Most non-fiction books are sold before they are written. What sells them is not a finished manuscript but a proposal: a short, persuasive document that tells a publisher what the book is, who will buy it, and why you are the person to write it. Get the structure right and an editor can picture your book on a shelf within ten minutes. Get it wrong and a good idea sits unread in an inbox, however well you write.
In the UK, most trade non-fiction reaches a publisher through a literary agent. Some publishers still accept direct submissions, particularly in specialist markets, but agents do most of the filtering. Whichever route you take, the document you prepare is broadly the same: usually somewhere between ten and thirty pages.
A proposal has to answer five questions, quickly and in roughly this order:
Notice what is missing: a finished manuscript. Publishers buy ideas from authors they trust to deliver. Your job is to make that trust easy to give.
The first page does most of the work. Write it last, once the rest of the document is clear in your mind, and keep it to a single page. Include the title, the category, the approximate word count, and a description of the book in two or three tight paragraphs. Then a short line on who you are.
Be concrete rather than enthusiastic. “A practical guide to baking sourdough at home, built around twelve loaves that teach technique in sequence” tells an editor far more than “a groundbreaking new take on bread”. Avoid claiming your book is unique, essential or the first of its kind. Editors have read those words a thousand times and rarely believe them.
This is where most proposals drift into vagueness. Five hundred to a thousand words should be enough to explain what happens between the covers: the approach, the tone, the shape of the argument or the sequence of the material.
Use plain sentences. Say how the book is organised — chronological, thematic, problem by problem — and why that structure suits the reader. Say what someone will be able to do, understand or feel by the final page. If the book draws on interviews, archive work, professional experience or original research, explain where that material comes from and whether access is already arranged. If you are writing about health, money or law, state how you will keep the content accurate and current, and note that readers should seek professional advice for their own circumstances.
Name your reader as if describing a real person: what they already read, what they are trying to solve, where they buy books, what they search for online. A modest, clearly defined audience is far more persuasive than a huge, fuzzy one.
Spend a paragraph on your own platform, honestly. A newsletter, a teaching post, a professional reputation, a podcast, a local following — all of it counts. Inflated numbers do not, and they are easily checked. If your audience is small but committed, say so, and explain how you would reach beyond it.
Choose three to six books published in the last few years that sit near yours on the shelf. For each, give the title, author, publisher and year, then a sentence on what it does well and two on how yours differs. Differences should be about content and approach, not quality: “covers the same period but focuses on regional newspapers rather than national ones” is a useful distinction.
Avoid two traps. The first is “there is nothing else like it”, which publishers read as “there is no market”. The second is comparing yourself to a bestseller from another category. Your local bookshop and library are good places to check what has been published recently; the trade databases the industry uses will show what has actually sold.
The chapter outline is a map. Give each chapter a heading and a paragraph explaining what it covers and what it delivers. Keep the sequence clear enough that a reader could follow the arc of the book in three minutes. Do not simply repeat the contents page.
Then send a sample chapter, usually three to five thousand words, and pick one that shows your voice at its best. It does not have to be chapter one. A middle chapter often works harder, because it shows how you handle the material once the introductions are over.
Follow the publisher’s or agent’s formatting instructions exactly. If there are none, use double spacing, page numbers, a running header with your name, and a sensible file name.
Read the whole proposal aloud. Anything you stumble over is probably unclear on the page too. Then work through this list.
Keep a simple record of where and when you sent it, and expect to wait several weeks for a reply. If you are offered a contract, take proper advice before signing. And if the answer is no, ask what would have made the proposal stronger. Editors often tell you, and the answer is usually worth more than the rejection.
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