C0-editing a special issue

Words cannot quite express how excited I am that the special issue that I worked on over the past couple of years is now published (http://www.tandfonline.com/toc/rwhr20/25/1) – and that a print copy of the entire issue arrived just the other day!

Words also cannot express how very grateful I was for this opportunity. What happened in this case was that June Purvis, the editor of Women’s History Review heard about a symposium on Constance Maynard that we were putting on at Queen Mary (University of London), and, because she thought it might make a good special issue, got in touch. It was also thanks to Thomas Dixon and Nadia Valman at QMUL that I was involved in the symposium at all. And it was thanks to the patience and assistance of Sue Morgan (the deputy editor at WHR, and a speaker at our symposium) that we got through the editing process!

In many ways this was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Writing my article and responding to peer review might have been the easiest part. Harder was choosing people to invite to contribute; ensuring the article topics worked together; working out what to do when people dropped out; finding and managing peer reviewers; and being diplomatic if contributors got harsh peer reviews, or missed their deadlines and didn’t get back to us…

The most enjoyable challenge was co-writing the introduction. Having just finished the solitary experience that can be a PhD, it was great to get together with other people to plan a piece of writing. I was lucky in my co-editors and we had a truly collaborative experience. I only thought afterwards about how awful it might have been had we not all agreed on our vision for the special issue, and appreciated the different perspectives and approaches that we each brought to the project.

Here are some of the things I learnt about editing a special issue:

Reasons editing a special issue is an amazing experience:

  • You get to commission articles on things that really interest you.
  • You get to read the latest research as it is developing, before anyone else.
  • You get to work with some really great editors of journals, contributors, and peer reviewers.
  • You learn about yourself as a scholar – what sort of work you respect/enjoy/want to emulate, and what direction you want to take your subject in.
  • You develop the confidence to disagree with other editors, or peer reviewers, and to stand up for your contributors and your vision.

Things that I would do differently next time:

  • Be clearer about the word count from the start – and make people stick to it. I sincerely apologize to all my contributors for making them cut their wonderful essays at the last minute.
  • Think about alternative contributors earlier in the process – not wait for two contributors to drop out before searching for a replacement.

Other advice:

  • Three co-editors is probably the perfect number. We could split out the work evenly, each keeping up with our own pet contributors and their peer review process – we re-distributed if people dropped out or if our personal work loads had changed – but we didn’t have too many competing ideas.
  • Work with people you enjoy. Despite the stresses of putting together a special issue, we had fun, especially when we had to continue our editorial meetings via Skype when I moved away. There’s nothing quite like a cat-on-the-laptop interruption for lightening the mood.

So, all in all, I highly recommend this process to others. If you would like to access the result of our hard work, it’s available at: http://www.tandfonline.com/toc/rwhr20/25/1

(Most of the articles are only accessible from a library that subscribes to the journal, although if you scroll down you will find that Lesley Hall’s article on same-sex relationships in inter-war Britain is available to download for free.)

You can download a free copy of our introduction here (limited number of copies): http://www.tandfonline.com/eprint/XstCSIUXdnfr55tBVHDy/full

And a free copy of my article here (limited number of copies): http://www.tandfonline.com/eprint/vSigHhuGVGIjXARWTBum/full


Special issue of WHR – ‘Love, Desire and Melancholy: inspired by Constance Maynard’

I’m immensely excited and proud to announce that the special issue I co-edited with Elsa Richardson and Jane Mackelworth was published last week!

Review (2)

The special issue was initially based on the Constance Maynard Symposium we hosted at Queen Mary, University of London (QMUL) with QMUL Archives and the QMUL Centre for the History of Emotions, to mark the completion of the digitisation of Constance Maynard’s autobiographical writings. Maynard’s diaries and unpublished biography provide fascinating material for historians of women’s sexuality; she wrote in detail about her relationships with other women teachers and students. The symposium therefore did not solely focus on Maynard, but considered the wider question of how love is related to history, culture and religion. It also encouraged interdisciplinarity, through welcoming how the approaches of art history, literary studies, architecture studies and life writing could all contribute to understanding Maynard and the history of women’s sexuality.

When it came to editing a special issue for Women’s History Review we wanted to retain this wider focus and interdisciplinary approach.

The special issue starts with an introduction providing: an introduction to Constance Maynard, considering how she was both exceptional and representative of women of her time and background; a summary of the symposium; and a survey of directions women’s history has taken concerning women’s understanding of their sexuality and sexual identities through the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

Part 1 of the special issue includes articles that touch directly on Maynard’s life and writings. Pauline Phipps’s article reflects on her experience writing the biography of Constance Maynard (available to buy here).

