Writing for What You Can Shoot – Short Film Production Tips
When I was in film school, I tried making a short film that required a subway ride, a rain machine, and a cast of twelve.
The shoot was chaotic. And the film wasn’t finished.
Swimmingpool, on the other hand, got finished — because I wrote it around what I actually had: two actors, one location, natural light. That’s it.
This post isn’t about how to “think small.” It’s about how to think smart — and how writing for what you can shoot leads to better, more focused and honest films.
By following these short film production tips. You will become a better and calmer filmmaker.
1. Take Inventory Before You Write
Before writing Swimmingpool, I made a list of what I had access to:
- A cottage rented through Airbnb
- Two strong actors
- Basic film gear
That list became my canvas — not a limitation, but a creative frame. And the whole visual concept for the film.
“Art lives from constraints and dies from freedom.”
— Leonardo da Vinci
I recommend limiting yourself to one primary location when making short films — for several reasons:
First, it forces clarity. A lot of student filmmakers try to create narrative momentum by jumping between locations, rather than building tension within a single setting. It’s often a sign that the core conflict isn’t strong enough. Or that the filmmakers don’t trust that there can be real tension in stillness.
Second, it’s a logistical lifesaver. Every time you move locations, you lose time. Setting up lights and gear takes effort. Transporting the crew eats up your schedule — and your budget.
But here’s the thing: “one location” doesn’t mean one room. Even within a single house, you’ll likely have several spaces:
- The kitchen
- The backyard
- The bathroom
- A nearby forest or lake
Use each space deliberately to represent different moods or turning points in your story.
In Swimmingpool, I used the kitchen and blacked out the windows to create a dim, intimate atmosphere. That’s where the character finally reveals how sick he really is.
The setting amplified the moment.
2. Let the Real World Shape the Story
Instead of forcing your script to fit into some idealized production, let your real-life environment inspire the narrative.
A narrow hallway might inspire a claustrophobic thriller. A kitchen flooded with natural light could become the perfect backdrop for a breakup scene. The idea is to write from place — not just plot.
In Swimmingpool, I used a nearby lake for the final scene. It became a symbol of forgiveness and calm — the emotional release at the end of a heavy story. I wouldn’t have written that ending if the location hadn’t existed.
📌 Tip: Look around your neighborhood. What emotional tones do your surroundings naturally offer?
3. Cast Your Story Around Your People
I originally imagined the main character in Swimmingpool as a man — kind of an alter ego. But I didn’t know any strong male actors at the time.
Well… except for myself. (I’m kidding. Kind of.)
So I rewrote the role as a woman in her 40s.
The core theme didn’t change. The story still worked — maybe even better than before.
The truth is, most human experiences can be told through different characters. It’s not about what they look like — it’s about what they’re going through.
If you know someone who can act, write for them. If your roommate has great comic timing, build that into a scene. I wrote Swimmingpool with a specific person in mind, and it shaped everything — how the character spoke, moved, and expressed emotion.
📌 Tip: Writing with a specific performer in mind saves time, tightens your dialogue, and usually leads to more grounded, honest performances.
4. Design Scenes That Are Logistically Simple (But Emotionally Complex)
Complexity in filmmaking is expensive. Emotional depth, on the other hand, is free — it just requires attention and care.
Instead of asking, “How can I make this look impressive?”
Ask, “How can I make this feel like something?”
That one shift has saved me countless hours, reshoots, and rewrites.
This is really about your use of timing, visual rhythm, and actor performance. That’s a better challenge than trying to prove your film looks expensive.
For example, let’s say you’re considering a dolly shot.
Before spending hours setting it up, ask:
“Is this the only way to tell the story in this moment?”
“Or am I just mimicking the style of filmmakers I admire?”
You may still decide to use the dolly. But at least you’ll be doing it with intention — not just aesthetics.
Often, you’ll find that shooting the scene on a tripod, and focusing your energy on working with the actors and refining the script, delivers something far more powerful.
📌 Tip: Don’t chase technical complexity. Chase emotional truth.
5. Writing for Production Is Not ‘Selling Out’
There’s a strange belief that writing within limitations is a compromise. I think it’s the opposite.
The more practical I’ve become as a writer, the better my films have become — and the more they actually get finished.
“The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.”
— Orson Welles
There’s a reason so many short films — even from professional filmmakers — never get finished. They aimed too high, ran out of money, or burned out from overcomplication.
Filmmaking is the most expensive art form there is. Writing with that in mind doesn’t make you less creative — it shows that you understand the craft.
📌 Tip: Budget-awareness is not selling out. It’s strategy.
Final Thoughts
You don’t need more money.
You need to become clear about your resources — and write a story you can actually shoot, and shoot well.
If you’re tired of half-finished scripts and fantasy productions, take this approach: write for what’s real.
That’s where the best films live.
And in my opinion, the old writer’s phrase “dig where you stand” applies perfectly to filmmaking too.
Use what you have.
Film what you know.
And make something that lasts.
