We don’t sell hot air here: how we write proposals (and why they get signed)

Almost every agency proposal looks the same. Pretty cover, three pages of who we are, a moodboard that commits to nothing and, right at the end, a round number with no breakdown. It’s theatre. And theatre, funnily enough, doesn’t come cheap.

We write proposals the other way round: the awkward stuff first. What it costs, when it’ll be ready and what you won’t be getting. Without that part, a proposal is a letter of intent in nice typography. With it, it’s a commitment both sides can sign. And we do sign it: us and you.

If you have to hide the price, the price isn’t the problem. The proposal is.

1. The price, on page two

Not on the last page, tucked behind the word investment. On the second one, broken down line by line, so you can see where every euro goes before you read a word about us.

When the price sits at the end with no breakdown, one of two things is going on: either you’re hoping the number stings less after twenty slides of us patting ourselves on the back, or neither the agency nor you really knows what’s in there. Both are bad signs.

We spell out the amount, the estimated hours and what each line includes. If a line item is more than you need, you drop it and the total goes down; there’s no discount to haggle over, there’s work to remove. A budget isn’t a black box: it’s a list of decisions, and the decisions get made with you, not in an internal meeting you weren’t invited to.

2. A schedule with checkable milestones

Six to eight weeks isn’t a deadline. It’s a shrug dressed up as a date.

A checkable milestone is something you can look at yourself and say this is done or this isn’t, without taking our word for it. Deliverable, date and owner. For example: wireframes on the 12th, content loaded on the 26th, staging environment live on the 3rd. If we slip, it shows. And if you slip —because content is almost always the bit that gets stuck on your side—, that shows too, and we adjust the rest with no drama and no surprise invoices.

An honest schedule protects everyone. Above all it protects the relationship, which is the only thing we really care about looking after. We’re not after clients here, we’re after partners, and a partner tells you the real date, not the one that keeps you calm today.

3. What it does NOT include, in writing

This is the section you’ll be most grateful for three months in, and the one almost nobody dares to put in.

Ninety percent of the blow-ups between client and agency don’t come from what was in the proposal. They come from what each side took for granted was in it. Whether we were writing the copy. Whether you were supplying the photos. Whether maintenance was included or billed separately.

So we write it down. A short, clear list of what does not fall under this budget: content and copy, third-party licences, paid campaigns, that logo redesign that came up in a meeting but you never actually commissioned. It’s not fine print to cover ourselves; it’s the fastest way to make sure nobody gets an unpleasant surprise come invoicing day.

And why both sides sign them

Because a proposal only the client signs is an order. One we both sign is an agreement.

When we put our name under a price, a schedule and a list of exclusions, we’re saying something specific: this is what we’re going to do, exactly this, and we stand behind it. It’s not a legal gesture —that’s what the contract is for—, it’s a way of working. The day a proposal makes us embarrassed to sign it, we’ll know we wrote it badly.

Less PowerPoint, sharper aim.