Hope this isn't too long! Hard to tell on my phone. EXT – OLD WAREHOUSE – EVENING A conversion van emblazoned with BRIAR’S GROCERIES pulls up to the curb outside a large, dilapidated warehouse. A rundown chainlink fence full of gaps and jagged holes surrounds the building. Large, overgrown weeds, creepy-looking in the fading sunlight, form another barrier outside of the fence. A young man emerges from the van, a sizable box in his hands. The man looks at a piece of paper atop the box, unsure if he has the right location. As he begins to approach the warehouse he notices a portion of the weed barrier that has been mowed, forming a strange corridor through a hole in the fence to one side of the building. The young man pauses at the entrance to this corridor and shakes involuntarily. On the side of the rusty metal wall he can just make out an arrow, spray-painted on, pointing downward. This must be where the package is to go. The young man makes his way down the weed corridor and through the fence, ducking low. Once to the wall he places the box down below the arrow. A loud CREAK emanates from the building and the young man jumps and then hightails it out of there. A brief moment later part of the wall rises and the package is sucked inside. INT – SMALL ACCESS SHAFT The package rides along a conveyor belt down into the warehouse. INT – GAME ROOM The package emerges into a large room full of old arcade games, each powered on and in pristine condition. Galaga, Centipede, Pac-Man, a vintage gamer’s dream. The package makes its way along the conveyor belt around the edge of the room before vanishing into an opening between two game cabinets. INT – SCIENCE ROOM The package emerges into a room full of laboratory equipment. Bunsen burners, fume hoods, beakers, chemical vials, each neatly organized and sitting on an L-shaped lab table. The room is cold and sterile but has been used. The package continues its journey via conveyor belt around this room as well before disappearing into a wall at the far end. INT – CONTROL ROOM The package emerges into a room dominated by a huge monitor surrounded by numerous smaller monitors. The monitors sit on a wall above a very large computer desk littered with junk food wrappers and energy drink cans. An in-progress First Person Shooter game appears on the main screen accompanied by the requisite BOOMS and TAT-TAT-TATs The smaller screens display: a movie, a cartoon, a Facebook timeline, a Twitter feed, an Instagram feed, etc. Four screens show security footage of the rooms the package just visited along with an exterior shot. Facing the desk and the screens is an oversized recliner on wheels. A keyboard and various other computer peripherals are attached to the chair. The package moves along the conveyor belt until it stops next to the chair. The chair turns to reveal MONTGOMERY HAYES IV, a 25 year old that looks 16. He wears Superman pajamas and holds a computer gaming controller. A headset sits atop shaggy brown hair. He rips open the top of the box. Inside are several cases of Monster energy drinks along with other types of groceries. And junk food galore! MONTGOMERY (into headset): You guys are going to be sorry now! Bout to crack open a case of Monster up in here! Montgomery, or MONT007 as it is displayed on his game, grabs a can of Monster and chugs it. He then spins back to the game, guns blazing onscreen.

Tyler, I like this a lot, but you might want to break up those huge paragraphs for a couple of reasons. First, in final draft they are going to look like huge black chunks of description, which are going to be difficult to read and you won't make many friends by doing that. Second and most importantly, each paragraph of description usually represents a single shot to be filmed.

Thanks for the feedback! I'm new to screenplay writing so I really appreciate it.

Hmm. I may not have picked a good specimen on which to experiment; it's a rejiggered opening to a novel in progress. I've not asked my editor-buddies to review this portion of the novel yet; I might even tweak it again after this experimental adaptation. See http://goo.gl/eoqz8j -- don't be surprised if you see me in the document tinkering here and there. I'm going for a more gothic opening after feedback from my editorial peeps that the original was too focused on a less gripping if more central location much later in the story. Another valuable exercise, Scott. This one actually helps me not only with learning about establishing scenes but with reverse adaptation to shape the framing of a novel's opening.

EXT. OLD HOUSE – DAY A long winding path leads to the old land house rising majestically on the hill, arousing the feeling of grandeur. A lovely English garden can’t keep a man in a wheelchair awake, the humming bees are the only lively ones. Behind the front door, it’s not much better. Once you’re in, the smell of death slaps you in the face. Wealthy relatives strew money to take care of their sick or old family till their last breath. More lively than the living dead is the bribery flow. The high ceilings and the expensive interior in the doctor’s office have witnessed many will forgeries and illicit requests. If only they could talk to solve the inexplicable sudden death of the richest man in oil, Mr. Barry Monlovsky. Feedback appreciated. I don't know if this is fit for a script. Should I use more descriptions? Is there too many telling?

