Short Drama Script Format: Template, Episode Headers and the 60-Second Page
A copyable Fountain template for vertical drama scripts, the episode header convention, the page-to-second math, and a worked 90-second episode line by line.
Standard format is the entry ticket; the edge cases are where scripts get flagged. These guides cover the core rules and the situations that trip writers up, from montages and intercuts to text messages and foreign dialogue.
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A copyable Fountain template for vertical drama scripts, the episode header convention, the page-to-second math, and a worked 90-second episode line by line.
A slugline is the all-caps heading that opens every scene: INT. or EXT., location, time of day. What each part does, copyable examples, mini-slugs, and the rules readers actually check.
Copy the Fountain title page block, or fill five fields and export a PDF. Both give you a standard title page, plus what each field does and what changes for contests and pilots.
If you use a WGA registration number at all, it goes bottom-right, 1 inch from each margin. Most working screenwriters skip it entirely on a spec title page, and here is why.
For a screenplay, a cover page and a title page refer to the exact same plain page: it displays the title, byline, and contact info. The confusion comes from other industries—such as book publishing or corporate reports—where a cover page typically means designed artwork with graphics or imagery.
A shooting script title page adds a draft label, revision color, and date on top of the standard spec fields. Here is what changes, and the standard Hollywood revision color order.
A TV pilot title page puts the series title on top, largest, with the episode title (usually 'Pilot') centered below it in a smaller font. Here is the full layout and the hierarchy mistake to avoid: never make the episode title larger than the series title.
Most major fellowships require a blind title page: title only, no name, no contact info, no representation details. Here is why anonymity exists—to ensure unbiased judging—and the common ways writers accidentally break it, such as embedding their name in headers or footnotes.
There is no single correct title page, there are nine common ones used across different submission contexts: standard, represented, anonymous contest, adaptation, multi-writer, TV pilot, production, WGA-registered, and staffing sample. Each serves a distinct purpose.
The one-page-per-minute rule holds within about 5% for balanced standard-format scripts, but drifts 10-20% for dialogue-heavy or action-heavy scripts. Here is when to trust it—for early estimates and pitching—and when to override it, such as when precise timing is required for production.
A music video treatment runs 1 to 3 pages of prose plus 8 to 15 pages total with mood board images. Here is why timing means song structure, not runtime.
A 30-second commercial runs about 60 to 75 spoken words, a 60-second spot 130 to 150. Here is the words-per-second convention and why silence and read pace change the real count.
A 5-minute short runs about 5 pages, a 10-minute short 9 to 11, and a 15-minute short 14 to 16. Here is why short film page counts have the least slack of any format.
A 2-hour movie script runs about 110 to 125 pages, with 118 to 122 the safest professional target. Here is the genre breakdown and why the 125-page ceiling is partly psychological.
A 30-minute script runs 22 to 38 pages depending on camera format and platform. Here is the band by format and why multi-cam, single-cam, and streaming half-hours differ.
A 90-page script runs about 90 minutes, the one-page-per-minute baseline for a feature. Here is how genre and content mix shift that number in practice.
The fastest accurate way to time a screenplay: page count, the one-page-per-minute rule, and the dialogue vs action adjustments that keep your estimate honest.
Feature, TV pilot, short film, micro-budget: the exact page count range for every format, why the one-page-per-minute rule holds, and what actually moves your number.
Every screenplay formatting guide in one hub: sluglines, title pages, montages, flashbacks, phone calls, text messages, V.O., and the edge cases nobody teaches, plus free formatting tools.
On-screen text is part of the story grammar. Title cards vs chyrons vs lower thirds, capitalization rules, and when text on screen beats dialogue exposition.
Time-lapse is montage with a clock visible. Seasonal markers, transformation verbs, and the format line between poetic compression and unreadable blur.
Underwater action has different physics and reader expectations. Depth markers, breath logic, visibility limits, and format choices that keep submerged fights legible.
News scenes need anchor lines, chyron logic, and control-room geography. TV formatting patterns for live breaks, B-roll inserts, and the exposition that feels like coverage.
