Most non-fiction proposals fail for reasons that have nothing to do with the quality of the writing. Agents and commissioning editors read dozens each week, and the same handful of flaws appear again and again: an author who cannot explain who will buy the book, comparable titles chosen because they sound impressive rather than relevant, chapter summaries that describe themes instead of contents, and a market positioning section that could apply to almost any book in the shop. The good news is that all of these are fixable, often in an afternoon. What follows is a practical guide to the mistakes that cost authors meetings, and how to correct them before you send anything out.
Treating Your Platform as a Box to Tick
Platform is not a synonym for follower count. It is the answer to a simple question: why will strangers trust you enough to spend money on your words? A proposal that says "I have a growing social media presence" tells an editor nothing. A proposal that says "I speak at four industry conferences a year, write a fortnightly newsletter read by 3,000 people in the sector, and have run workshops for two trade bodies" tells them you can reach readers without the publisher funding every sale.
The common mistake is padding the section with numbers that do not connect to book-buying. A hundred thousand followers on a platform where you post about something unrelated to your subject impresses nobody. Relevance beats reach.
How to fix it
- Name the audience you already have access to. Be specific: "readers of my newsletter", "attendees at my annual course", "members of the professional association I advise".
- Show evidence of engagement, not just size. A modest list that replies, buys and shares is worth more than a large passive one.
- Describe what you will do to promote the book. Editors want authors who will work alongside them, not disappear after delivery.
- If your platform is thin, say so and compensate. A strong, timely idea with a clear route to readers can outweigh a modest following. Pretending otherwise damages trust.
Choosing Comparative Titles That Do You No Favours
Comparative titles exist to help a publisher place your book in the market — and to show that you understand it. Two errors dominate. The first is naming bestsellers so famous that the comparison is meaningless: comparing your first book to a decade-defining title suggests you have not looked at what is actually selling in your category now. The second is choosing books that are similar in subject but wildly different in audience or format, which muddies rather than clarifies.
The strongest comparisons sit close to your book in at least three ways: subject, reader and format. Ideally they are recent, so an editor can see current demand, and they are titles you can say something useful about. Two or three well-chosen comparisons, each with a sentence explaining what yours shares with it and where it differs, will do more than a list of ten.
Aim for a shape like this: "It will appeal to readers of X, which sold well because of its practical case studies, but ours goes further by covering Y, which that book acknowledges but does not address." That single sentence shows market awareness, a genuine gap, and a reason for your book to exist.
Chapter Summaries That Summarise Nothing
This is where promising proposals most often fall apart. Authors write things like "Chapter four explores the theme of resilience" and consider the job done. An editor cannot commission from that. They need to know what is actually in the chapter: whose story, which argument, what the reader will be able to do afterwards.
Write each summary as though you were briefing a stranger who has to defend your book in a meeting. Cover, in a few sentences:
- The chapter's central claim or question.
- The main material — case studies, examples, interviews, exercises — that carries it.
- What the reader takes away, and how it connects to the next chapter.
Keep the length even across chapters. If one summary runs to 300 words and the rest manage 40, it looks as though only part of the book has been thought through. And if a chapter resists summarising, that is useful information: it may not need to exist.
Market Positioning That Could Describe Any Book
Positioning is where the proposal stops being about you and starts being about the shelf. Many submissions skip it, or fill it with generalities about the subject being important right now. Importance is not the same as demand.
Answer three questions plainly. Who is the reader, described tightly enough that you could find them? Why this book rather than the ones already published? And why now — what has changed in the world, the field or the conversation that makes this the moment? If your answer to the third question could have been written five years ago, it probably is not urgent enough.
A proposal is not a pitch for your subject. It is a plan for a product, argued by someone who understands the market it enters.
Smaller Errors That Quietly Undermine a Proposal
Several less obvious habits also weaken otherwise solid submissions. Overlong overviews that repeat the same claim three times. Sample chapters that do not match the voice promised in the outline. A word count that suggests a 140,000-word book when the category typically supports 80,000. Vague claims about "unprecedented" interest with nothing to back them up. Typos in the first paragraph. Each of these individually is survivable; together they suggest an author who has not done their homework.
Another quiet killer: failing to follow the submission guidelines. If an agent asks for a one-page overview, a chapter outline and a sample chapter, sending 60 pages signals that you will be difficult to work with. Read the instructions twice.
A Practical Sequence for Getting It Right
Before you send your proposal anywhere, work through it in this order. First, write the positioning section; if you cannot state the reader, the gap and the timing in three sentences, stop and rethink the book. Second, choose two or three comparative titles that are recent, relevant and readable, and draft one sentence on each. Third, rewrite every chapter summary so it describes contents rather than atmosphere, keeping them roughly equal in length. Fourth, audit your platform section for specific, verifiable detail and remove anything you cannot support. Fifth, read the whole thing aloud; awkward phrasing and padding surface quickly that way. Finally, ask someone who does not share your expertise to read it and tell you what book they think you have written. If their answer surprises you, the proposal needs another pass.
If your proposal involves professional or legal matters that readers will act on, be clear in the outline about how the book handles that responsibility — and be prepared to explain your qualifications to an editor.
None of this requires a bigger idea. It requires a clearer one, argued with evidence an editor can check. Do that, and your proposal stops being one of the many that get a polite no.
Photo: AymaneJed / Pixabay
