An Inside Look at Scholarly Publishing from the Editors' Perspective
A little more than two years ago, I attended a conference on Canada and its place in the world. When I got back, I had an idea. By the time of the next federal election in the fall of 2015, Stephen Harper’s Conservative government would have been in power in Canada for close to 10 years. About half of that time would have been spent as a minority government and the other half in a majority situation.
Although I couldn’t have known that the Conservatives would not be re-elected, the wonkish part of me thought that, regardless of the outcome of the next vote, this rather unique circumstance made a study of the Harper government’s foreign policy, focusing on any potential differences between the minority and majority eras, a book just waiting to be published.
Sure, it would be somewhat more difficult to justify the book if the Harper Conservatives won another majority (I could envision reviewers asking why one might produce a study of Conservative foreign policy while that policy was still being developed and implemented). But the polls at the time were suggesting that Canada was headed towards a period of minority governments, and there were already hints that if Mr. Harper did not win another majority he would likely retire as leader (which would legitimize, at least for reviewers, a book on the foreign policy of Stephen Harper). So I decided to take the risk.
I knew from the beginning that I could not write this kind of book alone. For one, a decade of contemporary foreign policy is too broad a topic for most scholars, especially this one, to tackle by themselves. Just as important, there’s no way that I could have produced the book quickly enough to make it meaningful to my students.
The solution, it seemed to me, was to produce an edited volume – and to find a co-editor to help.
In part because my last co-editing experience, while ultimately a great learning exercise, was not a smooth one (in retrospect, largely because of me), and in part because it had been a decade since I last worked as a co-editor, before I went any further, I decided to seek out advice on best practices.
As readers of this magazine are well aware, the internet is full of guidance about the academic process. I myself have blogged for University Affairs about teaching online for the first time and asking for a reference letter. There is also a lot written about how to publish academic articles, and how to plan and write scholarly books. Little information is available, though, about the process of producing an edited volume.
While some might suggest that the dearth of literature is a not-so-subtle effort to discourage scholars from taking on such a daunting task (it’s far easier, for example, to organize a special issue of an academic journal), I like to think that edited volumes can be valuable, especially in the classroom.
About a year ago, I therefore approached University Affairs about developing a series of blogs about the edited book experience. My plan was to ask, and try to answer, some of the most common, and important, questions that volume editors – real and potential – should consider before and during the publication process.
Over the next few months, as The Harper Era in Canadian Foreign Policy: Parliament, Politics, and Canada’s Global Posture moves through the final stages of publication with UBC Press, I, and my co-editor Christopher Kukucha, a professor at the University of Lethbridge, explore questions like:
We will also include a post from our senior editor at UBC Press and another from one of our most experienced contributing authors.
Chris and I come from different academic disciplines (he’s a political scientist and I’m an historian who now teaches public policy), and have had remarkably different experiences as volume editors and contributors (he is the co-editor an extraordinarily successful book that is now in its third edition; I have edited for a vanity publication and co-edited for another university press).
It is our hope that our experiences, as we capture them in this series, will provide University Affairs readers with one of the first, comprehensive inside looks at scholarly publishing from the editors’ side.
Although I couldn’t have known that the Conservatives would not be re-elected, the wonkish part of me thought that, regardless of the outcome of the next vote, this rather unique circumstance made a study of the Harper government’s foreign policy, focusing on any potential differences between the minority and majority eras, a book just waiting to be published.
Sure, it would be somewhat more difficult to justify the book if the Harper Conservatives won another majority (I could envision reviewers asking why one might produce a study of Conservative foreign policy while that policy was still being developed and implemented). But the polls at the time were suggesting that Canada was headed towards a period of minority governments, and there were already hints that if Mr. Harper did not win another majority he would likely retire as leader (which would legitimize, at least for reviewers, a book on the foreign policy of Stephen Harper). So I decided to take the risk.
I knew from the beginning that I could not write this kind of book alone. For one, a decade of contemporary foreign policy is too broad a topic for most scholars, especially this one, to tackle by themselves. Just as important, there’s no way that I could have produced the book quickly enough to make it meaningful to my students.
The solution, it seemed to me, was to produce an edited volume – and to find a co-editor to help.
In part because my last co-editing experience, while ultimately a great learning exercise, was not a smooth one (in retrospect, largely because of me), and in part because it had been a decade since I last worked as a co-editor, before I went any further, I decided to seek out advice on best practices.
As readers of this magazine are well aware, the internet is full of guidance about the academic process. I myself have blogged for University Affairs about teaching online for the first time and asking for a reference letter. There is also a lot written about how to publish academic articles, and how to plan and write scholarly books. Little information is available, though, about the process of producing an edited volume.
While some might suggest that the dearth of literature is a not-so-subtle effort to discourage scholars from taking on such a daunting task (it’s far easier, for example, to organize a special issue of an academic journal), I like to think that edited volumes can be valuable, especially in the classroom.
About a year ago, I therefore approached University Affairs about developing a series of blogs about the edited book experience. My plan was to ask, and try to answer, some of the most common, and important, questions that volume editors – real and potential – should consider before and during the publication process.
