Writing

Publishing your Dissertation

March, 2011 · By Justin Bengry

A few weeks ago the University of Saskatchewan Department of History held a “Publishing your Dissertation” workshop. Organized by the graduate students, the workshop was an important opportunity to treat grad students not just as students but as junior historians, as future professionals. And the benefit was not limited just to them, the postdocs were avid participants as well. None of us are writing dissertations and manuscripts purely to earn a credential, but rather as a first step in a professional trajectory that will include publication and dissemination of our research.

The most important and inspiring statement of the day was a comment made by our department Chair, Valerie Korinek. She concluded by assuring the audience that they had already made the first step to publishing their manuscripts simply by participating in the workshop. By attending, by engaging, we had taken ourselves and our work seriously on a professional level, and this was truly the first step to publishing our work as professional historians.

I was inspired by Prof. Korinek’s comments more than I expected.

The workshop included a variety of speakers, and should be a model for similar events at other universities. One postdoc spoke of the experience of revising his dissertation into a manuscript and the process of seeking a publisher. A junior professor who was currently involved in press negotiations described her more advanced relationship with a publisher. And finally our department chair spoke from the perspective of a published author and also as a senior historian. She described her successes, what she’d do differently, and what we needed to do to position ourselves as professional historians. We also heard from executive editors from the University of Manitoba Press who relayed to us their guidelines and what they looked for in a publishable manuscript.

I’ve been sitting on my dissertation for a year or so now. Partly because I was devoted to looking for employment, and partly because I needed a rest, I just haven’t returned to it till recently. But in the last six months I’ve made some small revisions, done a bit of extra research, and asked scholars outside my dissertation committee to read it and offer feedback. So, I’ve been thinking about the next step, but until the workshop I was unable to make the leap. Anxiety, fear of rejection, uncertainty about my own skills maybe, all of these fears kept me from moving forward until now.

But I already knew which press was the best fit for my project. Even though the Manitoba editors were helpful, I knew that my project and priorities fit better with a large US university press. I researched the press’s online presence, so I also knew the other titles in its series, the editorial contact, and the submission requirements. I didn’t know what goes into a book proposal, but I learned that at the workshop. The UBC Press even gives examples of successful book proposals. (Read them, they are invaluable guides.)

So, using these as a model, I wrote my own book proposal, asked a former professor for a letter of introduction to the executive editor, and threw caution to the wind. Now, the press is interested in my work, I have a schedule for draft submission, and a goal. I also feel more and more like a professional historian with something interesting and important to say.

Perhaps I flatter myself, but I hope some of you will read this post, check out the UBC Press submission examples, and then write up your own book proposal. Maybe you’ll send it off to a publisher. And maybe you’ll get a positive response too. Good luck!

This blog was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
17 March 2011.

Where we fail our students: Writing Skills

February, 2011 · By Justin Bengry

I firmly believe that one of the great benefits of an education in history is the development of writing skills. I strive for that in myself, and encourage it in my students. Writing skills will continue to benefit them beyond my classroom, in other disciplines, and beyond the academy. I’m certainly not alone in this belief, and almost universally I hear from other professors, lecturers, and TAs how important writing skills are to them as well. But what do we really do about it? We mark up papers, we make ourselves available for consultation, and we direct students to university writing centres. Is that really enough?

But doing more comes with its own pressures. I realized this recently when I decided to devote an entire lecture period to discussing writing issues. Initially I planned only to devote 15-20 minutes to addressing the most egregious writing problems I discovered in recent student assignments. But by the time I created slides with examples, I realized that more than half the class period would be required simply to go through them all, leaving inadequate time for “real content”—as in the history part.

I went back and forth all day, worrying that I was somehow doing my students a disservice by devoting less time to EU formation or Soviet politics or whatever else was scheduled that week. The importance of the “real content” of history has been so ingrained into us, I realized, that I felt like I was somehow cheating, or not doing my job, because I was going to spend an entire class period helping students with writing concerns, and working with them to build their written communication skills.

Many of us put hours into grading, where we correct grammar and spelling errors, suggest ways of clarifying arguments, and highlight awkward writing so that students can later improve it. How much does this accomplish? Do students really look closely at these suggestions or incorporate them into their work? Short of assigning drafts and revisions, it sometimes seems that there is little we can do to help students improve their writing skills.

