The Art of Screenwriting: Lessons from the Frontier
- Shawn Maus
- Oct 15
- 3 min read
Screenwriting isn’t magic—it’s discipline in disguise. Fresh off completing the pilot and series bible for Patrick Chiles’ Frontier and attending the MUSE Storytelling Conference, I’m reminded of Nic Kusmich’s advice: “Do the reps. Embody stabilization. Unbecome.” Those words reframed how I approach the page. In this post, I share what I’ve learned about craft, courage, and the creative reset that comes from putting in the work—one scene, one story at a time.

Writing Beyond the Blank Page
Screenwriting is where creativity meets structure—and where imagination wrestles with revision.I just wrapped one of my most rewarding projects yet: the pilot and full series bible for Patrick Chiles’ Frontier, a grounded sci-fi drama about survival, truth, and the fragile lines between nations—and people.
That project reminded me why I fell in love with storytelling in the first place: the rush of discovery, the terror of the blank page, and the satisfaction of watching characters take their first real breath.
Start with the Blueprint, Not the Dialogue
A screenplay isn’t prose—it’s architecture built for collaboration.
Every page of a script equals about a minute of screen time, so efficiency isn’t optional—it’s oxygen.Software like Final Draft, Highland, or WriterDuet can keep your format clean, but story always beats margins.
Pro Tip: Learn the format, then forget it while you write. Let story drive, not software.
Structure Is the Skeleton of Story
You’ve heard it: setup, confrontation, resolution.But structure is about rhythm, not rigidity.
In Frontier, I used a four-act streaming model inspired by The Expanse—each act opens with action, then widens into intrigue. The pace stays taut while the story deepens.
Ask yourself: What changes for your characters every ten pages?If nothing shifts—emotion, stakes, or direction—your story’s idling.
Characters Are the Compass
Plot is the map. Character is the compass.
When I wrote Commander Roberta McCall for Frontier, I started with a question:What does she want—and what will it cost her to get it?
Perfect characters are forgettable. Flawed ones are human. Give every major character a secret they’ll do anything to keep—and then make the story drag it out of them.
Write Like You Hear It
Dialogue isn’t transcription—it’s music.It’s how people mean, not how they talk.
I read my dialogue out loud, pacing the room like a rehearsal. If it clunks, it’s gone.
Avoid: monologues that explain feelings or recap plot.Aim for: rhythm, intention, and the silences that say the most.
Conflict Is Storytelling’s Pulse
Every great scene hums with friction. Internal or external, conflict drives empathy and motion.In Frontier, even the quiet moments spark with opposing forces—science vs. survival, orders vs. instinct, duty vs. love.
Test your scene: Who wants what, and what’s in the way?If that’s unclear, your tension’s asleep.
Revision Is Where the Writing Begins
First drafts are emotional blueprints. Revision is the craft.Frontier went through countless passes—tightening beats, layering subtext, cutting redundancies.
Take a break before rewriting. Let it cool. Then come back ruthless.Every line must earn its place.
The second draft is architecture, not exploration.
Collaboration and Feedback
Screenwriting is a team sport.Notes from producers, directors, and mentors (special thanks to Ron Peterson, who guided me through Frontier’s rewrite) sharpen your instincts.
Defend your intent, not your execution.If someone doesn’t “get it,” maybe the page isn’t doing its job yet.
Staying Inspired When the Muse Is Late
Inspiration rarely arrives on time. When I’m stuck, I return to story—live theatre, old movies, long walks with no dialogue but my own thoughts.
Writing is a practice, not a lightning strike. The muse rewards persistence.
Keep the chair warm. She’ll show up eventually.
The Final Fade Out
Screenwriting is equal parts art and endurance.Structure gives you control. Character gives you truth. Conflict gives you life.
Every time you finish a scene that sings—or a script that finally breathes—it’s worth it.You’ve built a world from nothing but words.
Now go write.
And in the quiet between drafts, remember: sometimes the next great story starts with who you’re brave enough to unbecome.
✍️ About the Author
Shawn Maus is a Cincinnati-based screenwriter, copywriter, and storyteller. He recently completed the pilot and series bible for Patrick Chiles’ Frontier, an eight-episode sci-fi drama in development. He also writes theatre reviews for the League of Cincinnati Theatres under Shawn Says, and teaches courses in screenwriting, playwriting, and film studies.



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