Over the next few months, as The Harper Era in Canadian Foreign Policy: Parliament, Politics, and Canada’s Global Posture moves through the final stages of publication with UBC Press, I, and my co-editor Christopher Kukucha, a professor at the University of Lethbridge, explore questions like:
- When, if ever, should you consider editing a scholarly book?
- Should you edit alone or with a co-editor?
- How should you select author-contributors?
- What you should look for in a good publisher?
- How do you fundraise?
We will also include a post from our senior editor at UBC Press and another from one of our most experienced contributing authors.
Chris and I come from different academic disciplines (he’s a political scientist and I’m an historian who now teaches public policy), and have had remarkably different experiences as volume editors and contributors (he is the co-editor an extraordinarily successful book that is now in its third edition; I have edited for a vanity publication and co-edited for another university press).
It is our hope that our experiences, as we capture them in this series, will provide University Affairs readers with one of the first, comprehensive inside looks at scholarly publishing from the editors’ side.
The Pros and Cons of Editing a Collection of Essays
There are reasons to think carefully before deciding to co-ordinate an edited volume. In most disciplines – when it comes to tenure and promotion – editing a collection of essays for a university press “counts” significantly less than a single, peer-reviewed article in a well-regarded journal.
Even with advances in tracking “impact” made possible by Google Scholar, book chapters are also often treated like second-class publications because the peer-review process is less rigorous than it is for a manuscript submission to a journal.
To make matters worse, edited books can take forever to publish (Adam’s co-edited book took over seven years to move from conception to publication) and managing the inevitable delays can fracture friendships and strain relations with contributing colleagues.
So why bother?
Sometimes, the answer is that you simply shouldn’t. We see no reason for graduate students to try to organize an edited volume, even under the supervision of a mentor. The professional risks at the inter-personal level are too great, and the time could be better spent on publications that are more likely to lead to a permanent academic position.
We’re similarly hesitant to recommend this process to pre-tenured academics. Editors of standard edited volumes have little leverage to coax quality, timely scholarship out of their contributing authors and stand the most to lose if the project fails.
However, for a well-positioned senior scholar with an original idea, coordinating an edited volume can often be a worthwhile experience.
For starters, essay collections can be an outstanding teaching resource. They bring together some of the best contemporary scholarship around a specific theme and can often form the conceptual basis of an entire undergraduate course, or a section of a graduate-level seminar.
In this regard, edited volumes can affect the thinking of a new generation. For example, Chris aims to make his collections theoretically inclusive and pluralistic, in order to encourage critical thinking in his students.
Essay collections will also be reviewed widely, increasing the exposure of the authors and the scholarship beyond the more limited audience of a specialized journal.
In the academy, personal contact is too often limited to conferences and similar workshop-like events. Engaging in a collaborative research process that will last months and even years provides an opportunity to interact more frequently and develop personal and professional relationships.
It also creates mentorship opportunities for senior editors who, along with more experienced chapter authors, have the opportunity to introduce junior colleagues to the rigours of the peer review process. And finally, acknowledging the potential personality conflicts, edited volumes can nonetheless help develop a collegial academic community among editors and contributors.
Even with advances in tracking “impact” made possible by Google Scholar, book chapters are also often treated like second-class publications because the peer-review process is less rigorous than it is for a manuscript submission to a journal.
To make matters worse, edited books can take forever to publish (Adam’s co-edited book took over seven years to move from conception to publication) and managing the inevitable delays can fracture friendships and strain relations with contributing colleagues.
So why bother?
Sometimes, the answer is that you simply shouldn’t. We see no reason for graduate students to try to organize an edited volume, even under the supervision of a mentor. The professional risks at the inter-personal level are too great, and the time could be better spent on publications that are more likely to lead to a permanent academic position.
We’re similarly hesitant to recommend this process to pre-tenured academics. Editors of standard edited volumes have little leverage to coax quality, timely scholarship out of their contributing authors and stand the most to lose if the project fails.
However, for a well-positioned senior scholar with an original idea, coordinating an edited volume can often be a worthwhile experience.
For starters, essay collections can be an outstanding teaching resource. They bring together some of the best contemporary scholarship around a specific theme and can often form the conceptual basis of an entire undergraduate course, or a section of a graduate-level seminar.
In this regard, edited volumes can affect the thinking of a new generation. For example, Chris aims to make his collections theoretically inclusive and pluralistic, in order to encourage critical thinking in his students.
Essay collections will also be reviewed widely, increasing the exposure of the authors and the scholarship beyond the more limited audience of a specialized journal.
In the academy, personal contact is too often limited to conferences and similar workshop-like events. Engaging in a collaborative research process that will last months and even years provides an opportunity to interact more frequently and develop personal and professional relationships.
It also creates mentorship opportunities for senior editors who, along with more experienced chapter authors, have the opportunity to introduce junior colleagues to the rigours of the peer review process. And finally, acknowledging the potential personality conflicts, edited volumes can nonetheless help develop a collegial academic community among editors and contributors.
Why Most Book Projects Benefit from Collaboration and Critique
As a recovering control freak, I edited my first collection of essays on my own. The project took significantly longer than expected, and was much more challenging than I had anticipated, but it was successful in the end.
