Your mother always said to wear clean underwear in case you’re in an accident and that you only get one chance to make a good first impression. Well, your mother has found her champion, because I’m here to say, that she’s 100% right.

I can’t stress enough how important first impressions are in the film business. This is an industry where the superficial is king, where creative execs hate to read and their main job function is to say “no”. Getting your script into their hands is your biggest challenge. However, what you might not know is that there’s someone else you need to woo before Mr. or Mrs. Producer will ever see your script.

It doesn’t matter that the executive is your mother’s brother’s uncle’s sister or that he’s your doorman’s brother’s live-
in partner, your script will most certainly be covered by a reader before your executive ever sees page one. A reader is someone who went to film school, is a frustrated writer, either gets paid less than the janitor or is (shudder) an unpaid intern, most likely loathes you because your script is being submitted and tragically has the most say in what the producer sees. If the reader hates something, even the most mundane thing about your script, your opus is sure to be filed under “g” for garbage.

From deciding on font type, to two brads verses three, every choice you make, no matter how big or how small, reflects on you as a writer. It doesn’t seem fair, but that’s “Chinatown , Jake”.

Of course there are the superheroes you read about, the writer who landed a deal in his underwear from a script written on napkins. But that’s an extraordinary case and is most likely not you. If you’re trying to get your foot in the door and you weren’t born into Aaron Spelling’s clan, try not to aggravate the same people you want to win over.

The first rule in making a good impression is to do things the right way. Even though it seems like ridiculous minutia, straying from the industry standard incurs an immediate pass.

That means:

Always use three-hole punch paper, bound with two, 1½” brass fasteners. Not three, always two. I don’t care that the pages turn better with three. If you use brads that are longer than 1½”, they can stab the reader while the analyst evaluates your script and nothing makes them hate you more than a work related injury.

Do not use colored or specialty covers for your script. It shows that it didn’t come from a proper representative. Your rep will have the right cover to adorn your script. No bad script was ever sold because it had a flashy cover. Focus on the writing.

Courier 12. There should be no clever fonts ever! Not on the cover page, not in the body of the script and not on the back. No one ever got ahead using a clever font. All it does is make people think that you spent more time on the font than you did on the story.

Proofread. There is no reason to have a typo on page one. It’s just inexcusable. Readers always, without exception, pass on scripts that have typos on page one. If the writer was too lazy to proofread the first page then readers assume that that person is also too lazy to turn in a quality product. If you feel that you’re incapable of proofreading because you’re too close to the project, hire someone who can or ask a friend. It’s better to annoy your buddy than to face premature rejection.

Don’t dedicate your script to anyone. If you wrote it for your dead dog, leave a copy on his grave, but don’t advertise it. When and if it’s produced and you have the lofty position of power to dedicate the movie to someone, do it then. Otherwise it will make you seem like a besotted newbie.

Never call for music. That means when your plucky girl lead finally leans in for that meaningful kiss on page 101, and you say in the action, “Brown Eyed Girl plays softly in the background” it better mean that something plot related is about to happen. The only acceptable time to call for music is when it’s integral to your story. For example in “ Sea of Love ” the song was part of the plot, it indicated the killer was approaching. If you want to match songs to script plot points, be a music supervisor. If you want to be a writer, focus on your story.

This is really a checklist of why most new writers get a pass. In future columns we’ll get into the deeper and more serious issues like character development and story arcs that are also reasons for a pass. The key is understanding a simple idea: this is a superficial business. And as such, if you make stupid, superficial errors you’ll never get sold.

If your script is clean, when it’s handed to a ruthless reader or an exhausted executive, then the special story that you slaved over will shine through and your work will be seen as it was intended. And look at it this way — if they do wind up passing, then at least you know they took you and your work seriously. And in most cases, those same professionals who did pass will be willing to look at other scripts in the future. You then have the limitless opportunity to cultivate relationships, ultimately creating the exact thing every new writer needs, contacts.

So, if you feel passionate about a story, write it. But be painstaking with your work prior to sending it out for review. Don’t make avoidable and grievous errors and your luck just might improve with those no-sayers. They just might utter a yes.