Note from your steadfast author: The following is a guest post from Dr. Will Duffy, an assistant professor of English and Director of the Center for Writing and Communication at the University of Memphis. His most recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in College English, Composition Studies, and Ethos: A Digital Review of Arts, Humanities, and Public Ethics. He can be reached at williameduffy@gmail.com.
I invited Will, a graduate school colleague of mine, to compose this guest post after a roundtable that he mentions in the first paragraph. Please note that the image in this post is taken from the infographic provided through a link near the end of the post. I have a copy of this infographic on the wall of my office--I think it's an excellent way to visualize the collaborative process of publishing scholarship. Please enjoy this guest post, because soon you'll have to read my dull, lifeless prose again. -- JB
At the Council for Writing Program Administrators (CWPA) conference that convened this past July at Illinois State University, I had the opportunity to participate in a roundtable discussion focused on the transition from graduate student to tenure-track faculty. With fellow panelists Jacob Babb, Annie Mendenhall, Erika Claire Strandjord, and Elise Versosa Hurley, we discussed such topics as time management, balancing service expectations, strategies for becoming active on campus, and building relationships with administrators.
I invited Will, a graduate school colleague of mine, to compose this guest post after a roundtable that he mentions in the first paragraph. Please note that the image in this post is taken from the infographic provided through a link near the end of the post. I have a copy of this infographic on the wall of my office--I think it's an excellent way to visualize the collaborative process of publishing scholarship. Please enjoy this guest post, because soon you'll have to read my dull, lifeless prose again. -- JB
At the Council for Writing Program Administrators (CWPA) conference that convened this past July at Illinois State University, I had the opportunity to participate in a roundtable discussion focused on the transition from graduate student to tenure-track faculty. With fellow panelists Jacob Babb, Annie Mendenhall, Erika Claire Strandjord, and Elise Versosa Hurley, we discussed such topics as time management, balancing service expectations, strategies for becoming active on campus, and building relationships with administrators.
My talk
focused on the concept of “small collaboration,” a term I recently started
using to describe the types of engagement necessary for maintaining an active publishing
agenda. Depending on the research expectations at your institution, combined
with whatever is the level of your desire to be a scholar who actively writes,
most new tenure-track faculty are expected to already be publishing—or at least
to “show strong potential for future publication” as a lot of job ads will say in
one form or another.
I started experimenting with the processes of publication
as a graduate student when I realized that no one was going to hold my hand and
show me exactly what it takes to get your work in print. Mainly this involved
simply responding when an opportunity for publication presented itself. It
might be a call for chapter proposals, or a listserv post from a book review
editor looking for contributors, or an invitation from a conference organizer
to submit your work for a volume of selected papers. These are the types of
opportunities I jumped at because they were the ones most conducive to small
collaboration.
In my
usage of the term, “small collaboration” indicates the deliberate acts of
sharing that we pursue to improve our work. Starting a writing group, asking a
colleague to read a draft in progress, and participating in a research network
forum (RNF) are all examples. In short, whenever we voluntarily give our work
to others to read and respond to, we are pursuing small collaboration. The
examples I mentioned in the previous paragraphs are especially conducive to
small collaboration because usually these types of publication require authors,
editors, and reviewers to work together closely as they craft a shared vision
for the final product.
Figure 1: From Will Duffy's infographic. See link at the end of the post for the full poster.
For example, when my friend John and I responded to a call for chapter proposals for a book about faculty writing development, we were offering the editors a chance to use our proposal to further envision what the collection might be, which in turn—after they accepted the proposal—required their active feedback as we wrote, revised, and revised again the manuscript that eventually ended up in the book. There was no guarantee that the book would be picked up by a publisher, so the editors were just as invested in their contributors as the contributors were invested in the editors. Small collaboration, in this case the frequent dialogue and mutual feedback deliberately fostered by the editors, is what maintained the forward progress necessary for getting the project completed.
So why
call this “small” collaboration? In the 1980s it became fashionable in the discipline
of writing studies to argue that all writing is collaborative. But at best this
claim is useless. It might make sense philosophically within a social
constructionist epistemology, but practically speaking, all writing is not
collaborative. Moreover, a lot of co-authored work (especially in the social
sciences) isn’t very collaborative, at least not if we understood collaboration
as a method for rhetorical invention. But arguing that all writing is
collaborative can also potentially be deceptive, especially when you consider the
myriad of artificial standards used by tenure and promotion committees. I like the
term “small collaboration,” however, because it acknowledges the necessity of
sharing implicit in most definitions of collaboration while simultaneously
providing some semblance of scale. When a colleague offers feedback on a
manuscript, for instance, he or she is certainly “collaborating” with the
author to a certain extent. But that level of collaboration differs from the
collaboration required when two co-authors decide to compose a manuscript
together from scratch. Thus the term “small collaboration.” As I mentioned at
the beginning of this post, small collaboration is how most of us learn to
become scholars who publish because small collaboration is how experienced
writers most directly mentor inexperienced ones: through acts of sharing.
I have
one more thought about small collaboration...
Certainly
small collaboration happens when we submit manuscripts to journals and move
through the process of peer review. But I didn’t mention submitting work to
journals in the examples I listed above because this level of publication can
be the scariest for novice scholars. By no means am I suggesting not submitting
to journals—you absolutely should. Just note that not only are the power
dynamics fairly stark, but bad reviewers—“bad” because they offer ill-conceived
advice, or are rude, or are clearly not interested in your subject—can greatly
impair writers who are already feeling vulnerable. To cite another example from
my own experience, it took close to a year for me to resubmit the first R&R
I ever received because one of the two reviewers practically called my
manuscript a joke, a response I didn’t know how to move past. Of course, good
reviewers can and do provide the best advice you’ll probably ever receive from
readers. Moreover, a quality journal editor will help the author(s) understand
why or why not the manuscript in question belongs in that journal. This latter
kind of engagement certainly qualifies as small collaboration: sharing in the
form of (sometimes) anonymous feedback meant to encourage the author to improve
his work.
We all
have great ideas that would make for really interesting articles, chapters, and
books. But it’s through small collaboration that we learn the difference
between a publishable idea and a publishable manuscript.
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