Aaron Sorkin Teaches Screenwriting
course beginner ? Teaches Craft

Aaron Sorkin Teaches Screenwriting

MasterClass
Aaron Sorkin ·2016 ·8h 1m Watch / Read Source
“Drama is someone wanting something badly with something standing in their way.”
Intention and obstacle as the drive shaft of every scene, every character, every story. The Oscar-winning writer of The Social Network and The West Wing teaches screenwriting as drama — not events, not story, but drama — through 35 video lessons, case studies from his own work, and a live writers' room session.
Shows you how a pro works
Won't help with: structure theory, nonlinear storytelling, writing without a clear protagonist
Key Insights
6 takeaways from this resource — click to expand
💡 If your character doesn't want something in this scene, your scene doesn't exist yet.
Sorkin reduces drama to its most fundamental mechanism: intention meeting obstacle. Not theme, not character development, not even story — just someone who wants something badly and can't have it. This applies at every scale: the two-hour movie, the individual act, and every single scene. A scene where a character is doing something interesting but doesn't actively want something against resistance is a scene that lacks dramatic energy no matter how well it's written. The events might be compelling on paper, but they won't generate the forward momentum that makes an audience lean in.
Check Your Script
For every scene in your current draft, name the character's active want and the specific obstacle blocking it. If you can't name both in one sentence, the scene is likely running on plot logistics rather than dramatic energy.
💡 Stop telling the audience who your character is. Give them an obstacle and let the tactics do the talking.
Sorkin's approach collapses the distinction between character work and plot work. You don't write character scenes and then plot scenes — every scene reveals character through the tactics used to pursue a want against an obstacle. A bully and a diplomat might want the same thing and face the same obstacle, but their tactics — intimidation vs. persuasion, force vs. charm — tell you everything about who they are. This means character is always visible, always in motion, always demonstrated rather than stated. A character who is described as clever but whose on-screen tactics are blunt isn't a clever character — they're a character the writer told us is clever.
Check Your Script
Pick your protagonist's most important scene. Can you name the specific tactic they use to get what they want? Now ask: is that tactic distinctive to this character, or could any character in the story have used the same approach?
💡 One conflict per scene gives you a scene. Three conflicts stacked in the same scene gives you a movie.
Sorkin's 'three things in a pile' technique layers dramatic dynamics within a single scene rather than distributing them across separate scenes. In the Steve Jobs opening, three levels operate simultaneously: a product launch going wrong (external), a relationship with a daughter being denied (emotional), and a philosophical argument about closed vs. open systems (thematic). Each level has its own intention and obstacle. The audience tracks all three, and the scene's power comes from their interaction — the product crisis forces the personal confrontation, which exposes the philosophical stance. This isn't just efficient writing. It's a fundamentally different kind of dramatic experience than scenes that handle one thing at a time.
Check Your Script
Look at your script's most important scenes. How many simultaneous dramatic dynamics is the audience tracking? If the answer is one, ask what second or third layer — emotional, thematic, interpersonal — could be operating in the same physical space at the same time.
💡 Aaron Sorkin says every scene needs a want and an obstacle. Andrei Tarkovsky says cinema's material is time, not drama. They're building different kinds of movies.
Aaron Aaron Sorkin's engine is dramatic: intention meets obstacle, tactics reveal character, every scene generates forward momentum through active conflict. Andrei Andrei Tarkovsky's engine is temporal: the filmmaker sculpts the rhythm and texture of time passing, and the audience's experience comes from being inside a moment rather than tracking a quest. Aaron Sorkin produces screenplays that drive relentlessly forward. Andrei Tarkovsky produces screenplays that immerse the audience in sensory experience. Most commercial screenwriting lives in Aaron Aaron Sorkin's world. Most atmospheric, art-house, and contemplative filmmaking lives in Andrei Andrei Tarkovsky's. Neither engine is wrong — but applying Aaron Aaron Sorkin's engine to Andrei Andrei Tarkovsky's material, or vice versa, produces screenplays at war with themselves.
Check Your Script
What is your screenplay's primary engine — dramatic momentum (want vs. obstacle) or experiential immersion (the felt texture of time and atmosphere)? If you've been forcing want-and-obstacle into every scene of an atmospheric piece, or wondering why your contemplative film lacks drive, you may be using the wrong engine.
💡 Aaron Sorkin says make every line sing. Linda Seger says the most powerful moment might be the one where nobody speaks.
Aaron Sorkin builds scenes through dense, rhythmic, overlapping dialogue — three dynamics operating simultaneously, language as performance, speech as music. The scene's power comes from what's said and how brilliantly it's said. Linda Seger builds scenes through what's withheld — the pause that says everything, the question that goes unanswered, the topic that's conspicuously avoided. The scene's power comes from the gap between what's spoken and what's meant. Aaron Aaron Sorkin's approach produces electrifying verbal scenes. Linda Linda Seger's approach produces scenes that haunt. Each is a legitimate dramatic strategy, not a matter of more or less dialogue.
Check Your Script
Look at your most important scene. Is its power in what the characters say (the precision and rhythm of the language) or in what they don't say (the silences, avoidances, and unspoken truths)? If neither strategy is clearly at work, the scene may not be leveraging either tool.
💡 Aaron Sorkin says your scene runs on want vs. obstacle. Keith Johnstone says it runs on who's on top. Some scenes need one engine, some need the other.
Aaron Aaron Sorkin's engine: someone wants something, something blocks them, tactics are deployed. This produces scenes with clear dramatic direction — the audience knows what's at stake and who's winning. Keith Keith Johnstone's engine: every interaction involves status shifts communicated through physical behavior — head stillness, eye contact, spatial positioning, vocal patterns. This produces scenes where the audience tracks power dynamics that may have nothing to do with stated goals. A dinner party scene where nothing is overtly wanted but status shifts constantly is invisible to Aaron Aaron Sorkin's model but perfectly explained by Keith Keith Johnstone's. A heist planning scene is perfectly explained by Aaron Aaron Sorkin's model but underserved by status alone.
Check Your Script
Find a scene in your script that feels flat despite having a clear want and obstacle. Check whether the real dynamic is status — who's dominant, who's submissive, and where the power shifts. If status is the hidden engine, lean into physical behavior and positioning rather than sharpening the goal.
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How It Teaches

