You have your great idea. Maybe you even have part or all of your manuscript completed. How do you get your work to the public? This post is all about the research stage — not research for your book, but about your book category and audience. A little preparation will save you a lot of time and hassle in the long run.
Start by identifying similar books to the one you want to write. To figure out parallel books as models, you first need to be able to answer a few questions about your potential book:
How would your potential book be categorized at a library?
Will your book be written for a popular audience? Or a smaller sect within a popular audience? For roughly what age group (distinguishing between children and teens vs. adults)?
What is the purpose of your book? To reflect on personal experiences? To offer instruction? To capture a moment in history?
Why are you writing this book? (“To make money” is not the best reason).
Select a few fairly recent texts that somewhat match your responses. They don’t need to directly align with your specific topic, but broadly fit the book type, audience, and purpose. Skim through these books, paying attention to their overall package. Jot down the authors and the publishers.
This next step might sound a little out there, but I recommend emailing the authors of these books. Your purpose is to find out how to get your foot in the door, not to pitch your idea. I especially encourage writers who are not making a career out of writing to do this. Briefly introduce yourself, praise the book, and ask about the publishing process. How did they get connected with the press? Did they first secure agents? What advice do they have in moving projects forward?
For academic books, you can either contact authors or use social media to ask about working with that particular press. If you belong to a professional organization, it is likely that someone in your network has experience. Were the editors good at communicating? What was the timeline? Were their books priced low enough to generate interest? Other advice they’d like to share?
You might be tempted to skip this background step, either because it may seem daunting to reach out to strangers or you don’t think you need to do it. Unless you already have a contact at the press, I strongly recommend doing your pre-contact research.
Reasons to do the background research:
You want to find the right publisher for your book and within a press, the most appropriate acquisitions editor to contact. If a press only publishes anthologies and your manuscript is single-authored, it is not a fit, no matter how amazing the concept.
Many acquisitions editors get bombarded with ideas. You want to breakthrough the clutter. Background work can help you get connected so you’re not just sending an unsolicited email.
Knowing the process increases the likelihood of success. Just like a job interview, you want to make a good impression.
You are writing a book because you care about the project. Don’t waste your time on a press that will likely fall through or charge you money to make it happen (not to be confused with self-publishing).
A little guidance is good. Connecting with others who have been through this experience will help you navigate through the publishing stages.
Email at least 3-4 people with your questions. Be polite, positive, and brief. If you don’t get a response, no worries. Just focus on those who do reply. Most people want to assist others.
From these responses, you can build a spreadsheet of potential presses/editors to query. Congratulations! You are ready to tackle the book contract process.
Sometimes offering student choices can seem daunting: more assignment guidelines to create, divided objectives, split rubrics, and different sets of expectations. However, the pay-off in engagement for you and your classes can be totally worth it. Let’s face it. Regardless of your class modality, now is the time for flexibility. Designing options for students allows them to decide if they feel more comfortable working alone or with a partner. It enables the creative student to write a song, while the writer tackles the traditional research paper. Flexibility fosters diversity and participation, breaking away from a typical class.
In our normal reality, I’m all for attendance policies with few exceptions. Pandemic teaching demands different expectations. Giving students choices on participation can help overall engagement and sometimes reduce your workload. How to do it: For each synchronous discussion (in-person or on Zoom), offer an asynchronous alternative (a discussion post or short essay response). See this blog post for the detailed approach. I lay out these choices at the beginning of the semester and require students doing discussion posts to respond to each other. The in-person/Zoom group merely has to show up and discuss. Students may go back-and-forth between types of sessions without letting me know. Making this work: Establish clear guidelines for both synchronous sessions (must be on-time) and the discussion posts/responses. NO LATE ASSIGNMENTS. I offer extra credit opportunities to offset missed points so I’m not constantly pushing back deadlines. I also make the online options slightly more time-consuming to cover the class-time missed. Why this approach can be a good idea: With students shifting in and out of quarantine and facing additional struggles, having flexibility from week to week is very helpful. As an instructor, I really enjoy directly connecting with students. Those that choose to attend tend to be more engaged. When this probably isn’t the best approach: I wouldn’t recommend engagement options for a small seminar or a graduate-level course in which discussion makes up the majority of the class. For strictly lecture classes, this also likely wouldn’t work as well.
2. Voting for the Day’s Class Content
Students (well, humans) like to have a say in what they do. I try to build in a day in which the class gets to decide what we do. It might be to swap the scheduled topic for a different one or allowing students to vote for a particular movie or TV show. How to do it: Decide what day works for switching up the content. Obviously, this shouldn’t be the class period in which you introduce the pivotal theory or set up something foundational. On the day that works for you (I usually pick a week or so after the midterm), decide what the options will be. Convey them to the class as students enter the room (or Zoom). Then have a class vote. Making this work: Don’t leave the topic/example open ended. Have clear choices that satisfy your overarching objective for the course. For example, on our fictional representations of outbreaks class period in Health Com., the options were Contagion, Outbreak, House, M.D., and the Criminal Minds episode “Amplification” — all centered around the same theme. In other words, it’s not a “free day.” Why this approach can be a good idea: Why not, as long as you structure the choices? When this probably isn’t the best approach: I like to be a ways into the semester before I give a choice day. I imagine this approach wouldn’t work as well some disciplines (or you’d have to get really creative).
