From Rejection to Recognition: A Screenwriter's Journey of Resilience

From First Draft to First Place: My Screenwriting Journey 

by Glenn Acosta

Eleven years ago, I sat by the window with my laptop, watching the world outside while a story brewed in my head. It had everything a compelling tale needs — love, heartbreak, struggle, redemption, and that one life-changing moment that flips everything upside down. The emotions were raw, pulled from my own life, ready to breathe authenticity into the characters. “Why not turn this into a screenplay?” I thought. How hard could it be? I had the story, the passion, the drive… What could possibly go wrong? 

But there was one small problem — I’d never written a screenplay before. Crafting scenes, writing snappy dialogue, and structuring a story for the screen felt like navigating a foreign country without a map. Determined to learn, I dove headfirst into the vast ocean of screenwriting websites. That’s when I stumbled upon Talentville — a hub for aspiring screenwriters like me. I didn’t know it then but clicking that link would be the first step on a journey that would change everything.

THE SMACKDOWN

Feeling proud, I uploaded my first script to the website, ready for feedback. I thought, This isn’t half bad. Maybe even... pretty good. Then the reviews rolled in — more brutal than a Mike Tyson uppercut. My script was getting pummeled from every angle: No conflict. Flat characters. Passive protagonist. Cartoonish antagonist. Weak structure. Every comment hit like a punch I didn’t see coming. They weren’t just critiquing my script — it felt like they were tearing me apart. Deflated and embarrassed, I did what any rookie writer might do... I retreated. I stopped visiting Talentville altogether, convinced I wasn’t cut out for this.

CHIPPING AWAY

After the sting of rejection faded (and my bruised ego started to heal), I knew I had two choices: quit or get better. So, I rolled up my sleeves and went back to basics. I devoured screenwriting articles, watched countless Film Courage interviews, and studied what made great scripts great. Then I did something even harder — I re-read my own script with fresh, unflinching eyes. And you know what? They were right. Every painful critique hit the mark.

Determined, I started a page-one rewrite. This time, I gave my characters distinct voices, clear goals, real struggles, and stakes that actually mattered. Scene by scene, draft by draft, the story sharpened into something stronger. A month later, my revised script scored high enough to earn free coverage on the site. The verdict? Consider with revisions.

It wasn’t a "Recommend," but in that moment, it felt like planting a flag on the moon. One small step for a screenwriter... one giant leap for my confidence.

ANSWERING THE WHY

I reached a critical crossroads — Why am I doing this?  What did I really want out of screenwriting? Up to that point, writing had been mostly therapeutic — a way to process the emotional fallout from a painful college breakup. But somewhere along the way, it became more than just personal healing. I enjoyed crafting a story, shaping characters, and imagining it all playing out on the big screen. Maybe... just maybe... this was something worth pursuing seriously.

But chasing the Hollywood dream isn’t for the faint of heart. Every page, every line, every comma of a screenplay is scrutinized, measured against sky-high industry standards. Breaking in without industry connections? Practically impossible — or so I’d read. Was I ready for that kind of uphill battle? Did I even belong in this world?

Those questions lingered like an unresolved plotline, haunting my thoughts long after I’d shut my laptop. Reaching for the stars sounds inspiring — until you realize just how far away they really are.

ALONG CAME A SPIDER

That summer, my family and I vacationed in upstate New York, near Lake Placid, at a cabin on Chateaugay Lake. The air was thick with the scent of rain as thunder grumbled in the distance. Dark clouds gathered, stretching across the sky. Loons glided toward the tall marsh grass lining the shore.

Drawn by the electric tension in the air, I wandered down to the boat dock — foolishly ignoring the storm swelling above. Lightning clawed across the sky in jagged, blinding branches. Then — CRACK! — a bolt struck the lake not far from where I stood, sending a shiver through the water... and through me.

My heart pounded — but not just from the near miss. In that charged, adrenaline-soaked moment, a story sparked to life. What if a blind protagonist was struck by lightning... and saw a future murder? A fractured, flickering vision with almost no details. How would he stop it? And what if... it was his fiancée who was destined to die?

The storm eventually passed — but the idea didn’t. It wrapped itself around my mind like spider silk, tightening with every new “what if” until I knew... this story had to be written.

