u/Striking-Fondant5550

Think about the last conversation you had where you didn’t say what you actually meant. Maybe you told your partner “I’m fine” when you weren’t. Maybe you smiled at your boss and said “sure, no problem” while screaming internally. Maybe you spent twenty minutes talking with an old friend about the weather, the commute, or a film you both half-remembered, because neither of you wanted to bring up the thing lingering underneath the conversation. That’s subtext. And it’s one of the most powerful tools a screenwriter has.

In real life, people rarely say exactly what they mean. Your characters shouldn’t either. One of the most common notes I give as a script editor is this: your characters are being too literal. They’re saying exactly what they feel, exactly when they feel it, and it kills the scene. Real communication is indirect. We deflect. We soften things. We change the subject. We say “I’m not angry” in a tone that makes it obvious we’re furious. That tension between what’s said and what’s actually meant is where great dialogue lives.

A few things I always come back to when writing subtext:

- Know what your character really wants. Not what they say they want, what they need, and why they can’t ask for it directly.

- Let the scene be about something else. An argument about washing up can actually be about years of resentment. Keep the scene about the dishes.

- Trust your audience. If you’ve built the emotional groundwork, you don’t need to explain everything outright.

- Use silence and action. A character avoiding eye contact or suddenly washing dishes instead of answering a question can say more than a monologue ever could.

The scripts that feel real are usually the ones where characters are evasive, contradictory, and emotionally indirect, just like actual people. They laugh when they’re hurt. They change the subject when they’re scared. They say “I should probably go” when they desperately want to stay.

When dialogue reflects that messy human reality, scenes stop feeling written and start feeling alive.

I’m about to use dylon and rubber bands to try and ‘tie dyr’ my baby’s stained clothes and turn then into play clothes. which colours work best? Any tips and tricks to make the process idiot proof? (it’s me - I’m the idiot lol)

I've just come off the back of a brilliant pitch session on Stage 32, and I mean genuinely brilliant!! It made me feel genuinely energised about the future of storytelling, which doesn't always happen! But across all the written pitches - the great ones, the almost-great ones, and the ones that needed a little more time in the oven - I kept seeing the same five mistakes coming up again and again. Mistakes that are completely fixable. Mistakes that, once you know about them, you will never make again. So here they are.

Consider this your cheat sheet! ;)

1. Your pitch doesn't sound like your film

This is the big one. The one that breaks my heart the most, because it's so easy to fix once you see it. If you're pitching a darkly funny Gen Z horror, your pitch document should feel dangerous and a little unhinged from the very first sentence. If you're pitching a tender, emotionally devastating character drama, the prose should make me feel something before I even get to the synopsis. A pitch is not a Wikipedia summary of your script, it's a trailer in document form. It should carry the tone, the texture, the sensibility of the thing you're selling.

The fix: Read your pitch back and ask yourself honestly, does this feel like my film? If the answer is no, rewrite it until it does. One or two sentences of genuine voice can transform an entire document!

2. You tell me how your characters feel but not what actually happens

Emotional journey is essential. I need to understand what your protagonist wants, fears, and stands to lose. But emotional architecture cannot exist without plot, and you'd be amazed how many pitches describe the feeling of a story without ever telling me the story. I want to know: what happens in act one that kicks everything into motion? What is the moment of no return? What does the climax look like? What does your protagonist do? Vague language like "the conflict escalates" and "tensions deepen" tells me nothing. Specificity is everything.

The fix: After you've written your pitch, ask yourself: if someone read this and had to describe the plot of my film in three sentences, could they do it? If the answer is no, you need more story on the page.

3. You haven't answered 'Why You, Why Now'

This is the question every producer is asking from the moment they start reading, and the one most writers forget to answer. ‘Why Now’ means: what is it about this specific cultural moment that makes your story necessary? ‘Why You’ means: what is your personal connection to this material? Why are you the only person who could have written this? That's not just a nice detail, it's the thing that makes a producer lean forward.

The fix: Write a single paragraph that answers both questions honestly and specifically. Then put it near the top of your pitch document, not the bottom.

4. The formatting is letting you down before you've said a word

I know. It feels like a small thing. It isn't. A pitch document is your first impression: it signals how seriously you take your own work. This week I read pitches with fonts that changed size mid-paragraph, multiple blank pages at the end, bullet points where there should have been prose, and - in one memorable case - a greeting addressed to entirely the wrong person! These things matter. Not because producers are pedantic, but because sloppiness on the page raises a quiet question: if the writer hasn't proofread their pitch, have they really finished their script?

The fix: Before you send anything to anyone, print it out, read it aloud, and check every single detail. Then get someone else to read it too. Your pitch deserves the same care as your script!

5. You lead with your character list instead of your story

I understand the impulse. You've spent months with these people. You love them. You want me to love them too. But here's the truth: I cannot love your characters before I care about your story. A list of character descriptions at the top of a pitch, before I have any dramatic context, is the fastest way to make my eyes glaze over! Even if every character is brilliantly drawn, I need the story first. Get me invested in the world and the central conflict, make me desperate to know what happens next, and then introduce me to the people who live there. I also see pitches regularly that introduce eight, nine, ten characters before we've even reached the first plot point. Unless this is a true ensemble piece - and if it is, three leads maximum, please - find your protagonist, put them at the centre, and let everyone else orbit.

The fix: Restructure your pitch so the story summary comes first, the central relationship or conflict is established early, and character introductions follow only once I'm already hooked.

One last thing

The writers I met this week are talented, passionate and full of ideas that deserve to be made. Every single one of them. These mistakes aren't signs of bad writing! They're signs of writers who haven't yet learned the specific craft of pitching, which is genuinely its own skill, entirely separate from the craft of screenwriting itself. The good news? It's completely learnable.

If you'd like help developing or refining your pitch - whether that's a full structural overhaul or just a fresh pair of eyes - I work with writers on exactly this, all the time. You can find out more and get in touch directly at scriptservices.co.uk

Your story deserves the best possible chance. Make sure your pitch gives it one!!