How to write a non-fiction book
I wrote a non-fiction book and this is how I did it, so you can write one too
Here are five things that I learnt from the process:
1. You need a good idea
No surprises here: you need to decide what your book will be about. Not just ‘my research on X’ — it should be something specific and punchy, something you can sum up in a sentence or two. Most importantly, your idea needs to be commercial. That means getting out your own head and thinking about what the public might find interesting and important about your topic — not just what you and your academic pals care about (no offence). To put it bluntly, agents and publishers want to take on books that will sell.
Your idea needs to be original, but you don’t have to reinvent the wheel. It should actually be a topic that’s been covered elsewhere — because that shows there’s a market for your book — but one that you will approach in a new way. When I wrote Losing Our Minds, for example, there were many books about mental illness, but none that had taken a broader view of how we define and talk about it. If you have a seed of an idea, see what’s already been published, and think about what you could do that’s different.
2. You need a literary agent
To get an agent, which is the critical next step, you need to show not only that you have a good idea, but that you are the best person to write about it. If you’re a senior academic and want to write about your own work, this is simple. If you’re more junior, or not writing about your own research (I wasn’t), it’s harder but not impossible. Other useful credentials can include having relevant lived experience of your topic, or an established following as a writer (eg you might write for mainstream media or have a popular blog).
Once you have these two things — the good idea and the proof that you’re the best person to write about it — you’re ready to get an agent. A literary agent will represent you and your book. They pitch your book to publishers to get you a book deal (hopefully), and they have your back throughout the process of writing and publication.
To get an agent, you need to submit a book proposal to them via email. There’s loads of advice online about writing a proposal, but you are probably best off finding a suitable agency first (ie one that represents mass-market books by academics) and then following the specific guidance on their website. Usually, a book proposal involves a sample opening chapter, a summary of what you’ll cover in the remaining chapters, and a bio about you.
For me, getting an agent was a hugely exciting part of this process. It was an early sign that maybe I really could write, and maybe I really was going to write a book — something I had always, always wanted to do.
3. You need a publisher, but you now have your agent to help
Once you’re signed up with an agent, you work together on refining your idea and improving your book proposal. Agents have extensive knowledge about the market and what publishers want. After some fine tuning of the idea and the document (or a lot of back-and-forth discussions), your agent sends your book proposal to potential publishers.
Hopefully, at least one publisher will be interested in your book. If this happens, you have a meeting to discuss it further. These meetings are like two-way informal interviews: the publisher is trying to decide if they want to take you on, but you’re also trying to decide if you would want to work with them. For me, this meant a very exciting few days in December 2019: trekking round London with my agent to various publishing houses, finally talking about my book.
After this, interested publishers then essentially bid for your book. What they’re offering is a book deal — a cash advance (more on that below), but also their vision for the book: what they think it’s about, and what direction they would take in terms of marketing and publicity. If you have more than one publisher put in an offer, your decision is therefore based not only on the size of the advance, but on who shared your vision for the book.
Getting my book deal is up there as the single coolest thing that has ever happened to me — the moment I knew I was really, actually going to write a book. I got the news in my agent’s office in London early one December evening, and I walked from there to the station on my own afterwards, slowly trying to let the news sink in. In the dark and the rain — it really was raining, I’m not trying to be a writer here — I felt like I was walking on air.
4. You then need to actually write it
Then you have to write the damn thing, and writing a book sucks. No two ways about it: this is pure, hard work. Writing Losing Our Minds took me about 18 months; for 12 of those, alongside a full-time job, I worked office hours every Saturday and Sunday and during all my annual leave. For almost all my free time, I sat at my desk and wrote.
If you’re an academic, you might be shrugging and think Hey, I do that anyway. But that begs the question: when are you going to write the book then? Whatever your circumstances, you’ll need to write your book instead of doing something else. As an academic, that means less research, fewer papers. If you’re early in your career, that could be extremely costly. If you’re willing to put in the above hours to write a book, think about the academic work you could do instead, and whether it might be better to wait and write the book once you are more established. If you’re more senior: what work are you going to give up?
And if you’re not giving up any work, then you’re giving up your free time. Don’t underestimate the toll that can take. This is pivotal to my final point here: if you want to embark on writing a book, make sure you’re doing it for the right reason.
5. You need to figure out why you’re doing this
If you think writing a book will make you money, let me stop you right there. If you happen to hit on a particularly commercial idea, or if you’re already a big name, you can get a decent advance (say £50,000-£100,000+). But something like £10,000 is pretty standard too.
If at first glance that seems alright, then bear in mind that (typically) 15% of the advance goes to your agent, and the rest is taxed as part of your income. It’s also generally paid to you in four chunks, over a time period that can span several years: 1) when you first sign the book deal, 2) when you give your editor your final draft, 3) when the hardback is published, and 4) when the paperback is published. This means that even a sum that initially seems good doesn’t end up looking quite so impressive once it reaches your bank account (or when you’re knee-deep in self-loathing for deciding to write a stupid book).
You also shouldn’t, I’m afraid, embark on this project to get famous. You know those books that are bestsellers and in the window of Waterstones and everyone has heard of them? Yeah: they are a teeny, tiny proportion of books. The majority are published with a small puff of excitement and then disappear entirely. Even excellent books! There’s absolutely no guarantee your book will be reviewed in newspapers (too many competing titles), and no guarantee Waterstones will want to buy any copies of it at all, let alone craft a window display out of it. Yes, your book might be one of the rare ones that really takes off, but that absolutely cannot be your expectation.
So it probably won’t make you rich or famous, but actually, this doesn’t really matter. I know there’s nothing I could say to put some of you off, because some people are just born with a compulsion to write. I certainly was. Just make sure that, before you start mining your mind for ideas or contacting agents, you’re doing this for the right reason. Do it for the intellectual, creative, personal satisfaction, because writing a book will give you that in spades.
Consider the first time you hold the actual book in your hands, or see a nice review on Amazon, or a stranger emails you to tell you not only that they loved your book but to thank you for writing it. People actually say thank you! Well, let me tell you: those moments are pretty damn cool, and they make all the effort worthwhile. I’d do it all again — in fact, I’ve just signed up for book number two — and if you want it enough, I think you should try it too.
