Who this is for

You've finished the script. Maybe it's your first, maybe your fifth. Now comes the part nobody taught you: getting a stranger with power — a manager, an agent, a producer — to actually read it.

That stranger gets hundreds of queries. Most get deleted in under ten seconds. Not because the scripts are bad. Because the letters are.

A query letter has exactly one job: make the reader curious enough to ask for the script. That's it. It's not a synopsis. It's not your life story. It's not a pitch for why the industry needs your voice. It's a short, professional note that says: here's a story worth 110 pages of your time, and here's why I'm the person who wrote it.

I've read thousands of scripts over 25+ years, and I've seen what happens on the other side of the inbox. Managers don't request reads because a letter was clever. They request reads because a letter was clear, short, and specific — and because it arrived from someone who'd done their homework.

This guide gives you the template, a filled-in example, and the reasoning behind every line. Use it.

The template

Copy this structure. Don't get creative with the format — get creative with the script, not the letter.

Subject line (for email queries): Query: [TITLE] — [genre] feature, [brief hook]

Dear [First Name Last Name],

[1–2 sentences: why you're writing to THIS person specifically. Name something real — a client of theirs, an interview they gave, a film they made. Prove this isn't a mass blast.]

[Your logline — one or two sentences. Protagonist, situation, conflict, stakes.]

[One short paragraph — 4 to 6 sentences — expanding the setup. Who is this person, what do they want, what's in the way, and what happens if they fail. Stop before the third act. Leave them wanting the pages.]

[1–3 sentences about you. Credits if you have them; honest positioning if you don't. "This is my third feature" is fine. So is "I'm a [day job] writing my first screenplay." Never inflate.]

[Close: thank them, say the script is complete at [page count] pages and available on request. Your full name, phone, email.]

That's the whole thing. Under 300 words. If your draft is longer, cut it.

Worked example

This is a made-up script — THE NIGHT CALLER, a contained thriller — so you can see exactly how the template fills in. Every choice below is deliberate.

Subject: Query: THE NIGHT CALLER — contained thriller, 911 dispatcher takes a call from her own address

Dear Ms. Chen,

I saw your interview on the Script Apart podcast about building your list around contained, producible thrillers, and THE NIGHT CALLER was written with exactly that market in mind.

When night-shift 911 dispatcher Mara Voss takes a whispering call from a woman begging for help, she follows protocol — until the caller reads out an address and Mara realizes it's her own. With her daughter home alone and the call tracing to a burner phone inside the house, Mara has one shift — one night — to keep a stranger on the line, figure out who got past her locks, and get police to her door without tipping off the intruder listening in.

Mara is a former hostage negotiator who left the field after a call went wrong, and she's spent three years hiding behind a headset instead of trusting her instincts again. Tonight forces her back into the work — except this time the voice on the line is her own daughter, and every technique Mara teaches rookies is being used against her by someone who knows the playbook.

I'm a former emergency dispatcher writing my second feature; the procedural details come from six years on night shift. THE NIGHT CALLER is complete at 104 pages and available on request. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Best regards,
Alex Rivera
alex.rivera@email.com · (555) 014-2288

Why this works — line by line

The subject line names the title, the genre, and the hook. Reps triage their inbox by subject line. "Query: drama feature" tells them nothing and earns a delete. Title + genre + one vivid detail lets the right reader self-select in two seconds — and this reader reps contained thrillers, so she keeps reading.

The opening is specific to her. "I saw your interview on the Script Apart podcast about building your list around contained, producible thrillers." This proves three things instantly: you know who she is, you know what she wants, and this letter wasn't blasted to 200 people. Generic flattery ("I admire your work") proves nothing. One concrete detail proves everything.

The logline leads with character and situation, not theme. "When night-shift 911 dispatcher Mara Voss takes a whispering call…" — we know who, we know the world, and the twist lands in the same sentence. Notice what it doesn't do: no "In a world where…", no thematic throat-clearing ("a story about trust and redemption"), no comparisons to other movies. The premise sells itself.

The paragraph answers four questions and stops. Who (Mara, ex-negotiator hiding behind a headset) → what she wants (keep the caller on the line, get police there) → what's in the way (the intruder is inside, knows the playbook, her daughter is the caller) → what happens if she fails (implied: her daughter dies). It ends on escalation, not resolution. You never learn how it ends — because the ending is what the script is for.

The bio is short and honest. "Former emergency dispatcher writing my second feature." No produced credits? Fine — the day job is the credential here, because it authenticates the world of the script. A rep would rather hear "I'm new and this is why I'm the person to write this" than a padded bio. Never invent credits. This town is small and people check.

The close is professional and complete. Title, page count, "available on request" — the three facts a rep needs. Phone and email. No "I'd love to hop on a call," no "let me know a good time to discuss." You're asking for one thing: a read. Don't ask for two.

Before you hit send — the 10-point checklist

Run every query through this list. If any box is unchecked, fix it first.

  1. Under 300 words. Count them. If you're over, you're summarizing instead of teasing. Cut plot, keep hook.
  2. The opening names something real about the recipient. A client, an interview, a sale, a panel. If you can't find one true thing, you haven't researched enough — don't send yet.
  3. Your logline is in the first three sentences. Don't bury it. A busy reader should know the premise before they finish the first paragraph.
  4. I can name the protagonist, their goal, the obstacle, and the stakes. If any of the four is missing or fuzzy, the letter isn't ready — and honestly, the script might not be either.
  5. Nothing past the midpoint is spoiled. Tease the setup and the pressure. The third act is the product; don't give it away in the ad.
  6. No attachments. Never attach the script unless the recipient's guidelines explicitly ask for it. "Available on request" is the professional standard.
  7. Read it out loud, once. You'll catch the awkward sentence, the repeated word, the typo your eyes skipped. One read-aloud catches 90% of errors.
  8. The subject line could only be your script. If it works for any thriller, rewrite it. Title + genre + one specific, vivid detail.
  9. The bio is 100% true. No "award-winning" unless you can name the award. No inflated titles. Credibility is the whole currency here — don't counterfeit it.
  10. This person actually reps your genre and accepts queries. Check their company's submission policy today, not two years ago. A perfect letter to the wrong rep is still a delete — and a letter to someone who doesn't take unsolicited queries can get you blacklisted at that company.

One last thing

Here's the uncomfortable truth: most query letters fail not because the letter is bad, but because the script isn't ready — and the writer can't see it yet. You've lived with the draft for months. You know what you meant. A manager reading cold only sees what's on the page.

If you want professional eyes on the script before you start querying — someone who reads the way the industry reads, and tells you what's actually landing — that's what my coverage service is for. $200, one-week turnaround, and if the notes don't give you a clear path forward on your next draft, you don't pay. No risk, no guru talk, just a straight read.

Either way: finish the checklist, send the letter, and keep writing the next one. The writers who break in aren't the most talented. They're the most persistent — and the best prepared.

Good luck. Now go get read.

— Chris