Shari, well done for taking the plunge and posting here! Adapting novels for the screen is so difficult.... Since you asked: I think the problem is, some of the description is so poetic that we're not sure what we're *seeing* onscreen. For example: " A lovely English garden can’t keep a man in a wheelchair awake". Is that a fancy way of saying something about the garden, or is there actually a man in a wheelchair? :) If you phrased everything more as description of what we'll see onscreen, such as - A long winding path leads to the grand old house on the hill. In a lovely English garden, humming bees move busily around a MAN asleep in a wheelchair. Then you're creating a clear visual image of what will be onscreen, and using it to tell a story. If you see what I mean.

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM--NIGHT A medical intern surrounded by nurses feverishly fights to save his first patient-a teenage boy with multiple gunshot wounds to the chest. CHAOS erupts as the boy's parents sneak into the room at the precise moment to see the heart monitor flatline. The Mother's eyes widen with horror as her husband desperately tries to pull her out of the room. She protests with screams and writhes in his arms fixated on her son's heart monitor. Her blood curdling cries are replaced by the thumping sounds of the shock paddles and the lingering echo of the flatline. The intern, in a moment of defeat, loses his first patient but feels he has lost a war. He reluctantly, lifts his gloved hand to close the boys eyes. A BLACK SCREEN. Followed by a glowing light that is so faint you have to squint to see it. It moves closer slowly increasing in size to reveal a golden, luminescent being floating in mid air, reaching out and extending its hand. Two golden hands adjoin and float upward to a portal in the universe. EXT. AN UNKNOWN WORLD opens with numerous halos of golden, celestial beings singing hymns as the two float upward inside the circles of wonderment. A BLINDING LIGHT Appears in the center like a vortex lifting the two beings up and into... EXT. AN ENCHANTED GARDEN-DAY Vibrant colors of iridescent purple, blue green and magenta flowers decorate miles of a blue green grassy, valley encasing a peaceful pond with pink and yellow swans. Waterfalls cascade around a massive white palace. The boy looks downward to his feet to see he is barefoot standing on a ground made of gold. His body is intact and his eyes are pale green. His eyes widen as he looks downward toward his left hand-an angel in white with wings furling, persuades him to look into the crystalline pond. The boy discovers he is now a handsome, virile, young man.

Debbie, thank you very much. I thought I give the description a more poetic swing since Scott mentioned not to stick to description only. I get it that it doesn't beget a clear visual image. Will work on that, much appreciated your input.

Debbie, thank you very much. I thought I give the description a more poetic swing since Scott mentioned not to stick to description only. I get it that it doesn't result into a clear visual image. Will work on that, much appreciated your input.

INT. MRI ROOM, HOSPITAL – NIGHT Bianca nudges the door open, letting in light from the corridor: BIANCA: Aidan? The MRI machine is empty. She’s about to let the door swing closed when she sees a glint of metal on the floor. She reaches for the light switch. But something tells her not to. Instead, she moves out of the doorway, letting in more light. METAL TENDRILS snake out of the bottom of the MRI machine, punching into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Now she’s listening, she can hear the HUM of electricity pulsing through them. The nearest tendril FLOPS like a spasming limb. Bianca freezes. The end pushed into the floor pulls up and swivels round to point at her. A dull metal orb, no lens, but she knows she’s being watched… BIANCA: We can’t even keep a hospital appointment without some shit…?