3. Topsy-Turvy Day
If you have assigned seats for in-person or set breakout rooms in Zoom, choose one day to mix it up. It’s good for students to get to know people outside of their seat neighbors or group members. How to do it: One method is to do random seat/group assignments for the day. Draw numbers or (in a pre-pandemic time), attach seat numbers to pieces of candy. If you want to grant students more choices, have them choose their own spots for the day or sign up for breakout rooms based on interest. Why this approach can be a good idea: It’s a break from the humdrum of class or from irritating classmates. This approach also keeps students guessing a little about what will happen in class. When this probably isn’t the best approach: Delay “topsy-turvy” day for late in the semester — long enough to establish routines.
4. Student-provided Content
I don’t consume many of the same media products as my students. As such, they can come up with examples that I have never even heard of. One way to bring students into the course material is to have them supply it, suggesting readings, images, videos, or other content for the class. How to do it: Write out expectations and criteria for the examples (i.e. format, length, what will work and what won’t, the number of discussion questions). Figure out which week’s topics could work for this assignment and list them out. After students give their top 3 preferences, assign them in pairs or groups to a particular topic/week. For their assigned week, they must find an example that demonstrates the concept and/or encourages discussion and get it instructor-approved. In class, they introduce and share the example and then ask the rest of the class 2-3 discussion questions. Why this approach can be a good idea: It breaks up the monotony of class and helps to connect students to the class concepts and material. This approach also diversifies the examples shown in class, going beyond the instructor’s familiarity. When this probably isn’t the best approach: During the first few weeks or for a concept that is new or especially challenging.
5. Term Project Options
I used to be much more rigid in setting up the term project. I required every student to do a research paper on a particular topic and a traditional presentation. Over the years, I have expanded the choices for students. Admittedly, this is partially due to my own fatigue of the same topics. Students are more excited about something when they choose it. In most of my classes, I now allow students to either do a research paper OR a creative project (i.e. documentaries, poems, songs, or artwork), all related to class material. While it is vital that students learn to write, there are more ways to come at class material than just a straight-forward, traditional paper. How to make this work: Make sure you have some structure laid out for each of the options. Lay out expectations and requirements clearly. The tricky part (other than coming up with two types of projects) is how to make the components equal in weight and in their objectives. I do this by requiring a form of writing and a presentation for all students. Creative project students explain the concepts of their projects and discuss the creative process and then present their work. The research paper students also present. To really make this work, I recommend providing strong examples for the class (see below). Why this approach is a good idea: It enables students to channel their passion and talents into their chosen format, while still requiring them to build off of an idea related to class. When this probably isn’t the best approach: Beware of your own limits. One semester, I let every student in a 90+ class choose to either do a research paper or participate in a creative group project. It was difficult to bounce back and forth between the two types with such a large class. I’ve found that in a big lecture, it’s either a group project or no project (like I’ve done during pandemic teaching).
Creative Project Examples from this semester (across classes)
Ariel Smith’s children’s book on Mary Mallon (posted above).
Keeping students engaged can be hard word. It can save you time, however, cutting down emailed excuses for missing class, complaints about group members, or questions about paper topics for which students have little interest. In offering choices, it does take a leap of faith. As we shift a little bit of control to students, we don’t always know what to expect. Clear guidelines and instructor-approved material can help structure the shared example, delivery, or project, but you just never know. And it is okay if you have a class day, example, or project that doesn’t exactly turn out. We’ve all had our teaching moments that influenced future classes. I will never forget the “Ted Bundy as a class game” presentation or the “Hitler country song” (both of which made the list of off-limit topics). Experience shapes future guidelines for assignments. It is worth trying out flexible approaches, even if they later need refinement.
I just submitted final grades for all of my classes. Honestly, I didn’t think that we would make it to the end of the semester still meeting in person, but we did. I am thankful our last face-to-face gathering was before Thanksgiving and that all final exams were moved online. Because of that university decision, I didn’t have to personally determine if it was safe to convene.
We made it through without an outbreak in class or me getting sick. As a class, we navigated our learning experience with masked expressions and socially-distanced chairs placed in the Student Union Ballroom and other strange spaces. Protruding noses and open drinks replaced my usual pet peeves of texting in class. I projected as the increasingly-wet cloth stuck to my mouth. Even with these added challenges, I am still glad that I chose the web-assisted format. If nothing else, I got to connect with my students (those who showed up) once a week in a way that I personally struggle do to in a virtual environment.