Opening crawls carry exposition that has to feel mythic, not instructional. Page format, word economy, and when to let the crawl do work your first scene cannot.
V.O. is not a crutch for unfilmable prose. When to tag narration, how to separate voice from scene, and fixes for the voiceover that explains what we already see.
The title page is your first handshake. 2026 spec standards for contact blocks, draft labels, and the mistakes that make readers think you downloaded a template yesterday.
Found footage is a camera contract, not a genre garnish. REC markers, operator logic, discovery framing, and failure modes that break immersion on the page.
Mockumentaries need a page grammar for interviews, B-roll, and breaking the fourth wall. Format patterns, moderator beats, and fixes when your docu-comedy reads like a sitcom.
Montages compress time on screen but often jam the page. MONTAGE vs SERIES OF SHOTS, lean beat blocks, and failure modes that make readers skim your training sequence.
Fade In vs WriterDuet is a workflow choice: solo file ownership vs live co-writing, subscription math, and export rituals that keep FDX and PDF handoffs boring.
TEASER, ACT ONE, END OF ACT ONE, TAG: what broadcast module labels mean, how to format them, and how to write act outs that survive interruption.
Multi-cam and single-camera sitcoms share jokes but not page grammar. CAPS action, set geography, act outs, and 2026 page bands for the half-hour lane you are actually writing.
Casting sides are performance documents, not mini-scripts. How to cut excerpts, format title pages, and avoid the audition mistakes that waste everyone's time.
White, blue, pink, yellow: what WGA revision colors mean on set, how to mark changed pages, and export habits that keep production from reading the wrong draft.
INT/EXT designation errors, imprecise time-of-day markers, and vague location headings undermine reader confidence before a single line of dialogue appears on the page. A comprehensive slugline construction checklist, step-by-step formatter workflow recommendations, and targeted corrections for the scene heading mistakes that script readers and development executives consistently flag as immediate red flags in coverage.
Half-hour comedy pilots and hour-long drama pilots operate within distinctly different page-count bands for structural and commercial reasons tied to broadcast timing and advertiser requirements. Detailed 2026 industry targets broken down by format category, systematic methods for auditing your act module distribution and pacing, and proven fixes to deploy when coverage feedback indicates your script reads as running significantly short or uncomfortably long for its intended slot.
Split-timeline narrative scenes possess the potential to create profound emotional resonance and thematic depth, yet they can just as easily generate reader confusion and temporal disorientation when poorly executed. A hands-on practical framework covering paired story beats across timelines, effective timeline labeling systems and visual markers, plus transition logic strategies that maintain clarity while keeping interwoven temporal layers narratively compelling and emotionally grounded throughout the screenplay.
Bodycam perspective scenes offer the opportunity to deliver raw procedural intensity and ground-level authenticity, but risk collapsing into chaotic metadata dumps and disorienting visual clutter without disciplined craft. A comprehensive practical framework addressing constrained point-of-view formatting techniques, strategies for maintaining evidentiary clarity within limited camera angles, and the crafting of consequence-driven interpretation beats that transform bodycam footage from mere documentary style into active storytelling with investigative stakes.
Courtroom transcript insert sequences can sharpen evidentiary tension and foreground contradictions with documentary precision, yet poorly integrated legal excerpts risk stalling narrative pacing and burying dramatic reveals in procedural minutiae. A detailed practical guide to formatting courtroom record excerpts for maximum readability, handling speaker label hierarchies and witness identification clearly, and constructing contradiction beats and impeachment moments so that embedded legal text actively propels story movement rather than functioning as inert exposition.
Whisper scenes risk collapsing into either razor-sharp tension or muddy repetition that drains momentum. This practical framework tackles audibility mapping across sound layers, low-volume dialogue formatting that preserves clarity on the page, and risk escalation techniques that ensure hushed exchanges don't merely set mood but catalyze irreversible character choices and plot shifts.
Hybrid interview scenes promise layered truth-telling but can fracture pacing when documentary elements clash with narrative flow. This practical framework addresses formatting for testimony inserts that interrupt main action, intercut contradictions that expose unreliable narrators, and reliability arcs that evolve across the screenplay so documentary devices don't just ornament but actively strengthen narrative cinema's emotional architecture.
