The Anatomy and Physiology of a Script
Understanding Page Structure to Help Your Readers Visualize the Story
The proper execution of page structure and its significance are typically overlooked in screenwriting because writers know that the film industry mostly only cares about the story and whether or not it’s great, can be shot, and sold for profit. So naturally, we tend to downplay its importance.
While the story matters most, knowing how and why to structure your pages can still be enormously helpful. Not only can it make you look better, but it can also help everyone involved in the production of your story.
Many writers struggle to understand this because they typically learn page structure from other scripts. While it's certainly good to study the greats, I’m not necessarily convinced that this alone is the best way to learn how to do it. Screenplays will tell you how to structure, but going out and making a film will tell you why to structure.
When you make films, it becomes much easier to see how these “rules” serve the whole production, from the visualization to the logistical planning. A good page structure gives clarity for the entire production team to collaborate. That’s why it matters.
So here’s a breakdown of page structuring, including all of the elements and why we choose to use them or not. They’re universally implemented in almost every screenplay. But keep in mind that you don’t have to use most or any of them at all. It’s just easier for everyone, which makes it easier for you to make a name for yourself. So why not adopt these things if you haven’t already?
Slug Lines
Have you ever opened up a script and seen something like this:
INT. WALTER’S APARTMENT - DAY
That’s called a slug line. Why is it called that? Honestly, I don’t know the specifics, but I think it has something to do with newspaper printing back in the day. That’s not important, though. What’s important is understanding why it exists.
First, let's examine the anatomy of a slug line so that we can understand what it is. You probably noticed the INT. at the beginning of the example. That’s short for “interior” to indicate that this scene occurs inside. You can also write EXT. (exterior) if you want to express this scene as taking place outside.
The next part is a description of where we are. In this example, it’s Walter’s apartment. It’s good to be specific, but also brief. Writing, “WALTER’S CLEAN AND EMPTY APARTMENT DOWN ON FIFTH STREET” is too much and unnecessary to write because most of it can be added in the action lines.
But writing “APARTMENT” might be too ambiguous because we may need to know that it is specifically Walter’s apartment. The key is to describe only what will be on screen and in the briefest possible way.
The third part of a slug line describes whether it’s day or night. In the example it’s written as, “DAY”, but of course, if it takes place at night write it as such. You can also be a little more specific such as, “WINTER DAY” or, “LATE AFTERNOON”, but I would only do this if it needs to be stated. If you’re moving from one day to another and it doesn’t matter what time it is, or if the time of year remains the same throughout the story, stick with day or night.
Okay, so why does a slug line even exist? I mean, can’t we describe all of that information in the action lines? Well, you can, but it will make it harder for readers (the people making it into a film) to discern what takes place in one scene and what takes place in the other, making it challenging when planning the film.
That’s the main reason why we use slug lines. We need something to help the reader differentiate between multiple scenes. So if you’re starting your first scene, you would write a slug line and then write your action lines and dialogue before writing a new slug line to show that we moved from one scene to another such as in the example below:
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INT. WALTER’S APARTMENT - DAY
Walter sits at his desk holding his head in a dimly lit room that’s strangely very empty and clean.
He stares down at his desk, frustrated and concerned.
INT. STEPHANIE’S KITCHEN - EARLY EVENING
Sitting at the end of an empty table, Stephanie quietly eats her meal.
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A slug line does more than break up scenes, however. It also allows readers to gain the most important baseline information ahead of time instead of being forced to find it in the action lines and dialogue. With a slug line, a reader can almost instantly know whether it takes place inside or outside, where it takes place, and when it takes place, all of which can make a significant difference in the decisions you have to execute when planning the film.
Yes, your story may still be great without slug lines, but it will make producing it that much harder, which will make it more challenging to sell. So, at the very least, make sure you use these.
