The Book Proposal That Gets an Expression of Interest 

Fit and presentation matter more than anything


Academics are nothing if not thinkers. Everything an academic produces is the result of deep consideration, no small amount of research, and sustained (if occasionally distracted) effort. Like syllabi, articles, and conference papers, the book proposal is no exception. Editors know that academics put a lot of work into their writing. We also know this all-too-common lament: “I wrote a great proposal. Why haven’t I heard back from an editor?”

Where’s the mismatch?

Fit

If you’ve ever had your proposal rejected by a press, you’ve probably heard that it just wasn’t “a fit” for the list or program the editor oversees. (Many others have come to this realization themselves after hearing no word for several months.) It’s true that editors receive a handful of wild proposals every year, completely unrelated to the area they publish. But most academics do their homework and what they submit could be considered a fit on some level. So why isn’t it the right fit?

It’s not enough that you study Japan and I acquire work on Japan. Or that you’re an expert on social democracy and my press published the defining book on it two decades ago. Fit relates to where the editor wants to go—the future of what he or she believes is important to publish or will sell like hotcakes. So how can you determine that?

Check out the editor’s LinkedIn profile and/or bio on the press website. This is to establish two things. (1) LinkedIn will tell you when the editor started working at the press. Add two years to that date and then see what’s been published since then. That’s what the editor has decided to publish. It doesn’t matter what the press published ten years ago, or even three. The editor in place now is making decisions for herself. (2) If there is a bio, it should tell you, topically, what the editor wants to publish. It doesn’t mean that you’ll get an expression of interest simply because you work in that area, but it’s a good, qualified start.

Presentation

Presentation has a few components: who you are, who or what you know, how you write.

Who you are. Editors are close readers, eventually, but the first thing we’re going to do is scan your prospectus for information that will register as positive or negative. Right away, we’ll look at the letterhead (prestige of where you work) and your CV (where you went to school, what you’ve published, where you’ve presented your work). Your education and your current placement matter, but they are not the only things that matter. Editors are keen to work with scholars who are productive or who plan to be productive. Our business runs on continuing to publish. Make sure to list on your CV all work that’s published, in draft stage, and also in preparation (even if only mental preparation!). I might not be thrilled about the current book you’ve proposed, but something you plan to write next could be exactly what I’m looking for. And that makes it more likely that I’ll respond to you.

Who or what you know. What if you’re not a tenure-track assistant professor at Duke? Perhaps you’ve poured everything you’ve got into revising your dissertation so that it’ll be a knock-out book. What then?

Make evident, quickly and succinctly, who or what you know.

  1. It’s better to mention someone who has published with the press recently than an advisor (even if that advisor published with the press). Given the challenges of publishing, advisors tend to recommend the work of all of their students; their word doesn’t hold much weight. What is important to us is good word of mouth. If someone who’s published with our press recommends us, that’s a good lead.
“[Friend/colleague] recommended that I submit my prospectus to you. He has spoken very highly of his experience working with you and I’d love to have the opportunity to publish my book with you too.”

2. It’s better to demonstrate that you know what the press publishes than to jump right into a description of your work (which I might not immediately connect to what I want to publish).

“I’ve followed closely your publications on the history of science and technology in Japan [author name, author name, author name] over the last few years and am excited about the direction in which your list is moving.”

3. It’s better to provide a line of context before introducing your work than to jump right into a description of your work (which might at first glance seem like it’s already been done or, worse, is unimportant).

“As you’re aware, entrepreneurship in China is now a much-studied phenomenon, but we still know almost nothing about female entrepreneurs, who are at the helm of 1 in 4 new businesses.”

Yes, I made up that statistic.

How you write. How an academic writes tells us the audience for whom he is writing. This is not the same as what he states is the “primary market” later in the proposal, because the writing shows and the statements tell. We know that undergraduates, graduates, specialists, policymakers, and educated general readers respond differently to different writing styles. It’s the rare book that is written successfully for all of them. So while we want academics to tell us their idea of the market, we’re reading to determine that for ourselves, too.

Your editor may or may not be a specialist in your area (refer again to LinkedIn or website). Regardless, the person you should keep in mind as you introduce your book (first couple of pages) is your neighbor. How would you explain what you study to someone with no knowledge of the area? Use that for a draft. It’s fine to then bump up the language so that it’s more refined, without being overly dependent upon jargon. But this first draft will help you start with the big ideas of what you do, before drilling down into your research that specifically illuminates the big ideas. If I can “get” what you do quickly, I can determine quickly whether or not I’d like to proceed with the project. If topically your work seems relevant but reads as an idea labyrinth, I may set it aside for when I have more time… which, unfortunately, is never.


At conferences and workshops, I’ve often been asked how long the ideal proposal should be: three pages, ten pages, somewhere in between? Personally, I don’t believe there should be any prescribed length, though some editors feel differently. Keep in mind that a proposal should include a couple of introductory pages explaining the concept of the book, its themes, and its potential import; a market assessment (2-3 paragraphs); a detailed table of contents (this is where pages can balloon — try to stick to one paragraph, 2-4 sentences, for each chapter); and an explanation of when you plan to finish the draft and what it will include in terms of illustrations (number, black and white or color, etc.).

If you can get the proposal covered in five pages, great. (I’m not including CV in this count.) At ten pages or more, you’re asking for an hour of the editor’s time, minimum, so if it’s truly necessary, make sure all of the information is relevant and compelling.

With this in mind, return to your ever-evolving proposal, make some changes, and last but not least, review the press’s submission guidelines. One final deep breath, and you’re good to go.