Looking back, the benefits of working alone were straightforward: complete editorial control; the opportunity to ensure that the final product was consistent with my original vision; credit and recognition for an idea that was my own; and the pride that comes from completing a demanding, yet meaningful project.
Nonetheless, the experience also confirmed for me that I would never edit alone again. Part of my change of heart came from simply growing up: I no longer feel such intense possessiveness of my ideas, and I recognize that most book projects benefit from collaboration and critique.
Some scholars wouldn’t even think of producing an edited volume alone, but if you’ve come up with the topic for the book, you will have to decide: do I try to navigate the process myself, or should I work with a partner (or partners)?
Finding the yin to your yang
Adding the right co-editor(s) provides extensive immediate and long-lasting benefits, at relatively little cost. First, it means significantly less work. Co-editors can split up their respective duties based on their own preferences or areas of interest. For example, I’m quite happy to edit and read proofs, but I’m less comfortable dealing with authors whose papers are late. When it comes to our current project, my co-editor, Chris, has an excellent grasp of the theoretical side of political science; as a trained historian, I don’t.
Having more than one editor also expands your scholarly network. I invited historians to our project; Chris found political scientists.
A second editor means a second opinion. Co-editors notice different things when they read submissions, and book chapters inevitably benefit from the additional point of view.
Since not every editorial project goes perfectly, having a partner can be critical to defusing potential conflicts, be that with a publisher or with contributors.
Co-editors also mean twice the resources when it comes time to promote the book as well.
As for professional credit, since edited books don’t “count” nearly as much as peer-reviewed journal articles do, there is no major loss in co-editing. Indeed, for those who typically work alone, working with a co-editor is an opportunity to demonstrate your ability to collaborate across departments, universities, and perhaps also disciplines.
There are, of course, potential drawbacks. The wrong co-editor could easily ruin a project, and too many co-editors might create more logistical problems than they solve. The keys, it seems, are to be sure that you and your co-editor are compatible; to confirm that you share a common vision for your project; and, most important, to ensure that you share the same level of commitment to seeing it through in a timely manner.
Chris and I will deal with some of these ideas together in our next post.
Looking back, the benefits of working alone were straightforward: complete editorial control; the opportunity to ensure that the final product was consistent with my original vision; credit and recognition for an idea that was my own; and the pride that comes from completing a demanding, yet meaningful project.
Nonetheless, the experience also confirmed for me that I would never edit alone again. Part of my change of heart came from simply growing up: I no longer feel such intense possessiveness of my ideas, and I recognize that most book projects benefit from collaboration and critique.
Some scholars wouldn’t even think of producing an edited volume alone, but if you’ve come up with the topic for the book, you will have to decide: do I try to navigate the process myself, or should I work with a partner (or partners)?
Finding the yin to your yang
Adding the right co-editor(s) provides extensive immediate and long-lasting benefits, at relatively little cost. First, it means significantly less work. Co-editors can split up their respective duties based on their own preferences or areas of interest. For example, I’m quite happy to edit and read proofs, but I’m less comfortable dealing with authors whose papers are late. When it comes to our current project, my co-editor, Chris, has an excellent grasp of the theoretical side of political science; as a trained historian, I don’t.
Having more than one editor also expands your scholarly network. I invited historians to our project; Chris found political scientists.
A second editor means a second opinion. Co-editors notice different things when they read submissions, and book chapters inevitably benefit from the additional point of view.
Since not every editorial project goes perfectly, having a partner can be critical to defusing potential conflicts, be that with a publisher or with contributors.
Co-editors also mean twice the resources when it comes time to promote the book as well.
As for professional credit, since edited books don’t “count” nearly as much as peer-reviewed journal articles do, there is no major loss in co-editing. Indeed, for those who typically work alone, working with a co-editor is an opportunity to demonstrate your ability to collaborate across departments, universities, and perhaps also disciplines.
There are, of course, potential drawbacks. The wrong co-editor could easily ruin a project, and too many co-editors might create more logistical problems than they solve. The keys, it seems, are to be sure that you and your co-editor are compatible; to confirm that you share a common vision for your project; and, most important, to ensure that you share the same level of commitment to seeing it through in a timely manner.
Chris and I will deal with some of these ideas together in our next post.
Managing the co-Editor Relationship
Our last post discussed the benefits and drawbacks of working with a co-editor. If, or once, you have decided to go that route, you will face a series of new challenges: approaching the right person, establishing an effective working relationship, and dealing with potential conflicts.
We suggest that while not all of these challenges can be dealt with in advance, most of them can, and should be. Although Chris has had remarkable success editing a collection with a colleague he barely knew, such an outcome is relatively rare in academic circles.
We therefore recommend approaching potential co-editors you already have a strong working relationship with. It’s better to understand your future partner’s strengths and weaknesses before you start your project, rather than once you have a group of chapter authors counting on you to bring your book to fruition.
At least one of you should have exceptionally strong organizational skills, and at least one should be an excellent writer and editor. One should have particularly good interpersonal skills in order to manage authors and egos, while at least one should be capable of firm reprimands to delinquent contributors.
