This is Definitely the Final Draft (Probably): The Balance Between Perfection & Progress
- Natasha Langridge-Thorpe
- Jul 28
- 7 min read
Updated: Jul 29
"Here is the ACTUAL FINAL VERSION of my script", I typed.
And yet...it wasn't.
I wasn't lying. I genuinely believed the story was finished, and I felt happy about it in the moment. In my mind, this truly was the final draft.
You can't keep working on the same script forever, endlessly polishing every action or piece of dialogue. If you do, then you don't always end up with a better story. Sometimes, you're just creating countless rewrites for yourself, and you never move on to start the next thing. At some point, you have to stop.
But how do you know when that point is?
The script doesn't suddenly announce, "I am complete now". You decide on your own terms when it's finished to a standard that you're proud of.
For me, it's when I can read it again without anything jumping out at me that needs fixing. This isn't because the story is perfect, because no story is, but it's when I've stopped feeling the urge to change it.
Version One: The First Final Draft
I started by setting a timeline for when episode one of my new script, Better the Devil You Know, should be finished. I managed to put words on every page and map out the basic narrative beats within the set time. Eventually, I exported the script file and sent it to my friends as the "finished" script. I even entered it into the New York Screenwriting Awards 2025, where it received an honourable mention!
I was pleased that the script had received some recognition, but something still didn't feel right. At first, I dismissed my thoughts as overthinking. After all, the script had been completed on time, reviewed by others, and even acknowledged in a competition. I'd done exactly what I planned by sticking to a schedule.
I moved on to write episode two.
As I started writing the next episode, I kept circling back to episode one. New ideas popped into my head, like ways I could improve character motivation, tighten dialogue, and strengthen certain scenes. Since the two episodes were connected, issues that I'd noticed in episode one started to affect the course of the series.
By focusing too much on meeting the deadline, I rushed past crucial parts of the process: proofreading, checking character inconsistencies, and developing the narrative. Normally, I would make time for these steps, but the time pressure reduced them to afterthoughts. For example, as I read episode one back to myself (after letting my friends review it and entering it into competitions), I noticed a major error on the first page.
I referred to my fictional animals, hell beasts, as horses. Originally, I created an opening scene that featured horses pulling the carriage. However, after expanding on the world of the story, I changed the horses to hell beasts. If I had given myself adequate time to proofread the script, then I absolutely would've noticed this error. I was disappointed with myself as I began to notice more and more problems. Finishing on time had become more important than creating a high-quality script.
As I continued developing the story, I gained a much clearer understanding of my characters and what motivates them. In my first final draft, my protagonist, Alandra, planned to steal the demon crown primarily for financial gain and to earn the respect of other demons.
However, I wanted her motivation to be more closely linked to the discrimination she already experiences as an Earth-born. This gave her a much more personal and emotional reason to carry out such an elaborate and dangerous plan. Rather than stealing the crown solely for wealth or status, she could use it as leverage to force the King to repeal a discriminatory law that targets Earth-borns like herself.
Version Two: The Revised Final Draft
Reworking Alandra's motivation made me feel much more confident about the direction of the series. This was one of the biggest changes I made, and I knew it would have a significant impact on the rest of the narrative. However, I also knew it would raise the stakes for both Alandra as a character and the conflict she faces.
Altering her motivation also made her more likeable because her actions were no longer driven solely by personal gain. Instead, she was risking everything to challenge an unjust system and fight for others who had experienced the same issues.
After making this big change, I sent the revised version of episode one to my friends. "Here is the VERY FINAL version!" I said in my email. This time, I had a very relaxed attitude towards the script, and I took my time with it. Surely, this has to be the final draft.
But I was wrong.
Something about my main antagonist, the masked killer, wasn't quite working. At this stage, I referred to them as the "cloaked figure" because neither the audience nor the characters (minus the killer) know their true identity. However, once I started writing episode two, I realised this created a problem. While the audience could accept a placeholder name in the script, the characters themselves couldn't realistically keep referring to the antagonist as "the cloaked figure", "the unknown figure", or simply "the killer". They needed a nickname that felt natural in dialogue while still preserving the mystery surrounding the murderer's identity.
At the same time, I reconsidered the antagonist's visual design. I always imagined them resembling a devil, but dressing them entirely in red felt too predictable, and it relied too heavily on familiar conventions. I began experimenting with different colours, considering gold, black, and grey before eventually settling on blue.
The colour choice emerged alongside the nickname. As I thought about the antagonist's motivation to destroy the royal family, I remembered the expression "blue blood", which is commonly associated with royalty. From that connection, the nickname "Blue Blood" was born.
Initially, I questioned my decision. A blue devil is far less stereotypical than a red one, and I was tempted to return to the more traditional design. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that its unconventional nature was exactly what made it memorable. By not following expectations, the blue colour scheme reinforced the antagonist's connection to the monarchy while helping them stand out as a distinctive visual presence.
Version Three: The Blue Blood Final Draft
I referred to this stage of the writing process as "The Blue Blood edits". By this point, I created a much more realistic timeline for myself, dividing my work into dedicated steps for editing, proofreading, spell and grammar checks, character wants vs. needs, and reading dialogue aloud.
Following the schedule made me feel far more organised and balanced. Unlike my first draft, I had given myself enough time to identify mistakes, reflect on my creative decisions, and carefully refine each aspect of the script.
During the development of version one, my timeline was too rigid. This caused me to overlook important elements of the process in an effort to meet self-imposed deadlines. In contrast, my timeline for version two was too flexible, and I spent longer than necessary revising the script. This caused me to lose momentum and delayed my progress on the rest of the series.
This experience taught me the importance of finding a balance between working efficiently and giving myself enough time for thoughtful revision. Too little time prevented me from fully developing the script, while too much time made it difficult to know when to stop making changes and move forward.
After introducing the name 'Blue Blood' into the script, I expanded the idea further by creating a unique signature for the antagonist. Their victims are marked by bleeding blue-coloured blood, reinforcing the nickname while giving the character a distinctive and unsettling calling card. This also makes it clear to Alandra that the same person killed the guards and the Queen in episode one.
Rather than just correcting errors in this version of the script, I developed stronger symbolism, improved continuity, and created a more memorable antagonist. Looking back, these changes made the series feel more cohesive and created opportunities for foreshadowing across multiple episodes.
Satisfied with these changes, I sent my friends an email outlining everything that I had revised. I used the subject line: "This is Definitely the Final Draft (Probably)" to reflect the running joke that every "final" draft led to another revision. Sharing the updated script also allowed me to explain the reasoning behind my decisions and gather fresh feedback.
My Final Thoughts
After receiving feedback and reflecting on the changes I'd made, I realised how much the story had transformed from its original version. The revisions strengthened the plot, characters, and relationships within the world I created. This experience showed me that rewrites aren't just about fixing what doesn't work. They let you discover new possibilities and help a story develop beyond its original concept.
I learned that a final draft is defined by knowing when narrative changes have transformed the story into the best version of itself. A script will never be completely perfect, and there will always be another line of dialogue to adjust or another scene to reconsider. However, there comes a point where the story no longer needs to be rewritten. Instead, it needs to be shared. For me, that's the moment I know that a draft is finally finished.
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