Send Me Your Script!
And I'll send you some thoughts!
In my first year of college, I had one hat, and I wore it every day; a blue, densely-patterned, unofficially-merchandized ode to the English Premier League’s Chelsea Football Club. I also had a Borussia Dortmund hoodie and a Juventus jersey1; I wore the former maybe once a week, and the latter stood on perpetual guard over my dorm room window via pine-green coat hanger.
Thing is, on the ladder that houses the nebulously-quantified tiers of dedication in the mind any sports club enthusiast, Chelsea — of those three soccer teams — came in at third; less loved than second or first, and taken more for granted than those numbers beneath it. My insolent pivot to Leicester City in that same year2 is exemplary of this, moreso — in my opinion — than of my then-ability to feel no shame; an ability I still possess to this day, mind you, but which I now actually work every day to earn.
Still, dispassionate as it was, my commitment to that hat remained. It was comfortable, it was expected, it was boring, it thought about nothing. It was meal hall breakfast, it was the 9pm Domino’s orders, it was the Pepsi/raspberry schnapps blend I got sick on every weekend.3 Blurrier days that weren’t so much sought out as they were native to my system; a system that, really, was never mine to begin with.
All of these things left my life at some point and I will never bother to pinpoint their times of death, because now I have several hats, unique from my old one in the sense that each is now worn with a very clear, very rewarding purpose that stretches forward into basically-infinity, such are the human body’s limitations on comprehending time.
Script consulting is one of those hats, and I am thrilled to finally be slapping it on in public.
There are critics who are brilliant on the page and useless in a room, and there are consultants who are useful in a room and have nothing interesting to say about why. Charlotte Simmons is neither — she is the person whose years-plus of published criticism told me exactly how she thinks about stories, and whose consulting work confirmed that all of that intelligence folds itself completely into the service of the writer in front of her. Charlotte walks into your screenplay already fluent in its own language. She finds the thematic architecture you built on instinct, reflects it back with a rigor that would take you months to arrive at alone, and then — and this is the crucial part — uses it to open up formal and structural possibilities you hadn’t seen. She makes you the expert on your own work. After a year of reading her, I’d have backed her for this. Having seen it in practice, I’d back her twice.
— Sophie Katsali, of That Final Scene fame
Why me?
Those of you who are familiar with my film criticism here on Substack know that I’m all about actionable empowerment. My approach to script consultation is built on those very same commitments.
Simply put, I have no interest in telling you whether something feels too this-way-or-that, or whether something else doesn’t feel this-way-or-that enough. I’d be happy to do so on request, of course, but my experience of your script doesn’t actually have anything to do with the truest, most nutritious version of it; what seems too intense to me might not feel intense enough to another, and we’d both be correct, because we’d only be talking about ourselves, not your script.
So — true to the style I’ve made a name for myself with here on The Treatment — rather than calibrate my feedback according to what I want out of the script and telling you what to change, my approach seeks to directly empower you — the writer — to intuit the best changes/direction for your script as you see fit.
I do this by:
Interpreting your storytelling core — the perspective upon which your narrative mission hinges — as I would that of a film, and relay what I see to you so as to create a deeper intimacy and fluency between you and your story (and, by extension, your story’s needs), using quoted dialogue and events in the script to make clear why I see what I see.
Offering suggestions on how to more fully unfurl your storytelling core in your script, not with the hope that you’ll implement my suggestions (although you’re free to), but to create a tangible example that you could use directly, be inspired by, or iterate upon as you continue to craft your story.
Generally affirming you, the writer, as the foremost architect of the story and only ever making cases for things that you actually have control over. You will never see me make a suggestion based on how I personally feel about a scene, because you cannot make anyone feel anything that they don’t already feel; your job, as a writer, is to be honest — to invite the audience to reckon with the truths you’re offering.
What you’ll get from me
A considerably-sized document (I’m averaging about 10 pages thus far) of written, personalized feedback on your script, penned with the same Treatment-coded values and mission outlined above and which my readers have come — and which I myself continue — to expect from me. This is, in essence, the thing you’re paying for.
An annotated copy of your script where I break the rules I set for myself and more freely react/militantly advise. Largely just a comfort document for those who like more traditional feedback. Consider this a bonus.
Any screenplays for other films (or IMdB links if I can’t find the screenplay) that may also help inspire you and guide your thinking on the script you’re writing. Consider this a bonus, too.
This is a unique approach to feedback, that not many script consultants are capable of or even willing to do. If you’ve read my posts before, you’ve probably heard me mention, my Creative Producer, Thomas Ethan Harris, who I often call my cinematic muse (see this post for more on Thomas). What both he and Charlotte have in common is that they read and evaluate your work through the lens of your intention.
They’re not critiquing based on personal taste. They’re not comparing it against some screenwriting rulebook. They’re looking for what you’re trying to say and then helping you say it in the clearest, strongest, most powerful way possible (by the way not everyone can do this. Even if they claim they can, most cannot. Trust me).
Amanda Sweikow, award-winning filmmaker and producer, from her Substack post The New Social Realism & The Script Feedback Your Project Needs
What I’ll need from you
First, email your script — along with any information/context you want me to keep in mind/pay attention to as I read it — to simmons.editing@proton.me
I’ll be charging $250 per script, though, if you find yourself in a tight spot money-wise, send me a DM ahead of time and we’ll see if we can work something out; installments, service exchange, what have you.
I’ll reply to your initial email to confirm the job, in which I’ll also send you a payment link for a $50 deposit. Once I receive this, I will begin reading the script.
