Co-Authors As Marriage, Affair, Or One Night Stand?

In both law and other disciplines, the subject of co-authoring gets a lot of attention.  Who co-authors with whom and how many times?  How many degrees of separation do people have from Cass Sunstein?  How do we evaluate co-authored work for hiring and tenure purposes? 

But there’s been less rumination, it seems, on the co-authoring relationship itself.   In other words, scholarly collaborations are clearly relationships, but of what sort?  It seems to me that there are a few possibilities:

1. The Marriage

Some co-authoring relationships are a lot like a marriage.  Your co-authors really know you in a way that no one else does.  They know your strengths and weaknesses better than anyone else.  And there’s no hiding – if you don’t actually understand Priest-Klein or endogeneity, your co-author will figure that out over time.  And, hopefully, love (or, at least, tolerate) you anyway.

Some of the classic co-author pairs within law might be characterized as a marriage, if by “marriage” we mean a relationship of some duration and success: Schwartz & Scott or Landes & Posner, for example.  And what about Easterbrook & Fischel?  Is that a marriage or a tumultuous – but highly productive – affair? (See Category 2)

Though the norm within law is that married partners retain their birth names, some adopt the family name upon marriage. 

2. The Tumultuous Affair

At first, it’s all wonderful – no one, NO ONE, works as fast, is as smart, has the technical skills, matches the theoretical depth . . . whatever . . . of your new co-author.  Every day is a joy, each small insight a breakthrough . . . until it isn’t anymore.

Not all relationships become marriages, of course.  Some are more like affairs.  Serious, at least at the time, they often create beautiful music together.  But, for whatever reason, it doesn’t last.  Don’t you re-read some of your favorite articles and wonder why they had to split up?  Why they never reunited?  Don’t you want a view of the cathedral after hell freezes over?

3.  The One Night Stand

Yes, it seemed like a good idea at the time.  But with the clarity of a new day, you realized that this just wasn’t going to work out – indeed, probably never should have started — and made a hasty exit.  Perhaps one of you considers two weeks more than enough time from insight to publication while the other is still turning her student note into a full-blown page-turner.  Or you realize only after you begin working that what appeared a common ground is actually an insurmountable difference in world view: “oh, you meant to suggest that drastic power differentials between employer and employed were a system problem rather than a bargaining opportunity?” or “When you said empirical I thought you meant we would describe Justice Ginsburg’s views in six recent opinions.”

The reasons ultimately don’t matter.  If both of you have good judgment and discipline, then you each figured this out independently on the flight home after the inebriated conference dinner that initially spawned this ill-conceived partnership. The less said about it the better and, hopefully, everyone moves on with egos unscathed and no sunk costs beyond an outline or précis.  If everyone is not exhibiting her most adult-like behavior, then that planned multi-volume treatise or NSF proposal may have to become a 500-word op ed or a single-author piece accompanied by a response before being abandoned altogether. 

Oh, and that “it’s not you, it’s me” speech never fooled anyone. 

4. The Blind Date

Also known as the “Set-Up.”  You have a friend who has a friend.  Said friend thinks you’d work well together.  If your friend has good judgment – meaning she has correctly pegged both you and her other friend as not crazy, undisciplined, or otherwise impossible to work with – then this could turn out to be a great Affair, or maybe even a Marriage. If not, it becomes another One Night Stand from which you must manage a gracious exit.

Of course, the odds are against you.  Why are both of you still single and in need of a Set Up if you’re such great catches?

5.  The Lone Warrior

Yes, you know who you are.  You don’t need no stinkin’ co-authors.  You can do it all by yourself.  Mr. Solo Author Published Twice Last Year in the Yale Law Journal Guy. 

Clever ideas – check.  Clear writing ability – double check.  Empirical skills – so friggin’ checked.   A deep understanding of the theoretical foundations of the U.S. political and constitutional system – giant, shiny checks all over that.

Sure, sure.  It’s discipline driven.  Legal historians and philosophers don’t co-author, period.  People in the sciences need 2900 co-authors because they’re just lame.  And scaredy-cats. 

You, by contrast, are forever a proud free agent.   

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