I outlined my hybrid plan for my large lecture here at the beginning of the semester. I posted all lectures for my gen. ed. courses and the weekly quizzes online. Our meetings then were strictly discussion and media examples. For my seminar course (typically twice a week), I put up materials and reading responses for the hybrid portion and then used class time for lecture, discussion, and other activities.
I had underestimated just how much most of us needed the in-person meetings. My students were fairly eager to talk and interact (masked-up and distanced) with each other and with me. Across classes, our often impromptu discussions were the highlight, as students frequently linked our examples and topics to the many challenging events of 2020. “Internet week” turned into a thoughtful conversation on the challenges of distance-learning during the shutdown. In Health Com., we regularly subbed in the scheduled theme for the current COVID update. There was so much to talk about this semester that I was grateful to have an outlet in which to do so. And the masks were not really a big deal. At no point did I have an issue with students wearing masks, thank goodness.
This was not an easy semester for anyone. Most of my difficulties came from the need to be a flexible instructor. Obviously, my normal attendance policies were out. Instead, I awarded points for either attending class or writing a short reflection or post on the week’s topic. At first, I struggled to keep on top of the student emails. Between messages asking for make-ups and the email submission of the assignments themselves (in a semester with over 120 students), I felt like I was drowning in disorganization. For the big lecture, my amazing graduate teaching assistant helped me out tremendously. The solution for my other classes was to create instructions for make-up assignments and a Dropbox folder on our D2L site. This structure streamlined the process and somewhat cut-down on the emails.
It was also a change to adapt to teaching in new spaces. Two of my classes met in rooms that aren’t usually classes. While the MSTU staff did a great job getting the tech and chairs set up (and maintaining them), teaching in new rooms is always an adjustment. In one room, the light switch could only be accessed in the corner, farthest from the podium. The sound only worked in the ballroom if you toggled between multiple buttons. My seminar met in a computer lab — an awkward arrangement for a discussion class. Most of the extra features put in place to aid with teaching also added to the list of stuff to figure out.
In a semester in which everything felt hard for everyone, I found that my typical amount of reading assignments just seemed like too much. I wound up greatly reducing the reading assignments for my seminar and added in popular articles to help with the burden. In class, even though they wanted to talk, my students often seemed fatigued just at being in class. I tried to mix-up what we did to give energy to the room, especially because I couldn’t see it on their faces. I brought in dolls to talk about gender and race in advertising, let my classes vote on popular culture examples, and added in a few fun days. These activities seemed to help give us a breather to move forward. At the same time, I could feel the relief in each of my classes on the last day.
One strength of my university was its flexibility for faculty in approaching their classes. I appreciate that I could choose my format. And, knowing our student body and that some of my colleagues can’t meet in-person, I am glad that I did the hybrid. I chose not to both Zoom and teach live at the same time. I had decided in August that my focus would not be split. Recording my lectures allowed all students to see them. Having class time as discussion meant that the topic could be addressed in a response or other alternative format. I know some instructors can juggle both the Zoom and the in-person class, but this is not my preference. This flexibility also helped shift us to a virtual meeting to have a guest speaker.
In turn, I granted my students flexibility and choices. They could miss class as long as they emailed me and did the make-up assignments. All students got to choose what type of project to do, if they worked in pairs or alone, and the format of the project itself. On the last day of class, students decided whether or not to present in-person or record and post their presentations. This has been the semester of needing to be flexible and I really think it’s the only way that teaching can work right now.
Next semester, I opted for the same hybrid format. I plan to develop a better system for tracking engagement (not attendance) and making up assignments. I look forward to continuing to have a space to discuss our strange pandemic reality — provided we wear masks until things truly recover.
Dr. Tanya M. Peres Associate Professor Graduate Program Director Department of Anthropology Florida State University firstname.lastname@example.org
I recently attended a session with a staff member of my university’s writing center. He led us in a reflection exercise on how we start the writing process, set writing goals, and identify growth areas to become our best writing selves. Today I am sharing a little about my writing process – maybe you will find a trick or tip to put into your process toolbox.
1. How do I get started?
Much of my writing is assignment-driven. You might think it strange that anyone other than students or journalists would have writing assignments, but here we are. Professional assignments have a pre-determined topic or theme, are part of our professional workload, have specific requirements depending on the genre and outlet, and they have a deadline. So, what are these writing assignments and how are they genre-specific?
Conference presentations are typically part of thematic research sessions. These presentations can be either posters or podium papers, and often are on unpublished current research. Presentations are a good way to get feedback from scholars in your field.
These are the ultimate in academic writing assignments. Peer-reviewed publications are the medium used to present data and interpretations, describe a new method or theory, or synthesize existing datasets and qualitatively or quantitatively compare them.
Writing for readers that are not discipline specialists is a genre in and of itself. I find ideas for a story stem from information I want to share, wanting to add another level of meaning or history to a story or topic, or simply a fun fact or story that I think non-archaeologists would enjoy. Sometimes I test out ideas in conversation with friends or acquaintances. Other times, I sketch them out to pitch as an idea to an editor.
