Let’s be real. Most indie filmmakers go broke trying to make a movie they can’t actually pull off. You’ve got the vision, sure, but unless you’re sitting on a pile of money or A list filmmakers who owe you Godfather favors, writing a $10 million sci-fi horror epic when you’ve got $400 and a fog machine is a one-way ticket to burnout and the project living in the darkest corner of film hell.
BUT
We're here to flip the process. You don’t write whatever and hope to shoot it, you write for what you’ve got. And trust me, when done right, that makes your film better, not cheaper or crap.
Before you even open a screenwriting app, ask yourself these important questions:
What locations can I use for free? (ONLY think cheap is you have over 50k IN YOUR POCKET to spend now.)
Who do I know that can act, and actually act? No really, do you know someone who can actually act.
What gear do I have or need to borrow? (Do you know how to use it?)
What props or costumes do I already own?
Can I shoot without permits? (Yes, but shhh. As a hand waves in a space monk like whoosh. "I'm filming in non-permitted areas.")
Build your story around what’s real. Not hypothetically possible, actually real. That’s your sandbox. Now let’s build castles in it.
You want a haunted house film? Better have access to a house.
Want a sci-fi bunker thriller? Maybe that grimy basement or your buddy’s warehouse will do.
One location doesn’t mean boring, it means focused tension.
Take The Invitation (2015), Coherence (2013), or Saw (2004). These films squeeze every drop of dread, mystery, and energy out of a single space. Lean into that.
Got friends who can act? Great. Got friends who think they can act? Write them as background characters or give them one-liners. Be ruthless and smart with casting. It’s better to have two great actors in a three-person story than ten wooden stiffs in a crowd scene. Yes, this means unless your Mom has an Oscar, or was nominated for one, HARD PASS. Let her say a line in the trailer and tell her she's your inspiration. Just because you're using a small budget doesn't mean you should use shit actors in lead roles.
Also, write characters age-appropriate for your talent pool. If everyone you know is 20-something, don’t write a grizzled detective piece unless it’s a comedy and you want grandma laughing because the haunted veteran detective with 20 years of experience is played by a 21-year-old who can't even grow a beard.
Grab your caffeinated beverage and swallow this pill now. Your budget doesn’t have room for fricken car chases, plane crashes, or epic crowd scenes with aliens blowing up buildings... BUT you can still write moments that punch your audience in the gut and leave them wanting more.
Here’s what low-budget scripts can do incredibly well:
Psychological tension
Brutal simplicity
Weird, surreal moments
Personal, character-driven horror or drama
High-concept setups in a small space
Want an example? How about two strangers wake up in a locked room with only one rule, only one of them leaves. That’s Saw.
Small set, few characters, massive tension, and money left in the budget for blood and guts.
Want to know the cheapest way to break your film? Bad visual effects. Want to know the cheapest way to make people feel like they saw something horrifying, huge, or alien? Don’t show it at all.
Use silhouettes, sound, shadows, POV, and off-screen action like a damn magician. You’re not cutting corners—you’re controlling what the audience imagines. And trust me, what they imagine is always scarier than the 3D skeleton you found on a free stock site.
Look at The Blair Witch Project. You never see the witch. No VFX. No monster costume. Just terrified performances, creepy sound design, and darkness. And it became a cultural earthquake.
Instead of:
A CGI demon erupting from a portal (that you’ll never render convincingly)
Try:
A door slams. A scream. The camera tilts. Someone’s gone.
Instead of:
A spaceship exploding in the sky
Try:
Characters stare up, blinded by light. A low rumble. Something falls from above, but we never see what.
Think suggestive, not expensive. Use practical effects when possible. Use darkness and light to obscure. Use weird audio cues. Write around the spectacle—and if you absolutely must show something, make sure it fits your style and your budget.
Because if your demon looks like it was rendered on a TI-83 calculator, you just blew your immersion—and your credibility.
Step 6: Build With Production in Mind
Every. Damn. Word. You. Write, is a future problem you have to solve on set.
That kickass scene in your head? It could be a logistical nightmare if you didn’t think it through. So here’s the cold truth: writing isn’t just storytelling—it’s prepping the shoot before it happens.
Before you lock in a scene, run it through this filter:
How many setups will this take? (The number of times you have filmed it to get it right.)
Day or night? (Night = harder. Every time.)
How hard is it to light this? (If it’s outside at night—good luck.)
Can you record clean sound here? (If it’s near a highway or a playground, you’re recording garbage.)
Does this require special props, rigs, costumes, blood, rain machines, possessed puppets, or a goat?
If the answer to any of that is “yes” and your budget is “no,” and if you don't have 50K in your pocket right now you can light on fire, then it’s time to kill your little darlings. Strip that scene to its core with a chainsaw and rebuild it with what you can actually do.
Filmmaking isn’t about how many toys you have. It’s about how well you weaponize your limitations.
Genre stories thrive in tight spaces. Small budgets force you to be clever, focused, and emotionally precise. That’s not a weakness—it’s your superpower.
Look at Night of the Living Dead. Clerks. Primer. They didn’t wait for permission. They didn’t fake the big leagues. They wrote exactly what they could shoot, shot it with everything they had, and built legends from duct tape and vision.
So stop dreaming about crane shots over CGI cities.
Write what you can shoot.
Shoot what you can edit.
Edit what people actually want to watch.
And above all?
Open that script file and build your monster. Just make sure it fits in the garage. ;)
By: Bill Kavan — filmmaker, educator, artist, and curriculum necromancer
With script punching and structure hacking by ChatGPT, Gemini, and a small but unruly coven of AI gremlins trained on VHS horror and Sundance rejection letters.