It’s well worth discussing the project in detail before you form a partnership with someone to make sure that both (or all of the) editors share a common vision of the end result. For example, do you plan to create a more theoretical book or a more practical one? Do you have a press in mind? Are there specific gaps in your personal skill set that you are counting on your co-editor to fill? How will you divide responsibility for your authors? Will one person be the point of contact for everyone? Will you both edit each paper, or split them up? Who will liaise with the publisher?
It’s also critical that you share a similar level of commitment to your project. Can you agree on an ideal publication date and pledge to make the time necessary to meet it? Do you have similar levels of freedom in your regular jobs that will allow you to make this project a priority when your leadership is needed? Do you check and return emails, texts and phone messages with the same level of regularity?
Perhaps most important, do you trust your potential partner to make time-sensitive decisions on his or her own if you are unavailable? That trust could be the critical difference between getting your manuscript to the publisher on time and losing weeks, if not months, to the need to double check every minor decision. Successful editors must share a mutual respect for one another, both as people and as scholars.
Finally, a sense of humour and degree of humility can also help. As Chris notes: “I always want to produce quality work, but I try not to take myself too seriously in the process.”
We suggest that while not all of these challenges can be dealt with in advance, most of them can, and should be. Although Chris has had remarkable success editing a collection with a colleague he barely knew, such an outcome is relatively rare in academic circles.
We therefore recommend approaching potential co-editors you already have a strong working relationship with. It’s better to understand your future partner’s strengths and weaknesses before you start your project, rather than once you have a group of chapter authors counting on you to bring your book to fruition.
At least one of you should have exceptionally strong organizational skills, and at least one should be an excellent writer and editor. One should have particularly good interpersonal skills in order to manage authors and egos, while at least one should be capable of firm reprimands to delinquent contributors.
It’s well worth discussing the project in detail before you form a partnership with someone to make sure that both (or all of the) editors share a common vision of the end result. For example, do you plan to create a more theoretical book or a more practical one? Do you have a press in mind? Are there specific gaps in your personal skill set that you are counting on your co-editor to fill? How will you divide responsibility for your authors? Will one person be the point of contact for everyone? Will you both edit each paper, or split them up? Who will liaise with the publisher?
It’s also critical that you share a similar level of commitment to your project. Can you agree on an ideal publication date and pledge to make the time necessary to meet it? Do you have similar levels of freedom in your regular jobs that will allow you to make this project a priority when your leadership is needed? Do you check and return emails, texts and phone messages with the same level of regularity?
Perhaps most important, do you trust your potential partner to make time-sensitive decisions on his or her own if you are unavailable? That trust could be the critical difference between getting your manuscript to the publisher on time and losing weeks, if not months, to the need to double check every minor decision. Successful editors must share a mutual respect for one another, both as people and as scholars.
Finally, a sense of humour and degree of humility can also help. As Chris notes: “I always want to produce quality work, but I try not to take myself too seriously in the process.”
Choosing the Right Contributors
The primary feature that differentiates an edited book from a typical academic manuscript is the diversity of its author contributors. Each chapter is typically written by one or more scholars, some of whom – in these days of electronic communication – have never even met in person. (Indeed, Adam still hasn’t met some of the contributors to a book that he co-edited almost 10 years ago.).
As editor, it is your job to select people who will deliver quality chapters on time and without unnecessary drama. There are two schools of thought on how to recruit the right people.
1. The open, merit-based proposal process
The editors draft a brief summary of their book project and the parameters for each chapter – including subject-matter focus, word length, and annotation style – and invite interested potential contributors to submit proposals, if not entire essays, to be considered for the collection.
This process is often complemented by an author workshop, where accepted or even potential contributors discuss their ideas with a view of improving the flow of the chapters within the collection.
2. Solicit papers from specific colleagues and known acquaintances
While such a process is significantly less democratic, and risks missing out on cutting-edge scholarship (of which the editors might not personally be aware), it offers a number of benefits that make it our preferred approach.
For one, the success of an edited collection depends in large part on mutually respectful relationships between the editors and their authors. Already established relationships carry less risk, and soliciting also allows editors to avoid personality conflicts, not to mention authors who never meet their deadlines.
Soliciting contributions also enables editors to ensure a level of scholarly breadth that a blind application process does not. In other words, an open process might produce a series of proposals on one particular aspect of your subject or from one theoretical point of view. It might yield authors who all come from the same institutions or geographical regions, or who all share the same primary language of work. It might yield exclusively junior scholars, or just traditional ones. (We’ve invited policy practitioners and journalists to contribute to our current project.)
“Sales matter”Since sales matter to every publisher, being able to target contributors who will be able and willing to adopt the text for their courses can be helpful (particularly if they teach large ones). If the subject of the text is broad enough, an effort might also be made to solicit participants from outside of Canada, with the goal of potentially opening up other markets.
Open calls for papers have their benefits. But to us, soliciting authors directly makes more sense.
As editor, it is your job to select people who will deliver quality chapters on time and without unnecessary drama. There are two schools of thought on how to recruit the right people.
1. The open, merit-based proposal process
The editors draft a brief summary of their book project and the parameters for each chapter – including subject-matter focus, word length, and annotation style – and invite interested potential contributors to submit proposals, if not entire essays, to be considered for the collection.
