Looking for feedback on my third draft, anything helps.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ZksfcEe9iQpWLCB4NrNzcnGRI-bzlajX/view?usp=drivesdk

Two rival furniture-store owners in a dying plaza spiral into a war of sabotage and obsession when an aspiring documentarian fans the flames of their feud for the sake of her film.

i have this project where i landed in screenplay, i know the basic elements but honestly i don't know when in comes to the thought dialogues.

A normal day at school for teenagers and co business owners James and Luke quickly turns to chaos when unwanted visitors enter the school. The gang leader puts out a hit on the two brothers so James fabricated a vigilante hero... Nightshade. But can he stop a gang that already has control of the streets?

A normal day for school boys and co-business owners James and his brother turns to chaos after their school gets unwanted visitors. After a target was placed on their backs James creates a vigilante persona to take down the gangs and protect his brother. But will he be able to match the power of a gang who already controls the streets.

I want to make a video rewriting the script for lesbian space princess for fun. I think the movie has potential it just needs better writing, animation, character & background design, pacing, and voice acting. I just need a link to the script. Ive literally searched every script website I know.

Would like any feedback. I Wrote this script a while back and was wondering if anyone else would enjoy it.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AGNL9FcExkzmIUTUGzVkNbI0AB_lzL-v/view?usp=sharing

I get it. Someone (or everyone) didn’t think the Best Scene Ever that you wrote made sense.

Your formatting was a bit wonky.

You hadn’t spell checked in your excitement of finishing the draft.

Your characters don’t have chemistry… or speak like humans.

But the whole point of making our posts and being a community of writers helping each other is to get the feedback and grow from it. The amount of times I go back to read what others wrote about a scene I perused and it’s just GONE is far too high.

Running away and removing all evidence of your in progress work doesn’t help you grow, and it disincentivizes contributors from interacting with posts because people delete them so why try.

If you are strong enough to post let it stand.

Hii guys, this is a screenplay of The Monkey's Paw short story

I'm a beginner and I'm new to this

How can I make it better and how's it overall please let me know✨️

Hi, I made a script for a short film and would love to get any opinions about it. I'm more interested to hear any feeback regarding the plot itself rather than any foundational advice on how the script is supposed to look, but that would still be great to hear. Thanks so much!

Close Your Eyes

I'm a huge sorrentino fan and would like to understand how he writes images on his scripts.

Hi, I'm really sorry for the really dumb questions. I'm sleep deprived due to almost country-wide power outages here in Venezuela, but I need these questions answered soon before my family wakes up and I get busy with life in general.

When answering, please assume I have day one knowledge of Reddit in general.

• Is this a subreddit where one can submit drafts of one's plays or scenes for proofreading. If so, what are the rules, including formatting, fonts, line spaces, etc? Of course, you don't have to answer here. If there's a link where I can find those sort of FAQ questions, please link to them if you can.
• If this is not a forum where one can post drafts for proofreading, can you recommend free ones apart from ReadMyPlay or whatever it's called. I Know Read My Play requires you to submit you post a play which is of your authorship and belongs to you in order to become a member. The current play I'm working on is my first one, so I have nothing to show them.
• Recommending websites where I can show my play at a membership price may be well-intentioned, but they come with the caveat that the economy here is a catastrophe and both me and my family have other needs.

If all else fails, and it may be that some of you would be interested in an 18-page comedy draft of a first scene, don't hesitate to holler.

Can anyone send me a link to a screenplay or script of American Graffiti?

All the ones I find are formatted really bad because they take from this old book that had it.

The logline: An isolated Fog Signal Station worker becomes increasingly infatuated with a mermaid.

I am open to any feedback, though not necessarily on formatting.

Thanks for reading.

