Let’s be straight about something. You spent months, maybe years, writing your novel, screenplay, or research paper. And now, someone is asking you to cram the whole thing into one or two pages. And make it compelling. And reveal the ending. And somehow not make it sound like a school report.
No wonder writers find synopsis writing harder than the actual writing.
Here’s the thing, though. A synopsis isn’t your enemy. Once you understand what it actually is, what it’s supposed to do, and who it’s for, the whole thing becomes a lot less painful. Not effortless, nothing about writing is ever entirely effortless, but manageable. Strategic, even.
This guide is built for every kind of writer. If you’re a novelist trying to figure out how to write a book synopsis that doesn’t flatten your story into a dull plot summary, you’ll find what you need here. If you’re a screenwriter learning how to write a film synopsis that actually excites a producer, we’ve got you. And if you’re an academic who needs to write a research synopsis that reads clearly and makes a strong case for your work, this covers that too.
We’ll go through all of it, what a synopsis is (and isn’t), the core elements every good one shares, medium-specific guidance, real annotated examples, the mistakes people make constantly, and a practical self-editing checklist you can actually use before you hit send.
At Ireland Publishing House, we work with writers at every stage of this process. We know what good synopsis writing looks like, and we know exactly where writers tend to go wrong. So if you’re based in Ireland and navigating the submission process, there’s a section towards the end specifically for you.
A synopsis is a professional document. It’s written for industry gatekeepers, literary agents, film producers, publishers, academic supervisors, not for readers. That distinction matters more than most writers realise, because it completely changes how you should approach it.
Its purpose is to give whoever is reading it a complete picture of your work. That means the narrative arc, the key characters, the central conflict, and yes, the ending. A synopsis doesn’t tease. It tells. And it tells everything that matters.
A lot of writers mix up the synopsis with other documents they’ve heard about, so it’s worth being clear on the differences before we go any further.
The blurb is the copy on the back of your book. It’s marketing material. It’s written for readers, and its job is to build intrigue without giving anything away. It teases the conflict, hints at stakes, and ends on a hook. A synopsis does the opposite, it’s written for professionals, it gives away everything, and it exists to help someone assess whether your work is worth their time and investment.
A query letter is your introduction. It tells an agent or publisher who you are, what you’ve written, its genre and word count, and why you’re pitching to them specifically. It includes a brief, compelling hook. The synopsis is what often gets attached to the query letter, it’s the full narrative overview that gives the story context.
In the world of film and TV, a synopsis is typically a short, high-level overview of the core concept, usually one to two pages. A treatment is much longer and more detailed. It walks through the story in prose, includes character descriptions, key scenes, and visual intentions. Think of the synopsis as the pitch document and the treatment as the detailed blueprint.
Here’s the reality of the submission process: most literary agents receive hundreds of queries every week. They read synopses quickly, often in a matter of minutes. A weak synopsis doesn’t just fail to impress, it actively sends your manuscript to the bottom of the pile, no matter how good the full work actually is.
A well-crafted synopsis signals something important. It tells the agent or producer that you understand your own story, that you can handle structure, and that you have the discipline to be concise. Those are qualities that matter enormously in a professional publishing or production context.
For literary agents and publishers, the synopsis reveals whether your story has a complete arc, whether your characters have coherent motivations, and whether the genre conventions are being honoured. They can spot an underdeveloped plot and a weak third act from a page of summary alone.
For film producers and studio executives, the synopsis is about commercial viability as much as story quality. They’re asking: is this cinematic? Does it have a clear hook? Who is the audience? The synopsis needs to answer those questions quickly and confidently.
For academic committees and supervisors, the synopsis is about intellectual rigour and contribution. It should demonstrate that you’ve identified a clear research gap, that your methodology is sound, and that your findings actually add something to the field.
There’s also a lesser-discussed benefit: writing a synopsis before you’ve finished your manuscript is a brilliant outlining tool. If you can’t write a clear, logical synopsis of your story, that’s your first clue that the story itself still needs work. Many experienced writers draft a synopsis early in the process precisely because it forces them to map out the arc, identify what’s missing, and avoid structural problems before they become deeply embedded in the manuscript.
Regardless of the medium, novel, screenplay, or academic paper, every effective synopsis is built around the same fundamental components. These are the building blocks. Miss any of them and your synopsis will feel incomplete, even if the reader can’t immediately identify why.