Action Lines and White Space
Now, for the meat and potatoes, the stuff that comes after a slug line: Action lines and white space. Your action lines are the lines you write that describe your action and white spaces are the spaces between your action lines. Taken together, they look like this:
INT. WALTER’S APARTMENT - DAY
Walter, sits at the desk holding his head in a dimly lit room that’s very empty and clean [Action Line]
[White space]
He stares down at a blank piece of paper, frustrated and concerned before standing up. [Action Line]
[White space]
Walter paces his bedroom, holding his hands behind his head, but suddenly stops, frozen in thought. He then rushes back to the desk and begins to furiously write. [Action Line]
[White space]
The pen moves erratically along the page. [Action line]
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Of course, I added “Action line” and “White space” to point out what was what, but by no means do you write this in your action lines and white space. Just know that every line of action, whether it’s a sentence or a whole paragraph is an action line, and every time you hit the “enter” key twice (once for automated programs) that creates white space in between the first action line and the next action line you write. Hence, “White space”.
Most writers don’t have a problem wrapping their heads around this. However many have issues understanding exactly what action lines and white space represent for filmmakers. Technically, we could write paragraphs with spaces like what I’m doing in this blog, but doing so makes it much harder for filmmakers to plan their shots. Ideally, each action line should represent a shot and each white space should represent a transition to another shot. So if you’re clumping action lines into paragraphs, it adds more of a mental strain on the director and DP/DOP when they have to visualize the story, shot-for-shot.
It’s not exactly black and white, though, especially if someone else directs it. For instance, you could write one sentence as your action line, and in your head, it might be one shot. But a director could take that same sentence and turn it into two or three shots. So there isn’t a one-to-one ratio. But as a writer, it’s still good to sort of treat it that way because it allows you to indirectly express whether something is a short or a long shot, and when we see a shot transition, such as in the example I showed you:
INT. WALTER’S APARTMENT - DAY
Walter sits at his desk holding his head in a dimly lit room that’s very empty and clean. [One shot]
[Transition to next shot]
He stares at a blank piece of paper, frustrated and concerned before standing up. [One shot]
[Transition to next shot]
Walter paces his bedroom, holding his hands behind his head, but suddenly stops, frozen in thought. He then rushes back to the desk and begins to furiously write. [continuous shot or two shots]
[Transition to next shot]
The pen moves erratically along the page. [one shot]
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Again, it’s not a one-to-one ratio. A director could easily add more shots or even omit some because you can show this in a million different ways. That’s why writers should have a decent understanding of filmmaking. It makes it easier to write action lines that infer the shots without having to specifically describe the shots, something typically frowned upon as it implies doing the director’s job. But, if you also learn how to set up shots, you can describe them indirectly without stepping on anyone’s toes or ruining your flow.
So let's examine the first two action lines that I wrote in the example to understand what I mean:
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Walter sits at his desk holding his head in a dimly lit room that’s very empty and clean.
He stares at a blank piece of paper, frustrated and concerned before standing up.
________________________________________________
These action lines could be combined into one close-up shot of Walter, but since I also described the room and created a second action line that described him staring at his desk, this implies two shots: one wide, establishing the space and where the main character is, and one close-up of his face.
Notice that I didn’t describe or imply specific shots. I just wrote what was being conveyed in the story. A director could still decide to make it into one shot by panning around the room to show the space before ending with Walter sitting at his desk. But because I described everything important to the scene and broke the action lines up, the director now has all the information so that they can visualize it similarly to what I intended or choose to reimagine it by combining them into one shot.
If it’s giant blocks of action lines, then it’s up to the director to visualize everything, and a very skilled director can do this and make great decisions, but it does make it harder for them. Furthermore, because you clumped it all together, the director was never given a chance to see how you might set it up, which could be a better choice or lead the director to make a better choice. That’s how you get steamrolled when communication on the page fails.
Now, the million-dollar question is, what do you add or not add in your action lines so they don’t become giant blocks? I mean, there’s so much we see when watching a movie, how is it possible to describe all of that succinctly? Well, you don’t exactly need to describe everything in a scene. You just need to utilize descriptions that make inferences along with specific descriptions about everything that a team of filmmakers needs to know so they can do their jobs and that includes:
General aesthetics of the space (i.e. small messy office with papers and books sprawled across the room or big empty warehouse that’s old and dusty.)
Specific elements within the space that are important for context when establishing that area and for driving the story (i.e. the bookshelf where the main character grabs a book or the footprint indent on the dusty warehouse floor that the detective examines).
