(Previous entries in this series: Pts. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10.)

Mary Beard recently explained how her most recent book cover design evolved. My experiences have been a little bit different. I’ve been fortunate enough to have had great designers at LSU Press. Amanda McDonald Scallon designed the cover of Old Hickory’s Nephew (OHN), which I think brilliantly captured how Jackson haunted Donelson for his entire life. I gave no input about how the cover should be designed. For the Andrew Jackson, Southerner cover, I suggested the portrait that graces the front but gave no other direction.

For the most part, academic publishers want to be left alone when it comes to design. They have marketing specialists who know what they’re doing when it comes to creating a book cover that will sell. It behooves authors to remember that fact. At the same time, my impression and experience is that it’s okay to indicate preferences for things. For example, with OHN, I told LSU Press that I didn’t like a certain bland book design that I had seen on their books. This time around, I suggested the portrait that they decided to use, but I understood that it was only a preference and that their designer had the final approval on whether to use it.

One other important thing to remember: If you want to use a certain image on the book jacket, understand that the image owner will not only have to grant you permission but will also likely require a rights fee or some other kind of compensation. Thankfully, The Hermitage owns the Jackson portrait for the forthcoming biography, and they were willing to allow its use (as they did for those on the OHN cover) for reasonable compensation.

(Previous entries in this series: Pts. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8.)

You might be asking why I’m talking about the doldrums that set in following submission of the manuscript now instead of after its publication. From my experience, the real emotional letdown occurs once the manuscript is submitted to the editor for copy-editing. There is nothing yet tangible to point out to family and friends or to include in annual faculty activity reports.

I don’t know how others deal with this emotional gap, but here are a few things that I’ve done.

1. I organize research. If you’re like me, the final weeks prior to submission were not only spent cleaning up prose but also verifying footnotes. I had stacks of research folders on my desk, so I spent parts of several days refiling them, if I thought they would useful in the future, or scanning them into .pdfs if I wanted to keep them but didn’t think they were going to be important to future projects.
2. I started working on the index. Call me crazy (or call me maybe–that’s my favorite joke right now), but I got a jump on indexing the manuscript. Obviously, page numbers will have to come later, but I had a list of proper names and concepts that I wanted to include, so I organized them. I’m sure I’ll modify the index when the page proofs come in, but at least I’ve saved some time.
3. I started work on other projects. Like many of you, I have a main project (or two) and other minor projects. I was able to spend time on a couple of articles that were in various stages of completion, worked on book proposals for publishers, and wrote a conference paper.
4. I took some time to relax. This is an important one that I sometimes forget exists. I read popular fiction, spent time with family, and helped with home-improvement projects. The last one wasn’t so relaxing, but YMMV.

The bottom line: Stay active in some way, whether mentally or physically. That’s good advice to follow all of the time, but I think academic writers, who can become obsessive, need reminding sometimes.

Pt. 10 is here.

(Previous entries in this series: Pts. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7.)

Another extremely important relationship that you’ll have as you see your book manuscript through to publication is the one with the copy editor. Much of the previous advice I’ve given about referees and editors applies to copy editors as well, but let me expound on this relationship a bit.

All of the copy editors with whom I’ve worked were thorough and pleasant. In fact, they struck me as eternal optimists, as in “These errors can be fixed, and your book will be great.” I’m not sure how I would handle a surly, pessimistic copy editor, and I pity you if you’ve had one.

At the publishers I’ve worked with, copy editors were freelance hires. Sometime after the submission and review of the manuscript in-house, the editor sends it out to the copy editor, who reviews it for errors of style, formatting, citation, and substance. In history, they work with the latest edition of the Chicago Manual of Style and the press’ style sheet of preference. How they juggle and reconcile the two is beyond me, and I’m usually a detail person.

Once the copy editor is finished, s/he will send you electronic and/or paper copies of the manuscript with his/her edits. The author’s responsibility is to go through the edits, indicate acceptance of changes, explain why changes are not necessary, and answer any questions the copy editor had about the manuscript. It is a tedious process that requires substantial time and concentration. For the AJ bio, I spent the better part of three days on this job, but this was my fourth time with a book manuscript. Plan on spending more time if it’s your first experience.

Copy editors are very reasonable people. If there are edits with which you disagree, and they don’t violate the press’ style sheet, they’ll usually agree to your suggestions. But don’t be unreasonable, and for heaven’s sake, don’t boss them around. Also understand that copy editors have their own editing quirks at times. Sometimes the quirks make things better, sometimes they don’t, but remember that they just read through 300+ pages of your own quirky ideas about commas, hyphens, and complete citations.

