What I wish I'd known: five truths first-time filmmakers learn too late

By Joey Dawson, Dawson's

Last reviewed: July 2026

I sell films for a living. That means I sit across the table from filmmakers who've poured years — and a lot of other people's money — into a single project. And again and again, I watch the same avoidable mistakes get baked in long before the film ever reaches me. Here's what I wish every one of them had known on day one.

1. You're not making a film for your town. You're making it for the world.

Different nations behave differently. Their culture might sit at the opposite end of the spectrum to yours, and some of the choices you make will collide with what another audience holds sacred. Think about that while you're making the film, not after. And be willing to make more than one cut — one for America, one for China, one for the Middle East. Don't be precious about it. If your film has to pass a censor, play that game in good grace, because a cut that clears the censor is a cut that reaches an audience. And an audience you reach is a life you might change.

Practically, this means keeping your project files, stems and unused coverage organised and reachable after picture lock. The films that can accommodate a territory's requirements in days rather than months are the ones that end up sold there. What you're actually selling, territory by territory →

2. Know your genre before you write a single word.

The mistake I see constantly: people finish the film, then go hunting for its genre. "Oh… it's sort of this. Probably sits there." If you're assigning a genre after the edit, your film belongs to no genre — and a film that belongs to no genre dies in the market.

Here's why it's fatal. Picture someone on a Friday night who wants sci-fi. They open Netflix, click the sci-fi row, and pick a title. They don't know your name, your writer, or your cast — especially if you're a first-timer. They're trusting one thing: the label. Give them ten minutes with no sci-fi in sight and they start to wonder. Get to twenty or thirty minutes with still nothing and they switch off — and they tell everyone they know not to bother, because "it wasn't even sci-fi." That's the game lost.

Every genre has rules: conventions, rhythm, length, character dynamics. Learn them before you spend a penny of anyone's money. The method I swear by — pick ten films in your genre, five from the last five years and five from earlier decades, all of them critically acclaimed and genuinely loved by audiences. Watch them. Write down the plots. Mark where each beat lands. Live inside those ten films until you know exactly what makes them work. (Save the Cat is a good companion for this.) Only then go back to your own script. And once you know the rules, your job isn't just to obey them — it's to elevate the genre and push its boundaries. You can only break a rule properly once you understand it.

The check on all of this is an audience recruited for the genre you think you're in. If they accept the film as that genre, you're in good shape. If they don't, you would rather find out before the market than after. How to test that →

3. Make it look like a million dollars — and never skimp on sound.

You might have ten grand. Make it look like a million. You do that by not cutting corners on your cinematographer, your camera, or your lighting. And here's the one almost everyone gets wrong: do not skimp on audio. Hire a real sound recordist. Audiences will forgive surprisingly rough visuals — but bad sound and you've lost them in seconds, no matter how hard your actors are working. Get camera and sound right first. Sets and costumes come after.

4. Go to the markets. See how the sausage gets made.

Walk a film market. See what's selling, what's being made, how the business actually works. It's humbling, and it should be. Your passion project — the one you bled for, the one other people's money is riding on — is one of thousands. You're not competing against bad films; you're competing against other people's passion projects, and some of them are simply better than yours. Knowing that early changes how you make every decision.

Go before you have something to sell. A market you walk with nothing to pitch is the cheapest education in this business, because you can watch it work without needing an outcome. The film markets calendar →

5. Learn the difference between reacting and responding.

The thing that sinks more careers than any budget shortfall is ego. I meet talented filmmakers who won't take a note — won't shorten a baggy edit, won't accept the genre's wrong, won't hear that the poster doesn't sell the film. Often they've been burned before, and I understand the armour. But a closed door is a closed door. Be open to people who know more than you. Take the note in good grace, even when you disagree. You can react — show emotion, fire back in the moment — or you can respond: take a beat, think it through, and reply calmly and professionally. The filmmakers who go the distance are the ones who respond.

It helps to remember that the most useful notes aren't opinions at all. A room of recruited strangers telling you where they lost interest is data, not taste, and it is much easier to accept. How test screenings work →

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None of this is glamorous. All of it is the difference between a film that gets seen and a film that gets shelved. I wish someone had told me sooner. Now someone's told you.

Questions

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What does a film sales agent do? →
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