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The Agony and the Ecstasy

(This originally appeared in American Libraries, May 1990, back in a much more primitive computing age.)

I thought it would be easy to write a book about the use of serials in reference services. I told myself, with all due conceit, that I knew just about all there was to know about reference work with periodicals, newspapers, and other serials. After all, I had been a serials reference specialist at the Library of Congress for over three years. For me, writing such a book would be a breeze.

I was a fool.

It all began innocently enough with two telephone reference calls I received during February 1987. In each case the caller was a librarian employed outside the Library of Congress inquiring whether any guide to serials reference existed. When I confirmed that there apparently was no such book, a seed was planted in my mind. What I could not have imagined at the time was that this seed would eventually explode into an out-of-control kudzu vine ensnaring all in its path.

In March, I wrote to Libraries Unlimited asking if they would be interested in publishing a book on serials reference. They responded positively and instructed me to submit a manuscript proposal. Late in April, I submitted a detailed proposal which included a preliminary outline, chapter summaries, and a sample seven-page draft to demonstrate content, organization, and writing style. While I waited for their response, I began performing literature searches on various topics I intended to cover in the book. Soon, I had accumulated files bulging with photocopied articles, and I started to realize that this project might be a bit more demanding than I had envisioned.

A letter finally arrived from Libraries Unlimited in late August expressing both interest in the book and doubt that I could handle this “massive project” by myself. They asked if I would consider a coauthor and if I had a word processor. They asked how I would be able to complete the project and still fulfill my job responsibilities.

Well, I had not considered a coauthor, I did not have a word processor, and I had thought that weekends and evenings would be more than enough time to complete the project. Having never written a book, or even a library science article, I began to wonder if perhaps their doubts were well-founded. After rereading their letter, I did the only thing I could – I had a panic attack.

Over the next few days, my wife Barbara calmed me down and restored my self-confidence. I then wrote a two-page reply addressing the publisher’s concerns. Basically, I stated that I could do this project myself. As evidence of my commitment, I pointed out the literature search I had undertaken, which had netted 1,500 photocopied pages. I actually referred to myself as being “passionate” about serials reference service. The only one of their concerns I could not allay was my access to a word processor. I only had a typewriter.

Acquisitions editor David Loertscher called Sept. 9 to tell me that Libraries Unlimited would publish my book. They liked my “spunk.” However, they still were worried about my lacking a word processor and strongly urged me to either buy one or get access to one. But I did not have the funds to invest in a PC and printer, and I could not use the equipment at LC for my private project. I was in the midst of talking to PC experts and checking out the used PC market when providence arrived. A local department store was having a sale on the Magnavox Videowriter, a word processor and printer in one unit. A day later, I was word processing for just over $600.

I signed a contract with Libraries Unlimited in which I agreed to deliver a completed manuscript by Feb. 1, 1989. My outline called for 16 chapters, which gave me four weeks per chapter according to the publisher’s deadline – about two weeks more per chapter than I needed, or so I thought. My rude awakening was just around the corner.

I remember that fateful evening as if it were only yesterday. Barbara was out of the house, and I was ready to begin writing “The Book.” Across the table, I had spread out the notes and articles I needed for Chapter One. There was plenty of writing paper and some nice new pens. I was brimming with energy and confidence and decided that if I completed the draft of Chapter One that night, I would go on to Chapter Two the next night. Need I tell you what happened? I ran into a brick wall at approximately 75 miles per hour.

After laboring for three or four hours, I had produced about three handwritten pages. The opening paragraph itself had consumed at least an hour. By the time the evening was unceremoniously over, I realized that maybe this was going to be a tad more difficult than I had anticipated.

My life soon became a maelstrom with the book at the eye of the storm. My small basement home office became my holding cell, and I began to refer to it as my “chamber of horrors,” or simply, “the hell hole.” I had no free time; every evening and weekend I wrote, rewrote, word processed, and did further research.

By early January 1988, I had completed the drafts of the first three chapters and sent them off to the publisher for review. I did this with no trepidation, confident that these chapters were well done and were in keeping with the original proposal. I anticipated receiving a letter back saying, “This is just what we expected! Keep up the good work! Your light, humorous touch enlivens a dull subject!”

Instead, the two-page letter I received contained several detailed criticisms, including the advice that humor and use of the vernacular had no place in this book. In my fragile emotional state, I suffered another big-league anxiety attack. After recovering, I adjusted my writing style but decided nonetheless to keep sending the publisher drafts of each chapter to ensure that there would be no unpleasant surprises for either party once the manuscript was finished.

The entire year of 1988 went by in a blur as I focused virtually all of my time away from work on the book. I could not watch a TV show or a movie without feeling guilty. Though my body was tired, I was running on some sort of high that kept me going full-speed. As my deadline approached, the effects of this lifestyle became evident. I sometimes found myself losing my train of thought while talking, and I noticed that my spoken vocabulary was shrinking.

It was with a tremendous sigh of relief that Barbara and I mailed off the 465 completed manuscript pages on Jan. 16, 1989. I then intended to tackle a lot of other projects around the house that I had neglected over the previous two years. Unfortunately, I collapsed in front of the television and remained there until the edited manuscript was returned to me in April. In examining the editing, I experienced my final panic attack, and then spent a hectic two weeks making final changes.

In September I received a photocopy of the typeset pages, along with a photocopy of the final copyedited manuscript. Barbara and I then shared the joy of proofing the book, as she read aloud from the manuscript and I followed along on the typeset pages. It was certainly an excruciating way to spend several hours up close and personal with a loved one.

When we arrived home from work on Friday, Jan. 5, there was a package waiting on the doorstep. We both knew what it was. Our excitement was palpable, but to prolong the moment we first fed our cats, Andy and Barney (acknowledged in the book as Andrew Barnard Katz – the only bit of humor I could slip in). I then ripped open the package, pulled out the stuffing, and gazed upon five copies of Serials Reference Work. My first reaction was, “Boy, I thought it would be thicker than that.”

Writing this book was one of the most intense learning experiences of my life. I discovered that it takes a lot of time and a lot of pocket change to complete such a project. In total, I spent 985 hours working on the book, and $1,504.44 on a word processor, supplies, and photocopying expenses. I also learned that a word processor is essential to writing, especially when an author makes extensive revisions between drafts. Most important, I learned, are the support of family members and the help of colleagues to review and critique the manuscript in progress.

Would I do it again? Well, I’m not certain. I’d better check with Barbara first.