Physical looks of your characters that briefly describe them uniquely from everyone else. Avoid descriptions that are too general like “Pretty woman” or “ugly guy”. We need to know specific features that will be seen. Also, you only need to describe physical looks when introducing them for the first time or if there’s a change in appearance that’s relevant to the story, such as getting a black eye or wearing an exceptionally beautiful dress when the person usually wears jeans and a tee-shirt.
Where your characters are within the space in relation to each other, what they physically do, and where they go within the scene.
That’s pretty much it. You just want to add everything that will be conveyed on screen so that those who make your story into a film will have the basic knowledge to pull it off. And, for anything with too much to describe, such as an establishing shot of a busy waterpark, describe the space with a few additional details that uniquely establish the atmosphere. You don’t need to write about all 200 people milling about and every ride. You just need to give enough details so we can fill in the gaps and visualize what we will see.
But don’t make those gaps too wide because if people are forced to use too much of their imaginations, they could misinterpret what you are trying to convey. For really skilled filmmakers, this isn’t too much of an issue, but for filmmakers who are technically good, but have a difficult time with story development, they could make poor choices in those gaps, which could diminish the quality of your story. Conversely, if you reduce those gaps too much, you risk having clunky action lines and encouraging bad visual decisions while making it much harder for others to understand the story.
Character Name, Parenthetical, and Dialogue
This is pretty self-explanatory, but along with everything else, we also have a general standard for showing character names, parentheticals, and dialogue. This is what it looks like with all the elements combined (minus the numbers):
[1.] WALTER [2.] (V.O.)
[3.] (frustrated)
[4.] When did I last have a clear memory of her?
Okay, let’s deconstruct each of these elements so we know what they are:
Character name: Pretty easy to get. It’s the name of the character that’s saying this dialogue. Use all caps.
Character Cue: This is used when the dialogue is conveyed physically in a specific way. If not, don’t put anything next to the name. In this case, it’s a V.O., which is short for voice-over. So Walter isn’t saying this out loud. He’s thinking in his head and it’s being narrated to the audience. Other types of character cues are:
Off-screen (O.S.) - used to show that the character is speaking outside of the scene area and will not be on camera at all (i.e mom yelling from the kitchen while the scene takes place in the living room)
Off-camera (O.C.) - used to show the character speaking within the scene space, but off-camera (i.e dinner conversation with everyone listening to mom’s story as she does the dishes).
CONT’D - Short for continued. Used when the character says something, then an action line occurs before the character continues talking.
Parenthetical - These are adjectives used to convey an action or how something is said, such as (angry). Should be seldom used and only if the moment doesn’t make an action or an emotion obvious.
Dialogue - Used when a character speaks...Yeah.
So as you can see, there’s a lot you can do to convey how something is spoken, which is why it’s important to understand what these elements are and how you can use them to communicate the way you see the story in your head. But beyond the clear communication, lies logistical communication. If you don’t specify these kinds of things, then like everything else mentioned, it’ll put more work on the creators to address these concerns, or worse, they won’t even realize that they need to consider them.
Transitions
Okay, so now you have your first scene and you want to move on to the next scene. This is where transitions become important because it allows the reader to understand how we’re visually seeing the move from one scene to the next like in this example:
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INT. WALTER’S APARTMENT - DAY
Walter sits at his desk holding his head in a dimly lit room that’s strangely very empty and clean.
He stares down at his desk, frustrated and concerned.
CROSSFADE TO:
INT. STEPHANIE’S KITCHEN - EARLY EVENING
Sitting at the end of an empty table, Stephanie quietly eats her meal.
________________________________________________
In this example, we use a CROSSFADE to indicate that the first shot in the next scene fades into view as the last shot in the previous scene fades out. Here’s the thing about transitions, though. You don’t have to add one between every scene. There was a time when that was part of the “rules” and in most professional scripts you would see, “CUT TO” sandwiched between every scene. But somewhere along the line, I guess people realized that putting it in all the time wasn’t necessary, which honestly, I agree with.