This process is often complemented by an author workshop, where accepted or even potential contributors discuss their ideas with a view of improving the flow of the chapters within the collection.
2. Solicit papers from specific colleagues and known acquaintances
While such a process is significantly less democratic, and risks missing out on cutting-edge scholarship (of which the editors might not personally be aware), it offers a number of benefits that make it our preferred approach.
For one, the success of an edited collection depends in large part on mutually respectful relationships between the editors and their authors. Already established relationships carry less risk, and soliciting also allows editors to avoid personality conflicts, not to mention authors who never meet their deadlines.
Soliciting contributions also enables editors to ensure a level of scholarly breadth that a blind application process does not. In other words, an open process might produce a series of proposals on one particular aspect of your subject or from one theoretical point of view. It might yield authors who all come from the same institutions or geographical regions, or who all share the same primary language of work. It might yield exclusively junior scholars, or just traditional ones. (We’ve invited policy practitioners and journalists to contribute to our current project.)
“Sales matter”Since sales matter to every publisher, being able to target contributors who will be able and willing to adopt the text for their courses can be helpful (particularly if they teach large ones). If the subject of the text is broad enough, an effort might also be made to solicit participants from outside of Canada, with the goal of potentially opening up other markets.
Open calls for papers have their benefits. But to us, soliciting authors directly makes more sense.
Choosing a publisher for an edited collection
In the academic world, the process for choosing a publisher for your first manuscript is clear: seek out the presses with the best reputation in your field and find a good fit. As strange as it sounds to those outside the Ivory Tower, your primary goal is neither to sell a lot of copies, nor to make a lot of money. Rather, you’re looking to establish a reputation as a serious contributor to your discipline, and the best way to do that is to release a book with the most prestigious publisher you can.
However, as is quickly becoming a theme in our posts, edited books are different. Since editing won’t make or break your case for tenure or promotion, focusing exclusively on a press’ reputational ranking doesn’t make sense.
An efficient publisher is crucial
Editors of collected volumes are typically more concerned with the speed of the publication process than first-time authors. (To get hired or promoted, your book need only be accepted for publication. If an edited book isn’t available for professors to purchase and/or use in their courses, it has no value.) For example, our book (on the Harper government’s international policy up to 2015), will quickly lose its shelf appeal regardless of who wins the next election. So a publisher with a reputation for efficiency is critical.
It is equally important that the press is able to provide you with an editorial representative who has experience with edited collections. We’ve written about how the skills needed to produce a successful edited book on the author side are unique; so, too, are the skills on the publishing side. Publishers need to be comfortable dealing with multiple authors, and even with editors themselves, who don’t always agree.
The marketing ability of the press matters as well. Those with established international distribution networks are the most attractive. Those that have experience convincing faculty to include edited texts in their courses are also particularly valuable. In some cases, a press’ ability and willingness to translate your book into other languages will be a significant consideration.
Identifying the right fitBrowsing a press’ recent catalogues will give you a feel for its willingness to produce and distribute edited volumes. Reading the acknowledgement pages of edited books that you have personally enjoyed should provide the names of editorial staff at university presses who might be worth approaching. Speaking directly to colleagues with experience publishing edited volumes is another good idea.
In the end, the key is not to get too caught up in the press’ rank or reputation. When it comes to publishing an edited book, what you really need is a press with the right combination of experience, personnel, and reach.
However, as is quickly becoming a theme in our posts, edited books are different. Since editing won’t make or break your case for tenure or promotion, focusing exclusively on a press’ reputational ranking doesn’t make sense.
An efficient publisher is crucial
Editors of collected volumes are typically more concerned with the speed of the publication process than first-time authors. (To get hired or promoted, your book need only be accepted for publication. If an edited book isn’t available for professors to purchase and/or use in their courses, it has no value.) For example, our book (on the Harper government’s international policy up to 2015), will quickly lose its shelf appeal regardless of who wins the next election. So a publisher with a reputation for efficiency is critical.
It is equally important that the press is able to provide you with an editorial representative who has experience with edited collections. We’ve written about how the skills needed to produce a successful edited book on the author side are unique; so, too, are the skills on the publishing side. Publishers need to be comfortable dealing with multiple authors, and even with editors themselves, who don’t always agree.
The marketing ability of the press matters as well. Those with established international distribution networks are the most attractive. Those that have experience convincing faculty to include edited texts in their courses are also particularly valuable. In some cases, a press’ ability and willingness to translate your book into other languages will be a significant consideration.
Identifying the right fitBrowsing a press’ recent catalogues will give you a feel for its willingness to produce and distribute edited volumes. Reading the acknowledgement pages of edited books that you have personally enjoyed should provide the names of editorial staff at university presses who might be worth approaching. Speaking directly to colleagues with experience publishing edited volumes is another good idea.
In the end, the key is not to get too caught up in the press’ rank or reputation. When it comes to publishing an edited book, what you really need is a press with the right combination of experience, personnel, and reach.
