Saladfork

The following is a small scene that we wrote a number of years ago but that we find helpful as reference for how our formatting tends to look when we are first writing a script.

INT. DINING ROOM - NIGHT

A long mahogany table stretches out across a large dining
room. VANESSA, 28, sits cross-legged in one of the chairs,
headphones in her ears, using a fork to pick her nails.
ELIZABETH, 42, walks into the room with a stack of porcelain
dishes in her arms, her dress shimmering under the light of a
crystal chandelier.

                ELIZABETH
        Vanessa. Vanessa! VANESSA!

Elizabeth walks around the table to confront Vanessa with
hands on her hips. Vanessa pulls off the headphones and looks
at Elizabeth
                ELIZABETH (CONT'D)
        Would you please stop using the
        salad fork to clean your nails? Our
        guests will be arriving any minute
        now.

Elizabeth walks back towards where she entered.

                VANESSA
          It's not a salad fork.

                ELIZABETH
                 What?

                VANESSA
       I said, its not a salad fork.

                ELIZABETH
        Well, whatever it is or is not,
        would you just give me a hand?
        These are your friends we are
        entertaining tonight.

                VANESSA
      It's not whatever. You were wrong.

                ELIZABETH
      What difference does it make?

                VANESSA
        It apparently made a difference
        earlier when you told me we needed
        all this silverware.
                
                ELIZABETH
        Vanessa, we are having people over.
        Let's be good hosts, and set the
        table with our best cutlery.

Vanessa stands, swiping up a handful of assorted silverware
from the table.
                
                VANESSA
        We're eating fucking pizza Liz! I
        invited my friends over for drinks
        and pizza! We don't need all of
        this!

                ELIZABETH
        Well, if you say it doesn't matter,
        then fine. You can put the
        silverware away.

Vanessa marches over to Elizabeth and holds the silverware
between their faces.

                VANESSA
        That's not the point! You're the
        one who brought them out! You're
        the one who insisted we had to have
        them out! You're the one who called
        this a salad fork when it's not!

                ELIZABETH
        Vanessa, lower your voice. There is
        absolutely no reason to shout.

                VANESSA
        No! Fuck you! You always do this!
        I'm 28 years old Liz, and you treat
        me like a kid.
                
                ELIZABETH
        That's because you are a kid
        Vanessa! You're shoving kitchenware
        in my face and throwing a tantrum!
                
                VANESSA
        I'm showing you that you were
        wrong! This isn't a goddamn salad
        fork!
                
                ELIZABETH
        Well it's hard for me to tell since
        you've scooped them all up, now
        isn't it?
              
              VANESSA
        Do not talk down to me.

Vanessa and Elizabeth stare at each other, neither blinking.

Beat.

Elizabeth looks away.

                ELIZABETH
      Vanessa, I love you. You know I do.
      I don't want to fight about this.
                
                VANESSA
       Then admit you were wrong.
                
                ELIZABETH
              I was wrong.
                
                VANESSA
           Wrong about what?

The doorbell rings.
                
                ELIZABETH
              I'll get that.
                
                VANESSA
    No! Not until you say what you were
    wrong about!

                ELIZABETH
             Vanessa, please.

                VANESSA
        What were you wrong about?
                
                ELIZABETH
                   You.

Elizabeth walks off, and the sound of a door opening and
muffled voices are heard. Vanessa stands motionless, still
clutching the silverware in hand.