Chant-heavy scenes hold potential for mass tension yet often dissolve into repetitive background sound that characters ignore. This practical method covers formatting crowd rhythm on the page, call-and-response structure that builds through repetition with variation, and escalation beats where collective voices crescendo into pressure points that force individual character decisions and irreversible action.
Notifications can escalate scenes within seconds or clutter screenplay pages with interface noise that reads flat. This practical method provides source hierarchy to distinguish critical alerts from ambient pings, alert text formatting that conveys urgency without tech-manual dryness, and reaction beats that transform digital signals into real story consequences with immediate character stakes.
Intercut sequences generate relentless urgency when executed well but risk timeline chaos if spatial or causal logic breaks down. This practical method structures shared clocks that synchronize parallel action, location switches formatted for instant reader orientation, and causal links that show how decisions in one space trigger consequences in another so two-location action remains crystal-clear and sustains high-tension momentum.
Video-call scenes can feel modern and tense or flat and repetitive. A practical framework for formatting source clarity, lag events, frame leaks, and two-location power shifts without cluttering the page.
Nested dream scenes can create psychological dread or total timeline fog. A practical system for layer labeling, wake transitions, anomaly rules, and fair-clue reveals that keep readers oriented and unnerved.
Dispatch scenes can create tactical urgency or devolve into unreadable jargon. A practical method to format channels, source cues, and escalation beats so police comms stay clear and dramatically effective.
CCTV scenes can create forensic tension or pure confusion. A practical method to format camera IDs, timestamps, playback shifts, and watcher reactions so surveillance sequences stay clear and dramatically charged.
News desk scenes can add pressure or become lifeless info dumps. A practical guide to formatting source clarity, writing authentic anchor copy, and intercutting reactions that force character decisions.
Voicemail scenes can deliver emotional shock or sink into transcript clutter. A practical method to format playback clearly, intercut listener reactions, and keep delayed-audio moments cinematic on the page.
Radio transmissions and PA system announcements introduce distinct formatting challenges that can either amplify narrative tension or shatter scene coherence entirely. This practical guide examines how to format source audio with technical precision, orchestrate the rhythm of interruptions and overlapping dialogue, and maintain absolute readability in broadcast-heavy sequences where communication systems drive the dramatic stakes under extreme pressure.
Parentheticals serve as protection for authorial intention yet risk suffocating the natural flow of dialogue when overused. This practical rewrite methodology demonstrates how to systematically eliminate emotional overlabeling that insults actor intelligence, retain only those critical clarifications that genuinely serve performance needs, and engineer scenes that read with greater clarity and momentum while preserving the exact performance precision required for complex character moments.
A flashforward sequence possesses the unique power to generate audience dread within seconds or to irreparably collapse reader trust in a single misstep. This guide dissects how to format timeline jumps with surgical precision, sustain narrative suspense and emotional stakes even after revealing future outcomes to the audience, and systematically avoid the structural failure modes and formatting errors that render non-linear scripts unreadable, confusing, or dramatically inert.
Tablet-based screenwriting on iPad frequently fails in professional meetings and production environments when the exported PDF reality diverges catastrophically from the on-screen preview vanity that writers trust during composition. This analysis covers stress tests for real-world production scenarios, hardware performance realities that affect font rendering and pagination accuracy, and disciplined export habits that ensure iPad-drafted scripts maintain coordinator-grade professional standards across all delivery formats.
The phone rings with urgent news. We witness both sides of the call simultaneously unfolding in real time, Sarah trapped inside the surveillance van making critical decisions, Marcus pinned down under active attack and fighting for survival. This tutorial demonstrates how to format simultaneous action across split locations in a way that doubles the tension, maintains spatial clarity for both the reader and director, and orchestrates the intercutting rhythm that maximizes dramatic impact.
Max the dog looks up with understanding. A tear rolls down his cheek. Dogs don't cry. How to write animal action that's actually filmable.
A bone spins through prehistoric sky. Cut, a space station orbits Earth. How to write match cuts that connect scenes through visual and auditory poetry.
