The Joys and Challenges of Editing a Book or Special Issue (and Why I Might’ve Waited to Start)

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There’s a special kind of joy that comes with editing a book or a special journal issue. It’s a chance to help shape the conversations happening in your field, to highlight emerging questions, showcase new approaches, and bring scholars into dialogue with one another. You get to say, This matters. Let’s pay attention to this. There’s something thrilling about curating a collection of perspectives that speaks to the current moment, and even more rewarding when you’re able to include early-career researchers and students whose work deserves more visibility.

Editing also opens doors. It connects you with people you might not otherwise meet — contributors, peer reviewers, co-editors — and can lead to rich collaborations and friendships. In my own experience, some very generative conversations I’ve had have come out of emails that began with, Would you be interested in contributing to this issue I’m editing?

But let me be real: it’s also a lot of work.

There are endless moving parts — chasing down reviewers, following up with authors who are behind on deadlines, juggling timelines and revisions, wrangling permissions, making sure everything aligns with the publisher’s guidelines. It’s deeply organizational work that demands persistence, diplomacy, and, sometimes, a good playlist of Mariah Carey songs and a strong cup of coffee. I can’t count the number of polite reminder emails I’ve had to send over the years.

And unlike other academic labor, like writing journal articles, teaching classes, or securing grants, editing isn’t always recognized as “real work” by institutions. It rarely gets factored into teaching releases or tenure evaluations in the same way. It can feel invisible, even though it’s central to shaping academic conversations and creating space for dialogues that might otherwise be excluded.

I started editing when I was still a graduate student. At the time, it felt like a great opportunity, and, in many ways, it was. I met people I admire, I learned a lot about the peer-review process from the inside, and I got my name out there. But looking back, I have mixed feelings. The time and emotional energy it took was immense. And I’m not sure I fully grasped then how little institutions tend to value this kind of service work, especially when you’re early in your career and still trying to get that first book or article out.

If I could go back in time, I might have waited until I had a bit more stability — a postdoc or tenure-track job — before taking on a major editorial role. That’s not to say early-career scholars shouldn’t do this kind of work. But I wish someone had told me to think carefully about what I’d have to say no to in order to say yes to editing.

Still, I keep returning to it. Why? Because when it’s done well, editing is about building community. It’s about lifting others up. It’s about imagining new directions for our fields. And despite the headaches, the late-night editing sessions, and the email fatigue, I still believe that’s worth doing.

So if you’re thinking about editing a special issue, a book, or a blog series, my advice is this: Be clear on why you’re doing it. Make sure it aligns with your goals, your values, and your energy level. Don’t be afraid to co-edit (co-editors can save your life). And above all, be kind to yourself in the process.

Also, one important tip: before agreeing to edit a special issue or book, make sure you clearly understand what kind of support the publisher or journal will provide. Will they handle the submission portal and communication with authors, or will that fall to you? Are you responsible for tracking abstracts, coordinating peer reviews, or formatting references? Will copyediting and proofreading be covered, or will you be expected to do that yourself? Some journals and publishers are better resourced than others, and the amount of behind-the-scenes work required can vary dramatically. Asking these questions up front can save you a lot of stress — and surprise — down the line.

Editing may not always come with awards or releases or applause, but it can help shape the future of your field. And that, to me, is still a kind of joy.

P.S. To all my generous colleagues who said yes to being a reviewer — thank you. You are the real heroes of academic publishing. I see you, I appreciate you, and I promise to pay it forward (with gentle reminders, gifs, and caffeine if needed).