THE BREAKTHROUGH

After uploading Glimpse to Talentville, something unexpected happened — Andy Froemke read it. The Andy Froemke. The guy whose scripts practically lived in “Recommend.”  His feedback wasn’t just encouraging — it was game-changing. He told me he loved how my scenes flowed, how the characters felt real, how the story kept him hooked. Then came the kicker: “Want to collaborate on the next draft?”

Of course, I said yes. It was Andy.

Working with him was like taking a masterclass in screenwriting. Every rewrite, every note, every tough critique sharpened the script in ways I couldn’t have imagined on my own. We shaped Glimpse into something tighter, smarter, more cinematic — and the glowing reviews on Talentville proved it.

With a new sense of confidence, I decided to aim high. I submitted Glimpse to the Austin Film Festival, one of the most prestigious screenwriting contests in the world. Thousands of scripts. Brutal competition. Months of waiting.

Then came the announcement: Second Rounders — Top 15% of 9,100 scripts.

Glimpse was on the list.

For a moment, I just stared at the screen, rereading the announcement like it might disappear if I blinked. This wasn’t just a small victory — it was proof that maybe, just maybe... I belonged in this world after all.

BLACKPILLS

Riding the momentum from Glimpse, I poured my newfound confidence into writing a TV pilot called The Blanked. The logline:

In a near-future society, violent criminals have their memories erased and are reintroduced into society with new identities. But when a sadistic killer and his last victim—both “blanked” to forget their horrifying past — meet again and fall in love, the psychological scars of their erased memories resurface... with deadly consequences.

Dark. Twisted. High stakes. It felt like the most ambitious thing I’d ever written. And for once... I knew I had something.

Months later, The Blanked won the Shore Scripts TV Pilot competition. I won. It was a jaw-dropping, “did-this-really-just-happen?” moment. Winning was huge, but what came next was even bigger: the contest coordinator arranged a meeting with blackpills, a digital entertainment company known for producing bold, provocative, and edgy short-form series aimed at Millennial and Gen Z audiences.

I still remember stepping into that conference room, my heart pounding like a drum. The creative director and their team sat across from me. Then came words I’d been chasing for years: “We love your writing.”

They believed in the project enough to recommend it to their boss. My script was officially in play, one step away from being produced. For a few incredible weeks, I lived on the edge of possibility, imagining The Blanked coming to life on screen.

Then... the call came. They’d decided to produce another project instead.

It stung — but only for a moment. Because for the first time, I hadn’t just written something good... I’d written something that almost got made. I was close — so close. And sometimes, that’s all it takes to keep the fire burning.

INDUSTRY IN ICU

This year, my TV pilot CryoLife shattered expectations, winning three contests — including the Stage 32 Annual Sci-Fi Contest. The victory came with something every emerging screenwriter dreams of: industry access. Stage 32 arranged mentorship with a showrunner and lined up meetings with agents, producers, and literary managers — real opportunities to push my career forward.

Not long after, I landed a Zoom meeting with a producer and her reader who had requested CryoLife. They liked the script — the premise, the execution, the potential. For a moment, I felt the spark of possibility ignite again. But then reality hit.

“The industry’s in a contraction right now,” the producer explained. COVID. The writers’ strike. Studio cutbacks. Budgets had been slashed across the board, and only WGA writers were being considered for projects. She was blunt but kind — my script had impressed them, but hiring a non-union writer just wasn’t an option. “Budgets are everything now,” she added.

It wasn’t the outcome I’d hoped for, but it wasn’t a closed door either. She promised to keep me in mind when (not if) the industry recovers.

In the meantime, I’m gearing up for what comes next. Winning Stage 32’s contest opened doors I never thought possible, and I’m ready to make the most of every meeting, every mentorship, and every connection still to come.

The industry might be in the ICU... but I’m still in the fight. Stay tuned. 

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GLENN ACOSTA

An accomplished screenwriter with experience in crafting character-driven drama and sci-fi narratives. Glenn’s work has placed in numerous screenwriting competitions and has been optioned.  He brings a unique voice and perspective to this story, blending emotional depth with a sharp understanding of high-stakes drama.