The First 10 Test: Tips for How to Hook a Script Reader
The first impression of your screenplay isn’t just important–when you’re submitting your script to agents or contests, it’s everything.
In most cases, readers are literally instructed to read only the first ten pages of a script. If this doesn’t doesn’t hook the reader, the script goes in the (metaphorical) garbage bin.
Professional readers—whether at agencies, production companies, fellowships, or contests—read dozens of scripts every week, are notoriously bitter and underpaid, and–most importantly–they’re trained to smell weakness early.
Readers believe that they can tell within five to ten pages whether a script is worth continuing. (While this may not be true in every case, good scripts are highly correlated with competent First 10s–it’s totally understandable that this would become a rule of thumb).
What all this adds up to is that the First 10 can make or break your shot.
So let’s look at how to pass this 10-Page Test: what readers are looking for and give you some real-world examples of how to make your First 10 stand out.
What Is the 10-Page Test?
For a 100–110 page feature, the First 10 will be only 9–10% of the entire script. But if those pages are dull, confusing, or poorly written, you’re dead on arrival.
Most specifically, the 10-page Test isn’t about plot.
It’s about promise:
- Is there control over tone and voice?
- Are the characters compelling?
- Is it clear what sort of story this is?
- Does this make the reader want to know what’s coming next?
5 Essentials to Nail in the First 10 Pages
Let’s walk through the five must-have elements to make those opening pages sing—and then we’ll analyze real examples of what works and what doesn’t.
- Compelling Character Introduction
Your protagonist will be introduced with some sort of moment that defines them, whether speech or action. We need to know why we should care.
Good:
The Social Network – Zuck doesn’t get a bio or annoying exposition. We get a rapid-fire, somewhat nasty argument with his girlfriend. Within one scene, we know that he’s arrogant, very bright, socially inept, and very insecure.
(Obviously exactly the sort of dipshit you want mediating your social life.)
Bad:
Let’s just shit on Jason for a moment:
“JASON (30s), a regular guy, walks down the street with a coffee.”
This tells us nothing about Jason or who he is. We don’t even know whether it’s a latte (like a heathen) or a flat white.
There’s absolutely nothing to grab the reader about this Jason clown. He’d be more interesting if he were run over by a bus.
Pro Tip: Don’t describe their wardrobe (unless this really matters; it probably doesn’t). Rather, demonstrate the protagonist’s inner life through action or conflict.
- Establishing Tone and Genre Early
What kind of ride is the reader setting out on? Whether it’s a rom-com, a psychological thriller, or a humorous send-up of horror films, the emotional gist of the film needs to be clear within the First 10.
Set the tone with:
- Specific language choices
- Visual cues
- The nature of the first conflict or interaction
- Jokes or scares (or both)
- Visual cues
Good:
Get Out – We see a Black guy walking nervously through a wealthy suburban neighborhood. Why would he feel nervous? Contextually, we can read a certain amount of racial tension into this. The fear hints toward the dread behind the normalcy.
Bad:
Pick two things that don’t work together, unless the link is established later. A film that appears to be a rom-com for the first few scene, then abruptly swings to genre horror, is unlikely to work.
NB: a lot of horror movies have a cold open where the horror comes first (think Jaws), then we go back to normalcy–but unsettled. If you put the horror
The reader feels that this has been dishonest.
(There are, obviously, exceptions to this: the first half of Anora is a romantic comedy, the second half a hostage thriller. Sean Baker has the clout–and minimal budget–to do whatever the fuck he wants. This is not a script that would likely have done well in contests. American contests, in particular.)
Pro Tip: Consider your first scene a promise and keep it.
- Nod Toward Theme
It’s really annoying to have someone arbitrarily use a homily on page 6 because Blake Snyder told them that that’s when “theme stated” happens.
That said, a good script will raise the central question of the story early. Remember, this can be done with metaphor, image, or situation as well.
- What is the protagonist’s core conflict?
- What moral or emotional tension might the film explore?
Good:
Lady Bird – Within 5 minutes, Lady Bird has had a shitty argument with her mother and then–hilariously–jumped out of a moving car.
This, kids, is a film about mother-daughter tension, freedom versus control, and independence.
Bad:
A melange of unconnected scenes, even if the protagonist stays consistent.
We don’t experience any sort of throughline or sense of deeper conflict. Something about the nature of the first scene(s) needs to clarify what the fuck this script is about.
Pro Tip: Provide a subtle indication of the film’s emotional core within the First 10.
- Hint at the Inciting Incident (if Not Delivered)
To some degree, the earlier the better. The problem is that if the Inciting Incident is in the first scene, we really have no reason to care about the protagonist or her goal.
Sometimes, the setup takes longer than ten pages. Sometimes it’s even on page 12 (shocking, I know).