Once I finish writing the feedback, you will receive an email from me informing you that it is finished, as well as a link with which you can pay the remaining $200. You will receive this email no later than a month after you pay the deposit (i.e. if you pay the $50 deposit on March 11, I’ll have your feedback ready for you on April 11 at the absolute latest).4
Once I receive the remaining $200, I will send the feedback, the annotated copy of your script, and any recommended reading/watching I can think of.
QTCCBFATGO (Questions That Could Conceivably Become Frequent As Time Goes On)
Is there a free version of this service?
Yes. Here you go:
Bold your scene headings.
Giving your audience room to infer is tantamount to giving them space to play.
Can I just pay you the $50 to have you mark up my screenplay?
Yes! Just specify this when you send me the screenplay.
What kinds of stories can I send you for feedback?
Feature-length scripts, short film scripts, and television pilots (half-hour and hour-long) are all fair game. Anything under 30 pages, I’ll only charge $100 for the feedback.
Can I send a screenplay adaptation of a novel, video game, etc. or a remake spec?
You can; licensing matters are no object for a service like this.
That said, I would strongly recommend just sending me original work, reason being there’s a very substantial chance I won’t be familiar with the source material, which will most likely limit the usefulness of my feedback.
I am of course happy to familiarize myself with source material if you wish, but that will cost you extra. In such cases, we’ll haggle the exact amount over email, but let’s say for now that me watching a film on your script’s behalf will run you an additional $25, and reading a novel will run you between an additional $100-$250 depending on the length, plus whatever it will cost to acquire the material. Will probably also ask that you not expect the feedback until two or three months after the initial deposit.
All that to say, and I repeat: I accept adaptations, but very much urge you to send original work.
Do you have any special offers or packages for this service?
I’m sure I’ll come up with some, and I’m doubly sure the paid tiers of The Treatment will play a role in that. For now, I can offer this:
If, after you pay for my feedback, you feel compelled to write me a thoughtful testimonial to my work (like those you see throughout this post), I will be happy to waive the $50 deposit fee on another screenplay of yours
This can mean you either get the written feedback and all bonus materials — meaning the annotated script and any recommendations I can think of — for $200, or you get the bonus materials completely free.
Will this feedback make me better at plotting, dialogue, and characterization?
My feedback often includes suggestions on how to sharpen mechanics, yes, but the goal with this feedback is to improve your ability to get more deeply in touch with the story/ies you want to tell, which you will then use your mechanical storytelling ability to actualize.
But more importantly, if your goal is to improve your mechanical storytelling/writing ability, then you shouldn’t be seeking advice; you should be watching movies5 (and I mean really, really watching) and practicing writing. You could internalize all the writing advice in the world and it wouldn’t even approach the echelon of value that comes with doing that. Trust me on this.
Is this going to shake up operations at The Treatment?
Yes, definitely, and for the better. I’ll expand more on this in a future post.
Charlotte gave me excellent coverage on my original pilot. She was thoughtful, thorough, and articulate, giving special attention to the often-neglected thematic elements of the script. I would recommend her coverage to any writer, from beginner to professional, who was looking for a nuanced view of their own thematic argument, and how to sharpen their message and artistic voice.
— Dan Takacs,
Winner: 2024 Frank Moffett Mosier Fellowship for Works in Heightened Language (The Piteous Life and Tragical Death of Steve the Intern)
Winner: 2025 Peter Honegger Prize for Best Full Length Play (An Institution)
Quarterfinalist: 2025 Final Draft Big Break Competition (An Institution)
Quarterfinalist: 2025 Inspired Screenwriting Competition (An Institution)
One last thing…
I am — in intent if not always in result — a relatively provocative writer. It’s not so much that I never want a reader to associate my writing with any positive feelings, but more that I want a reader to associate my writing with the sense of becoming more like themselves. Sometimes that’s a positive feeling, most of the time it’s an uncomfortable one. Ideally, you can’t tell the difference. We do not live in ideal times right now.
To write this way is to accept that mass resonance probably isn’t in the cards for your writing. I accept this happily, because it ends up saturating the gratitude I feel for those who do show up, reach out, and choose to engage with me and my work, many of whom I’m lucky to know as peers, others still as people that I look up to, and most all as figures who have — directly or indirectly — opened more doors than I even knew existed for me just a year ago. I will take this concentrated, idiomatic-yet-communal momentum as my resource of choice twenty lifetimes out of ten. In the twenty-first, I’ll try being a drummer for Imagine Dragons or something.
Point is, thank you, everyone, for the support you’ve shown me, The Treatment, and all the rollicking shifts I’ve brought upon it these last few years. For what real-world utopia exceeds our grasp, we nevertheless stand within the power to be ambassadors for it. You’ve all lead me to that position, and I will strive to spread it around in the ways I know how. Today, I’ve added screenplay consultancy to that mix. I can’t wait to add more.
Stay provoked,
— C
Carlos Tevez’s #10 shirt, if I recall.
In fairness, the entire world was cheering for Leicester City that year (if you know, you know).
Casualties: One Spanish textbook, one and a half Wendy’s parking spots, a few vague quantifications of dignity that were probably on their way out anyway, and the ballpark of a couple hundred brain cells that I’m still about seven viewings of Cloud Atlas (or three viewings of The End of Evangelion) away from restoring.
It takes me a fraction of that time to write the feedback, but for now I’m giving myself a month so as to accommodate a potential influx of requests alongside the other work (this blog, my own writing projects) and areas of my life that it will need to be balanced with.
Or reading/watching whatever medium you wish to be a better storyteller in.
Yes! I want this!
What a cool turn of events, congrats!