Since the purpose behind this whole project is the production of a book, I thought this time I’d talk a little about how books get created. It’s particularly on my mind since, last week, I delivered the final manuscript for the other book project I’ve been working on. (Which opens up my time and attention now for Garroway’s book…now at more than 27,000 words, in case you were wondering.)
At any rate, it doesn’t matter how many volumes you have on the shelf, or how many of them you’ve read in a lifetime. You never really understand the realm of books until you’ve written one – and even then, I’m not sure how much you really understand. From experience I can speak of this, as I’ve been there, and am going through the process twice over as I write this.
The process I’m going through now is different from those I went through for my first two books. My first book was a work for hire for a local organization, and on that job I was author, editor, book designer, layout person…you name it. I had to deliver a ready-to-print file to the company that printed the books. Somehow I made it. The second book was a little more conventional in that I didn’t have to do the layout and such myself, but I still had to put in a whole raft of work.
The book whose manuscript I delivered last week involved, by far, the most formalized and regimented submissions process I’ve dealt with, and perhaps it will give you some insight into what goes into a lot of books you’ll see. I’ll say all this with the caveat that it’s a university-affiliated press (but my book isn’t a textbook; that’s a whole different realm from what I do), and other publishers will have different requirements and benchmarks and so forth, but regardless I hope it will provide some insight from the author’s side of the creation process.
The whole process began some time ago with a proposal to the press’s acquisitions department. I wrote up an outline, submitted a sample chapter (one I thought was especially strong), included a copy of my vitae, and sent all that along with a letter. Different presses will have different requirements for a proposal package, so it’s important you follow those guidelines as closely as possible. It’s easy to write something up that will end up in the reject pile, so take care to follow their instructions closely. (Also, some presses might prefer that you propose only when you have something complete, or close to it.)
It took a little time, as the press’s acquisitions department was fairly busy, but in time I heard back that they were interested in my proposal. Fortunately, the manuscript was mostly complete, and we agreed on a deadline for the first draft. It was June when I heard back, and we settled on early December for the manuscript to be done. I spent the next several months expanding the manuscript, fleshing out all the things I’d wanted to flesh out and fixing all the weak areas I’d found and some other things that had just bothered me in the original. Since the book was an expansion of my doctoral dissertation written in 2001, I had the heart of it already done, but I needed to take out a lot of academic-speak to make the book reader-friendly, and also expand some areas I hadn’t been able to expand on back then. My dissertation had also been written in a hurry (there was a job offer in the balance, as well as my graduate director wanting me to finish before he retired), so it was short. That’s not to mention that a lot of marvelous resources had become available in the decade and a half since, and I also have a perspective on things that I didn’t have then.
By late November 2017 I had expanded a 49,000-word dissertation into about 75,000 words. But that really doesn’t tell the tale, because I’d had to throw out an entire academically-themed chapter of the dissertation (because when you write a dissertation, there’s an academic aspect you have to include, even if you’re not especially happy about it because what you really want to do is tell a story that hadn’t been told), rearrange some other elements and so forth, so I started out with about a 45,000-word basis. I’d edited it and re-edited it, including marking up a paper copy (seriously, you see things differently on paper than you do on the screen, and editing with a pencil gives you kinds of freedom you don’t have with a computer), and it was ready for the next stage in the process. Per the press’s request, I delivered a paper copy of the manuscript and an electronic version.
The next several months were quiet. Why? The press sent it out for external review. In this case, two people who read manuscripts for the press reviewed it and answered some questions for the press. It’s fundamental stuff, like “do you find it original?” and “does it make a contribution to the field?” And, of course, the big one: “Should the press publish this book?”
This can take a while. It was mid-April before I heard back. Fortunately, the news couldn’t have been happier: both were positive reviews. One was glowingly so. The other recommended some areas for clarification and improvement – easy enough to fix. I was asked to write responses to the reviewers’ comments and submit them as soon as I could. So I did.
With those positive recommendations, the press decided to move ahead. We engaged in a little bit of negotiation and came to terms on a contract, decided on a delivery date, and other such terms. Easy enough. I signed the contract and returned it, then spent the next few weeks tying up loose ends: chasing last-minute leads, getting the archival photos I needed, nailing down permissions to use material from archives, and giving things one last really good read. (Which is more difficult than you’d think, especially if you tend to tweak your copy as you read. I finally had to turn it into a PDF, which I couldn’t fiddle with as I read, and made notes about edits on paper.)
So last week, I submitted the final package to the publisher: a flash drive with the final manuscript (more than 78,000 words, along with about 14,000 more words of frontmatter, notes and bibliography, and image captions) and ten high-quality image files (courtesy of a really helpful university archive), along with the permissions forms and a couple other pieces of paperwork. My part in the process, for now at least, is done.
What’s going to happen next? Well, the press has to go through its own process. They’ll check my references and other aspects, get the manuscript formally copy edited, and then I’ll have to review the edits and sign off on them. Then they’ll design the book and I’ll have to review the galleys and sign off on those. That’s also when I’ll have to create an index, since the pagination will be set. At some point, all the tasks will be done and the book will be printed and it’ll be an actual, physical thing at last.
Then, no doubt, I’ll read it and instead of feeling a sense of accomplishment, I’ll locate one little detail that I didn’t get correct, or I’ll see something I missed. It always happens. But, that’s the risk you run.