No matter what genre of writing I am working on, I try to always start with an outline. Outlines help me figure out the flow of the narrative (or story), things that are necessities to that narrative, and how to best organize the different parts. When I ignore my own best advice and just start writing sans an outline, things go off the rails quickly. I often find myself going down a research rabbit hole that is more often than not on a completely different topic, but fun to read!). Like that time in 2015 when I found a medical brief on a patient with maggots in their nose (no, really, but if you are squeamish, skip the figure).
2. How do I set writing goals?
I start with the assignment due date! If it is a grant proposal, conference paper, or a solicited manuscript (i.e., someone asked me to write something for a journal, book chapter, blog, magazine, newsletter, etc.) it will have a hard deadline. If the assignment is self-inflicted self-motivated, then I have to establish the deadline(s). The author/editor and the press editor agree upon book manuscript deadlines. If you are writing a thesis or dissertation, your advisor, committee, department, and university all have deadlines you must meet. As the good Dr. Foss says “Always meet your deadlines!”
I break the REALLY BIG THING into smaller tasks and assign them objectives (word count, additional research/references needed, etc.), then schedule when I am going to work on these parts. Most days I have an hour or less to work on any given writing project. To stay hyper-focused I close out all social media and email apps, turn my phone to vibrate only, turn it face down, and out of easy reach, and put on writing music (cool jazz is my favorite).
Sometimes I need external motivation to keep me on track. I have been a part of writing groups, writing retreats, daily writing challenges, and the last-ditch “hole-up-in-a-hotel-room-all-alone-for-a-weekend-and-get-the-thing-done” method. All were useful and successful in their own way. Peer pressure and money are sometimes what is needed to get us over a hump.
3. What are some of my writing goals?
By the end of 2020 I will submit the final manuscripts for two different books; finish writing a lengthy technical report; and continue working on the draft of a third book manuscript (to submit in Spring 2021).
What are your writing goals? What is your secret inner writer identity? Understanding our goals and motivations can help us to stay motivated and organized.
Writing your thesis or dissertation may seem like an impossible task — like someone told you to just run a marathon tomorrow or go roof the historic Victorian off the town square. But as with these monumental activities, thesis writing is best conceptualized as a series of steps for which you are prepared to do. So what are the top 10 common mistakes?
Thinking too big. You shouldn’t downplay your work or undervalue yourself. That’s not what I mean. Thinking too big is believing that you must take on the world’s issues and questions for the scope and depth of your thesis. Your life’s work should not and will not be carried out in this thesis. What you are doing right now is a project, albeit a big and important one, that will lay the foundation for more research projects. It is better to have a more narrow scope and a realistic timeline that to try to tackle the world and never finish.
Thinking too small. On the flip side, the thesis is a big deal and you should treat it as such. This is not the same as the 10-page paper you put off until the night before it was due. Take the time and brain space to work steadily to produce quality work. What will be your contribution to the existing field of literature?
Delay, delay, delay. Excuses will not write the thesis. Working with your adviser, establish both a broad timeline that gets you from coursework to graduation and a more specific schedule for each chapter (or section of a chapter). Make every deadline, even if you are a bit unsure of yourself or the overarching magnitude of the project feels too daunting. Do not accept reasons why you didn’t get that chapter done. Just get it done.
Trouble with your adviser. Let’s back up. If you are still in the planning stages and haven’t picked a thesis chair yet, I encourage you to think hard and do a little investigating before you ask (yes, ask) a professor to serve as your adviser. Have you had this person as an instructor? Do you know the potential adviser’s style? You can ask other grad students what the faculty member is like as an adviser or as a t.a. supervisor. Different professors have different ways of approaching the thesis-writing process. This is a big deal and marks the start of a new type of relationship. Don’t be afraid to ask (once again, yes, ask, don’t assume). Be polite, explain why you’d like to work with that person, and briefly state your timeline. Usually, professors agree. When they decline, it’s typically not personal, even if it feels that way. Maybe the faculty member is about to go on sabbatical or has recently been approved for a large grant. You just don’t know. If you already have an adviser, but it’s not working out, it is perfectly fine to switch thesis chairs. Have a polite conversation with your current adviser before switching. Never badmouth a faculty member to another professor or student.
Getting stuck in the writer’s block quicksand. We’ve all have certain parts of our projects that feel especially tough. Throughout the thesis process, you will definitely hit obstacles in which the section or chapter just feels too hard to continue. It’s important that you don’t get hung up and miss your deadlines. When you don’t know what to write, first take a little break (workout, take a walk, shower, talk to a friend — whatever works for you). Don’t be done for the day. Just rest your brain. Sometimes doing something else is enough to push you through. If you still don’t know what to write, backtrack and read your previous words to give yourself momentum. For a difficult section, I recommend switching locations to a place that seems special and only work on that section. More than 12 years later, I still recall the day I reworked my theoretical framework at a coffee shop. Sometimes just focusing can get you through.