Protagonist. Introduce them immediately. Who are they, what do they want, and what’s their starting point? The reader needs to be anchored in a character before anything else makes sense.
Antagonist and Primary Conflict. What force, person, system, or internal, is preventing the protagonist from getting what they want? The conflict is the engine of your story. Without it, nothing moves.
Stakes. What happens if the protagonist fails? Make the consequences clear and concrete. Vague stakes create a vague synopsis. If the reader doesn’t feel the weight of what’s at risk, they won’t be invested.
Inciting Incident. The moment everything changes. This is the event that disrupts the protagonist’s world and sets the main conflict in motion. It should be identifiable and specific.
Rising Action. A concise summary of the key plot points, challenges, and developments that escalate the conflict. You don’t need to cover every scene, you need to show the shape of the journey and how the stakes intensify.
Climax. The peak confrontation. The moment of greatest tension where the protagonist faces their ultimate challenge.
Resolution, Including the Ending. This is the part that trips up most writers. A synopsis must reveal the ending. All of it. There is no room for withholding here. Agents and producers need to know how your story resolves in order to assess whether it works as a whole. Hiding the ending in a synopsis is one of the most common mistakes writers make, and one of the fastest ways to get rejected.
Most writers make the mistake of trying to write their synopsis the same way they’d write prose, from a blank page, from the beginning. This leads to over-writing, getting lost in detail, and a document that reads more like a play-by-play than a compelling overview.
The reverse outline method flips this. Instead of writing the synopsis from scratch, you start with the completed work and work backwards.
Begin by creating a high-level outline of your entire manuscript. Break it into major sections, acts, chapters, or research stages. Don’t worry about detail at this point; just map the big picture. Then, for each major section, identify the single most important thing that happens. What absolutely must occur for the story or argument to progress? Write that down.
Once you have those core beats, focus specifically on the protagonist’s journey, their goal, their challenges, their turning points, their final transformation. For an academic paper, track the logical progression of your argument from problem to solution.
Then condense and connect. Weave the essential beats into a flowing narrative with clear cause-and-effect relationships. After that, cut ruthlessly. Remove subplots, minor characters, excessive descriptions, anything that isn’t directly connected to the main conflict or the protagonist’s arc. Every single sentence should be earning its place.
This method works because it starts from a position of abundance, everything that’s already in the work, rather than trying to build something from nothing. It’s particularly effective for writers who find brevity difficult, because the constraint is built into the process from the start.
Learning how to write a synopsis for a novel is largely about resisting two competing instincts. The first instinct is to include everything, every subplot, every secondary character, every scene that felt important when you were writing it. The second instinct is to withhold the ending because it feels like a spoiler. You need to resist both.
Start with your protagonist. Name them immediately, establish their situation at the story’s opening, and make their core desire clear. Not just what they want externally (to find the killer, to win the competition, to survive the war) but ideally a hint of what they need emotionally. Then introduce the inciting incident, the event that kicks everything into motion.
From there, summarise the key plot developments. Not every scene, not every chapter, the key developments. Think of it as hitting the main beats of the story: the first major obstacle, the turning point at the end of the second act, the escalation of the conflict. Show how the protagonist’s goal becomes more complicated or shifts entirely as the story progresses.
Your antagonist needs to be present and clearly defined. Whether it’s a person, a system, or an internal struggle, make it clear what they represent and why they make the protagonist’s goal so difficult. And make the stakes explicit. What does the protagonist stand to lose if they fail, not just practically, but emotionally?
Then write the climax and resolution in full. Don’t hint at them. Don’t end with “and then everything changes.” Tell exactly what happens, how the protagonist faces their final challenge, and what the outcome is. An agent reading your synopsis needs to know whether your story delivers on its premise.
Genre affects what to emphasise. In fantasy and science fiction, world-building is often a significant part of the story, but in a synopsis, it should only appear when it directly affects the plot. Resist the urge to explain your magic system. Just show what it does to the story.
In thriller and mystery, tension and urgency matter even in a synopsis. Maintain a sense of pace and make it clear that the mystery is being actively pursued rather than passively stumbled upon.
In romance, the central relationship is the story. Your synopsis should trace the emotional journey between the two leads, what draws them together, what keeps them apart, and how that tension resolves. Internal conflict matters just as much as external obstacles here.
