When everything seems to speed up around you, finding a place among peers is the most anchoring thing you can do.
This year’s been… a lot
From starting freelancing to setting up a writing pace, and moving to a new country... basically restarting my life all over.
Not everything went as planned. Honestly, most things did not. 2025 was messy, eventful, and packed with lessons. If I could go back in time, would I redo certain choices? Oh, absolutely.
But one thing I would never trade is finally trading script notes with fellow screenwriters.
For years I avoided giving feedback like the plague. Imposter syndrome convinced me I wasn’t "good enough”. If I wasn’t a good writer, how could I possibly help someone else with their story? But after receiving thoughtful notes on my scripts and connecting with like-minded writers, I eventually took the leap of faith and offered my eyes and mind to someone else’s work.
The first feedback kept me from sleeping for days. I reread the script a dozen times, took meticulous notes, tried to understand every beat, every breath, every choice.
I didn’t want to just put some harsh thoughts on the story; I wanted to help the writer make it as compelling as possible. When I sent my thoughts, it felt like I was handing someone a piece of fragile glass.
And the writer’s response? Pure gratitude. Not only for the notes, but for the care behind them. They didn’t just thank me; they strongly encouraged me to keep giving notes. That moment felt like someone lifted a huge rock off my chest, and it nudged me forward. So I kept going, each time with the same intention: to help my peers on their journey.
And let me tell you something: if you know a screenwriter who’s serious about it, their mind is a goldmine. I’ve read stories that shook me to my core, made me belly-laugh, or kept my mind guessing as I flipped through the pages… each one as entertaining as the last.
If you’re complaining that films can’t seem to tell anything new right now, it’s not the writers’ fault. Far from it.
Original voices are stronger than ever. The rise of online communities gave the opportunity for writers from all around the world (like me) to share their stories with others and make them available to publishers, editors and producers in a way that was impossible in the previous century.
Those who insist AI can replace storytellers are wrong. Creativity is stronger than ever, and no technology will ever end it.
Constructivism Is at the Heart of Good Notes
The easy trap to fall into when giving notes is to turn them into a mean, harsh Letterboxd review. Not only is it not the right approach as a reader, but it also doesn't make you look like a good person.
In my view, script feedback has to be constructive first and foremost. Whether the story is good or not is not up to you. Your role is to understand what the writer is trying to tell you.
Who’s the protagonist?
What do they want?
Who or what’s opposing them?
Those are the basic storytelling questions to answer.
One thing that helps to connect with the story is to start highlighting what’s working: the writing, the story, the style, genre, characters, etc. The goal of this part is to show the writer that you understand their approach. You need to want them to tell a good story.
By building a strong foundation, you’re showing encouragement. In an age where everyone can pour their hatred at anyone online, showing positivity and encouragement is a rare and valued currency.
That said, another enemy of effective feedback is sugarcoating. Perfection doesn’t exist in art, because everything is subjective. Yet a good story needs to make sense to connect with an audience. This is where you address unclear character motivations, confusing story elements, or a potential Deus Ex Machina in the climax.
But how do you give feedback on them without sounding insensitive? Good criticism doesn’t confront; it questions. Tries to understand the meaning behind something that seems confusing.
One of the best pieces of feedback I ever had was on a midpoint problem: I wrote too much action in this part, and the big revelation that was supposed to move the story to the point of no return felt hidden behind it. I dreaded removing any part of the scene and hoped the reader would give me an excuse to cut something.
But instead, they just asked this question: “What does your protagonist learn at this moment that forces them into the second half?”
Suddenly, everything clicked. I didn’t need to change the events; I needed to connect them to the character’s emotional journey. One simple question cracked the whole problem open.
That’s what constructive criticism does: it doesn’t dictate. It guides, illuminates. This approach is not only thoughtful, but it helps the writer connect with the story on a deeper level.
Bonding Through Creative Exchange
Screenwriting is a lonely craft — beautifully, brutally lonely — and yet, writers crave for their voice to be heard. Not through public speaking or performance, but through the intimacy of what they put on the page.
Writing is not just about telling a story; it requires putting a part of you into words. A part that scares you, because it is vulnerable and true. And in the online world, vulnerability is a double-edged sword.
We all get stuck on absurd details in our drafts; it’s part of the process. But when someone else reads your script, they don’t see the months of anxiety and self-doubt behind the lines. They only see the story, the intention, the emotion... and the occasional typo.
That’s why trusted peers matter. Some stories need a lot of work, but it’s not up to you to "fix" them. Giving note must come from a place of sincere appreciation for storytelling, questioning rather than attacking. Criticism hurts less when it’s rooted in curiosity.
Not every script is perfect. Not every note session is pleasant. But at its core, giving feedback is an act of care. It requires empathy, curiosity, and respect.
In the end, trading notes isn’t just about making stories better, but reminding each other we’re not writing alone.