Somebody has to read it.
This is the form they write in.

Title block: Title, writer, draft date, format, genre, page count, and where the submission came from. Dull, and the first thing a development executive checks, because a 143 page spec from an unrepresented writer sets an expectation before anyone reads a word.

Logline: One or two sentences: the protagonist, the situation that upends their life, what they are trying to do, and what stands in the way. It is not a teaser and it does not withhold the ending. It is a compression test, and a script that resists compression usually has a premise problem worth naming in the comments.

Synopsis: Roughly one page, present tense, the whole plot including the ending. Character names in capitals on first appearance. Never a review, never an opinion, and never a cliffhanger. Someone should be able to describe the film accurately in a meeting having read only this.

Everything visible at once: On a canvas these three sit as cards you can rewrite in any order, which matters because the logline usually gets its final form only after the synopsis has forced you to say what the story actually is.

Say what the script is trying to do first: Analysis that never states the script's own ambition is just preference. Name the film it wants to be, then assess whether the pages get there. A reader who does this is trusted with the next hundred scripts.

Structure, character, dialogue, and market, in that order: Where the act breaks fall and whether they carry weight. Whether the protagonist wants something specific and pays for it. Whether the dialogue does more than deliver information. Then, briefly, who would finance this and who would watch it.

Keep does not work apart from not for us: Two findings, one verdict. A well-built script the company will never make deserves a paragraph saying exactly that, because it protects a writer worth remembering and it tells the executive something true about the submission rather than about the writing.

Cite pages, not impressions: Every claim carries a page reference. Pin the page beside the note on the canvas and the discipline becomes automatic rather than a thing you keep meaning to do.

The grid: Premise, structure, characters, dialogue, and usually a line for production value or commercial appeal, each marked excellent, good, fair or poor. Company forms differ in the details and almost never in the substance.

RECOMMEND, CONSIDER, PASS: One verdict on the script and, at most companies, a separate one on the writer. The split matters: a PASS on a script alongside a CONSIDER on the writer is how a reader flags talent attached to the wrong project.

Grade the same way twice: Consistency is the reader's actual product. Lay the week's grids out on one board, look across them, and adjust before you send rather than after somebody notices your CONSIDER means three different things.

View-only links: Send a link and an executive, a producer, or a writer opens the whole board in a browser with no account and no login. Guests a paid member invites join free today.

Export as a document: Export the board as a high-quality image or PDF when coverage has to arrive as a file, which at most companies it still does.

Turn received notes into a plan: If you commissioned the coverage, the board is where the report stops being a verdict and becomes a revision list, with each note sitting against the scene it concerns.

Keep the reasoning: Six months later the board still shows which pages produced which judgment, which a PDF in a shared drive folder never does.