You don't have to be talented to make a movie - just look at Guy Ritchie. In today's Hollywood any idiot with a megaphone, a baseball cap, and a canvas chair with their name on the back can be a filmmaker. Yes, my reader, you could be that idiot. Obey the rules and kiss some ass, and all the insincerity and tramp-infestation of Hollywood could be yours.

Got a jaw-dropping idea for a thoroughly original genre-busting masterpiece? Bin it. If Hollywood wanted originality it wouldn't have green-lighted 2 Fast 2 Furious. So here's your story, Spielberg: A hero triumphs over adversity, overcoming a series of obstacles, and undergoing life changes as a result. In a nutshell, it's the same as every other movie story ever written. That's the way Hollywood likes it. Stick to the formula, structuring your screenplay using the well-worn template of three acts containing fifteen scenes made up of six story events. If you're feeling flash, you could throw in realistic dialogue, three-dimensional characters, and a gripping plot, but don't bust a gut. No-necked Star Wars creator George Lucas has clearly never heard a real person speak, but his sub-soap dialogue, rubbish characterisation, and ultra-literal 'tell-don't-show' directing style haven't prevented him from becoming a Hollywood titan with enough money to buy Switzerland.

All Tinseltown really wants to know is, 'Can we sell this movie to dunderheads?' To achieve this, your screenplay needs an attention-grabbing title, it must fit comfortably into a familiar movie genre, and it should have a plot that can be summed up by way of a catchy one-liner. Call it Intergalactic Cocks, label it a buddy-sci-fi movie, pitch it as 'The Full Monty in space', and the movie industry will have its chequebook out quicker than you can say 'Heidi Fleiss'.

If you want to sell your screenplay, you'll first need to get it past the industry's story analysts - the studio humps who read and filter submitted scripts. And here's the rub - these guys know nothing about screenwriting, otherwise they'd have penned an Oscar-winning script themselves and wouldn't have to moonlight in Starbucks to pay the rent. They do have a checklist of format regulations to which your script must conform if it is to be recommended. You need to follow to the letter the many exact and often nonsensical rules with regard to layout, headings, and abbreviations. Your screenplay must be printed on lightweight paper. Script readers seem to have weak wrists, as they won't pick up anything heavier than a Sunday supplement. Told you they were humps.

Similarly, the number of pages must be kept to a minimum, and the ratio of white space to black print should be mighty high. In theory, one page of screenplay should equal one minute of screen time. But even if your finished opus will make Once Upon A Time In America look concise, keep the screenplay length to fewer than 120 pages. Looking more like 150 pages? Expect the studio guy to sigh and reach for the rubber stamp marked 'PASS'. You're trying to convince a lazy, disinterested lackey to devote time to your masterwork, so try everything up to, and not necessarily excluding, sexual favours.

Even in the unlikely event that your screenplay gets past the reader and is picked up by an interested studio exec, prepare to be disappointed. Screenwriters are the lowest of Hollywood lows. You'll be paid next to nothing and your work will be completely rewritten. As David Mamet said: 'Screenwriting is a collaborative business: Bend over.' The chances of the studio allowing you to direct the movie are nil. The going rate paid by studios to option a script is a whopping one dollar. Barely enough to cover the metal fasteners you must use to bind your screenplay (lest, of course, it be rejected). If you're lucky enough to be offered a fee, it will almost certainly be 'scale' - a flat-rate payment that may just about cover your expenses. The only way to avoid getting screwed is to get an agent. Of course, the agent will also screw you. And you can't get an agent unless you're an established writer who has sold a screenplay. And you can't sell a screenplay unless you have an agent. Not fair? Welcome to Hollywood, sucker.

Of course you can avoid the system and go the independent route. No idea how to work a camera? Like Hollywood gives a rat's ass. Hire a director of photography and let him do all the technical stuff while you sit back, shout 'action', and sleep with the leading actress. If you're on a budget, employ a bunch of film students as your crew. They'll most likely work for a screen credit. If not, begrudgingly offer them 'points' - a percentage of the film's profits. Local actors can be brought to the table using the same bait. If you're smart you'll have written a screenplay that doesn't involve scene changes, costumes, complicated set pieces, or anything else that costs time or money. Shooting on digital video is fine, verite-style shaky camera work is good, and guerrilla filmmaking is great, but storyboards, rehearsals, and a director of photography who knows his arse from his L-shots, will help make the production process smoother than Ron Howard's head.

Editing your movie will involve transferring your footage onto a computer and other complicated stuff that can only be done by people with beards, so raid the film school again and find an editor. Once the finished movie has been spliced together, it's time to get a distributor. Make up video copies and send them to independent film festivals. Most are in the US, but so is Hollywood, so go figure. The few UK-based distributors are unlikely to be interested unless your film is a working class comedy or a leafy London romance, but rent or borrow a local independent cinema and invite distributors to a screening. And generate publicity. Local newspapers lap up tales of old women finding pennies in the street, so the prospect of a real widescreen movie being made right on their doorstep will have them salivating.

Once aboard, ride the publicity bandwagon, destination: Walk of Fame. You're now part of Hollywood's elite, one of the beautiful people in the town where, like William Goldman said, 'Nobody knows anything'.