Screenwriting : Writing by Fares Moha

The best writing, for me, is the kind where you eventually forget the rules.

I’m not saying technique doesn’t matter, or that structure is useless. I’m talking about that first-draft moment where you let the story come out naturally. Where you’re not trying to write “the right way” yet—where you’re not forcing yourself to explain everything, map every arc, or fit every scene into a perfect shape. The first draft has to breathe. It has to be alive—sometimes messy, sometimes awkward, sometimes rough—and that’s normal. A character at the beginning can sound imperfect, unsure… like a real human being you’re still discovering.

And honestly, I believe the more roughness you allow on the road, the easier it becomes to clean later. Because you can’t polish something that doesn’t exist yet. When you try to “write well” too early, you kill the momentum. Polishing can become a cage. It can smother that raw fire—the thing that gives a story its soul.

I don’t have a huge amount of experience in writing, and I say that with no shame. Because experience comes. And because purists will always find something to criticize: a rule you didn’t follow, an arc that isn’t clear enough, a scene that’s “too much” or “not enough.” But their opinions should never be the end of your story.

What matters most is your personal satisfaction. That exact moment when you reread your work and you get that small smile—the one that says, “Yes. I’ve got it.” That smile is your signal. It’s your truth. And if you don’t have it yet, that’s okay—it just means you’re still on the way. Keep going. Rewrite. Cut. Add. Start again. Not to please other people—but to reach the point where you believe in it 100%.

And most importantly: don’t hand your project over halfway through, when even you still have doubts that eat at you. Go find your conviction. Chase that smile. Because once you have it, even a negative response won’t shut you down. You’ll still smile and think, “They don’t know what they’re missing.” Not out of arrogance—out of certainty. Because you know what you put into it. You know what it means to you.

To every writer: don’t quit when things feel unclear. Uncertainty is part of the process. Imperfection is part of it too. Write with your heart first—even if it’s raw, even if it’s messy, even if it’s unbalanced. You can always fix it later. But if you kill your momentum chasing “perfect,” you might never finish at all.

Finish it. Find your smile. And keep going until reading your own work makes you believe in it even more.