Reflections on almost a year of blogging

It’s been almost a year since I launched this blog. Some 40 posts have been published and a few more are in the pipeline. However, in just over a month, on February 1, 2020, it will be over. At that time, this blog project will have reached its finish line. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the manuscript for my second book. This will require some additional time for writing. 

There are several reasons why the book manuscript will not be finished. First, I knew already in advance that a year for writing a book was a pretty ambitious goal. I’m not a slow writer. Nor am I fast as a bullet. What helps me produce text is that I have good routines, good self-discipline and a good minimum level. This means that I can consistently squeeze out one page a day. Sometimes two. Only rarely more than that. 

Second, I’ve had a lot of other things requiring my attention. In 2019, I have written applications, edited two books, traveled to conferences and organized seminars. I have also received requests for a couple of small writing projects that I didn’t want to turn down. The book has been a priority during 2019. At times, however, the project has been on hold. These are the choices I have made and they are ones I accept. 

However, a project that has not slowed down my book is this blog. Before I started, I was afraid that it would consume a lot of time. To some extent, this is obviously also the case. Blog posts don’t write themselves. But at the same time, at least for me, writing has resulted in more writing. By constantly writing for publication, I have increased my speed. In addition, I have become more fearless expressing myself in writing. Unlike almost all other forms of academic writing, blogging also offers immediate feedback. This has been valuable. 

A further advantage of blogging about my writing and working process is that it results in a form of accountability. My book writing occurs in public, thus creating a form of social contract. Sure, none of you readers will punish me if there is no book in the end. But as far as I am concerned, the promise made to myself is made stronger by making it public. From time to time, I have to report on the progress of the book. This means that my blogging represents additional pressure on me to actually advance in the book project. This pressure has also been valuable. 

More important than all this, however, is the fact that this blog has taken on a greater purpose along the way. As it is now entering its final stages, I realize that it no longer primarily concerns academic writing and writing a second book. It is about what it’s like to be an academic at the beginning of his or her career and everything associated with that. 

Many of us live this kind of life. But we are rarely heard. The voice of the project researcher has no obvious forums or any obvious representatives. Yet, we represent an important part of the academy. Without us, many departments and research fields would have ground to a halt and become rigid. For our well-being, however, we need each other. We need to share experiences and help each other. I hope that this blog has played such a role and that it will continue to do so for a while. 

With these words, I thank you for this year. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! The blog will start again on January 17.

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The glass ceiling

The higher you get in the academic hierarchy, the fewer the women. This is a general pattern. Things may be balanced at the undergraduate and graduate level in different disciplines. Perhaps even more women. Among associate and full professors, however, this balance shifts. Women drop off and men remain. The theme of this blog, writing a second book, is a classic dividing line. More men than women manage to write one. If we add children into the equation, these differences become even more significant. There are very few female historians with children under the age of ten who publish a second book. But quite a few men. 

The general pattern is not exclusive to academia. It appears in all hierarchical organizations, such as the judiciary and business life. Looking at my own cohort of history PhD students in Lund, the outcome is predictable. Six or seven years after having received their PhD, some of the men have written second books, become associate professors (docent) and gained permanent faculty positions. None of the women. This despite the fact that the women have been relatively more successful among the major research funding bodies. Furthermore, several of the women have been employed in permanent, parttime administrative positions. The men have not. 

Why is that? And what can we do about it? Looking at the academic career advice literature, we find Rena Seltzer’s highly readable The Coach’s Guide for Women Professors (2015). This is a practical guide written by someone with decades’ worth of experience in coaching female academics and leaders. Among other things, it includes a great chapter on learning how to say no. This, of course, is something all ambitious academics need to learn. But it’s particularly important for women. In fact, due to current gender imbalances and gender equality requirements, they will receive considerably more inquiries than men. These may involve various forms of reviews, grading committees, supervising, committee work, etc. Men, on the other hand, stay under the radar and can uninterruptedly work on improving their CVs. Women must safeguard their time or drown in smaller tasks. 

For those wanting to read even more broadly, and with an open mind, there is Sally Helgesen and Marshall Goldsmith’s How Women Rise (2018). This is a sequel to Goldsmith’s modern classic What Got You Here Won’t Get You There (2013), focusing on the behaviors preventing successful people from reaching the next level. These books are primarily written for business executives and are based on the authors’ many years of experience in coaching this demographic. But the principles are valid in many different contexts, including academia. 

These two books are written based on an understanding that at high levels, skill, intelligence, talent or drive rarely determine who is the most successful. Everyone on the starting line has a lot of these qualities. Hence, other aspects determine the outcome. Helgesen and Goldsmith are not blind to structural causes, but their focus is on things that the individual him- or herself can do something about. They focus on behaviors in particular. And among the most dangerous are the ones that have gotten us to where we are today. The reason is that what was a virtue at one level – say, always delivering 100% – may be directly harmful at another level. A postdoc or senior lecturer must be able to let go of texts and give lectures that are good enough. There’s simply not enough time to think about each footnote and comma. Not everything you do can be a masterpiece. In such a case, you will drown in work. There won’t be enough hours in the day. 

But which habits tend to serve as obstacles for women? Helgesen and Goldsmith list twelve. These include “reluctance to claim your achievements,” “expecting others to spontaneously notice and reward your contributions,” “the perfection trap,” ‘the disease to please” and “putting your job before your career.” At least my wife, who is on track to becoming a judge, nods in agreement… Perhaps some of the female readers of this blog do the same?

Further reading on the topic: "The second book", "On the importance of a social and intellectual context", "Mobility"

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