Pity Margaret Fuller, who faced an editor's worst nightmare. A prominent 19th-century intellectual from Cambridge, Mass., Fuller was founding editor of The Dial. It should have been a plum assignment. The periodical was conceived in 1839 by such luminaries as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Bronson Alcott, and their fellow Transcendentalists. Announced with great fanfare, it attracted a number of prominent writers and thinkers of the day, who pledged to write articles for the first edition.
But as the publishing date came close, the articles failed to materialize. One by one, the writers informed Fuller that an essay she had been counting on would not be forthcoming. Desperate, she began drawing from whatever she could find that was remotely suitable—hastily written reviews, even excerpts from her personal journals. Needless to say, the first issue was not a critical success. Eventually, Emerson took over from Fuller as editor, but The Dial lived a brief life, folding in 1844.
That is a cautionary tale for those of us who edit college periodicals, and rely on the contributions of faculty members and campus administrators. We are the ones who are accountable when it comes to deadlines. Yet some of the people who complain when a publication or other project is late are the same people who failed to submit their contribution by the agreed-upon deadline. Few things are more frustrating than to get blamed by the very people responsible for a delay.
Let's review the most common excuses heard in the public-relations office from contributing writers on our campuses:
"I'm too busy right now. It's the beginning of the semester."
"I'm too busy right now. It's the middle of the semester."
"I'm too busy right now. It's the end of the semester."
"I'm leaving for the summer."
It's hard to be sympathetic to people who tell you that they are too busy to do what they said they would do—as if you are not busy yourself. It's especially hard to be sympathetic when you, yourself, do not have summers off. But sanctimony doesn't get us very far. (And who among us can honestly say that we have never procrastinated or missed a deadline?)
Most campus-marketing and public-relations projects begin, just as The Dial did, amid excitement and high expectations. The audience for a college periodical or alumni magazine, after all, is friendly, influential, and attentive. When we ask faculty members to write about their teaching or research, our request typically responds to a mutual desire to promote not just the college but the professor's department or discipline as well. It's a way for academics to get recognition, and have their ideas heard by the people who might support or promote their work.
And our requests are hardly onerous. In some cases, such as when we ask faculty members to write a quick biography or program description for the Web, we are talking about as little as a few paragraphs. In many cases, those of us in public relations are even prepared to do the bulk of the writing. How can we protect our own reputation for getting work done on time when we have no real authority over our would-be contributors?
There is begging, of course, or cc'ing the delinquent writer's dean or supervisor. But that usually get us nowhere. Sometimes taking a faculty member out for coffee helps, as can its antithesis: nagging. We have to develop strategies so that we don't endure the fate of poor Margaret Fuller.
One way to get the articles in on time is to pay faculty writers the way you would freelance writers, so that they have a greater investment in completing the assignment, and you have some clout in demanding that it be turned in on time and in reasonable condition. For most projects, however, like the aforementioned Web-site copy, that is not an option, and with tight budgets these days, it may not work even for an alumni magazine. You also may run afoul of your institution's personnel policies or create unintended morale problems.
The best solution is to have back-ups ready—articles that have been written and illustrated ahead of time that can be substituted for a tardy piece at a moment's notice. Still, that strategy isn't perfect, especially if the missing article was to have been part of a broader editorial theme; its omission could shortchange the subject and weaken the magazine.
Getting ahead of schedule also requires a major investment of time and effort on your part, and some long-range vision. Rather than work from issue to issue or project to project, try to take the long view and get some stories written and illustrated that can be used in the event that a scheduled article does not materialize.
That is easier said than done, true. Some common challenges include:
Workload. If you are like many of us at small institutions, the college periodical is just one of many projects vying for your time and attention. Trying to get ahead of schedule can be an elusive goal.
Relevance. If you work too far ahead, you run the risk that the story you write or commission will be stale by the time it's published. The college's priorities may have changed, people who are quoted may have moved on to other institutions, trends beyond the college may make a story less strategic or desirable.
Timeless stories exist on every campus, of course: a feel-good profile of a longtime employee, a historical article, or something quirky but under the radar, like a feature about the dining commons. But those timeless stories had better be as interesting to readers as they are convenient to editors, or you will undermine your own efforts.
I'm a big fan of showcasing the work of faculty and staff members. What better way to demonstrate the quality of your faculty members or their teaching prowess?
Harder to pull off but very satisfying when they succeed are articles written by students. If the quality is exceptional, student work can serve as a more compelling example of an institution's positive influence than the most sophisticated marketing copy. But whether it is photography or poetry, painting or an essay, student contributions must meet the same editorial standards of any other work found in the publication. That holds true equally for alumni submissions. They can be gold or dross, and it is up to the editor to mine for the former rather than succumb to temptation to fill space by printing the latter.
Budget. Money is another risk in planning ahead. Can you afford to spend most of your budget for freelance writers or photographers at the beginning of the year, just to build up your stock of usable stories? What if something happens during the year that compels you to make additional assignments, and the money is not there? You have to weigh the risk, but being left high and dry at publication time seems to me a far worse predicament than going a little over budget.
Urgency. We are used to dealing with what is in front of us. The goal of having four stories on file in time for the spring edition may not materialize during the fall semester simply because it doesn't feel that urgent and is easy to put aside. It takes discipline as well as vision to make that strategy succeed.
Another option to consider when articles don't come through on time is to simply delay publication. Don't publish until you get it right. That may be controversial, especially if, as is usually the case, some portion of the magazine is devoted to promoting upcoming events or reporting on activities from the previous semester. Yet given a choice between sacrificing quality or timeliness, I choose the latter.
We all know that printed materials are falling out of favor on many campuses. They are expensive to produce, print, and mail. But there are compelling reasons to stick with your college magazine. Retailers like J. Crew and L.L. Bean continue to flood our mailboxes with expensive catalogs for the simple reason that it works.
It's nice to drive people to our Web sites, and, once there, a well-done presentation can complete the job of selling the college to prospective students, donors, and employees. But the magazine is still one of the most reliable ways we have to stimulate that Web traffic. It is the college's best opportunity to reach out and show ourselves to people who might not have sought us out.
That's why, however you handle a publication crisis—by building an inventory of articles or delaying publication if an essay comes in late—it is so important that your magazine shines. To send out an inferior product because you were caught off guard or failed to enforce standards is to waste a golden opportunity. Your college can't afford to be the next Dial.
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