In literary fiction, themes and voice carry a lot of weight. Your synopsis should gesture towards the intellectual and emotional core of the work, not just what happens but why it matters.
Our editing services at Ireland Publishing House include manuscript assessment, which often begins with reviewing how well a synopsis reflects the actual strengths of the work. It’s a useful diagnostic tool, if a synopsis reveals structural problems, those problems exist in the manuscript too.
Knowing how to write a film synopsis requires a slightly different mindset to novel synopsis writing. The language should feel cinematic and active. You’re describing something visual and kinetic, not introspective prose. Every line should feel like it could translate to what you see on screen.
Start with a logline. This is a single sentence that captures the core concept of your screenplay, who is the protagonist, what’s their conflict, what’s at stake. It’s the distillation of your entire film into one compelling pitch. A strong logline at the top of a synopsis immediately orients the reader and demonstrates that you understand your own concept.
After the logline, introduce your main characters with specificity. Their names should appear in capitals on first mention (this is standard industry formatting). Give them a clear motivation and a defined role in the conflict. Then map the three-act structure: the inciting incident, the key turning points, the escalation, and the climax. Be specific about what happens at each stage, vague plot summaries don’t excite producers.
Tone matters in a screenplay synopsis in a way it doesn’t always for novels. The language you use should subtly reflect the kind of film this is. A dark psychological thriller should feel tense and atmospheric on the page. A dark comedy should have an edge of wit even in the summary. This doesn’t mean being overdramatic or trying to write the synopsis like a screenplay, it means being conscious of the reading experience you’re creating.
Producers are also thinking about commercial viability. What’s the hook? What makes this different from what’s already out there? Who is the target audience? Your synopsis should answer these questions without reading like a marketing brief. They should be embedded in how you describe the story, not bolted on at the end.
And yes, reveal the ending. Fully. Film producers evaluating a project need to know whether the story pays off.
Academic synopsis writing follows a different logic to creative synopsis writing, but the underlying principle is the same: give the reader a complete, clear picture of what you’ve done and why it matters.
Start with your thesis statement or research question. This is the cornerstone of the entire synopsis. It should be precise, specific, and immediately communicate what your work is investigating.
Then establish context. Why does this research matter? What gap in existing literature are you addressing? What problem are you solving? This doesn’t need to be a full literature review, it just needs to situate your work within the broader academic conversation.
Summarise your methodology concisely. What approach did you take, what data did you collect, and how did you analyse it? This section demonstrates the rigour and validity of your work. Be specific, “a mixed-methods approach involving a survey of 500 professionals and 20 in-depth interviews” is far more compelling than “various methods were used.”
Present your key findings clearly and directly. What did you discover? What does the data show? Then move to implications, what does this mean for the field? What are the broader applications of your findings? What future research does it open up?
The tone throughout should be objective, precise, and formal. Academic synopses are not the place for personality or informal language. Stick to style guides relevant to your discipline, APA, MLA, or Chicago, and always check the specific requirements of the committee or journal you’re writing for, as length and formatting standards vary significantly.
Even experienced writers make these mistakes. Knowing them in advance puts you at a significant advantage.
Over-detailing minor plots or characters. Every story has subplots and secondary characters. In the synopsis, they only exist if they directly affect the main conflict. A minor character who appears in three scenes probably doesn’t need to be named. A subplot that doesn’t intersect with the protagonist’s primary arc can almost certainly be cut.
Using passive voice and weak verbs. “The book was found by Evelyn” is weaker than “Evelyn finds the book.” Passive constructions make the prose feel sluggish and take up word count without adding meaning. Use an active voice, and choose specific, strong verbs whenever possible.
Unclear stakes or motivations. If a reader can’t understand what the protagonist wants or why it matters, the synopsis fails. Don’t assume the reader will infer the stakes from the context. State them explicitly.
Not revealing the ending. Worth repeating because it trips up so many writers. A synopsis is not a blurb. There are no spoilers here. If you end your synopsis before the story ends, you’ve failed the assignment. Reveal everything.
Wrong tone. Your synopsis should reflect the tone of your work while remaining professional. A dark thriller synopsis should have a different feel to a light-hearted romantic comedy synopsis. But neither should be overly casual or promotional in its language.
