This morning, I did 30 minutes to edit with a pen and paper what I worked on yesterday with a pen. I’ve sent it to a writing assistant to transcribe. It’s good. I’m happy, and I’m happy to be done for the day.
Daniel Tubb
Weaving and Atarraya II, Day 3: Cutting and Shortening
Today was a short day. I revised 2,500 words, full of repetition and not in a good order. I got it 1,500 better words. I removed repetition, I reorganized it, and I cut things into a Word file. I then printed it. Tomorrow, I will review on paper with a green pen. (I find there is a moment in the writing, where a print out, with a pen, on paper offers a different speed. The medium offers a way to slow down.
Weaving and Atarraya II, Day 2: Re-Reading
Today was a day of running and rushing and trying to finish something. I didn’t get a chance to get to the book until late at night. But since my commitment was to “write 1,000 words, revise 1,000 words, or review 1,000 words,” I decided to take the time to review 1,000 words. That is, read it. I converted my Tinderbox manuscript to an ePub, on my Kobo. I read 45 pages or so. Bits felt good. Lots needs polish. But, it felt good. I’m happy. Things I’ve written, books I’ve reviewed, but forgotten. I can do this.
Weaving and Atarraya II, Day 1: My Comittment
After thinking about yesterday’s post on finishing, I’ve decided to make the following commitment:
Monday through Sunday, I commit to working on the Atarraya book by either writing 1,000 words, reviewing 1,000 words, revising 1,000 words, reading and taking notes for 45 minutes, or doing meta work (e.g., planning, reading, or scheduling for the book) for 45 minutes. I also commit to reading the relevant section of the academic self-help literature1 for 15 minutes, and posting a daily update to my blog and to my public Google Spreadsheet.
If I fail to write for more than one day out of seven, I will donate $250 to the Liberal Party of Canada. If I succeed, I will donate $250 to the Avi Lewis NDP Leadership Campaign (or to the NDP if Avi Lewis wins the NDP leadership, or to another progressive cause if he does not win).
Along the way, I commit to meeting with my writing group every Tuesday at 1 PM during the next 31 weeks, except for April 14, June 30, and July 7—to write, ask questions, and report on my progress.
I am committing to the following positive incentives.
By April 1, 2026, I will submit a proposal to an acquisitions editor at a university press, which includes a letter, a detailed outline, a table of contents, and a sample chapter. If I succeed in submitting a proposal by April 1, I will buy a touring bike, take a weeklong writing retreat from April 11 to April 19, and plan a family bike vacation for June 25 to July 12.
By June 19, 2026, I will submit a full draft of the Atarraya book to my development editor and my acquisitions editor. If I succeed, I will take June 20 to 24 to submit my file for promotion. If I submit my manuscript to my editors by June 19, 2026, and my promotion file to the Faculty by June 24, I will take a family bike vacation from June 25 to July 12.
On July 12, I will receive comments from my editors and work to submit a revised manuscript to the press by August 13. If I submit my revised manuscript by August 13, I will take a family camping vacation from August 14 to August 31.
If I cannot meet this commitment due to prolonged illness or family emergencies, I will inform my writing group and adjust this commitment.
If I fail to meet one of the deadlines (April 1 for book proposal, June 19 for draft, June 24 for promotion file, or August 13 for revised draft), I will forgo the related positive incentive.
References
- See Belcher, Wendy Laura. Writing Your Journal Article in Twelve Weeks, Second Edition. A Guide to Academic Publishing Success. University of Chicago Press, 2019 and Germano, William. Getting It Published, 2nd Edition: A Guide for Scholars and Anyone Else Serious about Serious Books. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009. ↩
On “Writing a Journal Article in Twelve Weeks”: Or, on finishing the God Damn Book
A long time ago, when I was a new professor writing my first academic article, I used Wendy Belcher’s brilliant “Revising a Journal Article in Twelve Weeks.”1 Now, as a not-so-new professor with a book to finish and writing projects to work on, I’ve decided to return to Belcher’s 12-step program. It’s mid-January. It’s busy with administrative work, but I’m beginning to see the light. So I’m going to take some time to think about what it would take to finish the book this year. I think the end of August would be a good time. So, how do we get there?
On Hard Deadlines.
To have a few books, things that stand out. Finishing is one of the hardest parts for me. And when I think back to the times I finished big projects, it was when there were two things. A hard and immovable deadline and a commitment to work at the beginning. That is, I had both a carrot and a stick. That is, there was an important, immovable deadline that had financial and time implications.