Encoding fingerprint and cognitive approach

Theory
Examples
Overwhelmingly example-driven. Sorkin teaches by dissecting his own films — A Few Good Men, The Social Network, Steve Jobs, The West Wing — showing how intention and obstacle work in actual scenes. The theory is lean (Aristotle + intention/obstacle); the examples ARE the teaching.
Mechanism
Heuristic
Balanced. Explains WHY intention and obstacle create drama (mechanism: the audience needs to want something on behalf of the character), but also gives practical heuristics like 'press on your intention and obstacle' and 'page numbers are road signs.' The West Wing writers' room sessions are pure heuristic — this is how you actually do it in practice.
Diagnostic
Prescriptive
Leans diagnostic. Sorkin trains you to be a 'diagnostician' — to identify what's working and what isn't in any script, including your own. But the diagnostic naturally implies prescription: if the intention isn't strong enough, strengthen it; if the obstacle isn't formidable enough, raise it.
Global
Local
Balanced macro and scene-level. Covers story arc (3-act structure, stakes, exposition, inciting action) AND scene construction (every scene needs intention, obstacle, and tactics). The Steve Jobs and West Wing case studies work at scene-level granularity while the story arc lessons work at whole-script level.
Cognitive Mode
Fe + Te
Teaches from the audience's emotional experience outward (Fe) — 'the audience is a component in the event' — then organizes craft principles into clear, repeatable rules with Aristotle's Poetics as the structural backbone (Te). Every lesson connects to how the audience FEELS, not just what the writer DOES.
The Fe+Te combination means Sorkin teaches you to think about the audience first (what do they feel?) and then gives you organized tools to deliver that feeling (how do you build it?). Writers who lead with craft mechanics may find the audience-first orientation challenging but liberating. Writers who lead with emotion will finally get practical tools to structure what they feel.

