​With Facebook's "On This Day" reminders, I frequently look back to the days of writing my dissertation. Even without the newborn-to-toddler twin stages simultaneous with the process, it was a stressful and somewhat lonely time. I was separated from my academic community because of our move down south when I was five months pregnant.

The transition from graduate student to dissertation author is tough. You spend years planning your life around the pace of the academic semester, with the predictable rhythm of the term (beginning, midterm, final) and the structure of the course syllabi. Suddenly, you're thrown into a realm where the rhythm is new and irregular. You can't tap to the regular beat that's been set for you, you have to create the rhythm yourself through long-term planning and self-mentoring. 

It's  a hard transition for many students. When I'm coaching a student, I emphasize the process of breaking down the big project into manageable chunks. Micro-deadlines fold into larger ones. One of the books that I love for this is Writing Your Dissertation in Fifteen Minutes a Day. Even though some of its discussion of process is dated, the basic principles are incredibly helpful.  My biggest take-away was to divide my tasks up into small/medium/large and rote vs. creative tasks, and then use my small bits of time efficiently (oftentimes, the sweet spot when two babies were napping at the same time). Even if I didn't have space for large chunks of writing during a particular day, I could still attend to e-mails, annotate a bibliography entry, proofread a few pages, or make a list of needed interlibrary loans. 

Currently, we have two students who are about to finish. Because of their particular circumstances, they had to move quickly through their academic projects. I worked with each of them to create an individualized work plan, looking realistically at their weekly commitments and breaking things down into weekly and monthly goals. They worked the plan, and now Tim is helping with the final editing (proofreading, footnotes/bibliography, format checks) as they move towards completion. 

They did the work. But assisting with the transition is a joy-filled process.

A few years back, we were invited by Stanley Pelkey and Anthony Bushard to contribute to a new book on music in television and film, Anxiety Muted: American Film Music in A Suburban Age (Oxford University Press, 2013). Tim and I had collaborated on smaller projects, but this was the first time that we co-authored a large chapter. We had watched the 1960s psychedelic spy-show The Prisoner together a couple of times and were fascinated by the way that it wove music--diegetic (music coming from inside the scene itself) and non-diegetic (music that only the viewer hears)--around the twists and turns of its plot.

We were thrilled when we saw the other chapters in the book and honored that we were chosen to contribute. The chapters intersect so well that it has already been used as part of a class developed by Anthony Bushard.

And we found out from one of the authors this week that the book was given a detailed review by Jamuna Samuel in the latest edition (March 2016) of the Music Library Association’s journal Notes. Each chapter was meticulously overviewed. Here’s a bit from our part:

​Joanna Smolko and Tim Smolko’s writing on British television spy series The Prisoner (1967–68) addresses the use of American music to trigger British and American political concerns of the time. Within the larger picture of the Cold War-era spy genre, The Prisoner’s music owes much to the “Bond formula” (p. 149). “In the larger cultural view,” they write, “it appears that within this British drama, America itself—as represented through music—is a potent symbol of rebellion, anarchy, and hope (p. 151). 

Go read the review if you have chance. Or even better, read the book. The chapters provide a kaleidoscopic view of music’s role in television and film in the 1950s-1960s. Then watch The Prisoner. It will blow your mind.

Be seeing you. 

This post is aimed at academic writers who want to reach a wider audience than those in their discipline, but I hope that  any writer could benefit from this. By nature, some books are only for general readers and some are only for academics. But more often than one might think, a book can reach both crowds simultaneously.

For example, I write books and articles about popular music with an extensive bibliography, a detailed index, lots of footnotes, ​ tables, diagrams, musical examples, and explanations of chord progressions, musical forms, and harmony. Yet, I keep musical examples short and easy to follow if I can, so they will make some sense to people who don’t read musical notation. I keep my discussions of music theory brief and to the point. I prefer endnotes to footnotes or in-text citations to make reading easier on the eyes. My objective is to present as much detailed research as I can to my readers, without alienating or boring them.
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Helpful hints:

1. Never skimp on the footnotes. Some general readers are scared away from a book if they see lengthy footnotes at the bottom of each page. Endnotes, where the footnotes appear collectively in the back of the book in all their glory, solve this problem. They give the reader a clean, unencumbered text to read without sacrificing the scholarship supporting it.
2. General readers are often put off by techno-speak, by terms that only those with expertise in a certain discipline are familiar. With practice, you can reduce the techno-speak in your writing without sacrificing your subject’s depth, your own expertise, or the specificity in your writing. 
3. The best way to make an academic book more accessible is to sneak in elements of fiction writing. Use your research to tell a story. Breathe life into the facts you’ve gathered by turning it into a narrative. Ask questions that you think readers would ask about your subject, provide clues along the way, and then answer the questions piece by piece, like you’re solving a mystery. Think of ways you can invigorate your non-fiction with the tools of fiction: character development, foreshadowing, flashbacks, recurring elements, scene setting, cliffhangers, plot twists, and surprise endings. But beware! This works best if you are sly and subtle. A dash is better than a dollop.
4. Put some of yourself into the book. Nothing is more boring than reading dry facts and detached observations. While objectivity is an essential part of research and writing, no one can be completely objective. Opinions are allowed. Make sure your readers know that a person wrote your book, rather than a process or a program.
5. Use humor in your writing, if it’s appropriate. Play with words. Twist a cliché into another shape. Break the fourth wall like Woody Allen. If you find something in your research that is ironic, wickedly funny, or unbelievable, highlight it by using humor. As with fiction devices, less is more. Subtlety is an art form. Give them a quick laugh and then move on.

​Why should an academic writer try to reach a general audience?

1. An academic book will sell more copies if it breaks out if its specialist niche.
2. A book that is more accessible has a greater chance of being used in a classroom.
3. A book that is reviewed by a broad range of readers allows an author to engage with people in other disciplines.
4. You might see your book on the shelves of your local Barnes & Noble, and have the opportunity to exclaim loudly, gesticulate wildly, spill your Starbucks, make a scene, and completely embarrass yourself, your spouse, and your kids. This is the author’s dream!