Category Archives: writing/editing

This week I worked on another writing task – a new type of composition that left me perplexed and struggling at times. I banged my head against the keyboard time and again as the piece refused to jell until, in the middle of the night, I realized that reorganization would solve my problem. I needed to return to my original conception, sketched out a year ago. Once I did, the words flowed.

Well, maybe not flowed, but they came out. It was still more work and done with less certainty than I’d experience drafting a conventional chapter or article. That shouldn’t surprise me, now, should it? When you move out of your comfort zone to try something different, it won’t be as easy as doing the tasks at which you’re practiced. In the end, the composition was complete and, most importantly, it was good enough for a first draft that would go off to be edited by a collaborator. And that’s the key: getting to good enough.

What I wrote isn’t perfect but it will never be. It can be better but the marginal return of my fiddling with it for hours and days more without feedback? That’s extremely limited. What my writing needs right now is another set of eyes, preferably ones that are connected to a virtual red pen that will mark up and tweak the piece. Heck, I’d be grateful if the response was simply to eviscerate it and say “you missed this, this and this.”

Too often we jinx ourselves by imagining that our first drafts will be perfect and that they’ll inspire a swooning reaction in their first reading. “What a genius! Let’s print this right now!”

That’s ridiculous and damaging thinking because, of course, nobody’s perfect (or ‘pobody’s nerfect’ as we used to say in the seventies). But every one of us can get to good enough with our writing and then enlist someone else’s help to make it better.

Mind you, I’m incredibly grateful that I have friends and colleagues who generously offer to review and critique my work and I’m happy to do the same for them in return. After all, thoughtful criticism helps me improve as a writer, teacher and editor. And isn’t that good enough?

I finished up the emergency chapter draft on Sunday of last week, hooray! 5200 words in less than a week was one heck of a challenge. Now I’m editing after conferring with my co-author but I’m also moving onto the next projects.

A lot of this progress I credit to the support and accountability that comes from participating in an online writing group. This go-round’s being hosted by Dame Eleanor Hull who’s been fabulous about doling out advice as well as reminding us to keep on track.

For all that writing can be quite a solitary activity, it’s better when you have that support system to both keep you honest and give you some feedback, even if it’s not about your writing in particular so much as your progress. As a couple of other members in this writing group have commented, knowing that someone’s expecting to hear how you did, you push to squeeze in a bit more writing time. You make it a priority because you know that someone outside of yourself and your institutional colleagues will care about what you’re doing. You know that they will commiserate when you detail the week’s tragedies and cheer for the week’s triumphs.

Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’ve got some more writing to do!

Not writing a midterm exam, but writing in the midst of a term. I have a new and urgent project to complete this week so it’s nose to the grindstone and all that. Three observations as an academic author:

1. Though shalt not fiddle: to make this miracle occur I went to minimal mode with regards to my teaching. I have great preps from the last time I taught the Ancient Near East survey so I’m not revising any of the preps for next week’s classes. I’m also not going to get their quizzes back for Thursday, even though my TA’s helped with marking everything but the essay part. My seniors need their paper proposals back on Friday but other than that, marking waits for the end of the weekend.
2. Though shalt not be distracted: During Thursday’s office hours, my door will be closed and a sign will invite visitors to please knock. Otherwise, I know I’ll be distracted by the noisy passage of hundreds up and down the busy hallway. I’m also not paying any attention to extraneous emails. If you’re not mission-critical, you’re waiting until Monday!
3. Though shalt not blog (much!): Of course, the final, rueful truth: blogging will continue to languish. Hope you don’t hold it against me. I will return.

Now that another chapter’s out the door, I can confess: I’m afraid to look at feedback on my written work. When I get a chapter back from my editor or comments on a proposal for a conference, my adrenaline surges as I stare at the item in the inbox.

I’m afraid to click on it. Utterly, wildly terrified.

Isn’t that sad? A bit embarrassing, too. I’ve only rarely been savaged as a writer and never by an editor. My submissions have been rejected a few times, but not too often. I’ve even received a healthy share of compliments on my writing, historical research and argumentation. After all, I’ve been doing this for more than twenty years.

In fact, I realize that I love to write. I love to write my popular culture and history pieces. I love to write professional history for more sober venues. I love the thrill of trying out a new interpretation or putting together some sources in a novel argument. It’s fun, it’s rewarding and even a little bit exhilarating. When a piece is in pretty good shape, I’m even quite happy to send it off to a journal editor or in response to a call for papers. There’s a real thrill that accompanies that moment when I click “SEND” on the email submission.

So you’d think I could handle clicking on the link to an email with feedback about my writing without breaking a sweat, right? Wrong! I steel myself to do that, reading through the response as fast as I can. Do they hate it? Do they want to forget they ever read it (or knew me?)? Do they just have a few problems they want to fix?

Sometimes that notice that they’re requesting revisions can be even worse for assuaging that horrible roiling in your stomach. Then you have to open up the attachments, be they readers’ reports or editorial mark-up, and see what’s really required. Which often isn’t all that daunting – change this, cut that, expand this – had I considered revising the argument here to use X, Y or Z to illustrate the point more directly?

I read the comments through to the end and, invariably, I perk up. I think, “I can do this! I can take this criticism and use it to improve my piece.” I might also grumble a bit as I think that asking to cut that one super-cool example or comparison from my magnum opus is so unfair. Occasionally, I will push back and fight to retain an element that’s been challenged. But if my editor is someone I trust to know the field, the professional expectations and the audience, I usually just sigh, give into their criticism and pile up the outtakes for future blog fodder.

But the long minutes that pass while I try to stare down the unopened email from the editor, sitting there in all of its bold-font urgency, wondering what’s in the feedback? Those are still some of the most difficult moments in my professional life.

How does it feel for you?

I’m at that stage with a chapter draft that the decent resolution is so close that I can taste it. It’s revising time and I’m pushing everything else to the back burner over the next few days so I can focus on this. Obviously, that includes blogging. Between the marking, the meetings and the regular run of classes, I’ve been too frazzled to even think of a good blog post. I do promise something fun and entertaining in the next week. But for now? Nothing much.