Wordiness and redundancy. Every word must earn its place. If a phrase can be cut without losing meaning, cut it. If you’ve said something in two sentences that could be said in one, use one. Brevity isn’t just a format requirement, it’s a signal to the reader that you can edit.
Skipping proofreading. Typos and grammatical errors in a synopsis signal carelessness. If you can’t be bothered to proofread your two-page pitch document, what does that say about how you approached the full manuscript? Our editing services include a final proofread pass that catches these issues before they cost you a submission.
Sometimes the most useful thing is seeing the difference on the page. Here are two synopsis transformations, a novel and a screenplay, that illustrate exactly what separates a weak synopsis from an effective one.
Before (what not to do):
“Evelyn, a shy librarian, found a mysterious old book. She didn’t know it, but it was magic. She decided she would try to decipher its secrets. There was a bad guy, a sorcerer named Kael, who wanted the book too. Evelyn had to stop him. Eventually, she did, and saved the world.”
This fails on almost every count. The protagonist has no specific motivation. The antagonist is described as a “bad guy.” There are no stakes, “saved the world” is so generic it means nothing. The passive voice weakens every sentence. And there’s no emotional arc, no sense of who Evelyn is at the end compared to who she was at the start.
After (what to aim for):
“Evelyn Reed, a meticulous archivist haunted by her sister’s disappearance, discovers a forgotten grimoire hidden deep within the library archives. This ancient text, rumoured to bridge realms, offers the only clue to her sister’s fate, but inadvertently awakens Kael, a vengeful sorcerer determined to harness its power to unravel reality itself. Forced from her quiet life, Evelyn must decipher the grimoire’s cryptic spells and master nascent magical abilities she never knew she possessed. As Kael’s shadows close in, Evelyn confronts him in a climactic battle, ultimately sacrificing a piece of her own soul to seal the rift, saving countless lives but forever altering her own connection to the world beyond.”
This version works because everything has a reason. Evelyn has a specific and emotional motivation (her sister). The antagonist has a clear goal. The stakes are concrete and personal. The protagonist’s journey involves active choices. And the ending is fully revealed, including the cost to Evelyn herself.
Before:
“A detective has to solve a murder. He has problems at home. He finds clues and chases suspects. In the end, he figures out who did it, but it was sad.”
This could describe a hundred different films. There’s no specificity, no character identity, no hook, no tone. It tells the reader absolutely nothing useful.
After:
“Haunted by his daughter’s unsolved disappearance, DETECTIVE MILES CORBIN is thrust into a labyrinthine murder investigation when a renowned forensic scientist is found dead, meticulously posed in a macabre tableau. As Miles delves into the victim’s secretive past, he uncovers a chilling connection to a cold case mirroring his own family tragedy. Racing against a cunning killer who seems to anticipate his every move, Miles must confront his personal demons and trust his fractured instincts. In a rain-slicked climax, he corners the culprit, a former protégé twisted by a similar loss, but the truth, while solving the case, offers no solace for his own unresolved grief.”
The revised version immediately establishes character motivation, creates atmosphere, and reveals a layered, emotionally resonant ending. The language is active and cinematic. A producer reading this knows exactly what kind of film this is.
The before-and-after examples above show the transformation in action. These annotated examples go further, breaking down why each component works and what it achieves.
“Elara, a gifted but rebellious apprentice geomancer, yearns to escape her desert nomad clan’s rigid traditions.”
This single sentence establishes the protagonist, her skill, her personality, and her internal conflict. The reader is oriented immediately.
“When a rogue star-shard crashes near her camp, unleashing a blight that petrifies her people, Elara alone possesses the forbidden knowledge to contain it.”
Inciting incident and stakes in one sentence. The protagonist is uniquely positioned to act, which immediately creates narrative tension.
“As the blight spreads, threatening to consume the entire realm, Elara must master her volatile magic, confront the truth about her clan’s past, and ultimately sacrifice her own freedom to restore balance, becoming the very leader she always resisted.”
The climax and resolution are fully stated. The protagonist’s transformation (from rebel to reluctant leader) is made explicit. The reader knows how the story ends and what it cost the protagonist.
“This study investigates the impact of remote work policies on employee mental health and productivity within the Irish technology sector during the COVID-19 pandemic.”
Research question, context, and scope are all present in the opening sentence.