What It Teaches

Central thesis and key premises

Drama is not events, not even story — it's intention meeting obstacle. A character who wants something desperately, with a formidable obstacle in their way, using tactics that reveal who they are. If you have that drive shaft, everything else — dialogue, structure, character — has something to attach to. Without it, you're just writing snappy dialogue that doesn't add up to anything.
Teaching Modality
Mentor
Approach
Not a system or a diagnostic form — a working professional sharing how he thinks about writing, with the implicit message that you should develop your own version of these instincts. Sorkin explicitly says 'every writer is different' and frames his approach as one path, not the path. The writers' room sessions model collaborative craft in real time.
Intention and Obstacle
Before you can do anything, you need an intention and an obstacle. Somebody wants something badly, and something formidable stands in their way. This is the drive shaft of your story. Characters are born from intention and obstacle — the tactics they use to overcome the obstacle IS the character. Without intention and obstacle, you have journalism, not drama.
Pressing on Intention and Obstacle
Test the strength of your intention and obstacle by 'pressing on it.' If the character wants to drive cross-country to see a Dodgers game — is that urgent enough? Would they turn back if it got hard? The intention must be so strong and the obstacle so formidable that abandoning the quest isn't an option. If they can walk away, you don't have drama.
Tactics as Character
Don't tell the audience who a character is — show them what the character wants and the tactics they use to get it. Character isn't backstory or biography; it's behavior under pressure. Toby dresses down the president. Steve Jobs threatens to humiliate his engineer on stage. The tactics ARE the character. You don't need characters in your head — they're born from the intention and obstacle.
Events → Story → Drama
'The queen died and the king died' is events. 'The queen died so the king died of a broken heart' is a story. 'The queen died, and after serious conflict, the king died of a broken heart' is drama. You want drama — not events, not even just story. Drama requires conflict between the event and the outcome.
Stakes
Stakes must be high, urgent, and convincing. Sorkin loves courtroom dramas because the stakes are built into the setting — guilty or not guilty, someone's life on the line. Whatever your setting, the audience must feel that something genuinely important will be won or lost. Keep strengthening and pressing on your stakes throughout.
The Audience as Component
The audience is a component in the event, not a passive observer. Like Seurat's pointillism — individual dots of red and blue that the audience's eye mixes into purple — the writer provides fragments that the audience assembles into meaning. Let the audience participate by not over-explaining. Drop them into the middle of a conversation and let them play catch-up.
Dialogue as Music
Great dialogue has rhythm, tempo, and musicality. Don't imitate how real people talk — real speech is full of ums and stutters. Dialogue should sound like heightened, rhythmic speech. Be physical when writing — stand up, act it out, perform the lines. If dialogue doesn't feel right when you say it aloud, it won't work on screen. The dialogue has to serve the drive shaft: every line should advance an intention or create an obstacle.
Becoming a Diagnostician
Learn to diagnose what works and doesn't work in scripts — your own and others'. Watch your five favorite movies with the screenplay on your lap. Write down what works and what doesn't. Don't use snarky terms; they don't help you diagnose. The rules of drama come from Aristotle's Poetics and haven't changed in 2,000 years. Learn them so you can identify when they're being violated.
Research and the 'More Important Truth'
There are two kinds of research: research for accuracy and research for inspiration. When writing based on real events, you're not a journalist — you're looking for the 'more important truth,' the dramatic truth beneath the literal facts. Research dialogue by listening to how people in that world actually talk, but don't imitate it — absorb the rhythm and translate it into dramatic speech.
Rewrites and Kill Your Darlings
Get to the end of the first draft before you rewrite. Then chip away anything that isn't the main conflict. Kill your darlings — the clever lines and scenes you love that don't serve the drive shaft. When receiving notes, listen for the problem, not the solution. Collect the right script editors. Retype your drafts completely — once from the existing screenplay, once from memory — to force fresh engagement with every line.
Page Numbers as Road Signs
The first 15 pages are the most important — you must introduce the protagonist, establish intention and obstacle, and have the inciting action. If you haven't done this by page 15, you'll lose your reader (and the producer reading it). Page numbers tell you where you should be structurally. Use them as road signs, not rigid rules, to gauge whether your pacing is working.
Three Things in a Pile
Layer multiple dynamics in a single scene — what Sorkin calls 'three things in a pile.' In the Steve Jobs opening, three levels operate simultaneously: Andy's sheepish denial, Steve's aggressive pressure, and Kriss-Ann's sideways jab. Each character has a different intention in the same scene, and their tactics collide. This creates density and reveals character through conflict, not exposition.

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