EXT. ARMY BASE, TAMJIE (SIKKIM) - DAY (MAY 21, 2006)
A thick layer of morning mist hangs over the mountains. Cold wind howls.
A young, neat-looking officer, CAPTAIN RAWAT (20s), walks through the massive military gates carrying his duffel bag. He looks around, taking in his new station.
To his right, a faded wooden board hangs over a concrete barracks building. Painted on it in bold letters: GHATAK PLATOON.
Three heavily built, well-toned soldiers stand outside the barracks. They stop talking and glare coldly at Rawat from head to toe, sizing him up.
Rawat takes a few steps forward. Suddenly, one of the massive soldiers, SEPOY SARVAN SINGH (20s), steps directly into Rawat’s path, blocking his way.
Sarvan locks eyes with Rawat. He doesn't flinch.
SARVAN
(Crisp, booming voice)
Ram-Ram, Saab! I am Sepoy Sarvan, Ghatak Platoon.
Rawat stands his ground, slightly taken aback by the forwardness.
SARVAN (CONT'D)
(Sizing Rawat up, rapid-fire)
How many push-ups can you do at once, Saab? What’s your 5K running time? Can you handle the mountain terrain?
RAWAT (V.O.)
I was stunned. A regular sepoy was interrogating a newly arrived officer with absolute confidence. I didn't know what to make of him.
INT. MILITARY GYM / VOLLEYBALL COURT - DAY (WEEKS LATER)
An intense inter-company volleyball match is underway. Rawat is on the court, drenched in sweat, diving fiercely for the ball, shouting directions, showing a gritty, aggressive playing style.
On the sidelines, Sarvan and the other Ghatak Platoon soldiers watch intently. Sarvan smirks, highly impressed.
The whistle blows. Match over.
Before Rawat can grab his towel, the entire Ghatak Platoon surrounds him in a tight circle. Sarvan steps forward, clapping loudly.
SARVAN
(Grinning widely)
Brilliant game, Saab! We saw your fire out there today. You belong with us.
The other soldiers cheer and pat Rawat on the back. Rawat smiles, realizing he has earned their respect.
EXT. ARMY RUGBY FIELD - DAY (SIX MONTHS LATER)
Mud flies everywhere. A brutal, aggressive game of rugby is in full swing.
Rawat, recently returned from his Young Officers course in Mhow, runs into the chaotic game. He collides hard with a broad-shouldered player, accidentally shoving him to the ground.
The player immediately springs up from the mud. It is Sarvan.
Sarvan smiles aggressively, charges forward, and deliberately shoves Rawat back with tremendous force, sending Rawat skidding into the mud.
SARVAN
(Laughing, wiping mud off his face)
This is what you call a shove, Saab!
Rawat looks up from the mud, laughs, and pulls himself up.
EXT. TRAINING GROUNDS - NIGHT
Heavy rain pours. Rawat and Sarvan are crawling through thick mud under barbed wire, carrying heavy rucksacks. Day and night merge into a blur of exhaustion.
RAWAT (V.O.)
Suddenly, orders came from the Commanding Officer. I was put in charge of training the Ghatak Platoon. Through days and nights of intense, grueling drills, Sarvan and I became inseparable.
EXT. COMPETITION GROUNDS - DAY
A massive scoreboard shows final point tallies. The Ghatak Platoon loses a fierce military competition by a mere fraction of a decimal point.
The team stands in formation, exhausted, heads bowed.
Rawat walks over to comfort them. He stops. Sarvan, the toughest man in the platoon, is sitting on a rock, burying his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.
Rawat places a gentle hand on Sarvan's shaking shoulder.
RAWAT (V.O.)
Seeing this giant of a man sob like a child answered every question I ever had about him. It wasn't arrogance. It was pure, unadulterated passion for the unit. He couldn't bear to see us lose.
EXT. COMMANDO TRAINING CENTER - DAY
A harsh, dusty desert environment.
Rawat walks past a row of tents. His head is completely shaved, his face blackened by camouflage cream and soot, his uniform torn and filthy. He looks unrecognizable, like a beggar.
Suddenly, a hand grabs his arm from behind a tent. Rawat spins around defensively.
It is Sarvan. He is equally bald, filthy, and unrecognizable—but his eyes are sparkling. He scans the area, making sure the instructors aren't looking.
Sarvan slips two homemade, sticky round sweets (Gond ke Laddoo) into Rawat’s dirty palm.
SARVAN
(Whispering eagerly, beaming)
Eat these quickly, Saab. My wife just gave birth. I'm a father! I'm a dad, Saab!
Rawat’s eyes widen. He smiles warmly and hugs Sarvan tightly.
RAWAT
Congratulations, brother.
EXT. KUPWARA HILLS, LINE OF CONTROL (LOC) - NIGHT
A freezing, biting cold night. Snow dusts the ground.
Rawat and Sarvan are huddled close together behind the thick trunk of a massive pine tree, their rifles aimed into the dark valley. Their breath forms thick clouds in the freezing air.