However, what we desperately need is that the reader has a hint about how the story engine will ultimately kick in.
There needs to be a suggestion that change is afoot.
Good:
The Matrix – Neo gets a mysterious message on his computer. By page 10, we’ve already seen he’s a hacker, he’s being watched, and–in some sense–there exists a hidden world that he doesn’t yet understand.
Bad:
The script opens with 10 pages of two dudes discussing their childhood trauma while weeping into their coffee. Nothing actually happens. That is, there’s no actual tension or change. What the hell is the story going to be about on an external level? This needs to be clear.
Pro Tip: Light a fuse, even if the dynamite doesn’t explode yet.
- Clarity and Polish
This is a non-negotiable. Pages that aren’t clean, readable, and are formatted at least 80% or so correctly will get binned without a reader reading your First 1.
Get this right. It’s not hard. If you don’t, the rest doesn’t matter.
- Are scene headings correct and consistent?
- Is the writing tight and visual?
- Is the grammar and spelling as good as you can make it? (And honestly, if you feed it into ChatGPT you’ll get feedback on how to fix the grammar. No excuse.)
Good:
A script often opens with short, punchy descriptions:
INT. DINER – NIGHT
Rain batters the windows. Inside, the joint looks like an ashtray smells. fluorescent lights flicker above six silent patrons. A waitress counts tips at the register. Staticky country music PLAYS from a hidden radio. There is something very wrong here.
This is clear, visual, and precise.
Bad:
Interior. Cafe. It’s dark and late and like the lights are like too bright and people are like just sitting there waiting to do something, but they don’t know what it is yet…
This is vague and rambling. Punctuation is your friend. Keep the statements short and sharp. Get the grammar right. This just looks amateurish.
Pro Tip: This is not novel writing. Aim for visual clarity above all else.
Before-and-After: Realistic Opening Rewrites
Let’s compare two versions of a fictional opening scene. You’ll see how the same basic setup can either fail or pass the 10-page test.
Weak Opening
INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY
JOHN (35, average guy) is sitting on a couch. He checks his phone. He sips coffee. Nothing happens.
JOHN
(muttering)
Guess I better get to work.
He walks out the door.
Here’s what’s wrong:
- Boring action
- No personality
- No tone or worldbuilding
- Dialogue is simply filler
Stronger Opening
INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY
JOHN (35), has recently had the shit beat out of him. His face is bruised, a bandage streaking across his nose. He fumbles as a he loads a revolver. A cracked photo of John and his bride hangs on the wall, askew.
John’s phone buzzes: UNKNOWN. He silences the phone.
JOHN
(to himself)
You won’t run this time.
John tucks the gun into the waistband of his sweatpants. He rushes out the door.
Here’s why this works:
- Introduces mystery (why is John hurt? who’s calling?)
- Compelling visuals (broken wedding photo, loaded gun)
- Hints at tone (most likely a thriller, but potentially, for example, a noir)
- Stakes are at least proposed (he won’t run this time)
Checklist: Does Your Opening Pass the Test?
Before you send out your script:
- Does my protagonist appear in the first 10 pages? (I mean this one seems pretty fucking obvious, but in my experience it’s not always the case.)
- Is the tone clear and consistent?
- Is there an indication of the theme? (Blake Snyder be damned, this really doesn’t have to be spoken. An image or a situation would probably do better.)
- Is the inciting incident planted or underway? (In a contest sense, please get this rolling sooner rather than later. If you’re writing for other purposes, it’s more loose.)
- Are the pages clean, visual, and professional? (Formatting, formatting, formatting. You don’t have to be obsessive about it, but make it look like it was written by someone who’s at least read a fucking screenplay before.)
All of these are non-negotiables. If there’s a problem, revise your script before sending.
Earn the Reader’s Trust Early
The first ten pages acts as a first impression. Or maybe a handshake. When a script stumbles–or shits the bed–out of the gate, the reader will only assume that the rest is worse.
Conversely, if the opening pages sizzle and pop, demonstrating clarity, character, and a writer’s control, the reader will be enticed to continue.
Most of all, the first ten pages isn’t about answering questions: it’s about making the reader want the answers to questions. The rest of your script will provide those.
Reading for Beginners:
- Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat gives you an idea of how structure works – make sure you use this as a guide to reading screenplays rather than as a template for how to write screenplays. (You’re not trying to make a 1990s direct-to-video children’s film; you’re trying to understand that screenplays do have moving parts; this book provides terminology that can help you identify those parts)
- “The Hollywood Standard” by Christopher Riley (this examines proper screenplay formatting, although read the breakdown here)
- Read 5 scripts in your genre. Figure out what makes their first 10 pages work. Notice any specific similarities? Differences?