All your prep, on one page.

The floor runs on paper. Phones are banned from plenty of rehearsal rooms, and a screen is a poor place to hunt for your objective while a director is mid-sentence. What you want on the floor is pages you can fold, spread on a table, scribble over and hand to a scene partner. The trouble is that the analysis usually stays trapped in the tool it was made in, so actors either copy it back out by hand or work from a script with none of it on.

A breakdown split across two sheets is half a breakdown. Units on one page and actions on another puts the two halves of the same thought on two different pieces of paper. A worked script has always carried both at once: that’s what a marked-up rehearsal script looks like, objectives in one margin, playable verbs in the other, the text clean down the middle. When Off-Book finds both layers saved for a scene, that combined page is what it offers, and it’s the one the panel opens on.

Most templates work the other way round: a blank grid of boxes, disconnected from the script, that you fill in from scratch. A printable script analysis template that isn’t attached to the script is just homework. Off-Book prints the work you already did, in place. Unit dividers rule across the column where the scene actually turns, each unit’s objectives sit level with the lines they cover, and every verb sits against the speech it names. It’s your own choices laid onto your own script, rather than a form you fill in about it.

What Off-Book won’t do is invent the work. It prints what you saved and nothing more, so a margin with nothing in it is left empty rather than filled with a placeholder, and a scene you half-worked prints half-worked. That is the whole contract: the page is a record of your thinking, not a suggestion about it.