It's a Hard World in Academic Publishing

By Michael Jabara Carley

Historically Speaking (The Historical Society, Boston University) 2001.

Veteran authors seem to go through the publishing process without too much difficulty, apart from the usual problems: unwarranted author self-esteem; author sensitivity about revisions; editors' failings to appreciate an author's prose, poor copy-editing; slowness to publish. There are problems on both sides of the divide. A journal editor once told me that "author-editor relations are like war: full of tension and the unexpected."

New historians face greater obstacles in publishing their first work. "Publish or Perish", an old epigram, still governs North American academia, especially in an endlessly tight job market. The job market was supposed to loosen up in the 1990s, but it never did.

 
Even if a new scholar wins a position, they must prepare lectures, endure a heavy teaching load, and find precious time to devote to research and writing. Teaching has a way of devouring one's time, which is good for students, but not for a new assistant professor, who must make the time to do additional research, to write, and to publish. "I don't have the time to write," a young colleague recently told me: "We know we have to publish because the tenure clock is running." There is a general sense of frustration and pervasive worry about finding a publisher. And there is also that fear of rejection--never easy to take--but harder still for a young, not yet hardened ego. Even published scholars can forget that they were once unpublished. They need to sympathize, but sympathy will not add those important citations to an assistant professor's c.v.

But publish what and where? There are possibilities, if the new scholar's advisor or thesis committee has not steered him or her onto a hopelessly esoteric and narrow topic, or encouraged that graduate student to write incomprehensibly. A revised thesis may be publishable, or chapters from the thesis may be suitable for publication as articles in learned journals. The new scholar needs to get good advice from a friend or mentor on how to proceed. Complimentary lines such as "This is really great work, outstanding,” may be good for an easily fed ego, but they're no help to serious authors trying to improve their work and find a publisher. Good advice means reading critically and taking the time to analyze a text and to suggest constructive revisions. Real help is hard to get. Mentoring in graduate school has broken down. The professor no longer feels responsible for his or her students. There is a big gap between the new and older generations. You're on your own, and it's hard to advance. "There is so much hype out there about publishing, who knows what to believe," one person complained: "And if you make the wrong decision, you can be a year with a press, and then nothing."

 
At the beginning of a search for a publisher new scholars should not wait endlessly for replies. Be persistent, ask a publisher again if at first you do not hear back, and if there is still no answer, move on. Don’t wait for six months before jogging a publisher's arm. Some might suggest submitting your manuscript to more than one publisher at a time. However, in the small world of publishing scholars may be caught, and publishers do not appreciate the wasting of their time.

 
Instead, send out several letters of inquiry to likely publishers explaining what you have, but send the manuscript to only one press at a time. Ask when you may hope to have a publisher's verdict and hold your editor to it. Treat your editor, as you would want him or her to treat you.

 
"Scholarly publishing takes a long time, so what's the rush?" one insensitive person recently said. Another told me it took six years to publish an edited work! But two, three, or four years is not unusual, if the author succeeds. Swamped publishers are slow to respond; sometimes they do not respond at all. Then, there is the peer review system. Consulting two or three readers takes months. The readers may call for revisions without an editor's promise to publish, and then once you have made revisions, they, the readers, will still find fault. It is a thankless process, but it is the only one we have for evaluating scholarly work. Twenty years ago Canadian author Jack MacLeod wrote a hilarious novel called Zinger & Me about the pitfalls of publishing academic work (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1979). He fooled his publisher: after making endless revisions, he returned the original, unrevised manuscript, which the readers then accepted, thinking it brilliant!

This being said, all authors need to keep an open mind about revisions. New scholars may think they know it all and don't want to make revisions; "It takes too long; my tenure clock is ticking." But good writing can last a long time; it is worth making the effort. "Writing is re-writing," goes an old epigram. So don't just ask a mentor or colleague to provide you an easy way to publish, ask for critical advice. And be sure to thank your critic for giving it to you. Then revise. Authors need to help themselves by writing clearly and concisely. And they need to keep an open mind about making revisions to achieve clarity, even vigour in their writing. Diplomats and politicians may use the power of speech to conceal their thoughts, but authors should not. Language is for communication, not obfuscation. Publishers actually have to sell books to stay in business. They can't sell books written to a mere handful of the cognoscenti. Scholarly print-runs may only be 750-1,000 copies. These are not bestsellers. Authors can best help their publishers by writing well, with clarity of thought and organization. This does not suggest that clarity should be achieved at the expense of complexity, merely that complexity can be explained with greater clarity.  Good research helps too: there seems to be a trend in the profession to say a great deal based on very little. And historians should not forget their main goal: to create a good narrative. I realize this idea is démodé in many circles. More's the pity, but then that is why there is now a Historical Society.

Scholarly writing is a hard avocation. Just finding a permanent job is tough, and if you do not find one, it makes the avocation all the more difficult, though some private scholars manage it. Because the road is a hard one, there is no point in feeling victimized or complaining about it. You chose your career path. Learn the tricks of the trade, but expect obstacles, setbacks, and defeats. Then pick yourself up and carry on, if you want to publish.