Comparing yourself to others. You are writing your thesis. Period. Don’t get caught up in envying a peer’s progress or comforting yourself about missed deadlines by thinking about a person who took an extra year to finish. Like I tell my children all the time, focus on yourself. It is not fair to look at others’ accomplishments or lack thereof. You don’t know their situations and the comparison won’t make you less of a writer or more of one. As I will elaborate in the next point, grad students need to lift each other up.
Going at it alonewithout peer support. While you shouldn’t compare yourself to others, you also shouldn’t be a lone ship in the sea of thesis writing. Cohorts are wonderful. If you have one, turn to this built-in group of people who understand what you are experiencing. At the very least, find a writing partner or group. This is not your goof-off buddy, but a person who is equally dedicated to writing when it is writing time and pleasant to chat with on your breaks. You will look forward to writing sessions more if you can share in the experience.
Going at it alone without a mentor. Trying to go solo without a mentor is a mistake. Graduate students, especially Ph.D. students, should try to find a faculty mentor in addition to the adviser. If possible, this person should be outside your department or even your university. It’s good to have additional guidance on thesis committee etiquette, the job hunt, and other issues. Making this connection now will also help you as you begin your first tenure-track position.
Getting distracted. Now is not the time to take on extra projects or to do more additional work than you need to pay the bills. Don’t try out for a play or sign up for unicycle class. Write every day with clear objectives, make your deadlines, and FINISH.
Strike a balance. At the same time, you can’t write for 14 hours straight. It is okay to work on your thesis in 2-3 sessions per day, with breaks in-between. In fact, I recommend this approach. If you are a grad student with kids, this will be your life anyway (just make sure you get some uninterrupted writing time). You should eat food, get enough sleep, exercise, and socialize a bit. Finding a balance actually boosts productivity.
If your kids will be at school at all this year, I bet you’re wondering how you can help set yourselves up for success. With all of the uncertainty, this is a tough time. My girls have been physically back in school since August 20th. We’ve figured out a few things over the last few weeks.
School supplies that probably aren’t on the official list
Masks (duh, hopefully): Don’t underestimate how many you will need or what type will feel the best for the duration of the school day. Our favorite have been the Old Navy packs.
A lanyard or chain to hold the mask: You can get them for under $2 in the craft section.
Mints: If they are allowed at school, it’s nice to have a freshener under the mask.
Chapstick (for home): Masks can dry out your face.
Hand sanitizer: Hands can be sensitive to publicly distributed sanitizer. Bringing your own also saves resources.
Sunscreen: At least for my kids, this year has brought extra outside time.
A water bottle with a straw: Drinking fountains are likely closed. Straws can be slipped under masks.
A lunch: Hot lunch may not be offered.
A book: There may be extra downtime as teachers are working through the technology or helping distance learners.
A comfortable backpack: With protocol to reduce kids in the hallway, they may not have access to lockers. Consider getting a rolling bag if it is allowed.
Tricks for Fall 2020
Have kids try out different masks and practice before school starts — tie ones, adjustable ear loops, different fabrics, etc. Letting them pick the design is a good idea.
Add a disposable, wrapped-up mask that stays in the backpack as a back-up.
Pack at least two cloth masks plus the disposable to plan for a dropped mask or a change after snack or lunch.
Post a visible list of tasks and items to gather somewhere near the door. There are so many extras this year that it’s hard to keep track of everything. We also have a list for after-school in the hopes that dirty masks make it into the washer.
Get a family calendar and use your digital calendar to help keep everyone on track.
Use a white board to write out tasks and reminders for the next day, especially if activities have started up again.
Build in extra time in the morning. Even two weeks in, waking up has been rough.
Prepare for a few days of tired kids. Having structure for the first time in months can be exhausting.
This is obviously a weird and hard time in which no option is really ideal. As you prepare for the school year’s start, talk with your kids about how things may be different. At the same time, don’t underestimate their ability to adapt. We have had no complaints or resistance about mask-wearing or other additional rules this year. Even in this strange reality, my children are happy to be back, love their teachers, and feel engaged in learning.
Even with the tension of the first move, rearrangements are easy early on — sliding pieces out and stacking them on top. A few more rounds bring confidence before the precarious state of the unbalanced structure seems to become too much before CRASH!
Our first week of the semester felt like the beginning of the game. Between the Zoom outage and skyrocketing university COVID cases, it was “game over” (at least temporarily) before many players had a turn. For those of us still teaching hybrid, hyflex, web-assisted or whatever you’re calling the partially online, partially in-class experience, week 2 parallels the midway point of the Jenga game.
