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Wouldn't He Make a Good Co-Author?

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By Charles St. Clair

Most academic papers in economics have co-authors. However, the job-market paper -- the one you send out with applications that usually is a chapter from your dissertation -- should be your work alone. And so I've written a solo paper that I have been sending off to represent myself to universities, Federal Reserve banks, and investment banks.

I came up with the beginnings of my solo paper -- my small, novel idea -- when I was in my second year of graduate school. I proposed it as a class project for a professor who would later become my adviser. He said my idea was "maybe somewhat interesting to look into." With 38 failed ideas to my credit, I was ecstatic.

My adviser is conservative with praise. He is an honest guy, and I think he doesn't want to lead students on. There was a whole summer when I thought my idea was going nowhere and so I turned to a new topic. He asked how my new direction related to my old, and I made up an explanation that I hoped was accurate. He dissuaded me from working too hard at it and (here comes the praise) wondered aloud whether my original direction was totally lost. Five months later, I discovered it wasn't.

My original direction eventually hit the mother lode in my fourth year of graduate school. I should clarify that "mother lode" is a generous euphemism for "passable result" -- as in, "Jeremy hit the mother lode his senior year -- a D+ allowing him to graduate."

I had been banging my head against the keyboard for weeks, trying to make sense of my results. I was about to go out on a Friday night, reading a magazine as my wife got ready. A flash hit me. I remembered a figure in a similar paper. I looked it up and then compared my figure. In the difference between the two, I found my mother lode.

I didn't jump up and down for joy: My adviser's cautious research mentality had rubbed off a bit by then. But over time my result proved solid, and I surprised my adviser with it at a mini-seminar presentation. He said, "I didn't realize that you had completed your paper."

I think his remark means that I was not clearly communicating my research progress. He edited my paper and called me in to offer suggestions. I was excited and told him, "I'm down for anything you have to say."

He looked at me quizzically. "Down?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm ready, I'm in agreement," I stammered, a little embarrassed at being so casual, "You went to Berkeley. I thought you might know that phrase."

"Don't talk your gangster-jive to me."

Having my adviser say "gangster-jive" to me has, thus far, been the highlight of my graduate education.

Sometimes I see this solo paper as clearing a hurdle, almost like qualifying exams were. I have my solo project that shows I can think up an idea and analyze it by myself. I hope it will be of sufficient quality to entice an institution's hiring committee. But after this, I am more interested in co-authoring papers. Fortunately, I've been able to start doing so.

One of my co-authors is not originally from the United States, and I have taken it upon myself to expose him to American slang (see "down," as used above). I'm 27, so relatively young and solidly in the MTV Real World, MySpace generation. I'm as cool a Ph.D. student in macroeconomics as any (my wife has taken it upon herself to tell me that that is no ringing endorsement).

My officemate has noted that I have a good relationship with all of my co-authors judging from our productive, hours-long, Skype discussions. "Productive," in this case, means our arguments remain congenial most of the time. I've come to see constructive criticism and stimulating arguments as key ingredients in research. Essentially, if it was self-evident and easy-to-see, wouldn't someone have already written the paper on it?

Macroeconomists abstract from many details to make sense of the big picture. We spend a lot of time focused on key data series and key stylized facts, making numerous key assumptions. Those key choices, to some degree, are matters of taste. So we as co-authors discuss the palatableness of our choices. I appreciate the discussion quite a bit, in part, because it prepares me for the hiring process.

The job market means explaining my work to others and convincing them that: (1) I have tackled an interesting issue in an interesting way, (2) I have the skills to do so again, and (3) I will be a good colleague while I do so, perhaps in joint work with them. I think the second point will be covered by my adviser's reference letter. Numbers 1 and 3 are my responsibility, and I am continually wondering how best to attack them. I am also continually wondering about the outcome of this uncertain hiring process.

My wife has told co-workers for years that we will move wherever I get a job. Do you want to stay in [city]?, they ask. We'll go where he gets a job, she answers. But do you want to stay in [state]?, they ask. If he gets one offer, that's where we'll move, she replies. Well, do you want to stay in the West?, they ask impatiently. The uncertainty of it all can be frustrating at times.

I have seen TV advertisements for a local refrigeration-technician college. People finishing that program probably get to live where they want to live. Right about now, that strikes me as a distinct benefit. I would have made a pretty good refrigeration technician.

But I am committed to finding an analyst or research job. I love asking and answering economic questions. There is an unique blend of metaphor and mathematics in economic models that piques my curiosity. I hope to convey that to hiring committees. I hope they say, "Most papers in economics have co-authors. He would be a good one."

Charles St. Clair is the pseudonym of a doctoral student in economics at a research university in the West. He will be chronicling his search for a tenure-track job or a position in the financial sector.