Keep it moving. If you feel like a scene is slowing you down, end it early.
Don’t start with static characters and try to manipulate them into conflict. Start with loud, argumentative, restless, ambitious, larger-than-life characters and put them in the vicinity of each other.
Don’t feel bad about destroying large parts of your story world. You created it; you can uncreate it.
Don’t apologize for your weird idea. Embrace it, explain it, and learn how to make others understand it.
The longer you wait to introduce the main villain, the bigger and bolder her first scene should be.
As a writer, you have two choices: you can either reinforce society’s comforting lies, or you can find your own truths and tell them.
The earlier you can foreshadow the major themes and conflicts of your story, the better.
Nothing in a draft is sacred, and everything can be cut. Once you accept that, all your “impossible” story problems will start to resolve themselves.
Figure out what really matters — to you, to the protagonist, to the audience’s interests. If you could live without a certain scene, you should cut that scene.
If you don’t like a character, nobody else will. If you’re not attracted to a character, nobody else will be. And if you don’t hate the villain, don’t expect the audience to either.
When you get on a roll, whatever you do, don’t stop.
Your job is to convince others that what you see in your mind’s eye is important, feasible, and makes narrative sense.
Good note-givers never tell you what you want to hear. If they did, they wouldn’t be good note-givers.
Action isn’t something you have to get through to get to the character-building scenes. Action is character.
Step back and look at the big picture. What arguments are made by Acts One, Two and Three? Taken together, what is the whole script trying to say?