Writing philosophy papers – some reflections, tips and tricks (J. Adam Carter)

By J. Adam Carter (University of Glasgow)

It will be hard to follow up Neil Levy’s post in this series - he’s published over 200 articles! If my own remarks diverge from his, reasonable principles of epistemic deference suggest you should go with what he says rather than me! In what follows, I’ll give an overview of some of the things that work for me. I don’t mean to suggest you should do all, or even any, of these things. But if you run up against a wall and want to try something different, maybe some of this will be of use.

In no particular order, here are some things that, for better or worse, I both (i) actually do and (ii) am under the impression are pretty helpful.

Keep a Paper Ideas List

Ideas for new papers often strike unexpectedly (in fact, this is something I’ve published about, through the lens of virtue epistemology, here). The fact that new ideas can strike unexpectedly is entirely to be expected: the literature on the psychology of creativity tells us that the ‘Aha!’ experience of an insight often hits when we’re not actively working on a problem.[1](For an amazing story about this phenomenon, read about Yitang Zhang and the twin prime conjecture!) Given that insights are hard if not impossible to channel at will, I find it helpful to write down an idea immediately whenever the idea strikes. I keep a list on my phone (currently about 50 ideas jotted there—just a few short sentences for each, capturing the gist), and, when I’m ready to write a new paper, I go to the list and pick one. Of course, some of the ideas on the list will probably never be drafted (and that might be for the best—some are probably crap, or perhaps already covered by someone else!) But it’s helpful to know they’re there anyway.

Think by Writing

Often times, I don’t really know what I think about an issue until I start writing. First efforts are often not very good, but then, by appreciating its badness asbadness, I can start to develop better and more refined views (built off the deleted wreckage). In general, I find that sometimes it can really help to see what a flawed or distorted version of an idea would look like (e.g., a negative) in order to properly grasp what a good version would look like. But blind/brave/dumb typing is needed in the first place in order to get the negative properly in view.

If these strategies help you to get writing, then a next set of strategies might help you to manage getting papers from your desktop into a journal.

The Master Document

For illustrative purposes,I’ve created a dummy version (with fake paper titles) of a document I actually use to give you a sense of how I make decisions about where to send my papers once they’re written. Each of my ‘live’ papers (those written but currently without a home) is colour-coded:

• black for ‘under review’
• red for ‘need to resubmit’
• orange for ‘revision already submitted’
• green for ‘conditionally accepted, final version needed’; and
• grey for ‘not under review’.

Crucially, for each paper, I keep a live list of each journal at which it’s been previously rejected. Having such information all in one place is super helpful for expediently deciding where to send any given paper next, once it’s been rejected (or once you’ve finished writing something new). Whenever I get something rejected (all the damn time!) I try to improve it promptly in light of any comments I get and then place it somewhere else. For example, if Noushas just knocked me back the same week I get rejected from PQ, I try to make revisions promptly and then (for instance) just ‘switch’ them around and send the one Nous rejected to PQ and the one PQ rejected to Nous.

Without my Master Document, I’d feel a bit adrift as to how to make these decisions strategically—and for some of them, when they need to be made (e.g., as you’ll see below, I’ve got a column that lists all deadlines and submission dates). The more productive you are with writing – and thus, the more ‘live’ papers you have – the more I think having such a document can help you organise things sensibly.

Workflow

Okay, this one is pretty idiosyncratic and I think some readers will be right to roll their eyes. I have what’s called in geek parlance a ‘workflow’, which helps to make writing both fun and organised, which (for me at least) makes the process more satisfying and streamlined. I write in Markdown (a plain text, a distraction-free, lightweight markup language), use pandoc(a universal document converter invented by philosopher John MacFarlane), and run everything through various kinds of custom LaTeX (as well as Word) templates in the background by typing pandoc code in the terminal (or, sometimes, by just running a script in the markdown editor SublimeText). I find this all immensely satisfying: when the document compiles, beautifully formatted, via the pandoc code, it feels like magic (and looks great, too!) Why would anyone ever take the time to do something as ridiculous sounding as this? This article provides an extensive rationaleand offers a tutorial. I describe my own workflow here. And, just to be clear, although I can do some tricks with pandoc, my workflow is lame compared to folks like Kieran Healey. 

Some other strategies help to better integrate academic writing with the rest of one’s life.

Coffee Nap!

I want to turn now to what stands at the very heart of my productivity strategy: the coffee nap. Perhaps like many, any mental sharpness I have in the mornings is generally gone by dinner time. I used to try to simply will-power my way through the evening and keep working. And by ‘working’ I mean sitting there easily distracted and unenthused—neither properly working nor properly relaxing. Sometime circa 2013, I tried something different and the results were great and immediate. What I call the “coffee nap” involves simply passing out cold for about an hour in the evening - usually around seven until eight[2]- then waking up and having a double shot of espresso. Good as new! This allows for about another four hours of mentally sharp work, from eight to midnight. This strategy gives me, in effect, two mornings each day—two sustained periods of hard, focused work. Granted, the coffee nap is not for everyone, and it’s an adaptation to my own preferences, which others might not share. And it’s certainly compatible with taking time off when needed (see next point). It also might not be exactly recommended by a doctor.

