For some reason this week I found myself explaining how to write a non-fiction proposal to a few different writers. One of the first things I always explain is that no two proposals are alike, like snowflakes. Though I’ve always been doubtful about that. I think the chances are pretty high that at least two snowflakes are the same if not thousands and millions. Anyway, I don’t have a cookie cutter approach to proposals.
The best advice I have for any writer who is trying to figure out how to start a proposal is to sit down and imagine that you are writing a letter to me. In other words, it’s important that the voice is direct and somewhat intimate as you outline your thoughts and describe the scope of the project. It’s always good if you can include a memorable anecdote or two. Just don’t sit down and think you are writing a grant proposal or a college application. It’s your voice as much as your idea that will be of interest to editors. Obviously, if you are a historian or scientist or journalist, for example, you want to strike a more authoritative tone. The point is that the writing in your proposal should showcase the writing in the book.
So many writers say, I don’t know how to write a proposal, or I never wrote a proposal. And they want me to give them samples. I will supply samples, but I think it’s a mistake. There’s no trick to writing the perfect proposal and each proposal should be tailor made to the writer and the idea. You can sell a 6 page proposal or a 60 page proposal so long as each page does what it needs to do: seduce.
Technically, you basically need four components. An introduction or overview (this should evolve from the “letter”). You’ll need to add an annotated table of contents and a sample chapter if you’re a first time author. Your bio/credentials/platform is very important, where you’ve published, worked, how many millions see your blog (like mine!). If you’re writing a memoir, chances are you have to write the entire book (like a novel) in order to sell it. Other works of non-fiction can fly on a proposal. Also, please have a great title. (More on titles in another post.)
Others may disagree, but I don’t think you need to supply a lot of bogus marketing information such as the population of Jewish people in America if you’re writing a book about the history of the bagel. However, if your father owns a chain of 2,000 bagel restaurants where they will sell your book, that would be good to know. Or he invented the bagel; that’s interesting. Please don’t compare your book to the latest bestsellers like Blink, Eat, Pray, Love, and The Devil in the White City. Yes, publishers would like to acquire the next Blink, Eat, Pray, Love, and The Devil in the White City, but it’s better for them to read the proposal and say, Eureka!, this is the next Blink, etc. Or leave it to your craven agent to tout your project as the next Blink, Eat, Pray, Love, or The Devil in the City. It just looks naive at best and pompous at worst to say: look, over here, I’m a bestseller before you’ve even written your book. I once went out with a guy who told me on our first date that he had a nine inch cock. And that’s what it sounds like to me, claiming in a proposal how big you are. You may, indeed, be the next big thing, but isn’t it better to have someone else say: dude, you’re huge!
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Betsy Lerner 