It’s not just the cloud of potential quarantines and campus shutdowns that threatens this game though. The demands of what teaching now looks like have skewed how the game is even played. Instead of placing the Jenga tower on a flat table in the dining room, it’s as if we decided to foolishly set the blocks on a porch swing.
Things may be relatively still or quiet for the moment, but we know that current conditions are unstable at best.
We have to factor in the additional challenges to the initial environment. Add a breeze to the rickety old swing. The technology that enables social distancing-teaching and flexible attendance also burdens us as instructors. We now have to consider whether or not the system is capturing our lectures and if our makeshift classroom spaces will adequately serve the day’s content. Wearing multiple microphones, we have become amplification marionettes and must be careful not to tangle our wires.
For good measure, let’s let two dogs out to the porch as we play.
Or that’s what it feels like as we find ourselves needing to police the state of classroom health. Was that a sneeze? Or two? Is two too many? Should the student be excused? How do we balance the feelings of one student with the anxiety of the many?
I’m not attacking the protocol of what needed to (and needs) to happen for any in-person classes to occur, nor am I condemning these interactions. My point is to highlight the numerous obstacles shaping our teaching this semester. Just like porch-swing Jenga, we cannot demand “normal.” It’s not going to happen.
We need to redefine expectations. Instead of focusing on class as a vehicle for information delivery, we should aim for the experience itself. Why are we meeting in this way? For me, the real purpose is for us to engage with each other about the course material in (hopefully) meaningful ways. Reducing the emphasis on course objectives helps us to center on class discussion, communication, and camaraderie. All of my good moments thus far have come from student engagement, with me and with each other — the answer to why are we here and even trying this?
This is not a semester for lofty goals or an overhaul of, well, anything. We are already in the midst of that overhaul and must do our best to compensate as we teach on the fly. Much like the Jenga game, we can only take on so many challenges before the tower falls.
Who will clean it up? Will we be expected to immediately play again without changing up the situation or putting the puppies inside?
The game should be the fun part. Picking it all up (especially out of the bush), not so much.
A special thanks to Rosie and Rivet for their participation in my photo illustration.
Journal articles and book chapters are not interchangeable. You can’t (or at least shouldn’t) take your published article and insert the text into your book. The format, tone, language, structure, and reference section often differ from a peer-reviewed one-time publication to a chapter, which needs to fit into the overall book. So how do you make this switch?
Before you do any revising, you need to get permission from the journal editor to have the article appear in your book. Send a polite email, asking for permission and explaining the outlet in which the article will appear (your book). Some publishers grant individual authors the rights to their work. Others don’t. Always make the request–as soon as you know you’d like to reprint the article. At the same time, check with your book editor about the reprint, at least giving a “heads up.” If you are writing your manuscript and don’t yet have an editor, you will disclose this reprint in your book proposal. It is totally fine to include published articles-turned chapters in your book. It actually makes sense. If you are an expert on this topic and have published articles, your book can be (at least partially) a culmination of your work. Do note that editors typically want the majority of a book to be new content, but that still leaves space for revised reprints.
Assuming you’ve gotten written permission for the reprint, you can move forward. It’s tempting to just drop the article in, call it a chapter, and be done. Not a smart move though. You are (hopefully) including your article as a chapter because it adds to the content of your book. You want this addition to be seamless and not stand out as a journal article floating in the middle of a book.
Journal articles and academic book chapters do share similarities. They are typically both comprised of secondary and primary sources, woven together to create a narrative driven by a purpose and set of objectives. The differences stop there. Book chapters don’t usually have the rigid, standard sections of a journal article, especially in the middle of a single-authored book (you may find more “journal-article” elements in a chapter for an anthology, as each contributor spells out theory and method for their own projects).
Step-by-step Instructions for Making Your Article a Chapter
Identify the reasons for including the article-as-chapter in your book. What does it add? How does it fit?
Read your journal article with fresh eyes, looking at your work as it will fit in your book. Note spots in the chapter that need to be updated or revised to match the rest of your book, especially if it’s been a few years since the article’s publication.
Remove the theory and method sections, unless they are unique to this chapter. You likely already covered these areas in your introduction.
Conduct additional research needed for the chapter (updating the literature review, analyzing material that’s been created since your article research timeline ended, etc.). For example, for me to transform articles to chapters, I often have to add a sample of media content that has been created since the articles were published.
Revise the chapter into a chapter format. (Yes, step 5 is the big one). Adopt a slightly more conversational tone in your writing. Define concepts for readers outside of your discipline. Add headers, topic sentences, and other language that creates a flow for your chapter that parallels the other chapters in your book. Most book chapters don’t have a RESULTS or FINDINGS section. Rephrase your primary analysis to thematic headings.
Revise the references to match your book’s citation format. In my discipline, journals typically use APA, while books use Chicago Style.
Read the chapter as it fits into the other chapters. Does it flow or stand out? Revise as needed so that it no longer reads as an article turned chapter, but just a chapter. Have you adhered to the press guidelines?