“Drawing on a mixed-methods approach, including a survey of 500 tech professionals and in-depth interviews with 20 HR managers across Dublin-based firms…”
Methodology is specific, not vague. Sample sizes are stated. The reader can immediately assess rigour.
“The study concludes by proposing a framework for sustainable hybrid work models, emphasising proactive mental health provisions and structured social engagement strategies, offering critical insights for policymakers and organisational leaders.”
The conclusion is fully stated and the implications for wider application are made clear. This is the academic equivalent of revealing the ending.
The most important rule about length: always follow the specific guidelines of whoever you’re submitting to. If an agent asks for a one-page synopsis and you send three, you’ve signalled that you don’t follow instructions. That’s not a good start.
In the absence of specific instructions, here are the standard expectations by medium. A novel synopsis is typically one to two pages, single-spaced. Some agents request shorter, around 500 words, particularly for initial submissions. A screenplay synopsis is usually one page, single-spaced, though complex projects sometimes extend to two. An academic synopsis varies significantly depending on the context, a journal abstract might be 150 to 300 words, while a thesis summary for a committee could run to five or ten pages. Always check the specific guidelines.
For formatting, use a professional and readable font, Times New Roman, Arial, or Calibri in 10 to 12 point. Single-space body paragraphs with a blank line between paragraphs. Standard one-inch margins on all sides. Include your name, contact information, and the work’s title in a header or at the top of the page. Number your pages.
If presentation is a concern for you, our book formatting services extend to professional document preparation, ensuring your synopsis looks as polished on the page as it reads in prose.
Understanding how synopsis writing differs across mediums helps you avoid applying the wrong approach to the wrong format. The core principles, clarity, completeness, active voice, revealed ending, apply universally. But the emphasis, tone, and structure shift depending on what you’re writing and who you’re writing it for.
| Structural Element | Novel Synopsis | Screenplay Synopsis | Academic Synopsis |
|---|---|---|---|
| Primary Goal | Sell the story’s emotional and thematic depth, character arc. | Sell the film’s concept, visual potential, and commercial viability. | Summarize research, methodology, findings, and contribution to knowledge. |
| Key Emphasis | Protagonist’s internal/external journey, character development, genre conventions. | Visual storytelling, character motivations, plot beats, market appeal. | Thesis, research question, methodology, key findings, implications. |
| Length (Typical) | 1-2 pages (often single-spaced). | 1-2 pages (often single-spaced), sometimes shorter for pitch docs. | 1 paragraph to 1 page, depending on context (e.g., abstract vs. research proposal). |
| Ending (Reveal?) | Yes, always reveal the full ending. | Yes, always reveal the full ending. | Yes, always reveal the full conclusions/implications. |
| Voice/Tone | Reflects the novel’s tone (e.g., serious, humorous, fantastical). | Active, concise, cinematic, often more objective than novel. | Objective, precise, formal, scientific/academic. |
| Character Focus | Deep dive into internal and external conflicts, growth. | Focus on external actions, motivations, and impact on plot. | Focus on researcher’s argument/findings, not personal journey. |
| World Building | Integrated only as essential to plot, avoid excessive infodumps. | Show, don’t tell; integrate visually through action. | Contextualize research within existing academic discourse. |
The key takeaway from the comparison above is that every synopsis type requires you to reveal the ending and conclusion. Everything else, length, tone, structural emphasis, adapts to the medium and audience. Novel synopses go deep on character. Screenplay synopses think visually and commercially. Academic synopses prioritise methodology, findings, and contribution to the field.
If you’re based in Ireland or writing within the Irish literary and film landscape, there are specific channels and considerations worth knowing about.
On the publishing side, Irish literary agencies including The Book Bureau and Marianne Gunn O’Connor Literary Agency typically ask for a synopsis alongside the first few chapters. Their specific requirements vary, so always check their submission guidelines before sending anything. Irish publishers such as Gill Books, Hachette Ireland, and O’Brien Press have different policies, some accept direct submissions, others work exclusively through agents. A synopsis that’s been tailored to the publisher’s specific genre focus will always fare better than a generic one.
For film and television, Screen Ireland (Fís Éireann) is the national funding body for Irish film, TV, and animation. When applying for development funding, which many Irish writers do at some stage, a robust one-to-two page synopsis is a mandatory component of the application. They’re looking for strong narrative, clear genre identification, and demonstrated market potential. If your synopsis doesn’t address those elements, it won’t get past the first round of assessment.
