Textbook Authors Caution: Write For Love, Not Recognition

Finals are finished, students are gone, and at long last peace pervades the campus. Many a science professor is entertaining the notion that now is the perfect time to write a textbook. They know the material well, the professors reason, so it shouldn't take long, and having a text under their belts might even provide a boost up the promotion and tenure ladders. If you are having such thoughts, think again, many textbook authors advise. For one thing, they say, writing a textbook takes years, not months. And for another, it probably will not help your career--in fact, in many cases, writing a text can actually hurt those on the tenure track. Nonetheless, academic scientists keep on doing it. For some prolific professors, writing a text is simply the next step in the evolution of a terrific set of lecture notes. Others see text writing as a highly stimulating challenge of synthesizing material and conveying one's own fascination with a field. But for many, the impetus is intangible, just "something you have to do," says Daryl Eb-bing, a professor of chemistry at Wayne State University in Detroit and author of Introductory General Chemistry (Boston, Houghton Mifflin Co., 1992). If a scientist survives the many drafts, reviews, galleys, and page proofs that constitute the gestation of a textbook, the result can be uplifting. Yet it may be the ultimate frustration to have written a textbook, only to have your peers turn up their noses at your efforts. But it happens. "I am afraid that all too often--three times in my case-- university book authors sit back and await the recognition they believe their university is sure to grant them once they publish their book. Like me, they are often sadly disappointed," says Richard C. Larock, a professor of chemistry at Iowa State University in Ames. The best-known of Larock's three books, Comprehensive Organic Transformations (New York, VCH Publishers Inc., 1989), was a comprehensive effort, considered by many to be a classic, and residing on bookshelves in virtually every organic chemistry department in the United States. "That book is an 1,160-page compendium of synthetic organic methodology containing approximately 15,000 reactions and 23,000 references. I personally read all references and organized the entire manuscript. It took 16 years to gather the material, a full six months to proof the galleys, and a further three months to prepare the 9,000-item, 160-page index. Needless to say, I was both relieved and ecstatic when the book was finally published," Larock wrote in a report to the Orange Springs, Fla.-based Textbook Authors Association, detailing his futile efforts at receiving recognition. When salary-increase time came around in Larock's department, the book had no clout, even though he had also managed to publish 10 journal articles that year. "I got absolutely no recognition whatsoever," he recalls. "I was told text writing was not important when determining pay raises. I filed a faculty appeal, which was denied. So not only didn't I get credit, I was actually punished for it." The Money Factor Money may be the proverbial root of all evil when professors try to fit textbooks into the elusive equation of professional activities that count. "My department figured, `Well, you're getting royalties, so that's your recognition,' " says Larock. This is a sad joke to authors who know that--in light of the limited demand for upper-level books and the common requirement that authors pay for art--the eventual royalties, if one sees them before succumbing to old age, are paltry. When one factors into the equation the amount of time a scientist spends working on a textbook, the money earned becomes inconsequential, professors say. One author of a general biology text calculated that the decade-long effort earned about 11 cents a day. Still, the idea of earning anything from a supposedly scholarly work leaves a bad taste in some promotion and tenure committee members' mouths. "On the one hand, recognized texts are important. If we didn't have them, what would we do for teaching? But that's submerged in larger feelings of commercialism that some people feel--`He's making a lot of money off this; that's not quite right.' If you write a book and get no money, that's regarded more highly" than if your book sells well, Ebbing says. Paradoxically, faculty earning money from prizes, in contrast to textbook authors, are not regarded as mercenary, as Larock and others point out. Yet some schools realize that a popular textbook written by a faculty member can be good public relations. "A friend of mine is a full professor here at Ohio State University, and she wrote a text on nutrition. It didn't do all that well, but the university looked on it very favorably because it helped support their national reputation," says Gordon Wardlaw, a professor of nutrition who, with Paul Insel of Stanford University, is coauthor of Perspectives in Nutrition (St. Louis, Times-Mirror Mosby Inc., 1992). "When I went up for tenure, Perspectives wasn't out yet, but I had a brochure. The promotion and tenure committee was very impressed that one of their assistant professors was involved in a project of that size, and could also keep up a research program," Wardlaw says. But the on-again, off-again nature of his nutritional research is precisely what allowed Wardlaw time to write his tome. "I do 10 to 12 weeks of feeding trials, it's over, and I write it up," he says. "It is ideal research for textbook writing. I have lots of down research time; but at other times, my research is just cruising, and the text drives me crazy." The basic objection to text writing in the sciences seems to be that it steals precious time from a research program. Put rather bluntly by one biologist at a large, Midwestern state university, "Nobody seeking tenure can possibly have the time to write a textbook!" To many scientists, textbook writing is regarded not as a scholarly pursuit, but as a distraction from research, which is the raison d'etre of academic science. "Writing a text can hurt you if it takes time away from research, and as a result you can't get grants or write papers," Wardlaw says. "Here at Ohio State, you get some mileage out of writing a text, but a five-year continuous grant from NIH would really establish you among your peers." Texts Vs. Journal Articles To most, if not all, promotion and tenure committees in science departments, papers published in refereed journals--a reflection of research--outweigh any textbook. "To the hardcore folks with the typical university mind set, we should only count publications in well-recognized, well-edited journals, and these are regarded as professional accomplishments," says one biologist and text author at a small Midwestern college, who requests anonymity. "To me, textbook publishing is a perfectly legitimate scholarly activity and actually contributes more than mediocre