Every writer who submits to competitions like the BBC Writers Open Call knows the first hurdle: the 10-page sift. Before anyone engages with your characters’ full journey, those opening pages decide whether your script makes it to the next round. That’s not just about story—it’s about readability, rhythm, and confidence in your craft.
That sift is brutal. But think about it: Readers are working through hundreds of submissions, and they don’t have the luxury of time. If your first 10 pages don’t compel them to keep reading, your script is out. That’s not about whether your play is “good” or “bad”—it’s about whether those pages demand attention.
The good news? You can learn how to write a play that bursts from the page from the very first line. Formatting, rhythm, and restraint are as important as plot. Here are 10 detailed ways to make those opening pages impossible to ignore.
1. Playwriting competition Tips #1: Start with Action, Not Explanation
Think of the sift reader: they’ve got a stack of scripts, and they’re looking for something that feels alive. If your play opens with a long monologue about family history or a page of exposition about the setting, you’ve probably lost them.
Instead, drop us straight into a moment of tension, humour, or conflict. It doesn’t have to be explosive—it just has to feel immediate.
If your play begins with a monologue (or is a one-person show) make sure that something is happening—it’s not just describing the world and giving us information so we can understand the plot later on.
What is action, exactly?
Action is something that a character does that forces a reaction. Just walking into the room could be enough—as long as it changes the atmosphere among the people already there.
Action could involve:
- A character making a risky choice
- A sharp exchange of dialogue
- A situation that feels unstable
Readers should feel like they’re watching a room where something is already happening.
The trick is to trust your audience. You don’t need to explain everything upfront. Let them catch up as the scene unfolds. That sense of discovery is far more engaging than being spoon‑fed context.
2. Playwriting Competition Tips #2: Minimise Stage Directions
This is one of the most contentious of all classroom discussions, in my experience: When is a stage direction really necessary?
Think of your script’s opening as an opportunity to demonstrate your prowess on the page. Make it crackle from the first line of dialogue. But be brief, and describe very little.
Because stage directions are the quickest way to clog up the page. They slow the rhythm, and they tell rather than show.
Remember: you’re not directing the play, you’re writing it.
Great stage directions
Here are some examples of succinct stage directions that are teasingly brief:
Shopping and Fucking
Scene One
Flat – once rather stylish, now almost entirely stripped bare.
Lulu and Robbie are trying to get Mark to eat from a carton of takeaway food.
Shopping and Fucking: Mark Ravenhill
This is beautifully brief, but we immediately know where we are and what is happening. It’s a moment of conflict—“trying to get” suggests resistance. We know who are the doers (Lulu and Robbie) and who is the resistor (Mark).
We know that the flat was once stylish, but the owner has likely fallen on bad times.
Monster
Morning. School.
The sound of children running, laughing, shouting, screaming.
TOM sits at the table. He looks at his watch and straightens his tie. He sits rigidly upright, staring at the door.
,
He glances at his shoes, then back at the door. Û
,
He rubs one of his shoes on the back of his trousers, then leans down to look at it.
He sits back up.
,
He leans down and rubs his shoe with his sleeve.
DARRYL enters, his hooded top hanging off one shoulder, underneath which he wears a burgundy school sweatshirt. He is chewing. He drops his bag on the floor and stares at TOM.
TOM sees him and stands.
,
Monster: Duncan MacMillan
This is a little lengthier, but it’s full of action. We see how Tom is feeling through his fidgety action. We feel his tension. He’s waiting for something, and when Darryl arrives, we know what it is. Darryl’s demeanour immediately implies conflict.
The use of the lone comma is shorthand for SILENCE. It’s a great way to minimise the text to help the reader get through the page quickly.
This opening feels similar to the opening of Pinter’s The Dumb Waiter. Its fidgety action implies tension—but essentially, it’s brief. And the dialogue that follows is FULL of tension:
TOM Darryl.
Sit down.
Sit down Darryl.
,
Alright, let’s run through some rules.
First, and most important, is that you get here on time for the lesson to begin. That means before the lesson is due to start. That way you’ll be ready to go.
Second, the bag goes on the hook.
DARRYL looks at the hook.
,
Sit down please Darryl.
I’m Tom,
What’s most notable about this opening is Darryl’s silence. He’s not responding, and that makes Tom work harder. It sets up the tension immediately—we know what this play is about from the opening page.
Insist that the reader uses their imagination
Competition readers aren’t looking for a manual on how to stage your work—they’re looking for a script that flows.
If every line of dialogue is interrupted by “she crosses to the window” or “he sits down heavily,” the energy dies.
