For tabletop designers pitching publishers

What a publisher reads first on a sell sheet.

A publisher at a convention table, or opening the fortieth email of the week, reads a sell sheet in about ten seconds before deciding whether to read it properly. In that ten seconds they are not judging your game. They are checking whether the sheet answers the questions they always ask, in the order they always ask them. This is that order, as far as we can tell from the sheets publishers say they open and the ones they say they close.

1. The title, the player count, the age and the time

Before the hook, before the art: how many players, what age, how long. A publisher has slots on a list — a two-player 20-minute filler, a 4-player 90-minute mid-weight — and the first thing they do is see which slot you are. Put the three figures in a strip under the title, and put the time as the timed playtests gave it, not the time you hope for.

2. The hook, one line

The sentence you would say across a convention table. Not a tagline from a film poster; a line that tells them the situation and the pull. “Keep the light burning. Bring every ship home.” says there is a lighthouse, there are ships, and something has to be kept going. A line that could sit on any game tells them you have not found yours yet.

3. What a turn is

The overview paragraph, and its job is to answer four things in twenty seconds: what the game is, what a turn is, how it ends, who wins. Publishers say the paragraph most sheets get wrong is this one, because designers write the theme and leave out the turn. “You lay beam tiles to light channels, collect the ships you guide in as sets, and spend oil to keep the lantern burning” is a turn. “An immersive maritime experience” is not.

4. The one decision

The first of three selling points, and the one a publisher looks for by name: what is the choice a player makes every turn that makes the game the game? One decision, stated plainly — “light a channel or save the oil” — tells them there is a game in there. A list of mechanisms tells them there is a box.

5. Why it is different from the shelf

The second selling point. What does this do that the games beside it do not, in the publisher’s own terms: a shared timer with individual scores, a drafting game with no hand, a co-op that ends in a vote. Say the thing, not the comparison. Do not name another game. The publisher knows the shelf better than you do, and a comparison that is slightly wrong closes the folder.

6. How fast it teaches and how long it runs

The third selling point most publishers want to see somewhere on the sheet, with a number: teaches in five minutes from the rulebook’s first page; a four-player game has ended in 42 minutes in every timed playtest. These are the figures that tell a publisher what the box will cost to demo and whether the time on the front will be true.

7. The components, as a list

Every piece with its count, in one strip or one short block. The publisher is pricing the box in their head while they read: 64 tiles, 48 cards, 24 cards, 4 boards, 40 tokens, a track, an 8-page rulebook. A sheet that says “beautiful components” instead of counting them reads as a designer who has not thought about manufacture.

8. Where it stands

Prototype version, how many blind playtests and where, whether the rules are final, whether the art is placeholder or finished and whether you are open to the publisher’s art direction. Print the playtest count as you logged it and say it is as logged. Thirty-one is a good number. Thirty-one rounded to “over fifty” is a number a publisher who runs playtests can smell.

9. How to reach you

Name, email, city, a link. Nothing else. Not your day job, not a biography, not a list of the conventions you attended. The contact block exists so the publisher can reply; if the sheet has done its work, that is all they need.

The four things that get the sheet closed

The worked example

The invented Lantern Tide sheet, written from the designer’s notes, on the sample page. Every one of the nine is on it, in that order: the strip (2–4 players, 10+, 45 min), the hook, the overview with the turn and the end, three selling points (the decision, the shared timer, the 42-minute figure), the components with counts, the status line (prototype v6, 31 blind playtests as logged, art placeholder) and the contact block. Nothing on it that the notes did not say.

Three questions.

Should the sheet have the art on it if my art is placeholder?

Yes, one image across the top, and the status line says the art is placeholder. A publisher reads a sheet with a sketch on it as a game with a look in mind; a sheet with no image reads as a word document. Say it is placeholder and say whether you are open to their art direction.

How many selling points?

Three. One is a sentence, five is a list nobody reads. If you have six good things, the three that answer the publisher’s questions — the decision, the difference, the teach-and-run time — go on the sheet; the other three go in the email.

Do I put my playtest count on the sheet if it is small?

Yes, as logged. Twelve blind playtests, logged, with two clubs named, is a better line than none; it tells the publisher you keep a log. The count that hurts is the one that turns out to be rounded up when they ask for the log.

Get the sample sheet first

The invented Lantern Tide sell sheet as a PDF, and our one-page list of the nine things a publisher looks for on a sell sheet and the four that get it closed.

Make my sell sheet

One publisher-ready page from your own facts, laid out with your own art, the next day, $39 / £32 / A$59 / C$55. We write the nine the way this page describes them, from what you send; we contact no publisher for you.