Why Walking Solves Your Screenwriting Problems (Yes, Even in Act Two)

If you’ve read Wandering Words: How Roaming San Miguel Unlocks Creativity, you already know we believe in the magic of movement. That post was a love letter to creative wandering—to letting yourself get lost in San Miguel de Allende so your thoughts can find their way home.

But today, let’s talk specifics. Screenwriting. Dialogue. Structure. That scene you keep circling but can’t crack. The moment in Act Two where your character should be making a decision but feels like they’re stuck in molasses. This is where walking becomes not just pleasant—but practical.

It’s also personal. Because more often than not, we talk to ourselves while we walk.

Yes. Out loud.

The Science of It: Your Brain on the Move

When you walk, something remarkable happens in your brain. Your default mode network—the part responsible for daydreaming, creativity, and self-reflection—lights up. This network thrives on internal dialogue, memory associations, and emotional nuance. It’s the same part of your brain that kicks in when you lie in bed, stare out a window, or yes, take a stroll through the cobblestone maze of San Miguel.

Meanwhile, walking increases blood flow to the brain’s prefrontal cortex, boosting clarity and executive function. That means your problem-solving skills sharpen, even if you’re not consciously “working.” The rhythm of your steps actually helps regulate your nervous system, lowers cortisol (your stress hormone), and activates areas linked to language generation and verbal fluency.

Put simply: walking literally makes it easier to think, feel, and speak clearly.

So if your screenplay dialogue feels stiff? If you’re stuck in that mid-script swamp? Get up. Go outside. Let the act of walking rewrite the scene for you.

Dialogue on the Sidewalk

There’s a particular bench I like in Parque Guadiana. It's near a big tree with branches twisted by time. That’s where I go when I need to hear my characters talk. That’s where I got the idea for Ode to Violeta—though that’s a story for another time.

I take a notebook. Sometimes I write. Sometimes I don’t. Mostly, I walk in circles and mumble dialogue exchanges under my breath. I try to become both characters—change the cadence of my voice depending on who’s speaking. I may look odd. I don’t care. (This is San Miguel. The bar for public eccentricity is charmingly high.) I’ll ask myself questions in one voice and answer in another. I’ll let characters interrupt each other. I’ll say the wrong thing just to see what happens. It’s not a performance—it’s exploration.

And I often discover what the scene was missing: a spark, a secret, a bit of honesty that only shows up when I stop thinking and start moving.

San Miguel: Your Scene Partner on the Sidewalk

Walking in San Miguel isn’t just a stroll—it’s an experience in cinematic texture. Cobblestone streets, peeling ochre walls, the clang of church bells, the scent of fresh bread and sizzling tacos—this city hands you details that feel stolen from a screenplay. Every corner is a whisper. Every breeze carries subtext.

Start in the Jardín. Meander beneath papel picado strung like confetti prayers across narrow alleys. Wind your way up to the mirador overlook, and by the time you return, your brain will have quietly reshuffled the story without asking your permission.

And along the way? Talk to yourself. Out loud.

Ask your character: What are you afraid of? Why are you lying right now? What would make you leave?

Your characters will answer—eventually. Maybe mid-sentence, maybe mid-step. But you’ll find that the act of walking loosens their tongues. And when they talk, the scene unlocks.

Try This: A Walking Dialogue Exercise

Next time you’re stuck in your screenplay, don’t stare at the page. Instead, try this:

• Pick a character and a scene.

• Start walking (no phone, no destination).

• Ask your character a question.

• Let them answer—out loud, unfiltered.

• Be ready to switch voices and argue with yourself.

• Keep walking until something cracks open.

  
  

Then, if you want, stop at a café—write one sentence of the scene. That’s all. Chances are, more will come.

Final Thought

Walking won’t magically finish your screenplay. But it will remind you that you’re not blocked—you’re just quiet. Your story is still there. Your characters still have things to say. Sometimes they just need a little air, a little movement, a little room to speak.

So go ahead. Take a walk. Talk to yourself. Let the story catch up to your steps.

And if you see someone pacing in circles by that crooked tree in Parque Guadiana, muttering into a notebook... come say hi. I probably need a line break anyway.

Parque Guadiana - Photo Credit: Lorraine Flett