Take Holidays

I’ve not really experienced burnout, but it sounds pretty miserable. To avoid it—and thanks to some very helpful encouragement and suggestions from my partner—I make sure to take holidays (and at least one day a week, and which I enjoy for their own sake) where I don’t do any work at all, don’t check work e-mail (very much), and think about things that have nothing to do with philosophy. The Scandinavians, well known as the happiest people on earth, place a premium on holidays and from what I can tell, they are entirely right about this.

Fun

A final thing: I am at my most productive when I’m having funwriting. Writing about something you aren’t excited about is a trap. (Exhibit A: My 2014 paper on metalinguistic negotiation which was terrible and which I have ‘retired’. That was a trap.)

I think I’ll leave things here for now and get back to my massive ‘to do’ list. If you’ve read this far, best of luck with your writing!

Thanks to Ian James Kidd for the invitation to write this guest blog post.

 

[1]For helpful discussion, see Eliaz Segal, "Incubation in insight problem solving." Creativity Research Journal 16, no. 1 (2004): 141-148.

[2]To be clear, 7-8pm is de facto a typical time for my coffee nap because that is the time when I am generally running out of mental steam. If you are running out of steam earlier, then perhaps an early afternoon coffee nap would be right for you.

Comments

[Derek Shiller]

I was under the impression that it was frowned upon to submit papers back to back to the same journal. I've been trying to keep to less than once a year to any given journal. Is that a mistake?

[Jadamcarter]

Hi Derek, great question. I should have been more clear on this point. Some journals have an explicit policy on this.. For example, AJP has a policy that restricts your submissions to that journal to (I believe) two per calendar year.

However, if a journal does not list such a policy, then I see no reason to limit your submissions to a given journal to one per year as a default. (That said, in many cases, I think something like this rule gets de facto respected simply because—and especially if you get an R and R—it will take over a year for many submissions to progress through various R and R stages.)

[Saddened]

I appreciate that the post is intended merely to shed light on one particular person's work methods, but I think it is irresponsible of the writer and the editors of this website to upload such a post without a number of important caveats.

Firstly, this is not an ordinary work day, and any nervous grad students reading this should not assume that they need to work 12 hour days to be productive. This is above and beyond what is required, and most philosophers of all ranks do not work such long hours. It is common, and acceptable, to take breaks from work to relax, socialise or enjoy one's hobbies. For most people, this is necessary for mental health.

Secondly, working from 8am to 12am is only a real option for a small minority of the population - those in good health with no dependents or family responsibilities, and those who do have such dependents and family responsibilities but who have conveniently found a partner willing to do all of the childcare, all the housework, all of the cooking, etc, to enable their partner to work continuously throughout the day. (Most of the time these partners are women.)

I don't mean to imply that the author of this post is ignorant of these points - I am sure he is not. However, this website has considerable reach and influence, and so it would be useful if he could acknowledge these points so as to make sure impressionable readers do not assume that this an achievable and necessary lifestyle for every aspiring philosopher, when in reality it is not.

[Marcus Arvan]

Saddened: I share your substantive concerns. I don't work twelve hour days myself, for many of the reasons you mention (I maintain a strict 9am-5pm work schedule Monday through Friday, and almost never work on weekends).

That being said, I don't quite understand how it is irresponsible for Adam to report his practices, or for us to post his contribution without requiring added caveats. Instead of censorship or editorial heavy-handedness, why isn't the appropriate thing here for readers like yourself to raise concerns about the substance of the post, and for discussion to proceed from there?

[Ian James Kidd]

Saddened: following Marcus' response, and speaking as the commissioning editor, the post doesn't say everyone has to adopt these methods, or aim for this rate of productivity, nor claim that employment is only possible if one does so. Like the other posts in this series, it's a series of personal statements of writing practices, which readers can adopt, amend, or ignore as they like, depending on their needs, aims, and circumstances. Hope that clarifies :)

[Amanda]

I read this over a few times, and maybe I'm missing something, but where does he say he works 12 hour days? Is that because of the copy nap? I didn't see anything where it said he was working none stop the rest of the time. But maybe I overlooked this. Regardless, there are always some people in a class of their own. Some of the best philosophers have published just a few things, and others hundreds, there are different ways to do things, and this series is about finding what works for you. I don't work 12 hours a day - but I also don't take days off, almost ever. I also know a few insanely well published people who refuse to write more than 3 hours a day. So, just figure out what works for you, your lifestyle, and all your life goals, not just philosophy.