INT. HYACINTH HOUSE - DAY Cavernous, dimly lit corridor built in the 17th century. At the far end, a staircase lit by a beam of blinding sunlight that somehow managed to break in. Sounds of boot-heels hitting stone floor reverberate like gunshots as Ursula Shipton marches down the corridor. Abigail tries to keep up. Every 20 ft or so, they pass a portrait of someone long gone, hanging on these dark paneled walls. URSULA: As I keep trying to tell people, magic is simply the application of science to phenomena for which we have no understanding. They reach an ancient oak door with a Lion's head door knocker. Ursula places a strange looking key into the lock, turns it. For a split, we just perceive some kind of force field change color from red to blue -- a gentle beep. URSULA: Here we are. Ursula opens the door and they both enter. URSULA'S OFFICE Modern looking room. Soft, righteous sunlight bursts in through the huge bay doors facing us. Two comfy sofas straddle an oversized glass top coffee table and a gorgeous Persian rug covering a teak floor. On the left wall, shelves neatly hold nick-knacks, trophies gathered from around the world. Scary looking tribal masks and weapons from Africa, South America and the Orient adorn the wall. Impressive workbench right out of an old Sears catalog lines the entire right side wall, floor to ceiling. Its pin-board holds an arsenal of tools, while on the countertop, one of those modern looking wizard's staffs we saw earlier lies disassembled, innards open for the whole world to see. Framed conference posters and prints cover what space is left on the light indigo walls. In fact the only nod to the past is an old cherry desk upon which rests a sleek all-in-one computer. Abigail stares open-eyed in astonishment. ABIGAIL: Whoa. URSULA: You were hoping for piles of musty old books and shelves of humunculi in jars? ABIGAIL: I thought you said you were a witch. URSULA: I said I belong to the order. There's a difference and you need to pay attention to details. One day, it will save your ass. Ursula picks up an iPad from her desk, hands it to Abigail. URSULA (nods to the workbench): By the end of the week, I expect you to learn enough to repair Dr. Blissett's staff over there. (beat. Ursula smiles slyly) Do well and I'll ask him to show you his collection of stuffed trolls.

General question: how elaborate may the description be in an establishing scene? As for the psychological feel, may this contain feelings/impressions/judgments to direct the feeling of the scene or must it tend to be more general or objective? I hope my question is clear.

Shari, what description or objects you place in an establishing scene can be as indicative of character as any dialogue or action. IMHO, as long as you don't bore the reader, you can be as descriptive as you deem necessary. However, Debbie's Marlowe scene of a couple of days ago is an awesome example of how to do that economically.

Pliny, thanks !

This is great Debbie! Concise but still gives you an uneasy, sterile feel.

EXT. THE PIGALLE - PARIS - TWILIGHT FLOATING THROUGH AN EPHEMERAL PARISIAN FOG down the Boulevard de Clichy. Garish neon signs loom overhead like eager Birds of Paradise advertising their charms-- FEMMES, PEEP SHOW, LIBRAIRIE EROTIQUE... The GREY RAIN smatters it all with a new layer of grime. A tawdry parade of tourists, thrill-seeking Parisian youths, and nefarious street-people materialize out of the fog alone, or in twos and threes. STREET SOUNDS fade in: LAUGHTER, HORNS, MUSIC from the open doors of bars and strip clubs. An OLD MAN, looking like a bedraggled professor in his dirty GREEN VELVET BLAZER and BOWLER HAT leans in our direction-- OLD MAN: Avez-vous mal, ma chérie? We now realize we are seeing the Pigalle through the eyes of a YOUNG WOMAN. Steering around him, we float on, the lights blurring as the pace quickens, hurrying through neighborhood where Picasso and Toulouse-Lautrec once lived. We TURN RIGHT, under a purple neon marquee that reads SCARLETT. A red door opens inward with a SWOOSH and we are plunged into BLACK. INT. SCARLETT - CONTINUOUS The interior of Scarlett is as foggy as the rain-slicked street, but the color is RED, not grey. And it is anything but ephemeral. Three circular pedestals with STRIP POLES dot the center of the room, bathed in moody reddish-purple light. Only one of the stages is occupied by a writhing, black haired woman-- it is early for this clientele, the club nearly empty. Below her stage sits two Asian tourists, paying rapt attention to the dancer. Across the room is a more menacing sort of crowd, a group of dark-haired young men, emanating the “don’t fuck with us” vibe of a gang. One of them lounges languidly in a plush captain’s chair, absentmindedly watching the sole stripper. He’s clearly THE LEADER. Three DEPUTIES stand behind him, their heads turning in unison toward the camera. One of them taps The Leader on the shoulder. He looks over to us and beckons. REVERSE To see the owner of the POV-- a strikingly beautiful Nigerian girl named AYO. Her BRIGHT RED LIPS stand out like a neon sign against her black skin. She wears a fluffy, leopard print coat, matted down with rain. We track her as she walks slowly up to the men. She stops in front of The Leader. He does not even straighten his posture, sinister in his lack of respect. AYO: You Sarosh? The Leader looks at her, hard, then NODS. AYO (CONT’D): I have something for you.