What I realized is that if we value writing skills, and if we truly believe that improving our students’ written communication skills is one of the goals of history education, we need to work actively toward that goal. It’s not enough to correct papers and expect students to studiously incorporate suggestions into work in their next course when it’s another professor’s problem. Nor is it sufficient to shuffle them off to the writing centre (though these are valuable and often underutilized resources). Instead we have to make the teaching of strong writing skills part of our own project as well.

In smaller courses, or larger courses with TAs, we can ask students to work on a paper throughout the term, handing in drafts and revisions, each contributing to their grades. We can also reward genuine effort and writing improvement in their grades as well. In courses like mine which are officially too small for TAs but too large for everyone to submit multiple drafts, we can devote lecture time to writing skills, and turn some class time over to actual writing exercises. At the moment I devote one day a week to document discussion, but in the future, I plan to turn one of those classes each month over toward writing development.

Too often we fail our students in this area. They earn poor or failing grades because they are unable to express themselves effectively. But too often we also fail to teach them the skills the need to be able to communicate better. What have you done to focus on writing skills in your classroom? As a student what have you found most useful? How do we make a history education about both content and skills?

This post was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
3 February 2011.

A Postdoc’s Life: Can you publish too much?

October, 2010 · By Justin Bengry

I’ve written before on the issue of publishing, and whether graduate students should actively publish their work. Consensus would seem to show that yes, they should, so long as they do so strategically and effectively without compromising the timely completion of their own degrees.

But what about postdocs? We’ve already finished our degrees. We don’t necessarily have a concrete deliverable (dissertation) expected of us at the conclusion of our contracts. What should postdocs consider when thinking about publishing more articles, or even a monograph?

This is a concern of mine for several reasons right now. I have two peer-reviewed articles already in print, another that is forthcoming, and I am thinking about submitting a fourth. At the same time, I want to start thinking about whipping my manuscript into shape to get that all-important first book out there. I’ve been soliciting advice on both these issues for some time, and have been given a great deal to think about, and to balance, as I try to navigate my postdoctoral path.

The first issue is actually not unlike that encountered by graduate students. If you are spending all your time churning out articles, reviews, and other writing, you might not leave yourself time to revise your manuscript. Now, of course this varies from discipline to discipline depending on the relative importance of articles and monographs, but in history, a book counts for a lot. And if you never get to it, or you end up giving away all your chapters as articles, you are potentially jeopardizing future opportunities that a book might offer.

The other issue, the one that caught me more off guard, is timing. When should you seek to get a book contract? When should you aim for your book to be published? (Remember of course that from submission to publication we’re still talking in terms of years of lag time and continued revision and preparation).

I was advised by one professor to seek out a book contract as soon as I could. It would make me more competitive for future postdocs and that golden dream, the tenure track assistant professorship. But, she warned, once I had the contract, linger on it and negotiate as much time as I could before final submission and publication. The danger, she advised, was having a book in print before getting that first job. Disrupting the natural order of things in this way could have multiple effects.

Of course a book, particularly a successful one, is a great boost to one’s professional credibility and could increase chances of landing that job. But, it could also backfire, she worried, advancing one too far down a career trajectory without yet even having a career. If a book is a common requirement for tenure, she warned, having a book in print before getting even a first job could disrupt the normal hiring process.

Similarly, another professor at another institution warned me to avoid publishing my monograph too soon. He worried that, depending on the institution where I might be hired, the requirements for tenure would only count from the time I would be hired. Pre-employment publications could help me land the job, but might not be counted toward advancement and promotion once hired, effectively necessitating the speedy production of a second monograph in short order!

So, here I am enjoying the first months of my first postdoc. I don’t know whether this will be followed by another postdoc, an academic job, or paths I haven’t yet fully considered. But I am considering writing my book proposal and starting down the path toward its future publication. For those of you in this position, or those who have lived through it, what have you been advised? What are your plans? Are you anxious about publishing too much, or too soon?

This post was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
25 October 2010.

Location, Location, Location: Does Environment Affect Your Work?

October, 2010 · By Justin Bengry

We write a lot on the History Compass Exchanges about tools, methods and issues relevant to scholars undertaking major projects. It’s something we’re all working on and struggling with, whether it be the completion of a dissertation, revisions of an article, or the drafting of a book manuscript. Jean Smith has asked, for example, whether we can write our dissertations in “15 minutes a day.” Jean has also identified the integral link between thinking and writing. That piece has struck a chord with me this week as I struggle to find a place to think, a place to work. As I’ve been settling into a new city, snuggling into my own apartment for the first time in years, and visiting home for Thanksgiving, I’ve become acutely aware of how my own work environment profoundly affects my ability to think and to write.