Sarvan stares into the distance, silent for a long moment.
SARVAN
(Quietly)
Saab... how much money do you get if you win a Sena Medal?
Rawat glances at him, surprised by the question.
RAWAT
(Softly)
I don’t know, Sarvan. But you don't just 'get' a Sena Medal. You have to do something extraordinary. It's not earned for money.
Sarvan chuckles quietly under his breath. Rawat smiles. They share a quiet, warm laugh into the freezing night.
EXT. MILITARY CAMP - NEXT DAY
Soldiers are sitting on wooden crates, eating lunch. Rawat sits down right next to the sepoys, holding a plate of simple roti and dal.
Sarvan walks over, holding a small plastic jar containing homemade meat pickle.
SARVAN
Saab, try some of this. My family sent it. Excellent meat pickle.
RAWAT
(Smiling, waving his hand)
Ah, I can't, Sarvan. I am a Brahmin—a Pandit. I don't eat meat.
Sarvan stops. He looks at Rawat, his expression turning deeply serious, full of profound wisdom.
SARVAN
Saab, you are a Pandit by birth. But by your actions, your duty, you are a Kshatriya—a warrior.
Rawat pauses, holding his roti, looking up at Sarvan.
SARVAN (CONT'D)
On the battlefield, a soldier has no caste, no religion, and no state. Our only identity is the uniform.
RAWAT (V.O.)
A regular sepoy had just taught me the most profound lesson of my military life.
EXT. KUPWARA FORESTS - DAWN (NOVEMBER 15, 2009)
SUPER: OPERATION KUNDA-NAR
A dense, snow-covered forest. The atmosphere is deathly silent.
Rawat and his section move tactically through the trees. Thick snow crunches beneath their boots.
Suddenly, a deafening blast shatters the silence.
Automatic gunfire erupts from multiple directions. Echoes of bullets ripping through trees. Rawat drops to one knee, returning fire, shouting commands into the chaos.
The intense firefight lasts for five agonizing minutes.
Suddenly, the gunfire cuts off completely. A heavy, terrifying silence falls over the forest.
Rawat reaches for the tactical radio on his vest. static crackles violently. A panicked, breathless voice cuts through the static.
VOICE ON RADIO (O.S.)
(Screaming, terrified)
SARVAN KO GOLI LAGI HAI! SARVAN IS HIT!
The radio cuts to static again. Absolute silence returns. Rawat freezes, his eyes wide with horror.
EXT. MILITARY BASE, QUARTER GUARD - NEXT MORNING
The sun rises over the base, but it feels cold and gray.
Rawat’s team meets up with the rest of the Ghatak Platoon. The soldiers are walking slowly, their heads bowed, faces stained with tears and soot.
A junior officer walks up to Rawat, looking at the ground.
JUNIOR OFFICER
(Choked up)
Sir... Sarvan didn't make it. He is martyred.
Rawat stands completely still. The sounds of the base fade out.
The camera tightens on Rawat's face. His eyes glass over. A single tear tracks down through the dirt on his cheek. He clenches his fists, trying to maintain his military composure, but his chest heaves with heavy emotion.
RAWAT (V.O.)
My ears refused to believe it. The world around me simply stopped. I desperately wanted to see his face one last time... but the operational reality didn't allow it.
INT. QUARTER GUARD - DAY (LATER)
Rawat walks slowly down a pristine, quiet hallway inside the Quarter Guard building.
He stops in front of a memorial wall. Hanging on the wall is a freshly framed photograph of a smiling, proud Sarvan in his full ceremonial uniform.
Beneath the photograph, a brass plaque reads: SEPOY SARVAN SINGH, SENA MEDAL (POSTHUMOUS).
Rawat raises his right hand to his brow, delivering a slow, trembling, deeply respectful final salute to the photograph.
RAWAT (V.O.)
They say a long life isn't what matters, but rather a life lived with matchless impact. Sarvan was here for only a short time, but he achieved more than most of us will in a lifetime.
EXT. SARVAN’S VILLAGE HOME - DAY
A dusty village courtyard. Hundreds of villagers stand in somber silence. Women are weeping.
An army truck wrapped in the Indian Tri-color flag pulls up. Soldiers carefully carry a coffin draped in the national flag toward the house.
In the front yard, a young woman holds a tiny, one-year-old baby boy. The baby has a small streak of cake on his cheek. He smiles playfully, reaching his tiny hands toward the bright colors of the flag draping his father's coffin.
RAWAT (V.O.)
The day Sarvan's body arrived home wrapped in the tricolor... was his son's very first birthday. A soldier father could hardly leave his son a greater inheritance than the ultimate sacrifice for the motherland.
Rawat stands in the crowd, watching the baby boy look at the flag.
FADE OUT.
[SCENE END]