He's had four drinks. Maybe five. 'He's drunk' tells the actor nothing. How to write intoxication with specificity, guiding performance without dictating it.
Maya's hands move in fluid conversation. Her brother responds, his signs sharper, faster. How to write dialogue that isn't spoken but is fully heard.
The diplomat speaks Russian. The protagonist doesn't. Between them sits an interpreter. How to format scenes where translation happens in real time.
'She realizes she's been wrong about everything.' How do you film 'realizes'? When should you use action lines that describe invisible internal states, and when is it better to avoid them entirely and show the realization through visible behavior instead?
Sarah presses her ear to the door. Through the wood, she hears her parents arguing in the next room. How do you format two simultaneous scenes happening at once—the speakers in one space and the listener in another who shouldn't be there—so the reader understands both are occurring in parallel?
One take. No cuts. The camera follows without stopping. How to write a oner that reads as fluidly as it will shoot, without overstepping into directing.
The viewer puts on the headset. They can look anywhere they want. There's no frame, no cuts, no directorial control over their gaze. How do you script action that happens in every direction at once when the audience decides where to look?
No images. No actors' faces on screen. Just sound, voices, music, and the theater of the listener's imagination filling in what isn't there. How do you structure a ten-episode audio drama and format scripts for this unique medium that relies entirely on what the ear perceives?
The viewer makes a choice. Cereal or no cereal. The narrative branches from that moment. One path leads to a memory; the other leads to a breakdown. How do you format scripts that aren't linear stories but maps with multiple routes through the same world?
It's October fifteenth. The network needs a script by November first. You have sixteen days to write a ninety-minute Christmas movie that hits every expected beat and still feels fresh.
Thirty seconds. Approximately 75 words of dialogue. Every image and word must earn its place. Why commercial scripts use a different format, and how to master it.
The page explodes. 'KRAAKOOOM' arcs across the sky in jagged red letters. Now write that as a screenplay. How to transform a medium that controls space into one that controls time.
The Western screenwriter hands over a script that's self-contained. The anime screenwriter hands over one piece of a larger system. Understanding these production codes keeps you from marking yourself as an outsider.
The footage doesn't exist yet. The interviews haven't been conducted. But you need to convince a network to fund eight episodes based on a document you wrote before cameras rolled.
The episode is seven minutes long. Not forty-two. Not sixty. Seven. How to compress story without losing depth, and why broadcast pacing rules will sink your web series.
Once the script is locked, scene numbers and revision discipline keep prep from collapsing into confusion. Understand how to properly lock your screenplay, when scene renumbering becomes necessary, and how to issue color-coded revisions without creating chaos across departments.
Production needs to see what changed. Blue, pink, yellow, revision colors aren’t busywork. They’re how you keep the room in sync and avoid costly confusion.
Fountain is plain text and portable, but the handoff into and out of your screenwriting app isn't always smooth. Here's how to round-trip your screenplay files between different tools without your formatting, structure, or metadata collapsing along the way.
You're cutting, pasting, restructuring scenes, and the screenwriting app keeps 'fixing' what you didn't ask it to fix—renumbering, reformatting, or shuffling elements. Here's why auto-correction happens and how to reduce the rewrite tax it imposes on your workflow.
Use AI to flag typos, inconsistent character names, and duplicate sluglines, then you decide which changes to accept. A clean, polished script without letting the tool rewrite your voice or impose its own style choices.
How to format pratfalls and physical gags on the screenplay page so they read clearly and land with timing, and so the director, stunt coordinator, and crew can make them work safely and effectively on set.
Capture and light editing on phone or tablet. What to look for and how formatting holds up, sync and workflow.
Every time we change time or thread, the page has to say so. Supers, headings, or labels, one clear convention.
When to specify each move and when to give outcome and feel. How to choose and format so the stunt team and reader get what they need.
Suggest the continuous flow. Describe the path and the beats so it can be shot in one take, without directing the camera.
One clear beat per moment. Who's in which car, what happens, and the outcome. Short blocks so the reader and stunt team follow.
