News, Views and Careers for All of Higher Education
Oct. 2
Lynn Worsham, editor of JAC, a quarterly journal of rhetoric, writing, culture, and politics, recently wrote a helpful essay offering suggestions to professors to help them navigate the peer review process and have articles published in their field. It was so helpful, in fact, that I passed it out to our students who are thinking about one day entering into the disciplinary conversation. However, what I found missing from it was what we professors would like to see from editors and peer reviewers. As we are expected to follow some written and unwritten rules, editors and readers should be reminded of a few ideas, as well.
First, most professors I talk to about this issue complain a good deal about the amount of time it takes for them to hear back from editors and readers. Many of us know that the problem often lies in the hands of the peer reviewers, as we have been readers at one time or another ourselves. However, when we are the readers, we seem to forget about the professors at the other end of the submission process, so it only bothers us when we are the ones doing the submitting. There are times, though, where editors and readers are simply not holding up their end of the bargain by returning a decision in a timely fashion. If professors wait over a year for a response, their progress toward tenure is severely affected, especially if they actually honor some journals’ requests for not submitting the same article to various journals simultaneously.
What can make this matter even worse is when professors have to keep track of which journals have responded to the articles they’ve submitted so that they can remind the editor of the submissions. I have encountered and heard stories of editors simply ignoring e-mail queries about where one’s manuscript is in the process. Time that we have to take to investigate where we stand in the process is time away from the research we should be doing to keep up with our discipline.
Next, editors should also follow the rules that they set for us writers. For those journals that still require hard copies of submissions, a self-addressed stamped envelope is almost always requested (and should be sent anyway, as most professors know, though some choose to ignore that knowledge). However, I have had several journals send rejection notices via e-mail and keep the stamped envelope. This practice is a minor inconvenience, of course, especially for those of us who do not have to pay our own postage. However, for graduate students and part-time faculty, those mailing expenses can add up, and every stamp that is not used simply adds to the cost of submission. Just as professors’ not numbering pages correctly or not quite following the correct formatting is a reflection of their inattention to details, editors’ not following their own rules reflects poorly on the journal and its staff.
The last and most important issue when it comes to editors’ and readers’ responses to professors, though, is the tone of the response. Those of us who are engaged in academic discourse know that readers will disagree with our arguments, and we know that editors will decide, for whatever reason, that our submissions should not be published in their journals. However, that does not give them license to insult either our work or us. In speaking to friends and colleagues, we all have horror stories about responses from editors and readers that are nothing more than ad hominem attacks or a dismissal of ideas because of the readers’ particular view of a work.
This type of response can be especially problematic for graduate students and professors just beginning in a field. When I was in graduate school, I submitted an essay on Edith Wharton to a journal. The essay was the best one I had ever written, as far as I could tell, and I was eager to begin participating in what I hoped would be my future discipline. I attended a college, though, where professors never discussed publishing, so I had no knowledge of it before I entered graduate school. Not surprisingly, the journal turned down the essay and rightly so, as it was certainly not the caliber of writing that editors should expect. However, the response has stuck with me for years, as the reader simply wrote, “This is a good essay, for an undergraduate.” When I tell that to most people, they are surprised that I stayed in the profession and that I ever submitted anything again.
As professors we are not afraid of a healthy debate about ideas, and we seek honest feedback on our work. However, insults, whether directed at those ideas or at us personally, have no place in the critical debate. We would never allow our students to write essays using some of the responses I have seen from readers, nor would we write those comments on our students’ papers. Instead, we would tell them to focus on the ideas of the critics, as we focus on the ideas our students present in their essays. We put aside our personal feelings about the students and try to truly engage the ideas in and of themselves.
What professors truly want is constructive feedback that will make them better writers, thinkers and researchers. If, especially in our early days, we have somehow overlooked a seminal work (or a work that a reader at least believes is seminal), or have faulty logic, then, please, tell us so, but do so in an effort to make us and, therefore, the discipline, stronger.
I have had several wonderful editors help me take an article that was not fully formed and change it into one that they and I could be proud of, simply by asking a few questions or making one or two truly helpful suggestions. One editor simply suggested looking at two or three sources; only one of them turned out to be helpful, but that one led me to turn a few-page opinion piece into a full-length article that went beyond a scope I could have imagined. When I submitted a book manuscript to a university press, I received a rejection letter that was a page and a half long, and, to be honest, it stung. However, after reflecting on the comments, I revised the manuscript, adding enough material to lengthen it by a third, then had another press pick it up.
We do not expect to be coddled, but we do expect to be treated decently and to have our efforts dealt with respectfully. In the same way that editors and readers wish to be treated as professionals who have guidelines that writers should follow, so, too, do professors wish to be treated as ones who are trying to make a contribution to our disciplines.
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I appreciated this piece and will look up the one that prompted it as well. I recently did some writing consulting work as part of a faculty development project at a large university worried that its faculty were not getting adequate support for their work in progress. The project, which was successful, was canceled, mysteriously, but we’re trying to revive it.
George Karnezis, at 5:55 am EDT on October 5, 2008
As a writer and also a journal editor, I agree that timely and polite responses by editors are the key requirement. I find, however, that this is pretty impossible during peak teaching loads, even for me — the unpaid job (journal editing) suffers at times.
Also- there is a particular urgency to getting published in an early career stage, that tends to diminish with age and/or experience. It is up to the editors to respond to the younger author with helpful advice. Sometimes, this advice can be to “calm down” — or even to submit elsewhere.
A third issue is whether to copy edit — I tend to re-edit manuscripts to conform to house style, including flow and grammar, sometimes taking up to 5 hours. Most authors seem to appreciate this, but it is rare — I have only had it done to one of my own articles.
Fouthly — the problem of special issues. If anything will lead to a breakdown in trust between a journal and its authors, it is editing of a special issue. Delays can be lengthy, articles can be cut out on a whim, and I have yet to do one (as a special editor) from start to finish in under three years. The biggest problem, as with edited books, is that the first article you receive for the issue will probably precede the last one by about a year. WHen this happens, the early submitters get angry, and there are all sorts of unfortunate permutations possible including rejection of individual contributions by the journal itself, rather than the editor of the special issue. I have also has to pay page charges personally, when the journal miscalculated how many pages it could afford. With special issues the vitriol towards the journal, the editors, and referees can last for years. On the upside, being part of a special issue can get your work into a journal that you otherwise may have had problems publishing in.
PS, at 9:55 am EDT on October 5, 2008
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Equal Respect
Kudos to Kevin Brown! I will share 2 of my own ‘horror stories,’ in hope they are instructive. 1) I sent a partly revised manuscript of my dissertation to the editor of a premier series in my field and he sent it out for reviews. I received three readers’ comments: 2 were wonderfully useful; one stated that my work was so ‘derivative’ that I should not have been granted a degree. (Although I was granted a degree, and with honrs at that.) The editor offered some comforting words, I revised the manuscript, and it has been in print for many years. But, I remember that stinging rebuke even now, and I often wonder if the colleague with whom I am speaking at a conference is the author.2) An association to which I belong sent our newest manuscript to the publisher with whom we have a series. The publisher assigned one reviewer: a member of the association whose submission had been rejected! The reader’s identity was so transparent theat we immediately contacted the publisher and pointed out the problem. However, as the publisher knows our association and could easily find out who had/had not submitted for the volume, I think they might have found another reader. As to the colleague who tried to sabotage our group effort — well, he might at least have informed the publisher of his own situation, even if he could not swallow his bile.
cts, at 1:56 pm EDT on October 2, 2008