Instead, let dialogue and pacing imply movement. If a character is angry, we’ll hear it in their words. If they’re pacing, we’ll feel it in the rhythm of their speech.
Use stage directions sparingly, and only when they genuinely add clarity.
3. Playwriting Competition Tips #3: Keep Dialogue Lean and Charged
Dialogue is the lifeblood of your script. In the first 10 pages, it has to crackle. Every line should earn its place.
That means trimming, avoiding long speeches, and making sure each exchange either reveals character or escalates tension. Don’t let your characters chat idly about the weather unless the weather is the point.
And here’s the deeper truth: stage play writing is often more about what characters don’t say than what they do.
Information is dramatically inert
Exposition is necessary, but information is dramatically inert.
There’s the challenge: we do need some information to understand the world of the play and the tension, but it’s generally considered better to sneak it in rather than state it directly through dialogue.
Exposition should only appear if it’s absolutely necessary—and even then, make another character work for it.
How to introduce exposition
Characters shouldn’t just offer information, and they certainly shouldn’t tell someone something they already know. If they do, it should be a strategy in the present moment. Are they reminding someone of a lie they once told because they want honesty now? Are they weaponising the past to gain leverage?
Often, silence is more powerful. Allow the exposition to hang in the air, unresolved.
4. Playwriting Competition Tips #4: Establish Tone Early
By page two, we should know what kind of world we’re in. Is it biting satire? Menacing drama? Playful comedy? Don’t wait until page eight to set the mood.
Tone is your calling card. It tells the reader what kind of writer you are. If your play is darkly comic, let us feel that in the first exchange. If it’s emotionally raw, let us sense that in the rhythm of the dialogue.
The sift reader isn’t just asking “is this good?” They’re asking “does this writer have a voice worth hearing?” Tone is how you answer that question.
The Call of Nature
My play The Call of Nature is a dark thriller set in an empty house in the middle of nowhere. It’s an after-clubbing party that goes very wrong. But it’s a set-up.
And this is the opening.
ACT I
The room is furnished with a makeshift bed (DS), an old style cast iron radiator(USR), a window overlooking a church (USC).
A birthday cake with unlit candles sits on the arm of a chair.
It could be a squat.
It’s cold and damp.
Voices are heard laughing, falling about outside the room.
ABRAHAM(ABE), GABYand ADAM collapse into the room in a three way snog.
ABE drops his backpack.
They drift across to the mattress on the floor, frantically making out.
GABY breaks away.
GABY Drink?
ADAM What?
GABY What do you want?
ABRAHAM I thought –
GABY What?
ABRAHAM – we were just getting started
GABY We are.
She picks up the cake.
You can’t start a birthday party without a drink.
ADAM You never mentioned it was your birthday.
GABY My brother’s. I told you in the club.
ADAM Did you?
GABY It was noisy. I definitely
ABRAHAM Anyway
ABE pulls them together.
ADAM Well, where / is he then? –
ABRAHAM I thought we were here to
Happy birthday
They kiss, ADAM making sure that GABY is the centre of things.
GABY I think vodka.
ADAM Come on. You start us off in the taxi, get us here then leave us with blue balls.
BEAT
GABY Do not say typical woman.
ADAM I wasn’t going to Where’s your brother?
BEAT
GABY Anyway, I think it was Abe who “started you off”.
Has he got your engine running, Adam?
ADAM That’s bullshit.
ABRAHAM Is it?
Hopefully, you get the tone. This is the opening two pages, and we’re thrust into a situation that, perhaps, feels a little dangerous; like something is going to go badly wrong. (Read the full play.)
Setting the tone early is a great way to draw the reader in.
5. Playwriting Competition Tips #5: Introduce Characters with Purpose
It’s tempting to throw everyone on stage at once, but that’s a recipe for confusion. In the first 10 pages, be deliberate. Make sure each character has a clear function; a reason for walking into the room. They want something, and they’re here to get it.
A strong introduction tells the reader you’re in control of your cast. If a character appears early, they should matter.
Think about how you want the reader to remember them. A sharp line of dialogue, a surprising choice, a distinctive rhythm—give us something that sticks. Don’t waste those first impressions.
6. Playwriting Competition Tips #6: Use Blank Space Strategically
Dense blocks of text scream “hard work” to a competition reader. Short lines, clean formatting, and purposeful pauses can make your script feel more inviting.
Blank space isn’t wasted space—it’s rhythm, it’s breath, it’s confidence. A script that looks airy on the page feels easier to read, and that matters when someone is sifting through hundreds of entries.
Think of it like music: silence is part of the score. A pause can be as powerful as a line of dialogue. Use spacing to control pace and to give the reader room to breathe.