INTERCUT and mini-slugs so the reader always knows which location we're in. How to format parallel action.
Label the transition in and out. How to format so the reader never wonders if we're in the past or a dream.
Series of shots = one event, many quick beats. Montage = time passing. How to choose and format each.
Give the translation. One consistent convention so the reader and subtitling team always know what's said.
Describe the effect, not the shot count. One clear image per beat so production can budget and design.
Lyrics vs. dialogue; diegetic vs. non-diegetic. How to format songs and cues so the reader and music team know what's what.
Sound before the first image: how to format OVER BLACK so the reader and the director both understand the intent — whether it's ambient atmosphere, a voice beginning in darkness, or music that carries us into the opening shot.
VR POV, AI voice, holographic UI: how to describe what we see and what we interact with — the spatial experience, the gesture, the voice prompt — without over-designing the interface or prescribing every visual detail that belongs to the production designer and VFX team.
What we hear and what we see: how to format podcasts, radio segments, and news broadcasts so the content and its emotional role are clear to the reader and the editor, without transcribing every word or over-specifying delivery.
When to intercut between two locations and when to stay with one side of the conversation: why INTERCUT works for parallel action and cross-cutting, and why dual dialogue is reserved for characters speaking in the same room at the same time, not for phone calls or remote exchanges.
SUPER, chyron, or action line: how to specify on-screen text — location stamps, name cards, date markers, message overlays — so the reader knows what appears when, and production and post have a clear, unambiguous guide for graphics and titles.
Name the emoji, describe the GIF. How to put them on the page without breaking the read or losing production. Specify which emoji appears (🎉, 😂, etc.) by name or Unicode, and write out what the GIF shows frame-by-frame so the production team knows what to source or create. Specify which emoji appears (🎉, 😂, etc.) by name or Unicode, and write out what the GIF shows frame-by-frame so the production team knows what to source or create.
The frame is the desktop. How to format windows, clicks, and dialogue so the script stays readable and producible. Label which application window is active, note where the cursor moves or clicks, and separate any on-screen text or dialogue boxes so the layout remains clear for both the reader and the production crew. Label which application window is active, note where the cursor moves or clicks, and separate any on-screen text or dialogue boxes so the layout remains clear for both the reader and the production crew.
Who we see, who's speaking, and when the view changes. How to format video calls so the reader can follow. Identify each participant by name or label, indicate whose window is in focus or full-screen, and mark transitions between speakers or gallery views so the blocking and camera work are unambiguous. Identify each participant by name or label, indicate whose window is in focus or full-screen, and mark transitions between speakers or gallery views so the blocking and camera work are unambiguous.
Vertical format, comments, and live elements on the page. How to specify what we see and hear without over-designing. Describe the vertical frame boundaries, call out floating comments or reaction icons by position and content, and note any animated or interactive elements as they appear in sequence, giving production what they need without prescribing exact visual design. Describe the vertical frame boundaries, call out floating comments or reaction icons by position and content, and note any animated or interactive elements as they appear in sequence, giving production what they need without prescribing exact visual design.
Dialogue, action, or insert, when to use each for SMS so the page stays clear and production knows what to build. Use dialogue format for typed messages, action lines to describe the bubble animation or typing indicator, and insert for close-ups of the phone screen or notification banners, keeping each element distinct so the page reads cleanly and the build requirements are obvious. Use dialogue format for typed messages, action lines to describe the bubble animation or typing indicator, and insert for close-ups of the phone screen or notification banners, keeping each element distinct so the page reads cleanly and the build requirements are obvious.
Thought in the present vs. voice from later. How to tell them apart, when to use each, and how to format so the reader and production get it.
The look. The gesture. The beat with no dialogue. How to put silence on the page so the reader and the actor have something to play.
When two people talk at once in the same room. How to format dual dialogue in your software and when to use it so the page stays clear.
Scene headings, supers, character labels. How to signal every time shift so the reader and production never get lost.
Two locations, one conversation. The cut is a beat. How to format and write intercut phone calls so the tension lives in the rhythm of the scene.
