Hello Supporters!
Welcome once again to my ‘Shed’ — the blog space which Unbound provides for creators of their wonderful books to talk directly to YOU: the people who have pledged to see us produce them.
As I write this there are now 345 of you and the book ‘Trans: A British History’ is 83% funded. Thank you to everyone for your support. I have the feeling that we are on the home stretch now and the book will soon be funded! Of course, you’ll also know by now my standard mantra: Please encourage your friends and associates to pledge as well, then we’ll soon close the gap.
As many of you already know, I’m using this exclusive supporters-only channel as a way of keeping you abreast of developments. I’ve already shared details about the actual contributors. This week I thought I would explain to you about the process of managing an anthology when so many people are involved. The object at the end of this process is a book that feels like one unified whole, with a story that flows naturally from beginning to end and covers everything logically. Yet, as editor, I also want you to see the diversity and individuality of the people I handpicked to tell the tale. These things won’t come about simply by chance. Fortunately, there is a plan. And luckily I’ve had the experience of doing it before.
But let’s go back to the beginning…
‘Trans: A British History’ started taking shape as a proposal in October 2016. The idea was straightforward: to write the previously untold story of where the trans community you see today came from; to do it whilst knowing that very few independent records of that history exist; and to ensure that the account is as authoritative and inclusive as possible.
I had already written about an aspect of that story in my two part series ‘Pressing Matters’. Those books were a personal insider memoir about the political lobbying and educational campaign, ‘Press for Change’, founded in 1992. I went to great lengths to ensure that account was accurate, given that it was told by just one person (me). The anchor in that case was the contemporaneous correspondence and newspaper cuttings. But I knew how much history I couldn’t include — either because it was outside of the remit, or because some events weren’t mine to tell.
A new book would enable me to fill in the gap that I had left, and it was immediately obvious to me that I couldn’t do justice to the story simply as a sole researcher and narrator. Reliable historical accounts really need multiple viewpoints. Human memory can sometimes be unreliable, so having several perspectives on events can help identify where there is consensus on the one hand, and conflicting recollections on the other.
The subject matter for the book was easily decided too. When writing a history of people who’ve always been there, you need to decide on a start and end point. Pressing Matters was about a particular phase of activism that began 25 years ago and ended around 2005-7. But that activism was borne of an earlier and underpinning phase of community building which began 50 years ago. It has also been succeeded by another wave of development. So, the scope of the book was easy to define: we’d tell the story from the origins of that community and through to the present day, where it continues to develop and evolve. Fortunately, I knew I could find people in their sixties and seventies today who would be able to recount those early developments; I could find people who were my contemporaries in the middle years; and I could certainly give a voice to the younger generation who succeeded us.
Next, to flesh out the book proposal, I started thinking of a wish list of those possible contributors. This seemed to me a bit like creating a fantasy football team. During November and December I began approaching some of the names on my list. After all, I needed to show the publishers this proposal wasn’t simply a pipe dream. And these were no random approaches. Everyone on my shopping list was there because they had a particular part of the tale to tell. Happily, everyone I approached jumped at the idea. In fact this was a brilliant test of whether the book was something people wanted. It turned out that people wanted the book with a passion! There is a real gap, and the people I approached were all desperately keen to help fill it.
We fast forward now to the last week of January, when the crowdfunding campaign for the book was ready to launch… Until this point I hadn’t introduced any of the contributors to each other. I’d mentioned a few names and topics when recruiting them, but now I told them all for the first time who they were working with. This was a really good test of whether I’d chosen well. Many of the contributors know each other of course — they’ve all worked with or known me. Also, the community, especially in the early years, was small and tight. Still, you never know how people will react to finding themselves in the same book project. Again, however, it was reassuring to see that everyone felt their co-contributors were logical choices.
I was very keen not to start people on any substantial preparation or writing work until the funding of the book was well advanced, so the only ‘homework’ I gave the contributors for most of February was to help with encouraging people in their networks to pledge. And they’ve done that admirably. Now we are moving forwards…
So how do you coordinate 25 very different people to write a chapter that will fit with all the others when delivered? Fortunately, this is a problem I was trained to deal with in my days as an Information Technology consultant, project managing large teams of developers tasked with slotting together the parts of big software systems so that they will all work together. It’s all down to preparation and specification.
The first stage goes back to when I recruited each contributor to the project. It was then that I outlined the brief for each writer, within the broad sweep of the overall history. We talked about what they could contribute, and in some cases I adjusted the plan to accommodate what they thought they couldn't do. These briefs gave me a rough sketch of the book, so I could see how the parts worked and whether I might have left any gaps.
Next, whilst everyone was busy crowdfunding, I prepared more detailed briefings. The publisher provided a style sheet. This ensures that everyone’s writing uses the same conventions for punctuation, abbreviation and so forth. At the same time I drafted a detailed 'Master Timeline' of 50 years of events, based on previous research. Against this I could suggest to each writer things that they could logically include in their chapter. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the chapters will run in strict chronological order — that’s not possible, because stories inevitably overlap. However, the function of the timeline ensures that I can identify if anything important is being missed — and the contributors could tell me if I’d missed historical waypoints too. Above all, the grand plan (like the birds eye view drawings used by builders) enables everyone to see where their work sits alongside other people’s and within the whole story. This helps to avoid needless duplication; however, I’m also strongly encouraging people to provide alternative viewpoints on some things.
There are now two more steps before anyone writes a word…
The first actual creative step that I’ve asked for from the contributors is to write a one page skeleton of the points they envisage writing about in their chapters. For me, this is the first BIG editorial stage. It lets me see whether anyone has got the wrong end of the stick with their brief, and whether their chapter fits into the big plan. I can also throw in ideas. For the less experienced writers it also allows me to see whether their chapter is structurally sound. There’s nothing revolutionary about this of course: which of us wasn’t taught how to prepare an essay or exam answer by plotting it out? Above all, I want to avoid contributors submitting a first draft that might need significant revision. Spelling and punctuation we can deal with, but going off on a tangent can mean much more painful conversations.
The next step will be some more guidance notes from me, which I’m preparing with the book’s commissioning editor. These notes cover matters of style and practical issues that keep publishers up at night. This isn’t about squashing individuality but, again, seeking to ensure that when contributors turn in their first drafts (which they’ll start once we reach 100% funding), they are pretty close to the mark. It’s a matter of respect for the contributors — I don’t want them having to do extra work because of things we didn’t anticipate — and it’s for my sanity too. Having 25 chapters drop into your editorial lap means a lot of work as it is. My aim is to reduce the potential for crises.
Of course, that’s not the end of the story. A book with a lot of first draft chapters is really only the beginning for me as the editor. But I hope this gives you an idea of how 'Trans: A British History' will be put together to produce a flowing story from 25 very different people.
Christine Burns