How to write a query letter

A query letter is the email you send an agent to ask whether they would like to read your manuscript. It is short, it is businesslike, and it is the only thing most agents read before deciding whether to look at your pages. The good news is that it has a settled shape, and a letter that follows the shape, says plainly what the book is and sounds like a person wrote it is already ahead of most of the pile.

What the letter has to do

Three things, in about three hundred words: tell the agent what the book is (genre, length, what happens), make them want to read it, and show that you are someone they could work with. It is not a synopsis, so it does not give away the ending; it is not a review, so it does not say the book is gripping; and it is not an autobiography. One page, three or four short paragraphs, no attachments unless the agent asks for them.

Finish the manuscript before you query a novel. An agent who asks for the full manuscript expects it by return, and “it is nearly done” ends the conversation. Nonfiction is usually sold on a proposal and sample chapters instead, and its query says so.

The opening and the personal line

Address the agent by name, spelled as they spell it. One sentence on why them is welcome if it is true and specific: a book they represent that yours sits beside, a wish-list post they wrote, a talk you heard. With nothing specific, leave it out; “I found you online” and praise for the agency help nobody.

Then the hook: one or two sentences that put the protagonist, the problem and the stakes in front of the reader. Mara Okafor has three weeks to find the money that keeps her father’s boatyard out of the hands of the man who ruined him, and the only person offering it is that man. Lead with the book, not with the fact that you are seeking representation; the agent knows why you are writing.

The pitch

One or two paragraphs, in the present tense, with the voice of the book in them. Who the protagonist is and what they want, the event that upends things, the choice they face and what it will cost. Stop before the ending: the pitch is jacket copy, not the synopsis, and its job is to make the ending a question. Name no more than two or three characters. Leave out subplots, backstory and theme; if the theme is there, the story will show it.

Write it like the book. A funny book gets a funny pitch; a quiet book, a quiet one. Then read it aloud and cut anything you would not say.

Title, genre, word count and comparable titles

One short paragraph of facts: the title in capitals or italics, the genre and age category as a bookshop would shelve it (adult literary fiction, young adult fantasy, upmarket women’s fiction), the word count rounded to the nearest thousand, and whether it stands alone or could open a series (say “with series potential” rather than promising a trilogy). The word count is a cheap signal: most adult novels land between seventy and a hundred thousand words, fantasy and science fiction run longer, and a debut far outside its genre’s range raises a question the letter then has to answer.

Two comparable titles, recent (the last few years), in your category, and not the biggest books in the world: for readers of X and Y, or the setting of X with the structure of Y. Comparable titles show that you know where your book sits on the shelf and who buys it. Films and television count if they are the honest comparison.

The bio and the sign-off

Two or three sentences. Publications, prizes and relevant credentials if you have them; the day job if it fed the book; where you live if you like. With none of these, say what you do and stop: a bio with little in it is normal for a first novel, and padding it with a lifelong love of reading makes it longer, not stronger. Do not say the book is your first, and do not say how long it took.

Thank them for their time, say that the manuscript is complete and available on request, and sign with your name and contact details. If the guidelines ask for pages, paste them below the letter exactly as asked.

What gets a letter passed over

• Querying before the manuscript is finished, or sending one email to twenty agents with every name visible.
• A letter about you rather than the book: the journey, the reasons, the certainty that it will sell.
• Praising your own book (gripping, unputdownable, the next anything) instead of showing what it is.
• Rhetorical questions in the pitch. “What would you do if…?” has one answer: not read on.
• Ignoring the guidelines: an attachment where pages were to be pasted, a synopsis nobody asked for, a letter to an agent who does not take your genre.
• A word count or a genre that says the book is not ready: a 200,000-word debut thriller, or “literary fantasy romance for all ages”.
• Typos. Not because one sinks a letter, but because this is the page you have had unlimited time to perfect.

Expect to send many and hear back from few, and revise the letter when the replies show where it loses people. A query is a draft like any other.

Next: How to write a novel in a month