Where should I work? I struggle to determine how much time to spend at the university and how much time to work from home. As a postdoc, I am expected to spend a significant part of my time at my university office. But, because it is in another building, isolated from the History department, I find myself gravitating toward working at home. At home, I’ve created a warm and inviting space where my references are near at hand, and plenty of tea is available. Even the lighting is more conducive to effective work – natural sunlight punctuated by a good desk lamp, as opposed to harsh fluorescent bulbs overhead. I’m old fashioned, I guess. I like the feeling of working in a quiet private library, rather than an impersonal office.

But beyond these work/home struggles, I’ve become even more aware of how important my surroundings are for effective work completion as I visit my childhood home for Thanksgiving. My own apartment is organized around a few key possessions and is relatively minimal (but for the hundreds and hundreds of books). My university office, on the other hand, is mostly defined by my office-mates’ possessions. And my parents’ home is a jumble of clutter. I find myself loathe to work at the office, and virtually incapable of anything productive in my parents’ home.

So this week has been an interesting opportunity to observe my own tendencies with a certain degree of self-awareness across these three sites. On the one hand I feel somewhat a failure for being unable to buckle down and get into my work while visiting my hometown. But I’ve also felt like a cheater in my new city, eschewing my university office for the comforts of my own little flat. I’m  grateful, however, for the awareness this comparison has offered me about my own work habits. Why is it necessary to fight these tendencies? Instead of lamenting where I cannot work, why not focus on being effective where I can work?

How does your environment affect you and your work? Have you found ways to overcome an inability to focus in new environments and spaces? Ultimately, where do you work best?

This post was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
12 October 2010.

Does ‘Publish or Perish’ apply to graduate students?

August, 2010 · By Justin Bengry

Publish or perish has become a truism in academia where the pressure is always on to write the next article, get a contract for the next book, or edit a journal issue. But what about graduate students? Do they face the same pressure to publish or perish? Or do they perish if they publish…without planning?

The reasons to publish are obvious: to increase your academic profile, to put your work before your peers, to network with other scholars, and most of all to make yourself more competitive in this dire academic job market. Anything to set you apart from the hundreds of other under-employed scholars is critical.

But are there also dangers in publishing as a grad student?

Preparing an article for publication can help marshal your thoughts, offer new insights for your work, and motivate you to achieve deadlines that can also be applied to your dissertation. But it can also distract you away from your most important task as a graduate student – writing your thesis or dissertation. If writing articles and reviews allows you to procrastinate and avoid your primary task as a graduate student, they are more harmful than helpful. If your degree goes long, it costs both time and money that could be devoted to other tasks. And if you fail to proceed toward completion of your dissertation in a timely manner, it can be a black mark against you in scholarship competitions, and with postdoc and job committees evaluating you before completing your degree.

Another concern grad students must consider when publishing is the quality of the work they put out there. Your first publications will follow you for some time. It will be a matter of record, and you might not want your earliest work and ideas to define you too soon. I would tend to discount this argument, particularly if you publish in respected, peer-reviewed journals. These publications will vet your work with experts in your field who can give invaluable insights to shape your work and make it stronger. Used effectively, this not only gives you the opportunity to publish a superior article, but affords you the chance to make your dissertation even stronger as well.

In a related concern, one which has been expressed to me, is that committees are more willing to forgive errors or points they disagree with in a dissertation or manuscript under revision. If, however, they find fault with material in a published article, they are more likely to hold on to these criticisms and weigh them against you in postdoc and job determinations. Of course, strong publications position will position you well for the job market. As L.L. Wynn pragmatically noted at the Culture Matters blog:

When hiring committees are trying to narrow down a large pool into a short list, they’ve got to pick between a lot of bright young graduates with highly rated dissertations, enthusiastic referees, and clever ideas. So what distinguishes candidates?  Often it comes down to bean-counting – grants, awards, publications. Publications really make you stand out, especially if you’re very junior.

Finally, as philosophy professor Gualtiero Piccinni has pointed out on a “Brains” blog post on graduate publishing, “Students should be aware that where they publish is at least as important as whether they do, especially if they aspire to a job in a research institution.” A well-written and researched article in a respected peer-reviewed journal will be worth more than a more quickly turned out piece in an online graduate journal. This isn’t to say that other or non-traditional publications are not valuable. But before publishing anything, you will need to consider how this publication will position you for your future aspirations and activities.

Ultimately, as long as it is well-placed, and doesn’t distract you from completing your degree, effective and planned publishing as a graduate student can only benefit you.

This post was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
12 August 2010.