I'm Just an Essay

Growing up, I thrilled to the daring exploits of ... a bill! You see, he was just a bill. Yes, only a bill. And he was sitting there on Capitol Hill. There is a famous Schoolhouse Rock song which dramatizes his sisyphus-like journey. Our heroic piece of paper begins as a little idea. After the bill exists in material form, it seeks the patronage of the local congressperson deity, who says, "You're right! There oughta be a law!" Next, the bill is debated about in committee. It must navigate various obstacles, such as the evil twin houses of Congress, which, like Scylla and Charybdis, seek its destruction on both sides. Even after sailing through these treacherous waters, if the President vetoes the bill, it is sent back to Congress yet again, at which point there's very little chance that it will ever become a law. It's amazing how the song manages to be so cheery, given how traumatizing the experience must be.

Writing an essay is much like that. It begins as a little idea, often something that you write for a class. Your professor says, "There oughta be an article," and then you write it. And then you submit it to a respected journal. And then you wait several months, as it is reviewed by two readers. You wait several moments. Eventually, the desperation might grow so great that you send a tentative email to the editor, "Uh, eons ago I sent you an article ... I know your reply probably just got lost in the mail or something, but I just figured I'd follow up on it ..." Then, the editors sends your essay back to you, either rejecting it, asking you to revise and re-submit it, or accepting it immediately (if you are ubermensch). Sometimes, you revise and re-submit it, only to have the revised essay rejected anyway, so you have to send it to a different journal (it hasn't happened to me personally, but I've heard it happens). The two readers then offer their final comments, and you have to send a new revision, which will be published at least several months from then. All the while, you keep hoping in the meantime that nobody publishes a similar article that steals your thunder. ("My essay was really innovative when I first submitted it, five years ago! Honest!")

Anyway, these reflections were sparked by the first ever acceptance of an article! I actually submitted the article back in summer 2005. After endless waiting and revising, it is tentatively scheduled for publication in fall 2007. It will only have taken over two years after writing the thing! Yes, I am being purposely vague in the effort to retain my anonymity!

Nevertheless, when I am tempted to speculate on the incredible impact that my article will have on the entire scholarly community, I am reminded of a rather humbling fact: statistically speaking, the typical published article has a readership of fewer than two people (presumably, this does not include the editor and the two reviewers). This means that an individual has a greater chance of being struck by lightning than reading my article. Still, I could have written a text that was even more useless and irrelevant to society--I mean, how many people ever read a bill? Probably not even the Senators who are voting on it!