Chapters need to tell a story within the book’s overarching purpose. Only include journal articles if you would have wanted the topics covered in your book anyway. By revising your article into a chapter format, you increase its likelihood of success with editors and reviewers and improve the overall experience for your future readers.
Your first chapter might feel like a throwaway, perhaps written as a sample to accompany your book proposal in hopes of a contract. However, the intro matters. It gives readers their first impressions of you as a writer and your book as a whole. That may sound a little daunting, but it doesn’t have to be. Like most forms of writing, a good nonfiction introduction follows a set of (ironically) unwritten rules.
Failing to follow the “introduction” road map. At least for academic books, most intros contain the same elements: An “intro” to the intro, statement of purpose, justification, brief background and/or literature review, relevant theories that guide the research, a description of the method/approach and an overview of the chapters in the book. Choosing to skip one of these critical components will likely stall you up in the revising process or if you make it through, leave your readers wondering why you omitted an important part of the set up.
Using too much jargon. This is an error I see mostly in student work and early-career scholars, who are eager to use the vocab of the discipline and to “sound smart.” Convey your ideas in plain language, saving the jargon for spots that make sense (i.e. in your theory section). Even then, it should be defined and connected to your overarching topic.
Lacking a sense of purpose or direction. Your chapter and book need to have a clearly-stated purpose and flow. I recommend describing your book to a relative, a scholar outside of your discipline, and someone in your field. Talking through your book’s main objective with various audiences will give you a better idea of what you are doing and why, which you can then communicate in the first chapter.
Giving too much away. I realize that you’re writing nonfiction, not a murder mystery. That said, avoid saying too much about what you’ve found in your primary research right away in the introduction. You can outline what you will do, but shouldn’t have conclusions in chapter 1.
Providing too much background/literature/theory. The introduction is an introduction. If any of these sections becomes too lengthy (more than a page or two), they will take away from the chapter’s purpose of setting up the book. Consider shortening your sections and incorporating them into later chapters of the book. For example, a historical background could be split up by time period and relocated to other chapters that fit chronologically.
Not providing enough background/literature/theory. Assume your reader is intelligent, but may not have the same expertise as you in the material (because you are writing the book). Giving short definitions, brief explanations, and a few sentences of background can be immensely helpful. Unless you are writing a technical manual, you want people in outside areas to enjoy your book. Write and define in such a way that your work can be understood by readers in other countries/cultures and by future generations. References that seem to be obvious now lose their familiarity over time.
Including material that should be in the preface or acknowledgements. Chapter 1 is for introducing the book. It is not the place for an origin story of your book’s idea, what television shows you enjoyed as a child, or praise for your favorite barista for refilling your coffee. Put backstories and other personal info that make your book more interesting in the preface. Thank everyone in a separate “acknowledgements” page. These elements are important, but don’t belong in the intro. Note: I’m not talking about reflexivity for analysis. Identifying your intersectional positions in your theory/method section is different than reminiscing about Auntie Annie’s rice pudding (so delicious, but not intro material).
Floating down the river of tangents. Every word and sentence should serve a purpose. As you edit your chapter, look (and fix) concepts that stray from the objective of a paragraph and section.
Not writing enough or writing too much. Besides failing to adequately address the sections of the book, a short intro doesn’t properly set the foundation for the book. It can be a little shorter than a typical chapter, but not too far off. Conversely, a lengthy intro is not really an intro. Think about splitting part of it off into a new chapter.
Skipping the intro. Don’t jump right into the main topic without first telling us what it is about and other key factors for really getting the book. Do what you want with fiction, but nonfiction needs the purpose, justification, and other relevant information laid out.
If this list made you panic about your own in-progress book, you can always revise the introduction. In fact, I recommend it. With my own books, I write the intro first and then return to it much later in the process. I typically wind up changing quite a bit, as I have a better grasp of my project after I’ve written a few chapters. None of my published single-authored books have their original beginnings. You can always revise, but only if you’ve written something in the first place.
I will state the obvious and say that it’s really hard to focus right now. As I wrote about in “Why I Bought a Boat: Juggling Gender Roles in the Pandemic,” women have been particularly affected by the lack of childcare and added crisis-school responsibilities. The outcome has been significant. In academia, while male professors have been able to increase their journal article submission, women’s research output has steeply declined, covered in this article in The Guardian. Adding to this pressure, of course, is the stress of the pandemic, racial injustice, the economy. . . . I could go on and on, but I won’t.
My focus here is to help you to move past the distractions to get a little bit done right now. That’s right. A little bit, not 15 manuscripts, but small projects accomplished that can add up. I will frame this around working while having children at home as the primary sources of interruption, but you can also apply my tips to your own situations.
