to deliver their characters so perfectly using method acting.

But I digress.

Back to the fight. See, this particular character has the darkest psyche of all the characters I've created till date. He's willing to destroy everything around him, even if it means destroying himself...and the one person that feels like home.

Now, any writer out there knows the struggle of delivering the most realistic character development while trying to find a way they can be redeemable.

Because they risk the public hating on the character, and once that happens, the damage can be...well, irreparable.

Now, my struggle. I didn't envision an anti-hero when I started writing his character. I wanted something real. Something uncomfortable. Something that nudges at the audience's heart.

See, they'll want to hate him. Yell at him. Write him off.

But that's the problem. They can't.

Because deep down, even if they don't want to admit it, they...understand him. They relate with him. They empathize with him.

And maintaining that balance between that and being a villain is the struggle.

But he's fighting back. He argues it's too soon. He still has a lot left to show. Softening that anger...that fear, that loneliness is too soon.

It doesn't give justice to the hell that raised him...made him who he is.

The more he argues, the more the scales tip. The more the balance shifts to him being a villain...an anti-hero in the best scenario.

He wants justice. For himself. For the man he could have been. For the hell he suffered...even if that means destroying everything in his path...and the one person on earth who understands him.