The Other Side of the Desk : Advice From a University Press Editor
Our last post discussed the benefits and drawbacks of working with a co-editor. If, or once, you have decided to go that route, you will face a series of new challenges: approaching the right person, establishing an effective working relationship, and dealing with potential conflicts.
We suggest that while not all of these challenges can be dealt with in advance, most of them can, and should be. Although Chris has had remarkable success editing a collection with a colleague he barely knew, such an outcome is relatively rare in academic circles.
We therefore recommend approaching potential co-editors you already have a strong working relationship with. It’s better to understand your future partner’s strengths and weaknesses before you start your project, rather than once you have a group of chapter authors counting on you to bring your book to fruition.
At least one of you should have exceptionally strong organizational skills, and at least one should be an excellent writer and editor. One should have particularly good interpersonal skills in order to manage authors and egos, while at least one should be capable of firm reprimands to delinquent contributors.
It’s well worth discussing the project in detail before you form a partnership with someone to make sure that both (or all of the) editors share a common vision of the end result. For example, do you plan to create a more theoretical book or a more practical one? Do you have a press in mind? Are there specific gaps in your personal skill set that you are counting on your co-editor to fill? How will you divide responsibility for your authors? Will one person be the point of contact for everyone? Will you both edit each paper, or split them up? Who will liaise with the publisher?
It’s also critical that you share a similar level of commitment to your project. Can you agree on an ideal publication date and pledge to make the time necessary to meet it? Do you have similar levels of freedom in your regular jobs that will allow you to make this project a priority when your leadership is needed? Do you check and return emails, texts and phone messages with the same level of regularity?
Perhaps most important, do you trust your potential partner to make time-sensitive decisions on his or her own if you are unavailable? That trust could be the critical difference between getting your manuscript to the publisher on time and losing weeks, if not months, to the need to double check every minor decision. Successful editors must share a mutual respect for one another, both as people and as scholars.
Finally, a sense of humour and degree of humility can also help. As Chris notes: “I always want to produce quality work, but I try not to take myself too seriously in the process.”
We suggest that while not all of these challenges can be dealt with in advance, most of them can, and should be. Although Chris has had remarkable success editing a collection with a colleague he barely knew, such an outcome is relatively rare in academic circles.
We therefore recommend approaching potential co-editors you already have a strong working relationship with. It’s better to understand your future partner’s strengths and weaknesses before you start your project, rather than once you have a group of chapter authors counting on you to bring your book to fruition.
At least one of you should have exceptionally strong organizational skills, and at least one should be an excellent writer and editor. One should have particularly good interpersonal skills in order to manage authors and egos, while at least one should be capable of firm reprimands to delinquent contributors.
It’s well worth discussing the project in detail before you form a partnership with someone to make sure that both (or all of the) editors share a common vision of the end result. For example, do you plan to create a more theoretical book or a more practical one? Do you have a press in mind? Are there specific gaps in your personal skill set that you are counting on your co-editor to fill? How will you divide responsibility for your authors? Will one person be the point of contact for everyone? Will you both edit each paper, or split them up? Who will liaise with the publisher?
It’s also critical that you share a similar level of commitment to your project. Can you agree on an ideal publication date and pledge to make the time necessary to meet it? Do you have similar levels of freedom in your regular jobs that will allow you to make this project a priority when your leadership is needed? Do you check and return emails, texts and phone messages with the same level of regularity?
Perhaps most important, do you trust your potential partner to make time-sensitive decisions on his or her own if you are unavailable? That trust could be the critical difference between getting your manuscript to the publisher on time and losing weeks, if not months, to the need to double check every minor decision. Successful editors must share a mutual respect for one another, both as people and as scholars.
Finally, a sense of humour and degree of humility can also help. As Chris notes: “I always want to produce quality work, but I try not to take myself too seriously in the process.”
Why fundraising is critical when publishing a book
When we started our careers, professors didn’t have to think about raising money to publish a book with an academic press. If your manuscript was peer-reviewed positively, then the Awards to Scholarly Publications Program (ASPP) would inevitably provide your publisher with the necessary subsidy (now $8,000) to allow the press to break even on its investment, no matter the book’s commercial success.
There are different funding rules for edited volumesIn Canada, this arrangement remains largely, albeit not entirely, in place for single-authored scholarly monographs. Edited volumes, however, no longer command that same guarantee. Indeed, one of us recently contributed to a book that only made it to print after its authors raised the necessary funds to compensate for a failed ASPP application. The peer reviewers for that manuscript, it is worth noting, had strongly recommended publication.
The purpose of this post, then, is to remind current and future editors that in today’s fiscal environment, you should be thinking about fundraising from the moment you begin to solicit your authors. In our experience, if your book is deemed worthy of publication by the peer reviewers, university presses will be prepared to publish it, so long as they have the necessary subsidy, regardless of where that subsidy comes from. They will not, however, fundraise themselves beyond ASPP.
It’s a good idea to secure multiple sources of fundsIn anticipation of this potential challenge, we secured a number of partial sources of funds. We pledged to draw, for example, from the honorarium provided to us by University Affairsfor this series of blog posts. We obtained a generous financial commitment from one of our departments. We also exchanged funding that we had previously raised for research travel for a publication subsidy.