So my rule of thumb is simple. If it’s a specific transition like a “CROSSFADE” or a “SMASH CUT” then state that. Otherwise don’t add a transition and let the readers assume correctly that it is a cut to the next scene and not something specific.
Now, what kind of transitions exist that you can use to describe the specific shift from one scene to another? Well, let’s examine some of the common ones.
CUT TO: A standard cut from one frame in a scene to another frame in the next scene. The absence of a transition between the scenes implies this kind of transition.
SMASH CUT TO: When an object hits something or someone and the moment when they come into contact with each other, an immediate transition occurs, usually to a scene with a calmer tone. Example: A serial killer’s knife strikes the victim before cutting to a shot of a party scene.
MATCH CUT TO: When the last shot of a scene focuses on an object or a person and the first shot of the next scene is the same shot of that object or person, only in a different part of time. Example - Showing a close-up expression of a worried kid before a big exam and then having the next scene show that same shot with the kid only to zoom out and reveal him sitting in the classroom being handed the exam.
JUMP CUT TO: When you have a shot at the end of a scene, which sets up a “cause” and the next shot in the next scene shows an “effect”, usually to elicit a comedic effect. Example - Showing two people outside a front door before a party telling themselves that this will be fun and then cutting to a shot of them sitting at a table being miserable as everyone around them has fun.
DISSOLVE/CROSS FADE TO: When the last shot of the scene fades out and the first shot of the next scene fades in. This is used to convey change over time, such as someone walking a long distance or waiting forever for a phone call.
WIPE TO: When the last shot of the first scene wipes out of frame revealing the first shot in the next scene. Used a lot in Star Wars.
FADE IN/FADE OUT/FADE TO: FADE IN is used at the very beginning of the script and is generally left-justified as opposed to right, which is the case for all other transitions. This shows a fade from black to the opening shot. It isn’t used that often, today, and like CUT TO, if it isn’t there, then it’s generally implied. FADE OUT is the same only at the end of the story and is right-justified. FADE TO isn’t used all that often because DISSOLVE TO has replaced it. But it signifies a fade out of the last shot in a scene and a fade into the first shot of the next scene.
There are many other types of transitions, but these are the most common ones that writers use to convey how scenes move from one to the other.
Conclusion:
And that, my friends, is the anatomy and physiology of a screenplay. It is a little technical and it’s not uncommon to get stumped on how to structure the page. So if you ever end up in that situation, just ask yourself, “What does the entire film crew need to know to make this into a movie?” Think about the needs of everyone, from the producer to the set designer. What needs to be known to drive the story and what does the crew need to know to streamline their work?
Those should be the questions you ask yourself. That way, if you can’t find an answer anywhere, you can just make it up, but in a way that is clear to the people making it because that is what is most important, beyond all the rules. The rules exist to serve these professionals, not so much the story itself, so breaking them doesn’t affect the quality of the story. It only affects the communication between you and those who are making it.
For further help, below is an example of all the structural elements put together so you can see how they function with each other. Keep in mind that none of this is properly formatted. I’d recommend getting a screenwriting program like Final Draft or Celtx because these can auto-format. Anywho, hope this was helpful, and best of luck in your writing!
______________________________________________________________________
FADE IN:
INT. WALTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
WALTER, young wired-haired man who is wearing nothing but boxers, sits at his desk holding his head in a dimly lit room that’s strangely very empty and clean.
Emotionally exhausted, he stares at a blank piece of paper for a long moment before finally standing up.
Walter begins to pace his bedroom, holding his hands behind his head, but then suddenly stops and remains frozen for a moment. He then rushes back to the desk and begins to furiously write.
WALTER (V.O)
(determined)
When did I last have a clear memory of her?
The pen moves erratically along the page.
FADE TO:
INT. STEPHANIE’S KITCHEN - MORNING
We see an extreme close-up of STEPHANIE preparing a meal as she smiles while engaging in a conversation with someone off-screen; the morning sun bathes her face.
INT. WALTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
The pen stops writing and we pan up to see Walter, now filled with tears. He looks off.
WALTER (V.O)
God, I miss her.
A picture of Walter kissing Stephanie’s cheek in a group photo is seen resting on the dresser.
FADE TO BLACK:
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