To finish my master’s degree, I had committed to a two-week bike trip with friends. I was also going to start a Ph.D. program that September. My thesis had to be submitted by August, so I could defend in September. The PhD program had funding and I had the trip to look forward to with friends. In short, two carrots, and the stick of having to find a job if I didn’t finish. I finished, in the train, to catch the flight, for the bike trip.
For my Ph.D., I was going to be a postdoc at Yale, and my son was about to be born. So again, financial incentive (the job), and something else I wanted to do (be a father). I finished a few days before my son was due.
For my first book, I had a deadline from my publisher and my series editor. I saw my editor at the conference, and he asked where the manuscript was. He put the fire in my belly. As the book was tied to my tenure file, I felt that without the book, I didn’t see how I could get tenure. The combination worked.
For the second book, I had a self-imposed weekly deadline to edit an article, and got letters published in a magazine. So that worked, too. Same thing being book review editor. Short, regular, weekly deadlines.
On Making a Commitment.
The other thing that is consistent with the times that I’ve finished work before, from the MA, was that I was able to work on the book every day. For my MA and PhD, that was easy. I decided and was able to focus on it. I lived in Ottawa, I had few commitments, and I decided to write with friends, go to coffee shops, go to the office, and work on it. Not necessarily every day, but most days. It became so that if I hadn’t worked on it, I felt anxious.
But for the book, and especially for the second round of revisions, I ended up creating a writing group of peers and students. This worked in several ways. Sometimes it was a project of writing simultaneously and in place with people. That is, in a coffee shop or online. Other times it was a public commitment to spending a day of writing, with consequences if I did not write.
Twice I made a public commitment to write or revise a thousand words a day for thirty days, or I would donate $50 to a political campaign I didn’t support. I wrote—no matter what. I wrote. Even when the writing left me exhausted. But, every time I completed it, I had a rush of exhilaration at the forward momentum.
What to do?
So, where does that leave me on the Atarraya book? It’s January 19, and I am thinking about how to finish. I have the outline of the book. I know where it is going. I know where I am going, broadly speaking. I just have to do the work. To finish the book.
What would it take to get there? A few things. First, a carrot? Something better to do. I have ideas. But, scheduling a family vacation at the beginning of the summer, with the kids, would be an idea. This would give me time to finish. Another carrot, the promotion deadlines are at the same time, so put in a draft, with a publisher letter. Maybe I could make a commitment to the publisher with a submission deadline?
A traditional stick is a little harder. Why is that? Well, I have tenure. So I’m not going to lose my job. So that’s harder. But, a public commitment would be another option. I’m not sure if I want to do that, or if the political kind is the best. The stakes feel high. But I know that the positive reinforcement has been less successful.
What’s another option? Scheduling time to write with other people.
When to do it?
When I look back, the projects I’ve done and completed were things I did in the morning. So, that I was able to “check-out” at about 10 am, having done a good day’s work. At times, I’d also do a chunk later. But, it meant I had two bursts of writing. Two bursts that were time-constrained.
What can I learn from this?
Looking back on Belcher’s Writing a Journal Article in Twelve Weeks, I can see it get me started on finishing my first book. I hope it can help me finish my third.
Update
I wrote to a friend:
Do you have a contract for your book?
I’ve been reflecting on what has worked in the past on finishing books, and what hasn’t worked. I’ve realized that in every case, I finished big projects when I had a carrot and a stick, after a long period of open-ended thinking.
• MA was bike trip and PhD funding;
• PhD was my son and Yale PostDoc;
• My book’s first draft was promotion ($$$) and fieldwork;
• My books’ second draft was tenure file and Shivi giving me an ultimatum.The other work I’ve done consistently was regular deadlines (Anthropologica book reviews were due twice a year because the journal was going to press) and my book of letters was done on a weekly basis.
In the case of the book, both times, I also had a negative public commitment. e.g. give money to a politician I didn’t like, if I didn’t write regularly. This is easy enough to do, I could make a negative commitment. Albeit, I am not sure what it would be.
If I could get a draft in, I can come up with strong carrot. I could plan a vacation trip with family on July 1. I could also plan to submit an application for promotion on July 1. Promotion is a carrot, and I think with a complete manuscript draft submitted to press, I could get that.
But, I think it would help that case, and give me external pressure, if I got an advance contract to do it.
I was waiting to get a contract until I’ve completed the book. But, maybe looking at my past patterns, that’s a mistake. What do you think?
Aim for a draft July 1, and aim for an advance contract, and aim to have that as my submission date to the publisher? anything I’ve ever finished, has also been finished in about 6 months of really hard work.
