rejection

It stings. For a good while it stings. Last week in the space of 24 hours I got two rejections for the same book project. The first one dispensed with any sentimentality and in two sentences said no. The second one was slightly more apologetic, offered a somewhat complimentary note on the interest value of the topic and suggested other publishers who might have the capacity to accommodate the book. Now I wonder how I could have been so naive, so childish in my expectations. My original pitch was so flawed, so amateurish in so many ways. I missed an opportunity.

Talking to a more seasoned, astute and connected Professor this morning, he confirmed what had started to dawn on me: I was too connected and attached to my project and my articulation of the project that I was unable to tailor my 'message' for the intended audience. Not a journal editor, but a publisher interested in whether or not this project would be financially viable. So I made this elaborate academic article, but failed to say, in plain, accessible English what the book was about and why people would be interested in buying it. In my wildest dreams I never thought I would think, let alone say - 'I'd prefer to write this for a journal editor'. I feel out of my depth doing a marketing pitch without the comfort and support of my carefully crafted academic argument.

Nevermind, I live to see another day and draft another book proposal.

This collection offers a view into the everyday classroom realities of SA university lecturers teaching first years. Their reflective accounts show how they attempt to improve their teaching practices and respond to the diverse academic needs of their students.

This is the two-liner I'm currently contemplating for a proposal that only wants a 40 word description of the book. Interested?

academic writing: a view from the sidelines

I'm on the sidelines as I watch other people write. Before I had only ever observed and reflected on my own experiences of trying to be an academic writer, as much of this blog bears testament to. I thought, naively, that my own struggles with academic writing would prepare me and allow me to be the supportive, encouraging and understanding 'coach', very optimistic and enthusiastically cheering from the sidelines. I thought I would understand and would comprehend.

This is what I brought along to my sidelined observations: Academic writing is difficult, in the beginning, especially, you think you can write but the reviewers often say you can't. Understanding and applying the 'conventions' and stylistic norms that will allow your writing to be recognised as legitimate is not as easy as 'copying' the forms and styles used by your favourite author. Sometimes doing this, simply signals now 'wrong' you got it. Writers, and especially novice writers, struggle with the huge psychological burden of knowing they don't 'come' with what they think are the necessary or expected linguistic repertoires or fluent and extensive vocabularies. And many times these very resources, especially when they are not recognised or (mis)recognised, mark these writers as 'outsiders' and becomes the source of a vicious and crippling circle of shame and fear associated with academic writing. Reviewer feedback is overwhelming, especially when its not filled with overt praise and affirmation. Its very hard to unbundle your personal and emotional investment in an argument, a sentence, a paragraph, an idea from commentary that suggests, someone else doesn't actually understand or get what you are saying.

From my own writing experiences and trying to mediate all the factors listed above as they play out in my own journey as a somewhat reluctant and self-conscious academic writer, I know that it always takes way longer to write a sentence, a paragraph, an article than you anticipate. You have to work through the reviewer comments carefully and try to see beyond your attachments. You have to seek out feedback and opportunities to talk and talk and talk some more about your work, your writing. And you have to continue to write - you have to put an immense amount of effort, energy, commitment into that act and work through all the freaking demons, weighing you down and distorting your own sense of yourself as a writer.

I'm reminded of the old adage about being a good, effective teacher: You have to grasp the limitations of your own experiences of being taught. As a teacher merely repeating what you saw your old teachers do can frequently leave you on the back foot. Even if you experienced really good teaching - simply emulating your past teachers, without trying to critically interrogate the usefulness or suitability of their practices - can severely limit your own teaching practices and your growth as a teacher. This lesson, is ringing true for me now. I'm finding that my own ongoing journey (very ongoing) as an academic writer has not equipped me as well as I would have hoped, to really understand, let alone support, others on this very same journey.