Recently I opened up an academic book to the acknowledgements. Although I try to not read acknowledgements because they are generally self-indulgent and annoying, it is sometimes hard to avert my eyes.

This particular acknowledgements began something like this (paraphrased): “I always promised myself I would never be one of those academics who takes ten years to finish a book and scurries around in shame at their failure. I was able to write and publish my book in record time which demonstrates my prowess, intelligence, and superiority over everyone else.”

How much do I hate this guy? Okay, so I filled in the second half of the thought but he does begin by congratulating himself in producing a book in under ten years — and the implication is that this feat deserves celebration.

Frankly, I don’t know where he got the ten year marker — most academics MUST produce a book in under ten years so they can get tenure. In fact, the tenure clock forces most people to produce quickly, whether they are ready to or not. The only way you could even take ten years is 1) you don’t need a book for tenure (in which case, what difference would it make how long you took?) or 2) you left one job for another, extending your time towards tenure (in which case, you are likely publishing all along — otherwise you would never get job #2).

I am particularly angered by Less Than Ten Years Guy’s discourse because I am someone who has, in fact, taken almost ten years on my book. (I fit case #2 above.) My complaint is not the one that is often made about how the accelerating professionalism of young academics is resulting in less stellar scholarship — although I think there is some merit to that. Rather, my experience indicates that pulling this off in under ten years in unbelievably difficult due to the inherent slowness of the process.

Case in point: One year ago, in March, I sent my book manuscript to a university press. The press sent the ms. to readers and I received the reader’s reports six months later, in August. I spent two months utterly paralyzed by the staggering number of revisions I was asked to make but began working on them in November (thank you InDWriMo!). Another five months and I just finished the revisions and mailed the ms. back to the press this week — almost exactly a year later.

In other words, an entire year was eaten up by this submission, evaluation & revision process — and it is not even over. Who knows what this next round will bring, or how long it will take? This year comes after the many, many years spent conducting research and writing. It is true that, unlike other efficient academics, it took me a long time to get going — several years of struggling with the project, unable to see where it was going, making a number of false starts, etc. I wasted a lot of time before I figured out what I was doing. But, even if you manage to avoid the post dissertation/first job morass that I fell into, the whole book process takes time. Taking more time is not a measure of the quality of the project either — thank you very much! It’s just a logistical reality.

I’m trying to focus on the fact that I’ve leapt another hurdle in this exhausting race towards publication and, ultimately, towards tenure. I don’t want Ten Years Guy and other precocious academics to make me feel bad about the time it has taken me — but sometimes I hear his voice in my head and it sniggers and says, “heh heh, I finished my book faster than you.”

Seriously, how much to I hate this guy?