Stop Trying to Get Your Script Read
When writers come to me, the question is almost always the same.
How do I get read?
How do I get my script in front of producers? How do I get someone to finally look at my work? How do I get that one read that will change everything?
It’s the question that dominates the conversation. The question that keeps writers up at night. The question everyone assumes is the right one to be asking.
And every time, I’m reminded how different my approach has always been.
From the moment I entered this industry, I noticed something about myself. I never focused on asking people to read my scripts. I didn’t orient my energy around that question.
And yet, I often found myself being asked.
The irony was that I didn’t yet have the portfolio to support that interest. While people were asking, I was still building my body of work.
So instead of trying to accelerate the reads, I did two things in parallel: I worked on slowly getting a portfolio together, and I focused on building relationships. I made friends. I grew my network. I got to know people in the industry as people.
The reads weren’t the goal. They were happening anyway. The work was catching up.
Recently, I read a post by a writer friend talking about all the deals he’s had over the years. Options that went nowhere. Projects that fell apart. Situations that felt promising and then quietly died. He wrote honestly about failure and resilience. It was a good post.
But something stood out.
He never once mentioned the relationships he must have built during those years.
And that’s when it clicked for me—clearly, in a way I could finally articulate.
The biggest difference between me and most writers I meet isn’t talent, ambition, or effort. It’s where the focus goes.
I always focused on building relationships with producers. Not so they would read my work. Not to pitch. Just to get to know them. To know with whom I want to collaborate on projects.
I didn’t lead with scripts. I didn’t chase reads. I didn’t obsess over “Can I send you something?”
I kept adding producers and directors to my world while working on my writing, trusting that things would align when the timing was right.
And they did.
Over time, those producers became familiar faces. Then friends. Then collaborators. At some point, they became interested in working together. That’s when projects started moving forward.
Today, I have multiple deals in negotiation—not because I aggressively pushed material, but because these relationships grew naturally. We like each other. We trust each other. We want to work together.
Here’s something nobody talks about:
Producers want to work with their friends.
There’s a moment that happens when timing, trust, and material align. Suddenly the collaboration feels obvious. No chasing. No pressure. No awkward “please read this.”
Let me make this concrete.
I currently have several deals in negotiation. None of them came from cold queries.
One producer is someone I met at a festival market in 2016 or 2017.
Another is someone I met in 2015 while going out with friends in a pub in Los Angeles.
Another is someone I met at the last Cannes Film Festival. We grabbed coffee and immediately felt that mutual sense of I want to work with her.
I just had a call with a producer I originally met at an AFM party back in 2016.
None of these relationships started with business.
First, you meet. Then you become acquaintances—or friends—over time. Then, over years, you observe.
You see how people behave in this industry. How they treat writers. How they handle conflict. What kinds of projects they actually bring to the finish line. You learn whether they’re people you want to be in business with.
Only after that do you decide whether to work together.
This minimizes disappointment and unrealistic expectations. You’re not signing contracts with strangers. You’re not discovering misalignment after it’s already messy. You know who you’re going into business with.
That’s very different from cold querying, getting a yes, and realizing too late that you don’t align at all.
Over the years, a small handful of producers have emerged—people I would genuinely love to make my passion projects with. The timing hasn’t been right yet, and that’s okay. When I’m ready and everything aligns, I know exactly who I’ll bring my babies to.
They still get to say yes or no.
But I also get to choose.
And that part matters.
I don’t want to work with everyone. Especially not on the projects I care about most.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking.
But this takes a long time.
Yes. It does. Building a career takes time.
So ask yourself honestly: How many years have you been doing this already? And where are you now?
Do you feel like you’re part of this industry? Or are you still—after years, maybe decades—trying to get in?
When I entered the vertical space last year, I did exactly what I’ve always done. I set up Zoom calls. I reached out. I met producers, directors, executives. I sent simple messages:
Can we get on a Zoom? I’d love to meet you. I’d love to hear what you’re working on.
I showed genuine interest.
I almost never talked about getting hired. I rarely mentioned my writing. Sometimes I’d simply say, “I’d love to work with you someday,” and leave it at that.
Because here’s the truth nobody wants to admit:
Nobody wants to read.
Producers are drowning. Their inboxes are full. Everyone is asking for something.
And when people can feel that your main goal is getting read, it creates pressure. It creates distance.
Ironically, the moment you stop worrying about being read is often when people start asking.
So if your entire focus right now is getting your script read, try something different.
Work on your craft. Build relationships. Make friends.
Even if someone isn’t producing what you write, it doesn’t matter. Keep adding producers to your network. Keep growing real connections.
It will come together.
Before you close this tab, ask yourself three questions:
How many producers do I actually know?
How am I building and maintaining those relationships?
Do people in this industry know me as a person—or only as someone asking for something?
Your answers will tell you everything about where you are and what needs to change.
If this shifted something for you, I’d love to hear about it. And if you want me to write more about how I approach building relationships in this industry, reply and tell me—I’m listening.
About the author:
Isabel Dréan is a screenwriter, producer, and founder of THE HUB—a grassroots industry network built on connection, collaboration, and creative momentum. With a passion for helping others break in and break through, she’s on a mission to empower filmmakers everywhere to stop waiting for permission and start making their work.
Where to find Isabel:
https://isabeldrean.com
On Facebook. On substack: Isabel Drean IG: Isabel Drean
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💯 to all of this. I’ve never been in the awkward position of asking someone to read my work. I get read because I enter contests, take writing classes, and work with writing partners. It doesn’t even occur to me to ask random people to read my work. Today a producer will read my work because I signed up to learn with her - not because I’m trying to use her but because I genuinely want to grow.
The question that's sitting with me now: How many producers do I actually know as people? Not "connections who might read my work someday," but people I'd genuinely want to spend years collaborating with?
Right now that number is one. Maybe two.
So I'm taking your advice: keep writing, keep building real relationships, stop optimising for reads. The work will catch up, hopefully.
Thank you for articulating what I've been sensing but couldn't name.