7. Playwriting Competition Tips: Anchor the Reader in Place Without Overwriting
You don’t need a paragraph to describe a kitchen. You don’t need to tell us about the books on the bookshelf.
One evocative detail—a chipped mug, a flickering strip light—does the job. Suggest, don’t instruct.
Consider the opening of my play Playing God:
SCENE 1
Kurt Wizaard’s chamber.
KURT Wizaard (OS throughout) is heard through a booming tannoy.
SOPHIA sits at a table in a spot-light, flicks through the contract.
SOPHIA We can negotiate?
KURT It rolls out today.
SOPHIA I’ll take it home and really go over it all and consider the
KURT I can assign the extra budget to another store.
SOPHIA Well, maybe that’s /for the (best)
KURT You’re the flagship.
BEAT
SOPHIA Then I’m sure you’ll want me to go into things /with my eyes open
KURT You’ve been been seen and heard.
PAUSE
She stands, goes to exit. She leaves the contract.
Life is made of opportunities that one can ill afford to discard.
SOPHIA Like taking over a thriving business sabotaged by bad press?
KURT How is Daddy?
The opening description is purposely brief. It’s a Wizard of Oz set-up—Sophia speaking to an unseen entity. He’s trying to get her to sign a contract she hasn’t had a chance to read, and she wants to buy time.
Hopefully, the brevity of the description implies some kind of magical realism—something isn’t quite right here.
Give the reader a taste, not the full meal
Readers don’t want to be bogged down in description. They want to feel the world quickly and move on. A single image can anchor them without slowing the rhythm.
Think of it as sketching rather than painting. You’re giving just enough for the imagination to fill in the rest. That restraint shows confidence.
8. Build Rhythm Like Music
Rhythm is invisible, but it’s what makes the first 10 pages feel effortless.
Vary sentence length, use pauses, and create beats that carry us forward. A script that drones in one rhythm feels flat. A script that shifts pace feels alive.
Think of dialogue as melody and silence as harmony. The interplay creates flow. If the reader is gliding, you’re winning.
9. Playwriting Competition Tips #9: Foreshadow Without Explaining
Hint at stakes or themes without spelling them out. A throwaway line, a subtle image, a tonal shift—these are breadcrumbs that tell the reader there’s more to come.
Curiosity is your ally. If the reader senses that something bigger is brewing, they’ll keep reading. But if you explain everything upfront, you rob them of discovery.
Think of foreshadowing as a promise: “stick with me, and this will pay off.” The sift reader doesn’t need the whole map—they just need to know the journey is worth taking.
10. Playwriting Competition Tips 10: End the First 10 Pages with a Hook
Finally, don’t let your sift end on a flat beat. Give us a turning point, a question, or a tonal pivot that demands attention.
The reader should finish page 10 thinking: I need to know what happens next. That doesn’t mean a cliffhanger—it means momentum. A shift in power, a revelation, a moment that changes the trajectory.
Think of it as the end of Act One in miniature. You’re setting up the promise of the play. If the reader is hooked, you’ve done your job.
Cutting the Fluff in The Call of Nature
When I finished the final draft of my play The Call of Nature, I thought it was ready. But once I got into the rehearsal room and put the play up on its feet with actors, I realised there was too much dialogue for the action. The rhythm was clogged.
So I spent much of the rehearsal process sifting out unnecessary content. I decimated some pages to single lines—
but it worked.
The moment became more alive, and the actors were able to keep the tension alive because they weren’t struggling against the text.
What I learned
That experience taught me something vital: you don’t always know what works until you hear it spoken aloud.
If you’re sending a draft to a competition, make sure you’ve at least had a read‑through with friends or actors. Listen and feel your way into the text.
Is every word necessary? Or is there fluff? Sometimes you only truly know once the play is up on its feet. A table read is useful, but a walk‑through can reveal even more.
Why This Matters
Competitions aren’t rejecting scripts because they’re “bad.” They’re rejecting because they don’t compel. The sift is about efficiency: does this script demand attention? Formatting, rhythm, and restraint are your allies.
But this isn’t just about crafting plays for competitions. Ultimately, if a play bursts off the page, it’s bursts onto the stage—you grab an audience from the opening lines.
And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it: Giving audiences an evening of intrigue, drama, tension, and laughter.
Get to the Top of the Stack
If you want to go deeper into mastering your craft, our new course Top of the Stack launches in January.
It’s designed to help writers sharpen those opening pages, refine dramaturgical rhythm, and ensure their scripts rise above the pile.
✨ Takeaway: The first 10 pages aren’t just the start of your play—they’re your audition piece. Treat them as a showcase of your voice, precision, and confidence.
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