Sound from the next scene bleeds into the current one—the audience is pulled forward before the cut even happens. This is the pre-lap technique: how to format it cleanly on the page, when to deploy it for maximum narrative momentum, and how to signal the overlap to both the reader and the sound team without cluttering your screenplay.
The page is a visual object that generates reading tempo. Dense, unbroken blocks slow the read and fatigue the eye; short lines, intentional paragraph breaks, and white space create rhythm and forward pull. How to pace the reader's experience without saying a word—using layout itself as a storytelling tool that mirrors the tempo you want on screen.
How to put non-linear storytelling on the page without losing your reader or your production team. Section headers, time stamps, thread labels, and visual cues that keep everyone oriented when the chronology is deliberately fractured, intercut, or told out of sequence—so clarity and impact coexist.
Sound does story work—it reveals character, builds world, and drives emotion. Here's how to put sound design, score cues, and ambient layers on the page in a way that serves the narrative without cluttering the read or attempting to direct the mix before you're in post.
The spec script is for selling and reading—it must seduce and flow. The shooting script is for making the movie—it must be precise, numbered, and production-ready. Different rules, different audiences, different formatting expectations, and when to use which format depending on where you are in the life of your project.
剧本里写电话戏,读者常常看懵——因为电话对白有自己的语法规则。单侧对白(one-side)与交叉剪辑(intercut)在格式上完全不同,用错会让制片方误判场景需求。这篇就讲清楚:什么时候只写一方说话,什么时候要标 INTERCUT,以及怎样让页面既符合行业标准、又不让读者在「谁在哪儿接电话」这件事上犯迷糊。
剧本长度的行业共识是 90 到 120 页,最理想的落点在 100 到 110 页之间。这些数字不是拍脑袋定的——它们来自「一页约等于一分钟银幕时间」的估算惯例,也关乎院线排片与观众耐受。流媒体时代这套标准开始松动:限定剧可以更短,多集叙事允许单集篇幅灵活。但如果你要投传统制片厂或参赛,守住 100 到 110 页仍是最安全的选择。这篇会告诉你这些数字从何而来、为什么重要,以及流媒体究竟改变了什么。
多数编剧把 V.O.(画外音,voice-over)和 O.S.(画外声,off-screen)当成一回事随手标,但在制片流程里它们触发的决策完全不同。V.O. 通常指旁白或内心独白,录音可以后期单独完成;O.S. 是角色人在现场、只是不在画框里,现场收音和演员调度都要考虑进去。用错不只是格式问题,会直接影响预算、拍摄计划和后期排期。这篇教你怎么正确区分并标注,让剧本既专业又不给制片方埋雷。
这两款软件都能输出行业标准的 PDF 和 FDX 格式,功能上都够格。一个是行业老牌、装机量最大,几乎是事实标准;另一个在传统编剧功能之外加了实时故事地图(living story map)和可视化工具,适合需要结构化管理长篇或多线叙事的创作者。选哪个?取决于你的工作流:如果你的协作对象、制片方、经纪人都默认用前者,兼容性优先;如果你常常改大纲、调时间线、画角色关系网,后者的视觉化面板能省不少力气。
提交剧本时,文件格式不是小事——它直接关系到对方能否顺利打开、你的排版会不会走样、制片方能不能导入他们的分镜和预算软件。什么时候该发 PDF?什么时候该给 FDX?PDF 锁住格式、适合最终呈现和存档,FDX 是 Final Draft 可编辑源文件、方便对方标注和拆分场景。导出前还要检查字体嵌入、页边距、有没有漏标场景编号——这些细节决定了你的剧本在读者和制作流程里是「符合预期的专业稿」还是「得重新收拾的麻烦件」。这篇会告诉你各格式的适用场景,以及怎样导出才能让剧本顺利进入下一环节。
The reader is three-quarters down the page. Quiet. Then the next line hits,and they flinch. That's craft. How to format sudden scares so the script makes everyone jump before a single frame is shot.
How to format a screenplay in 2026: Courier 12pt, exact margins for sluglines, action and dialogue, plus copyable examples and a cheat sheet table. Or skip the rules and format automatically for free.