Feed the meter. I love Dr. Harvey Karp’s concept that giving your kids a little attention before moving on to an independent activity can greatly improve behavior. I employed this approach when my girls were little (focused time and then a little independent play while I did something else) and I definitely still use it. I personally get more done if I focus on my kids first, break away for awhile, and then have planned segments of attention throughout the day. In fact, this has been my strategy throughout the last few months. We eat breakfast together and outline the day, then a balance of independent play/crisis school/chores and check-in moments from me. It doesn’t always work, but I am definitely more successful and my children seem happier if I focus on them first before attempting to work.
Make your kids wait. If you’ve fed the meter and your children are still interrupting you, it’s fine to put their non-emergency needs on hold. Even little kids can wait a minute for you to finish something, as long as they don’t need to use the potty. We’ve struggled with the barrage of interrupting Mom (me) during the quarantine. I’ve found that it helps to sketch out the day’s plan on a portable whiteboard, laying out the schedule and required tasks to get electronics. Sometimes I give my kids an “distracto” pass, allowing for one interruption. I also have a “snack guide.” It’s low-tech and nerdy, but cuts down on the “I want a snaaaaaaack” whining.
Ration out TV and electronics. Tablets, games, and Disney+ can be wonderful tools in helping you get some work done. I caution against overusing them to boost your own productivity for a few reasons though. First, it’s (obviously) not healthy for kids to be consuming media all the time. Secondly, too much TV/devices can actually lead to more interruptions. When kids get too used to being entertained, they can have a harder time with free play. I’m not saying NO TV (totally not, no way, not happening), but save the coveted electronics for special times of the day (i.e. when you need to focus).
Value your writing time (and make others value it too). Writing should not be perceived as an afterthought, as the first activity that gets cut out during busy times. If you are a professional writer, you need to write. If you are an academic, you need to write. If you are a person who just likes to write, you need to write. Have an outline of your writing tasks for the session, day, week, and month. Set specific times in which your partner is fully on kid duty and no one is allowed to interrupt you (lock the door if you must). Writing time should not be viewed in the same category as online surfing or social media posting. Yet don’t limit your writing to your sacred sessions. Get the small, low-focus items (see below) done during distracting parts of the day, freeing up your blocks for high-focus tasks. If you don’t make writing a priority for yourself than others won’t either.
Don’t wait for a perfect “day” of writing. I’ve never understood the need to write only in lengthy blocks. Or maybe I’ve just never had this luxury. Carving out short sessions regularly can be more productive than attempting to get one full day of writing. I also recommend using moments throughout the day to handle low-focus tasks (see below). Here’s why: the more you write, the easier it is to write. You spend less time getting back into a project and feel less pressure to create your masterpiece. If you can miraculously get a day to write, savor it, but don’t wait for it.
Divide your tasks by level of focus. As you plan out writing objectives for your current project, identify which components are high-focus and which ones are low-focus. Save the high-focus tasks for parts of your day that you are least likely to get interrupted, when you can shut the door, put on the noise-cancelling headphones, and have your partner handle whatever minor/major crises emerge. Getting up early to write may also help you carve out some high-focus time. Some aspects of writing don’t take a lot of brain power. Your low-mid focus items can be addressed during potential interruption times. Try to use these moments to format a source, save a journal article, or email an editor. The trick to productivity right now is to finish low-focus items when you can so that your precious minutes of high-focus time can be used to tackle tough writing tasks.
Get your social media distractions out and then stop. News and social media lure us in right now. We feel a need to be part of the world and know what’s going on. Indulge this need for a little bit. Even better, do it at a time in which you wouldn’t be writing, but also doesn’t cut into interacting time with your kids. Use some of your waiting time to do this: waiting for kids to brush teeth, use the bathroom, come downstairs, for a pot to boil or something to heat up in the microwave. If you must start a writing session with a social media looksie, then limit your time online before starting the project.
Acknowledge that there will be “off” days. This is a tough time. Not every day will be a productive one. Sometimes the kids need more engagement. Sometimes the world is just too troubling for anyone to focus. Sometimes the dog rolls in poop and needs an emergency bath. It’s okay if you didn’t make today’s goal. Reevaluate (perhaps with a dish of ice cream) for tomorrow. What could make the day better/smoother/happier? I’ve found that planned outings can boost our overall moods and I actually get more done when we return home.
Feed your own meter. It’s hard to focus if you are not getting enough sleep, food, water, exercise, or mental breaks. It might seem counterproductive to give up some writing time for walk, shower, or early bedtime. Nope. Taking care of yourself will help you think more clearly and be more efficient. Plus you might get inspired during non-writing times. How can we fit it all in? Eat and exercise with the kids, which gives you multiple check marks. Or work out alone for the head-space–whatever works for you. Establishing healthy habits will aid you in the long-run.
Here’s the deal. If you have kids, dogs, a partner, elderly relative, etc. at home, you will get interrupted and face countless distractions. I fully get this and am living it. While I was writing this post, my dog tried to eat a marker and both kids woke up, needing my attention. The key to getting things done is to set low expectations, have a plan, and maximize the teeny bits of time you do have.