Inspired by Debbie's work, let's go for something *shorter* this time. EXT. DOWNTOWN SEATTLE - DAY Dark hazy sky, as if in some stoned madness God herself had placed a gigantic silk scarf over the sun. The scene looks like Christmas near the North pole, ground covered in feet of white snow-like ash. But the devastation, incomprehensble in its extent, staggers the senses. Downtown, almost every building reduced to rubble, office towers transformed to piles of concrete and twisted steel, all pointing away, as if trying to escape from what brought the destruction. In the sound, huge ocean going container ships lie beached on the docks, ferry boats stranded on huge mounds of steel shipping containers. By some miracle, Gary Mitchell is alive. Covered by a silver survival blanket, in an upright fetal position and shivering in shock, he sits in a doorway that somehow survived, his leg caked in blood. Military helicopters patrol the sky, their searchlights scan the ground, desperate to find life. We hear the muffled sound of a tactical radio, as a pair of marines stand over the shivering Mitchell. MARINE #1: Dr. Mitchell, we've been looking for you. MARINE #2: The President really needs your help.

So much of this depends on the nature of your story, tied to its genre, and your Narrative Voice, how your story's 'narrator' chooses to tell the story. In some cases, you have room for a lot of scene description. Others much more terse, lean, trimmed. This is another great reason to READ SCRIPTS! Even if you picked out 20 scripts and just read their establishing scenes, you would discover a rhythm, feel and approach various writers take in approaching these type of scenes.

I've reviewed every scene, good work. When you use vivid descriptors, that helps to conjure up images in the mind of a reader. That's a good thing as it makes the story universe that much more real. You can comment in SD to give the reader a more psychologically based impression of a place, if that is appropriate for the type of story you're writing. Also as noted in comments: Break up those paragraphs of SD. Used to be no more than 5 lines was CW [conventional wisdom], but now - again depending on the genre and style of the story - you're more likely to see paragraphs broken up into no more than 3 lines each. Easier to read and can suggest individual camera shots without using directing lingo.

Scott, thanks, have picked up your advice, am reading now

INT. BASEMENT - DAY An ivory handed, shiny-as-a-new penny phone flirts with gravity at the edge of a splintered table. A single RING loud enough to vibrate the beautiful phone shrieks across the room. BOBBY, a football player sized 28 year old,explodes to consciousness through a cloud of sweat and dust. Bobby's attempts to stand are stifled by tight, dry rope. His sore muscles and bruises don't help. Bobby eyes the room through his less swollen eye. Cracks roller coaster up and down the closet sized walls and floors. The wall corners are mountains of rubble as if smashed together. A rusted radiator with splattered brown stains whispers a smokey hiss into Bobby's ear. Cobwebs suffocate any light lucky enough to sneak through the boarded up windows hovering overhead. Another single ring from the phone slashes through the room's silence. Bobby wrestles with the rope. Still no luck. A dusty cardboard box of trinkets and decorations sags under the weight of the humidity. The rear corner just over Bobby's shoulder hides a blob of darkness under a messy pile of towels. Bobby's only friend in the room is the creaky wooden chair he's tied to. Bobby lunges his barely loose foot at the deformed cardboard box. Bobby's back is rocked by the railing connected to the door. DOOR Swinging open, a MAN in a police officer's uniform crashes down the stairs. BOBBY Oh my God, thank you. I don't know how I got... The man smashes the cardboard box and sends it with a splat into the pile of towels. BOBBY Hey, can you help me, please. I don't know what happened. Where Am I? The man stands with his back to Bobby. He stares into the silent corner of the basement. Bobby flings and contorts his body to no avail. BOBBY What are you doing? Get me out of this. The man walks over to the phone. He grabs it's perfect, polished handle and points it at the ceiling. BOBBY Why are you doing this? The man delicately puts the phone back and glides it off the edge to the middle of the table. It rings. And rings. The man walks pass a struggling Bobby. Calmly, the man turns up the stairs. And rings. BOBBY Get back here, you bastard. and rings. BOBBY I'll kill you. I swear to God. DOOR The man slams the door behind him and rings.