Irish broadcasters RTÉ and Virgin Media Television also have commissioning processes that require synopses for drama and documentary pitches. Production companies such as Element Pictures and Parallel Films expect a professional, well-formatted synopsis for any project pitch, there’s no informal route in.
At Ireland Publishing House, we work directly with Irish writers navigating these submission processes. Our ghostwriting services, editing services, cover designing services, and marketing services are all built around an understanding of the Irish publishing and film environment. If you’re preparing a submission for a local agency, publisher, or Screen Ireland, we can help you get it right.
Before you send any synopsis to anyone, run through this checklist. It won’t catch everything, but it’ll catch most of the things that matter.
Overall Clarity and Conciseness: Is the synopsis easy to read on the first pass? Is every word doing something? Does it accurately reflect the full scope of your work?
Core Elements Present: Is the protagonist’s main goal clearly stated? Is the central conflict defined? Are the stakes explicit? Is the inciting incident clear? Are the key plot points present in cause-and-effect order? Is the climax impactful? Is the resolution fully revealed?
Narrative Flow: Does it have a clear beginning, middle, and end? Does it maintain an active voice? Does it build intrigue without cliffhangers or withheld information?
Audience and Medium: Have you tailored the content to the specific recipient? Does it meet the medium-specific expectations (cinematic language for screenplay, formal precision for academic)? Have you followed the submission guidelines exactly?
Technical: Does it meet the length requirements? Is the formatting correct? Is it free of typos and grammatical errors? Is your contact information and the title of your work included?
Two practical tips worth adding to the checklist process: read your synopsis out loud before you finalise it. Awkward phrasing and repetitive words are far easier to catch when you’re hearing them. And if possible, give it to someone who is entirely unfamiliar with your work. If they can understand the core story, the main characters, and the ending after reading it once, you’re in good shape. If they’re confused, something needs to be clearer.
The right tools don’t write the synopsis for you, but they do make the process more manageable.
Scrivener, Ulysses, and Obsidian are all excellent for organising complex writing projects. Their outlining features are particularly useful for the reverse outline method, you can see the structure of your work at a glance and identify the key beats you need to pull from.
Grammarly and ProWritingAid are invaluable for final polish. They catch grammatical errors, flag passive voice, and identify wordiness, all of which are common synopsis problems. Neither is a substitute for a human editor, but as a first-pass tool they’re genuinely useful.
Save the Cat! by Blake Snyder remains one of the most useful resources for identifying the structural beats of a story. Even if you’re writing a novel rather than a screenplay, its framework for mapping story structure is extremely useful when you’re extracting the key beats for a synopsis.
For word choice and precision, a good thesaurus and dictionary are still indispensable. Power Thesaurus and Merriam-Webster are both solid online options. In a document where every word must earn its place, having the right word matters.
For understanding market expectations, IMDbPro is useful for film research and Publishers Marketplace for the book industry. Knowing what’s selling in your genre and what comparable projects look like helps you calibrate how to position your own work.
And don’t underestimate writing communities. Absolute Write and Critique Circle both have experienced writers who’ve been through the submission process and can offer feedback on synopsis drafts before you send them anywhere important. Honest feedback from peers is often more useful than any tool.
For writers who want professional help at this stage, our ghostwriting services and editing services at Ireland Publishing House include synopsis development and review. It’s one of the most common requests we get, and for good reason, a strong synopsis is genuinely worth investing in. You can also explore the full range of what we offer, from cover designing services to book formatting services and marketing services, all designed to support writers from manuscript to finished, published work.
If you’re thinking about grammar and punctuation precision during the editing and polishing phase, it’s worth brushing up on some of the finer points of English usage. Our guide on mastering the use of hyphen, en dash, and em dash is a useful companion for writers who want their prose, including their synopsis, to be typographically correct. The difference between a hyphen and an em dash in a sentence is small, but it matters to a careful reader.
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Let’s be straight about something. You spent months, maybe years, writing your novel, screenplay, or research paper. And now, someone is asking you to cram the whole thing into one or two pages. And make it compelling. And reveal the ending. And somehow not make it sound like a school report. No wonder writers find […]
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