My article then discusses the representations of women’s intimate relationships in religious literature of Maynard’s time, and how Maynard wrote about her relationships with women using the tropes of this culture. In her article, Naomi Lloyd continues this consideration of how Maynard’s religion interacted with her sexuality, but adds a discussion of how colonialist discourses of space also helped to shape Constance Maynard’s erotic imagination. Elisabeth Jay’s article then considers how an appreciation of the genre of spiritual autobiography can add to our understanding of Maynard’s life writing.

Lorraine Screene, the archivist responsible for the digitisation of Maynard’s writings, contributes an article that considers how archival materials can reveal the interaction of religion and education at Westfield College. And Lisa C. Robertson’s article explores how architecture and other structures challenged the domestic model of the college and impacted women students’ experiences.

Part 2 includes articles that extend discussion of the themes of the special issue into the twentieth century, and includes both a review essay and a reflective essay on these themes.

The section starts with an open-access article by Lesley Hall, which examines the cultural representations of women’s friendship in the early twentieth century, identifying a complex interplay between the tropes of female friendship represented in literature, letters, life writing, and also in sexological, medical and psychological texts by women.

Alison Twells’s article develops a new method for reading the ‘ordinary diary’ as she finds evidence of the formation and expression of heterosexual desire in a woman’s Second-World-War diary.

Our review essay, by Elsa Richardson, considers Laura Doan’s recent book Disturbing Practices (available to buy here), how it develops her influential work on the history of women’s sexuality, and how it might inform readings of the Maynard archive.

Finally, our reflective essay, provided by Carol Mavor, demonstrates how poetic interpretations of nineteenth-century art and photography might enable different strategies for women’s historians to get closer to the experience of a given culture’s narratives and values.

IMG_1496 (2)

You can access the special issue here (to gain access to the full text versions of most of the articles you will need your library to have subscribed to Women’s History Review).

You can access (limited) printable copies of my article here.

And (limited) printable copies of the introduction, co-authored by Jane Mackelworth, Elsa Richardson and myself, here.



30% off Emotions and Missions book

Get 30% off individual orders of Emotions and Christian Missions with this flyer!

Not only does this book contain my first published chapter(!) but it also features truly excellent work by editors Claire McLisky, Daniel Midena, and Karen Vallgårda and a host of talented contributors.


Hurry – offer expires 31st December!

Revising a paper for publication

As I read through the essay on my computer screen I found myself getting lost. What point was this person making? Where had the thread of the argument disappeared to? Why was it so complicated? I felt like I was marking the work of an undergraduate.

Unfortunately the author of this piece was no 18 year old. It was me. Admittedly the piece had been written about 2 years before I’d gained my PhD, but I was somewhat shocked by how incoherent it now seemed. Luckily the editors of the collection still wanted my essay, but obviously it needed ‘significant revision’. I was tempted to start again with a blank sheet of paper.

But I didn’t, and within a month I had a far more coherent, better argued essay that was far more appropriate for the collection. So, before I forget how I managed this, I thought I’d set down my reflections on this process, the stages I went through and the strategies I used when revising my paper. Some of them are specific to my particular situation, but it might be that some of them can be applied in other situations and could be of help to others struggling with that initially unwelcome instruction to ‘revise and re-submit’. I’m currently second-drafting another essay (less revision needed on this one!) and will certainly be following some of my own advice.

Stage 1: Dismay, anger, depression

Revise and resubmit

It’s never nice to get negative feedback, even if you know it’s going to be constructive in the end. I was dismayed by the amount of work my editors thought the piece needed and annoyed at some of what I initially thought were petty or not constructive comments. So after reading through all the comments, I closed the email and saved it for later.

Strategy: Take some time

In the same way I don’t think you should ever answer an email when angry, I don’t think it’s a good idea to deal with comments until you’ve had time to digest them. Time away from them tends to take the sting out of any objectionable comments and results in a calmer, more reconciled and accepting disposition. I took a week for this.

Stage 2: Rational re-evaluation

A week later, as I read over my essay, any negative feelings towards my editors were replaced by embarrassment, and any feelings of annoyance were now directed at my former self. Since writing this paper some eighteen months earlier I had come to a few realizations about my thesis subject and approach, and this piece seemed so inferior to what I had been confidently producing more recently. I couldn’t blame my editors for calling out the glaring mistakes which I myself now admitted to and had only recently solved in my thesis. Of course, neither could I blame my former self for not knowing yet what I knew now (that would be a bit unreasonable). I looked on the bright side, reflecting that I actually agreed with a number of the comments, and now had the chance to bring this paper into alignment with my new thinking. Many of the problems with it stemmed from a lack of clarity over what exactly I was trying to do – which I was now a lot clearer on – and others stemmed from the fact that I was an English literature student intervening in what was essentially history (interdisciplinarity poses challenges as well as providing opportunities…).

