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A sentence, a scene, a name, a half-remembered image. Write it the way it arrives. Scriptr notices who and where as you go.
Turn story into a properly formatted screenplay, scene by scene. The same film, seen another way.
Co-writer knows your characters, places and scenes. Ask how a moment should play and it answers like another writer in the room. Nothing on the page changes until you accept.
Meet Co-writer
model.Auto picks the right model for each moment. Or choose Claude, GPT, Gemini, Grok or Kimi yourself, and switch whenever you like. The conversation, and everything it knows, comes with you.
Meet Co-writerThe rain had started again by the time Marcus reached Harbour Road. It came in off the estuary sideways, the way it always had, and turned the shopfronts into smeared rectangles of light.
Marcus walked slowly across the wet road toward the apartment. Above the launderette a single window was lit, and someone had pinned a towel across the lower half of the glass.
Dalia opened the door before he knocked. She had cut her hair. It made her look older and, somehow, more like their mother, a resemblance she would have hated him for noticing.
“You found it, then,” she said.
He didn’t answer. He took the photograph out of his coat and laid it on the counter between them, face down, as if the people in it might still be listening.
EXT. HARBOUR ROAD - NIGHT
Rain off the estuary, sideways. The shopfronts smear into rectangles of light.
MARCUS (40s), coat soaked through, crosses the wet road. Above the launderette, one lit window. A towel pinned across the lower half of the glass.
INT. DALIA’S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
DALIA opens the door before he knocks. Her hair is cut short. She looks older, and more like their mother.
Dalia straightens a stack of unopened post.
DALIA
You found it, then.
He doesn’t answer. He lays a photograph on the counter between them, face down.
Everyone and everywhere you write about gets a home. Rename Dalia once and every page, board and shot follows.
Gather faces, places and light on a canvas that stays linked to the script.
Rain off the estuary. The shopfronts smear into light.
Marcus crosses the wet road toward the launderette.
One lit window. A towel pinned across the glass.
Dalia opens the door before he knocks.
The photograph, face down on the counter.
Scenes break into shots, shots into takes and media. The film you wrote becomes the film you plan.
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