I can still almost smell the crisp air in Frankfort as I sat outside near the Old State Capitol building contemplating my Open Spaces question, which focused on the role of communication in the public sphere. The 2009 PATNet conference was the first where I presented my dissertation research to someone not on my committee. As a student, I was both pleased and scared to be there in front of giants of administrative theory who I had read in class but never met in person. To say I was intimidated is putting it mildly.
When we returned to share our Open Spaces findings (I was a group of 1), I remember presenting and catching the eyes and ears of Mary Timney. We spoke. We exchanged contact information. She became a great mentor to me. I fondly remember being at dinner with Mary, Patricia Patterson, and Dragon Stanisevski where I tried bourbon for the first time (when in Kentucky, right?). I didn’t like the taste, so Mary graciously finished my glass and hers. Saying I was intimidated again is still putting it mildly.
The conference is where I met so many people I consider friends today. Some of us who met there as students are now full professors. I think back to how many of my firsts are associated with PATNet and ATP. My first real conference presentation. My first peer-reviewed publication. My first special issue. So, when in 2018 I became the first female editor-in-chief of the journal, to say I was intimidated is once more putting it mildly.
Since then, I have learned a lot about myself as a person and scholar. (I have also learned a lot about how the proverbial publishing sausage is made, though that becomes more confusing and complex with each passing year.) I want to use my last editorial to reflect on what I have learned to see if some of the lessons from the past 6 years can help others—and maybe help myself one final time within this important space.
The first lesson I learned is confidence. This one came slowly, and frankly still gets shaken even at this rank and after 14 years in the profession. I owe this confidence build in many ways to my dissertation chair Art Sementelli. My path to a PhD was neither traditional nor smooth—many professors spent my first year telling me how I would never finish the program. Indeed, one told me that because I did not have a master’s degree, the only thing I could do for him was make photocopies. It was not until I took a class with Art that I heard kind words and started to believe that perhaps I could finish this degree and maybe even succeed as an academic. As a first-gen student, I had never considered any of this, never dreamed of becoming a professor let alone being good at it.
When I took over as editor, Art was among my cheerleaders. In the early days, I leaned on him when I was not sure of a decision. That is why it was hard when I had to reject manuscripts from Art, from other professors of mine, from friends. This never got easier, but I became more assured as to why I was making these decisions. I remember when I first rejected a paper by Art, he called me, and I thought “oh gosh, he must be upset.” But what did he say instead? “You’re right.” That is the kind of mentor and person Art is. He is still my greatest champion today, and I hope all students reading this are lucky enough to find a dissertation chair (and now friend) as supportive as mine.
The second lesson is to not fear failing. Failure is always hard, especially in an industry that prides itself on a certain kind of expertise. For me, failure has been scary because I thought it meant a weakness. I remember again being at a PATNet conference when I was a new assistant professor and saw an email for an article rejection, which made two in a row. I started crying in the elevator. Rejection has gotten slightly easier in that I do not cry anymore, but now I try to think of what I can learn, how I can be better. I am sure ATP readers for the last 6 years have articles they love and ones they hate. I know not every decision I made resonates across the board, and that is okay. Some might see those supposed missteps as a failure for which I can never be forgiven, and that is their decision. I have indeed lost sleep during my 6 years at the helm, but I can look back on all the negatives I faced and reflect on what lessons I was shown. Chiefly that when it comes to failure, find people who will support you at your highest highs and lowest lows.
Third, take risks and push. I was lucky to lead this journal where pushing the boundaries of “traditional scholarship” is baked into its DNA. I saw my role as creating spaces for others to thrive and find a home for their research that might not fit in a more “mainstream” journal. Through my time, we have published special issues on topics ranging from social justice and equity to sports in the public sector. I hope doctoral students and new academics continue to find ATP a home for their conceptual and empirical research that moves away from what is expected. Take risks. Write what brings you joy. Publish in journals where you’re not only joining a conversation but pushing it forward.
Fourth, publishing and editing is complex, and I do not think we do enough to share these intricacies. I wish more authors knew how much effort some editors put into submitted and accepted manuscripts. I wish authors knew that not every decision is easy, that many of us take time and care and still struggle with sending rejections. Again, I know not every review process is a home run—some colleagues have told me as much via quite pointed emails. When people take to social media to complain about editors not reading manuscripts during the winter holidays or summer vacation, I think people forget many of us are doing this on a volunteer basis or for small remuneration. We also are juggling multiple commitments, but I know among those fellow editors I consider my friends, we are trying our best. So, before taking to a public platform to complain, perhaps ask us what is happening. Also remember as academics, we have agency. You dislike the direction of a journal? Apply to be editor when it opens. Think peer review is broken (which it is)? Help publishers and editors find a better way. Step up when you can.
Finally, have fun. Academia for me has been a series of peaks and valleys, and I am confident this resonates with many readers. We are in a culture and industry that often thrives on competition and negativity. There were some days where I lost the joy in editing the journal. Then I stepped back to remember what a privilege and honor it is to be able to shape knowledge, to help authors publish the best version of the paper they can at that time. We are incredibly lucky to be in the profession of thinking and creating, and I am deeply honored to have been given a chance to create space for the past 6 years where voices and ideas could thrive. I had strong shoulders and foundations to stand upon at ATP, and I know my window will only be a small sliver of the journal and Network’s storied history.
To say I am honored and humbled to have been part of that is putting it mildly.
Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).