Strategy: Think through reviewers’ most fundamental issues and your responses to them

Being a great believer in Thinking Writing, I found it helpful to do this as a written exercise. I wrote out the reviewers’ issues as questions and wrote my immediate answers to them. I’d respond to these answers with more probing questions until I felt that I had the issue thrashed out to my satisfaction and was confident with my answers. I didn’t agree with all the reviewers’ comments, or the positions these revealed, but arguing with them in this way allowed me to realize how certain misunderstandings may have occurred and to articulate my positions more clearly. I was then able to use bits and pieces of these articulations in my re-writing.

Stage 3: Additional reading

My intervention in this collection’s rather wide field (nineteenth-century missionaries) was based on knowledge of one particular corner of the subject (missionary biographies). I had read pretty extensively, but I had tended to avoid case-study articles, in the belief that any findings which would apply generally to my question would make it into more general studies or surveys. Of course, in the few years that had passed since my initial research, much more had been published, and my editors were able to alert me to a number of really helpful case-study articles and newly-published works on missionary families, for example.

Strategy: Take the time to read and re-engage with scholarship

My editors had not suggested too many additional things to read, so I made the effort to read them all and add them to my references. I enjoyed this stage, as I found that more scholars were now engaged in the same questions that had interested me in the first place and were coming to interesting conclusions.

Stage 4: Re-reading and re-structuring for clarity of argument

A wholescale re-structure is probably not always necessary. For this piece however, the argument was rather convoluted. Now that I was clearer on my approach I needed to get clear about how my argument progressed and how each section of the essay contributed. To better organise this piece it really helped me to use a strategy I use with my students. 

Strategy: Paragraph analysis

I teach my students that each of their paragraphs should make one point and that one-sentence summaries of each paragraph (perhaps the topic sentences) placed in order should produce the outline of the argument. So I went through my essay and worked out what, exactly, each paragraph was trying to do. As I did this, I ended up deleting of a lot of extraneous material, combining paragraphs making the same point, moving paragraphs to different sections, and eventually I ended up with a much more tightly argued and better organised essay. I’m quite a logical person, so this exercise was really satisfying for me.

Stage 5: Systematic revisions and re-writing

By this point I had lost sight of some of the original comments, so it was important to me to come up with a way of being sure that my revisions had covered my editors’ points.

Strategy: Lists

I decided to make just one list, which would force me to work systematically through every revision necessary and not put off the more difficult ones. However, I imagine another way would be to group the comments/revisions by type in different lists (e.g. theoretical/methodological issues, grammar/re-phrasing, additional references). This list was useful in that I could then easily create a report for the editors if necessary, making clear what revisions I had made and which suggestions I had accepted (and which I had not). It was also pretty satisfying to cross off each item on the list once it had been resolved.

Stage 6: Final read through

By now I was pretty happy with my revisions, so I read the revised essay through for sense, tweaking the expression and language as I went, and deleting words and sentences where possible (to keep within the word limit).


Final reflections

  • Stages 3-5 of the process above can be carried out largely synchronously.
  • While I was engaged in all this I couldn’t work out whether I was more annoyed at the time-lag that publishing in the humanities seems to involve – it all seemed a very long time since I’d agreed to write the piece – or whether I was pleased – the delay had given me the chance to develop my ideas. I’m still not sure.
  • I was, and still am sure that the editorial process was highly valuable, as I was really pleased with how I was able to improve my work thanks to all the intervention from experts in other parts of the field.

I’d be very interested in other people’s advice about revising work – or any thoughts on the process of editing and publication more generally.

New book – emotional missionaries

The emotional experience of Victorian women missionaries was something that I tried to research while doing my PhD. But, as with much study of historical emotions, the experience itself was difficult – if not impossible – to examine. All I could access were the written accounts of emotional experience, which were often written to fit an accepted formula or to evoke emotions in a projected audience. I don’t disregard such written accounts of emotional experience completely – just because a feeling is described in a formulaic manner, doesn’t make it necessarily inauthentic – but I did change my focus slightly to think more about how the emotions of my missionaries were textually expressed and how such emotional texts functioned within the Christian community which read them. This approach also made more sense for a literature specialist in an English department!

It turns out, it’s also an approach that makes sense to certain historians studying emotions too, as when I read the publicity material for a new book on missionaries and emotions it struck me that the essays aren’t focusing on how emotions were felt by missionaries, but how they were ‘conceptualised and practised’

Missionary emotions screen shot.

I was thrilled to be asked to contribute an essay for this book, based on my PhD research. The process of revising, post-PhD, what was initially a seminar paper written pre-PhD, has been an interesting one, which I’ll write about in another post. For now, though, I just wanted to share how pleased I am that this fascinating project, long in discussion, is finally coming to fruition. We don’t yet have a publication date, but the book’s appearance on Palgrave’s website is pretty exciting. Exciting to me, personally, because I think it will probably be my first proper print publication. But exciting more generally, because I think its editors, Claire McLisky, Daniel Midena, and Karen Vallgårda, have really made the case for the importance of studying emotion in missionary history.

For more information about the book, see Palgrave’s website.