Once you’ve made the changes, either on paper or via the word-processing program of the copy editor’s choice, you’ll send the manuscript back to the copy editor, who will ready the manuscript for the press. At that point, any major changes to your manuscript will need to be done, since the next stage, page proofs, only allows minor changes and corrections of egregious errors.

Let me close with one final thought about copy editors. They are the last reader before your book is published. As someone who likely is not an expert in your field, they have an eye for whether the book will be able to reach a broader audience. For that reason, listen carefully to any substantive recommendations that they make about content.

Part 9 is here.

What I imagine a book editor’s office looks like

(See also parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 of this series)

The most important relationship you will have as you look to publish is the one with your press’ acquisitions editor. For both of my books with LSU Press, I’ve worked with Rand Dotson.  Rand is a good editor for several reasons, but two stand out to me. The first is that he has a history Ph.D., which means he understands the challenges of the book projects undertaken by historians. The second is that he is succinct and direct in his correspondence.

A second important editorial contact that you might have is with a book series editor. I’ve had the honor of having both LSU Press books published in the Southern Biography Series. Bertram Wyatt-Brown was the editor for Old Hickory’s Nephew; the main title, in fact, was his suggestion. Bert was also editor when my proposal for the Jackson biography was contracted, but he retired in 2009, succeeded by Andrew Burstein. Both Bert and Andy wrote helpful editorial reports that made the manuscripts stronger.

My advice for working with editors is simple:

1. Heed their advice. They are experienced editors and/or senior scholars, and you ignore them at your peril.
2. Treat them with respect. Editors are your advocates with the press board, and they want you to succeed. Missing deadlines without permission, ignoring their suggestions, and acting as if you know more than they do are surefire ways to sabotage what could (and should) be a productive relationship for you both.
3. Communicate. If you encounters problems while writing a manuscript or during the production process, talk to your editor. S/he can intervene in problematic situations that ease your mind and can explain why you can’t emboss your book cover with 24-karat gold.

Part 8 is here.

(The rest of this series is available at the following links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.)

I had big plans when I wrote my book proposal in 2006. I even had a schedule that I posted in my office outlining how I would write one chapter each semester, starting in Fall 2007. If I could write three seminar papers per semester in grad school, surely I could complete one per semester as a professor. If I wrote one chapter during the summer months, I would be finished with all nine chapters a year before the submission deadline. Brilliant!

One new academic appointment, one cross-country move, one child, and two years later (August 2008), I had started the first chapter. Instead of a leisurely pace of one chapter per semester, my writing schedule ended up like this:

Chapter 1

Started: 8-8-08

First draft completed: 12-14-09

Chapter 2

Started: 12-4-09

First draft completed: 3-1-10

Chapter 3

Started: 3-26-10

First draft completed: 6-1-10

Chapter 4

Started: 6-1-10

First draft completed: 7-8-10

Chapter 5

Started: 6-4-10

First draft completed: 1-21-11

Chapter 6

Started: 1-21-11

First draft completed: 5-4-11

Chapter 7

Started: 3-15-11

First draft completed: 5-4-11

Chapter 8

Started: 5-26-11

First draft completed: 6-8-11

Chapter 9

Started: 6-8-11

First draft completed: 7-25-11

As you can see, most of my progress came during the summer months. While I wrote during the regular academic year, fitting in the time was more difficult.

My advice for writing isn’t rocket science. It boils down to:

1. Use the summer months wisely. If you usually teach, then try to find funding to buy out that time and write. If you don’t typically teach, then write. You don’t have to become a hermit, ignore your family and friends, or forego relaxation, but you can’t take the summer off and expect to pick back up where you left off when the whirlwind of the fall semester begins.

2. Guard your writing time during the academic year. During the years I was writing the Jackson biography, I taught a 3-3 load. In addition to teaching, we are contractually required to hold ten office hours a week, and our campus culture is to have an open-door policy. (CU is an SLAC.) Beginning in the Spring 2010 semester, I also assumed responsibility as the program director for history, which included updating and maintaining program assessment for our regional accreditation through SACS. On top of all that, I performed the usual university service requirements, including committee work.

Guarding my writing time, then, was crucial if I were ever going to finish the book. My solution was to close my door at least two afternoon hours each weekday to write. Sometimes, I would ILL books and articles or do other book-related work, but my goal was to write for those two hours. Sometimes, I only managed 50 words; at other times, I could write 1,000. The point was simply to write.

Part 6 is here.