The first page of a script is obviously important.

Professional readers might not get much past it if it doesn’t really work for them. So much of how it’s written tells them if they’re in “good hands” or not.

What that really means is whether the writer is thinking of them, and writing for them.

How does one do that?

It starts with thinking visually. And remembering that you’re describing what a viewer would see — what they would take in, and conclude about it.

You’re not giving them more information than they’re ready for yet. And you’re taking them on a fun ride. Grabbing them emotionally. You’re entertaining them.

How you do this varies depending on your genre. But you want its elements present right away – that make it enjoyable for fans of that genre. And that draw them in.

In looking for the first page of a script that’s a master class in all that, I give you…

The pilot for Breaking Bad. Its first page is below. (You can read the full script here.)

Here’s what writer and series creator Vince Gilligan’s first page looks like:

Here’s what jumps out at me:

First, we’re opening with a framing device. Meaning a high-octane moment that happens later in the script that we’re soon going to flash back to “weeks earlier” or “days earlier” than that, and work our way forward to it – later in this pilot.

As I’ve blogged about before, I think framing devices tend to be overused. And they often don’t work. This one does. Why?

Because the scene is long enough (3 pages) and has enough going on in it that’s clear and compelling and raises questions we HAVE to get answers to.

It also ends on a huge cliff-hanger. (Read the next two pages to see what I mean.)

Also, the stakes are massive. Very primal. Life and death. It’s a big enough incident to fully command the reader’s emotional investment, to then flash back from.

You almost need this level of “life and death” mixed with intriguing character and high entertainment value, for that to work.

Now let’s get to the specifics of the writing – the words on the page – and why they are so effective, and a model for us all:

1. It’s extremely sensory, but in a compressed, impactful way.

By sensory I mostly mean visual, but there are auditory suggestions too: “buzz,” “zoom,” “splat.” It puts us in the scene right away, like we’re there, experiencing it.

But it does so with short paragraphs – 3-4 lines maximum – each of which is punchy with vivid details. And each keeps things moving with new revelations.

Yes, it has a few camera suggestions (“Tilt down,” “New angle,” “Close on”) which we’re normally told to avoid. And we normally should. Like with everything, there are exceptions if it’s done well and adds to the experience.

2. It speaks directly to the reader, in a fun personal voice.

The first paragraph compares the opening description to a popular commercial. Then contrasts it with “cow shit.”

It basically says, “I know you need to be guided into this material, that I need to grab you and hold you and make you my friend. I have to compete with your boredom and low expectations. Let me give you an entertaining escape. A gift, even. This will be an enjoyable read. I promise. Permission to have a good time right away is granted.”

It also sets a tone of dark comedy from the outset. If comedy is any part of your script, it’s helpful to start amusing the reader instantly. Even speaking directly to them. If not, well, there are other ways to grab them. And this page employs many of them.

3. Strong emotion, point-of-view, conflict and stakes.

I often say the opening pages are more about luring the reader into caring, not just offering big explosions on page one. That means establishing a character right away, who is “going through something.”

We don’t even know this guy’s name yet (more on this later) but boy, is he going through something. And it’s delivered in intriguing physical details: “knuckles cling white to the wheel,” “eyes bug wide,” “panting like a steam engine.”

We are immediately drawn into his situation, wanting to know more. And we can’t help but start feeling the emotion, the crisis, the stakes of all this. (The dead bodies, chemicals, and money in the back really help with that.)

4. Details, details, details.

What he’s describing crackles with life in the language. While feeling unique – like we’ve never quite seen this situation before on screen.

From the “chalky white paint and Bondo spots” to the “Good Sam Club” bumper sticker, to, of course, the underpants and gas mask. All of which later make sense and aren’t just an attempt to be shocking or bizarre.

Then there are the bodies tumbling and bumping like rag dolls, the yellow-brown liquid that “foams in a scum,” creating a “soup,” and the specifics of the Von’s bag.

5. Only what we need to know and the impression it should make.

There’s no naming of the characters let alone giving their age or even general appearance. They will be introduced later. Writers often bombard readers with lots of names to remember way too soon and all at once, without creating point-of-view.

But all the viewer would notice (and thus the reader should be directed to) is this desperate guy, the wild situation, the emotional energy, and the various key visual details, including his bizarre appearance. And that’s all they need, for now.

Not the phrase “some kind of ad-hoc CHEMICAL LAB” (and the capitalization of certain other new details of importance, for emphasis). He doesn’t lay out boring specifics that wouldn’t be evident to the viewer. He describes it as we would take it in. And to us, it appears to be “some kind of ad-hoc chemical lab.”

I know this is a one-of-a-kind example from a unique show with an extra grabby way of opening, and a brilliant writer. We usually don’t have a situation this crazy and fun to open with. But if you can somehow operate from the spirit of these five principles, regardless of genre and content, you’ll be way ahead of most script first pages.

And hopefully the reader will be so intrigued they’ll turn the page.

Want my feedback on your first page? Check out my “Idea Package” – instead of reading your one-page synopsis, I could critique your first page in line-by-line detail.