Had these approaches failed, we would have contemplated emulating Carleton University’s Shawn Graham who used a Kickstarter campaign to support his research. Fortunately, given our inexperience with that process, such an experiment was not necessary.
You need to prove that you have back-up fundingOur “ask” was unorthodox: we explained to our benefactors that UBC Press would only publish our book with a subsidy, and that while we were hopeful that ASPP would fund us, we could not be certain. It followed that, in order to prevent a delay in publication, we needed to prove to our publisher that funding would be in place if ASPP fell through. That way, the process could safely begin the moment that the book succeeded through the first round of peer review.
We are fortunate that – thanks largely to the excellent team at UBC Press – our ASPP application was successful, but we do not regret our preliminary fundraising efforts. Some of that money will revert to its original purpose, but some can also now be put towards promotion.
There are different funding rules for edited volumesIn Canada, this arrangement remains largely, albeit not entirely, in place for single-authored scholarly monographs. Edited volumes, however, no longer command that same guarantee. Indeed, one of us recently contributed to a book that only made it to print after its authors raised the necessary funds to compensate for a failed ASPP application. The peer reviewers for that manuscript, it is worth noting, had strongly recommended publication.
The purpose of this post, then, is to remind current and future editors that in today’s fiscal environment, you should be thinking about fundraising from the moment you begin to solicit your authors. In our experience, if your book is deemed worthy of publication by the peer reviewers, university presses will be prepared to publish it, so long as they have the necessary subsidy, regardless of where that subsidy comes from. They will not, however, fundraise themselves beyond ASPP.
It’s a good idea to secure multiple sources of fundsIn anticipation of this potential challenge, we secured a number of partial sources of funds. We pledged to draw, for example, from the honorarium provided to us by University Affairsfor this series of blog posts. We obtained a generous financial commitment from one of our departments. We also exchanged funding that we had previously raised for research travel for a publication subsidy.
Had these approaches failed, we would have contemplated emulating Carleton University’s Shawn Graham who used a Kickstarter campaign to support his research. Fortunately, given our inexperience with that process, such an experiment was not necessary.
You need to prove that you have back-up fundingOur “ask” was unorthodox: we explained to our benefactors that UBC Press would only publish our book with a subsidy, and that while we were hopeful that ASPP would fund us, we could not be certain. It followed that, in order to prevent a delay in publication, we needed to prove to our publisher that funding would be in place if ASPP fell through. That way, the process could safely begin the moment that the book succeeded through the first round of peer review.
We are fortunate that – thanks largely to the excellent team at UBC Press – our ASPP application was successful, but we do not regret our preliminary fundraising efforts. Some of that money will revert to its original purpose, but some can also now be put towards promotion.
Managing authors during an edited book project
Bringing together 10-20 people for any given task can be a challenge. When those people are academics – who you are asking to produce quality essays on a fairly rigid deadline – that challenge can be overwhelming.
In the academic world, authors contribute to book projects as volunteers, so you can’t threaten to cut their pay if their submissions are late and/or simply disappoint. Moreover, if your authors are senior to you, they could be future assessors of your application for promotion or external grants, and being critical of them could end up being awkward. Other authors might be close friends or colleagues, with whom you’ll have to continue to work for the rest of your career regardless of the outcome of your project.
Avoid treating all of your contributors the sameIn our experience, there is no single strategy to manage chapter authors. Some authors don’t respond well to pressure; others thrive on it. Some seek praise and reassurance; others prefer strictly professional feedback – in as small doses as possible. Some want to be fully involved in the editing process; others are content to simply sign off on your changes. Some want to read other chapters; others are only be interested in their own work.
The importance of managing authors individually affirms our preference for invited edited collections over open calls for contributions. It’s important to understand the eccentricities, and idiosyncrasies, of your authors before a problem arises.
It’s okay to fudge your deadlinesIf you really need chapters in draft form by, say, June 30, set the deadline for the end of May. If you anticipate that the peer review process will take three months, allocate four, or even five just to be safe. In our experience, most authors who struggle to meet deadlines will be late regardless of the agreed upon submission date, so it makes sense to deal with their time management challenges pre-emptively.
Inevitably, however, an author or two will simply fail to produce. In such cases, it’s critical to establish a hard deadline as far in advance as possible (i.e., immediately after the initial deadline has passed). Communicating clearly protects against long-term damage to your personal and professional relationships, even if certain authors can no longer be included in a given volume.
Keeping your authors in lineOther subtle, yet still helpful, ways to help your authors stay on track and in form (in other words, formatting their chapters in accordance with your guidelines) include:
In the academic world, authors contribute to book projects as volunteers, so you can’t threaten to cut their pay if their submissions are late and/or simply disappoint. Moreover, if your authors are senior to you, they could be future assessors of your application for promotion or external grants, and being critical of them could end up being awkward. Other authors might be close friends or colleagues, with whom you’ll have to continue to work for the rest of your career regardless of the outcome of your project.
Avoid treating all of your contributors the sameIn our experience, there is no single strategy to manage chapter authors. Some authors don’t respond well to pressure; others thrive on it. Some seek praise and reassurance; others prefer strictly professional feedback – in as small doses as possible. Some want to be fully involved in the editing process; others are content to simply sign off on your changes. Some want to read other chapters; others are only be interested in their own work.