References
- Belcher, Writing Your Journal Article in Twelve Weeks, Second Edition. A Guide to Academic Publishing Success. ↩
Slow Down
How often do you slow down? I don’t slow down, enough.
On rules, Tendon, and the Classroon
“They had rules, and you had better obey those rules,” wrote Craig Mod of Imoya, a small, six-seat tendon restaurant he frequented as an American student in Japan in 2002 (Mod 2005). It was run by a cantankerous couple who served bowls of tendon to hungry, poor students—to hundreds of thousands of them over 50 years. The tendon was out of this world. Mod called it Michelin-star quality at McDonald’s prices. The restaurant was crowded. To keep people moving, it had rules. The cook’s wife was the enforcer.
No talking, only eating. That first rule. No books either. Get the customers through. Only eating. The wife would yell at you should you talk, or, God forbid, take out a book.
Phones? Heaven forbid. Phones in Japan in 2002 were flip phones, not the black doom-scrolling vehicles of distraction that we have today. There were no phones in Imoya. For five decades, it offered food at the lowest price for hungry students. There were no phones, no books, and no talking.
From 18 until I did fieldwork in 2010, or so, I never had a phone. I was bored and walked and traveled and daydreamed a lot. I had no phone. I did have a black and white, portable computer. Whether through being a poor student, or through luck of being of a certain generation, the “rules” I had to live by gave me time to think.
Mod remembers jazz clubs too. They had their rules. They were a remnant of a time when the only way to listen to new American music was in a club. The clubs that sprang up in the 1960s and 1970s in Japan were the only place to hear American music. (Haruki Murakami started a jazz club before he became a writer. That is the extent of my familiarity with the scene.) Mod says the jazz clubs were for listening to music, but not talking. Request a song, and you’d better be there when it played. (No bathroom breaks.) You went to listen. It was long before Spotify and Apple Music.
Mod wonders, what if cafes banned phones again? Or restaurants? What about university classrooms? Elementary schools and high schools are banning them. What if we did too, in the classroom? Ban computers and phones.
It would go badly, of course. These are useful tools at times. But why not have some cantankerous rules?
What would cantankerous rules in a classroom look like? What about a writer’s rules? Or an editor’s rules?
I’m not sure you can do that in the classroom. But there’s a place for contextual rules, maybe—rules that shift depending on the situation. A time for computers and notes, but a time for listening, for no phones, for talking. A time for paper and notebooks.
Why not make times for conversation, for experimentation with computers and large language models, for working on a computer or device, on paper and notebooks, for a walk.
What if we had rules for being a writer, a professor, a reader, a father, an academic? What if we had ways to keep them from overlapping?
But Imoya’s rules were enforced.
How would you enforce rules for yourself, or for students, like the woman in the tiny Imoya tendon restaurant near Waseda University in 2002?
Who will scream at you: no phone, no computer, no books? Who will give you time to eat and think?
Mad rules might help.
References
Mod, Craig. 2025. “No Phones in The Ten-don Shop: Thinking about shops with rules and how we could use some more.” https://craigmod.com/ridgeline/218/.
Weaving and Atarraya: A Diary of Book Making (20/31)
It’s been a while. I’m going to try to get back to the book. Sometimes a check in, and a check out is a good way to proceed. So, today, I’m checking in to work on the makeshift chapter.
Tasks
- [ ] Code everything in the old makeshift book
- [ ] Review text coded makeshift, and code it again
- [ ] Find relevant “shorts”
- [ ] Find a tentative structure for the chapter
- [ ] Make an outline with word count
- [ ] Put words into outline
- [ ] Cut, edit, revise to fit
Weaving and Atarraya: A Diary of Book Making (19/31)
It’s been a month, I got side tracked with administrative work, curriculum write, writing plans, the beginning of term, and simply haven’t worked on Makeshift since August 21. No matter. This morning, I got into it again. Didn’t get a post done, but did write some notes on a chapter I in August about the write of the poor to think. That will be one post. I also brought together all my coded notes on Deep Writing, which I’ll come back to tomorrow. I updated my writing log. I’ll be back at it tomorrow.
Weaving and Atarraya: A Diary of Book Making (18/31)
Back from camping. Wasn’t sure where to start. So, I revised and finished a draft of a few notes. Imagine Second Fieldwork / Writers, Agency, and Control? / An impromptu method, not a scientific one. Posted to the newsletter.
Writing while camping is not easy. I did a few posts, but it’s harder to find the time to focus. Also, being of the computer makes things much slower.
It’s been a month since I started this, and I’ve sent 60 of these notes. Not nearly 100%, but much better than I had before. I’ve also got about 31,000 words. I’m going to keep at it, for another month. See where I get to.