Do Your Opening Pages Really Matter That Much?
Your opening pages send all sorts of messages that transcend the actual story you are telling. They are your introduction, your initial handshake, your non-verbal communication that you are a writer to be taken seriously.
Do your opening pages really matter that much? Isn’t it just a way into your incredibly compelling story? Shouldn’t you start with some character set up so the reader can engage and worry when you do things to them? Yes. No, and absolutely not.
Rather than diving into some lecture about why your opening pages matter, let’s look at all this from a non-writing perspective. Chances are, you do not have an agent, an Academy Award, or wrote a movie that earned a quadrillion at the box office. In other words, in the eyes of Hollywood, you are still a virtual nobody. No offense.
When an industry reader picks up a script from a nobody (still no offense), there are already pre-conceived notions. You’d have them. A saint would struggle not to have them. Imagine you spend all day reading scripts by paid writers, and get to this script by someone with zero credits. At best you’re thinking ‘Oh good, the potential for a fresh voice, I really hope it’s good.’ But more typically it’s probably more like ‘I’ll give it a quick start before heading off to lunch/coffee/meetings/sleep.’
This reader already expects the script to be OK at best before they’ve opened it. I’m not being mean, I’m being realistic.
They then turn to page one – and see an entire block of detailed, nuanced scene description crafted over several painstaking weeks by a writer with a fully realized vision of the set, characters, mood and tone in their head that must be put on the page. No story. Just set up. Visuals, costumes, characters engaged in their normal, day to day activities (which often include waking up, showering, and looking at their pile of unpaid bills).
This set up spills into page two. Then page three. And then page four as the writer thinks, ‘I’ll just throw in this bit with her Mother, so we can see what that relationship looks like, and then I’ll start the story I promise.’ And that goes into page five. You get the idea.
Even if this is amazingly written, it is sending a message to the reader that the writer either doesn’t have the guts to start the story, or does not have full command of craft. Either of those thoughts supports the initial pre-determined judgment of the reader, who by the way has a pile of other scripts to get through.
So you know what happens next? The reader skims a few more pages, maybe skips to the end, or the middle, reads a few more pages here and there just to confirm their viewpoint, and then they put the script down, write an email saying, ‘Great writing but it’s not for us’, and head off to lunch/meetings/sleep. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be doing exactly the same thing if the roles were reversed, because you would.
Welcome to the reality of the unknown screenwriter.
Your opening pages send all sorts of messages that transcend the actual story you are telling. They are your introduction, your initial handshake, your non-verbal communication that you are a writer to be taken seriously. They are your shot. So why on earth would you use that ‘shot’ to show your lead character waking up and showering? Or having logistical chats about coffee, or riding the bus?
Your opening pages are everything. Because if you can’t get a reader to keep reading, the rest of your script may as well be blank pages after about page 20.
So what do you do? Well…don’t fall into the trap some will tell you where you throw everything and the kitchen sink into those pages. There does not need to be incredible page-turning action everywhere. Not only is that potentially confusing, it’s also slabs of action and scene description, which is a chore to read.
There’s no formula for all scripts. There’s no foolproof chart or graph. No magic secret. There is simply effort, thought and command of craft. And the understanding you are starting as you mean to continue. The understanding you know who’s reading, you know their expectations, and you’re OK with it. In other words, you know your audience, and you’re up to the challenge to engage and entertain them with no fear, pomposity, self-delusion.
This is your moment to show them you got this. Your job is to persuade the reader they can relax and enjoy the show. Bring them along for your character’s ride. And then hope like hell the rest of your script delivers.
Trust your skills. Don’t burden us with overly detailed scene description. Don’t worry about costume specifics unless they are crucial. And above all…don’t waste any time. No showing off, no fiddling around, just include enough to incite a reader’s own imagination, and get them curious to learn more.
You wouldn’t tell a story on your first date that begins with ten minutes of, 'Oh before I tell you what happened, you need to know what the guy had for breakfast’ so don’t do it in your script.
If you really think about your opening pages, and understand their immense power – you will quickly create something that people will delay another script/lunch/meeting/sleep to finish. That’s all you can hope to achieve as a Hollywood nobody (really, no offense).

Tim Schildberger is an experienced writer, script coach, author and co-founder of Write LA - an annual screenwriting competition which gets winning writers read by Literary Managers. Tim works with writers to improve their emotional connection with their stories and characters - a crucial element needed to launch industry careers. He’s also a journalist, one of the key members of ‘Borat’, creator of ‘Lawrence of America' for the Travel Channel, host of the podcast ‘Script, Mate!’, and author of popular screenwriting book ‘The Audience and You’ available on Amazon and wherever good books are sold. In his spare time, Tim is a parent, tennis player, and fan of Australian Rules Football. For more of Tim's tips and opinions - Instagram: @writela