research that no one will ever read or cite, anyway." It is also unfair, authors maintain, to categorize all textbooks as not breaking new ground because they deal with known facts, and to embue all journal articles with an aura of creativity just because they deal with research. "Some people turn the same crank, year after year, examining the same problem, publishing slightly different versions in different journals," says the biologist. Adds Lansing Prescott, a professor of biology at Augustana College in Sioux Falls, S.D., and author of Microbiology (Dubuque, Iowa, Wm. C. Brown, 1990): "A great text doesn't have to be radically different, but a new way to explain things and tie together concepts. This can do more for science, and the public, than a dozen journal articles." At institutions that give textbook authors a fighting chance, criteria are usually used for evaluation. Stephen Friedberg, a math professor at Illinois State University in Normal, has identified three requirements for a scholarly text--innovation, mention of others' scholarly contributions to the field, and adoption of the text outside of the author's institution. Texts, Tenure, And Time What with demands to write grant proposals, conduct research, teach and advise students, and serve on committees, many professors put off the urge to write a text until after they have earned tenure. "You get promotion and tenure when you are actively publishing [in journals], then slow down after that and start writing a text, because that consumes everything," says Prescott. This is why it is rare for a person who has actually published a textbook to come up for tenure, adds Henry Tedeschi, a professor of biology at the State University of New York, Albany. Tedeschi, like Prescott, as a former department chairman and text author, has seen both sides of the issue. "Most people write texts when they are a little more seasoned," says Tedeschi, author of a text on cell physiology that is soon to be published by Wm. C. Brown. Scientists not on the tenure track often have more flexibility to write texts. But discrimination lurks here, too. One adjunct assistant professor at a large state university in the Northeast published a popular introductory biology text--but was left out of an event recognizing campus authors. The department chairman overlooked her effort when a request for authors' names came around, even though ads for the book festooned the mailboxes outside his office. Whether one is on the tenure track or not, textbook writing is a voracious time eater. "Of course, all academicians write [journal articles], but most don't realize there is a great difference in writing a book because of its size. You have to write constantly. If you don't, you don't get it done," Ebbing says. Typically, it takes a prospectus, an outline, and a few sample chapters to nail a book contract. Then the work really begins, and seems never to end. Each chapter is reviewed by five to 10 professors, and then the author writes a second draft--and maybe a third--trying to answer everyone's criticisms. "In my case, it took a decade," Ebbing says. "A lot of people don't understand why it should take that long--after all, it's rather simple material--but it does. During that process, there is a lot of time when you're not producing anything visible, so I suppose people are a bit suspicious about what you are doing." If the book, when it finally is published, is a hit, after a year off to amass criticism, the intrepid author gets to do it all over again for a new edition. It undeniably is hard work, but it's exhilarating to chronicle the changes in a beloved field of science. Appreciation Of Authors The negative view of textbook publishing is worst in the sciences, but certainly not confined to them. Terry Sykes, while a senior English major at Illinois State this past year, conducted a survey among 200 faculty members at his institution on their perceptions of the importance of textbook authorship in promotion and tenure. As expected, the science departments queried (biological sciences and chemistry) placed text writing lowest on the totem pole. The economics, accounting, and English departments were middle of the road, holding journal articles as more scholarly but not to the extreme seen in biology and chemistry. The departments of finance and law, art, and mathematics came the closest to placing text authorship on a par with journal articles, but books still took second place. Text authorship clearly is most appreciated at institutions that stress teaching, such as Baylor University in Waco, Texas. "If one is at an institution where teaching is highly regarded, writing a text is perceived as valuable, a positive way to contribute to one's field," says Benjamin Pierce, a biology professor there. Pierce wrote an innovative trade book called The Family Genetic Sourcebook in 1990. The book, published by John Wiley & Sons Inc. of New York, has found its way into many human genetics classes. "My book has been received in a very positive light here. The dean, vice president, and others have mentioned to me that it was a good thing to do," he adds. At some universities where teaching is a priority, text authorship is considered evidence of high-quality teaching ability. Such is the case in the biological sciences department at Illinois State, according to chairman Alan Billingham. "We try to formally weight teaching relatively heavily--not as much as research, but more so than at most schools--and text authorship is viewed as part of one's teaching contribution," he says. However, Terry Sykes's survey of this institution found texts rated lowest in the chemistry and biological sciences departments--so "relatively heavily" at Illinois State compared to other biology departments may still be rather low. Why Do They Do It? Textbook authors have their own brand of nightmares. The manuscript and computer disks vanish in a fire. The tome winds up on the discount shelf at K-Mart. The only sale is to the author's mother. And then there is the worst nightmare of all--that writing a textbook somehow tarnishes, ever so slightly, one's professional reputation. But, like taking time off to become a parent, the effort of writing a textbook is well worth it, say many authors, for the thrill of creation and communication. "Writing a text shows...that you are active in a lot of different venues, and shows you are more creative, not just in research, but in getting your ideas out," says Wardlaw. Prescott puts the matter into broader perspective: "A good text can influence generations of students, and literally change fields." That's sufficient to keep many authors at their computer screens. Ricki Lewis teaches biology at the State University of New York, Albany, and is the author of Life, a college biology text (Dubuque, Iowa, Wm. C. Brown, 1992).

Textbook Authors Caution: Write For Love, Not Recognition

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