Logline, Synopsis & Story Materials
These are the words that make someone care. Your logline is the hook, your synopsis is the pitch, and together they're the first thing anyone reads in your EPK. Write them well and people lean in; write them badly and they never press play. Here's how to craft both.
Before anyone watches a frame of your film, they read about it — and the story materials in your EPK are what turn a stranger's indifference into curiosity. Two pieces do most of that work. The logline is one or two sentences that capture the essence and hook of your film — the thing a programmer skims, a journalist quotes, and a reader decides on in a couple of seconds. The synopsis is the longer prose description that follows, giving enough of the story to sell it without giving it away. Filmmakers routinely underinvest here, dashing off a flat logline and a plot-summary synopsis that reads like a Wikipedia entry — and then wonder why their materials don't land. But these are persuasion documents, not book reports: their job is to make people want the film, and written well they do an enormous amount of your marketing before anyone presses play. Let me break down how to write each.
Writing a logline and synopsis that work
The essentials of each piece:
- The logline: hook, not summary. In one or two sentences, convey the protagonist, their goal or predicament, and what makes it compelling or unusual. Lead with what's intriguing, not with setup. Read it aloud — if it sparks a question, it works.
- Sell the feeling and the genre. Your logline and synopsis should make the tone unmistakable — is this a tense thriller, a tender drama, a dark comedy? People decide to watch on emotion and genre, so signal both clearly.
- Short synopsis (a paragraph). A tight, punchy version for quick use — programs, listings, socials. Set up the premise and the stakes, and stop before the resolution.
- Long synopsis (about a page). A fuller telling for press who want more — characters, the central conflict, the world — still without spoiling the ending. Give journalists enough to write from.
- Never spoil. A synopsis is a tease, not a full recap. Reveal the setup and the hook; protect the twists and the ending. A synopsis that answers its own questions kills interest.
- Write tight and cut clichés. Strong verbs, no filler, no "in a world where…" boilerplate. Every sentence should earn its place. Concise and vivid beats long and vague every time.
Make them care, then hand press the words
The mindset that transforms these from chores into assets is to remember who reads them and what you want them to feel. A festival programmer reading your logline is deciding whether to keep reading; a journalist reading your synopsis is deciding whether there's a story here and, if so, borrowing your words to tell it. Both of those outcomes are in your hands if you write with intent. So lead with intrigue, write in the voice and tone of the film itself (a horror's materials should feel a little ominous; a comedy's should have wit), and above all make the reader curious rather than merely informed. A practical tip that pays off constantly: journalists are busy and will often lift phrasing directly from your synopsis into their coverage, which means well-written story materials literally shape how your film gets described in the press — so give them language you'd be happy to see printed. Write several versions and lengths of each (a one-line logline, a two-line version, a paragraph synopsis, a page synopsis), because different contexts need different sizes, and having them ready means you never scramble. And test your logline on someone who knows nothing about the film: if their reaction is "huh, I'd watch that," you've nailed it; if it's a polite "sounds nice," keep sharpening. These few paragraphs are among the highest-leverage words you'll write for your film's life in the world — a great logline can open a door a mediocre film couldn't, and a flat one can bury a great film. Spend real time here; rewrite until it sings. With your story materials sharp, the next piece is the one that adds heart and gives press a human angle: the director's statement, plus your bios and credits.
My first synopsis was a dutiful plot recap — beginning, middle, and (idiotically) the ending — written like an encyclopedia entry, and it made the film sound boring even to me. A friend who writes for a living rewrote it as a tease: it set up the hook, sold the mood, and stopped cold before the reveal, in half the words. Suddenly people who read it wanted to see the film. I also noticed reviewers started echoing her phrasing in their write-ups — my words became the film's words in the press. That's when I understood the logline and synopsis aren't paperwork; they're the film's first performance, and they deserve the same care as any scene.
Assemble your EPK in the Filmmaker Toolbox — keep your synopsis, bios, stills, poster, and press release organized in one place so you can export a clean, up-to-date press kit the moment a festival or journalist asks for it.