The importance of managing authors individually affirms our preference for invited edited collections over open calls for contributions. It’s important to understand the eccentricities, and idiosyncrasies, of your authors before a problem arises.
It’s okay to fudge your deadlinesIf you really need chapters in draft form by, say, June 30, set the deadline for the end of May. If you anticipate that the peer review process will take three months, allocate four, or even five just to be safe. In our experience, most authors who struggle to meet deadlines will be late regardless of the agreed upon submission date, so it makes sense to deal with their time management challenges pre-emptively.
Inevitably, however, an author or two will simply fail to produce. In such cases, it’s critical to establish a hard deadline as far in advance as possible (i.e., immediately after the initial deadline has passed). Communicating clearly protects against long-term damage to your personal and professional relationships, even if certain authors can no longer be included in a given volume.
Keeping your authors in lineOther subtle, yet still helpful, ways to help your authors stay on track and in form (in other words, formatting their chapters in accordance with your guidelines) include:
- Finishing your own chapter(s) early.
- Send your work out to your colleagues, presumably for feedback, but also to increase the pressure on them to finish on time.
- Distributing any other early chapters serves the same purpose.
Why new scholars should consider writing a book chapter
For this final entry, we consider the edited book experience from a contributing author’s point of view…What follows is advice from Stephen Brown, a professor of political science at the University of Ottawa.
Publishing a book chapter with a university press is generally seen as less prestigious than a peer-reviewed journal article, but it can be a better experience. For new scholars, it can certainly be a less daunting process.
Some of the prosBook editors often provide important guidance before the first draft and useful comments on subsequent ones, which should ease the chapter’s way through the peer review process. Moreover, since reviewers normally assess the entire book and are less likely to be an expert in the chapter’s subject matter than for a journal’s reviewer, revisions are likely to be less onerous.
Also, a book built around a coherent, topical theme can attract more attention than a journal article, especially outside of academia. It can be very rewarding to be part of a book project that makes a splash or becomes an important source on a given topic.
Most chapters I have published only saw the light of day because editors asked me to make a specific contribution. Without being commissioned to do so, I would never have written those pieces – and they have helped define me as a scholar. Sometimes editors organize an authors’ workshop, which greatly improves the quality of the chapters, including through potential cross-pollenization, and provides an excellent opportunity to meet and network with scholars with similar interests.
Some of the consHowever, there are also some risks that come with tying one’s text with a collective project. The edited volume essentially can be held hostage by the slowest contributor to the book, unless editors get fed up and drop them (which is not an easy thing to do and can leave a gap in the book).
Editors can also take a long time to finalize the book’s introduction and conclusion, before submitting it to a press for peer review. If the process is unreasonably delayed, other contributors might start pulling out their chapters and the whole project can fall apart.
One of my book chapters took six years before it finally appeared in print. I was in my first year as an assistant professor when I wrote it – and I already had tenure by the time it came out. In the meantime, I had to update it several times because of major events the case study countries. Just as editors can pave the way for publication, they can also inadvertently block it.
Stephen Brown is a professor of political science at the University of Ottawa. Since 2003, he has edited or co-edited three books and contributed 16 chapters to other people’s edited volumes.
Publishing a book chapter with a university press is generally seen as less prestigious than a peer-reviewed journal article, but it can be a better experience. For new scholars, it can certainly be a less daunting process.
Some of the prosBook editors often provide important guidance before the first draft and useful comments on subsequent ones, which should ease the chapter’s way through the peer review process. Moreover, since reviewers normally assess the entire book and are less likely to be an expert in the chapter’s subject matter than for a journal’s reviewer, revisions are likely to be less onerous.
Also, a book built around a coherent, topical theme can attract more attention than a journal article, especially outside of academia. It can be very rewarding to be part of a book project that makes a splash or becomes an important source on a given topic.
Most chapters I have published only saw the light of day because editors asked me to make a specific contribution. Without being commissioned to do so, I would never have written those pieces – and they have helped define me as a scholar. Sometimes editors organize an authors’ workshop, which greatly improves the quality of the chapters, including through potential cross-pollenization, and provides an excellent opportunity to meet and network with scholars with similar interests.
Some of the consHowever, there are also some risks that come with tying one’s text with a collective project. The edited volume essentially can be held hostage by the slowest contributor to the book, unless editors get fed up and drop them (which is not an easy thing to do and can leave a gap in the book).
Editors can also take a long time to finalize the book’s introduction and conclusion, before submitting it to a press for peer review. If the process is unreasonably delayed, other contributors might start pulling out their chapters and the whole project can fall apart.
One of my book chapters took six years before it finally appeared in print. I was in my first year as an assistant professor when I wrote it – and I already had tenure by the time it came out. In the meantime, I had to update it several times because of major events the case study countries. Just as editors can pave the way for publication, they can also inadvertently block it.
Stephen Brown is a professor of political science at the University of Ottawa. Since 2003, he has edited or co-edited three books and contributed 16 chapters to other people’s edited volumes.
