In our July "how can we help you?" thread, Incoming PhD writes:

I'm preparing my first article for submission and I'm struggling to cut my paper down to the word limit at journals I'm interested in submitting to. Part of this, admittedly, is lack of experience: there are undoubtedly components to my article that a more experienced author would intuitive know to cut. And some of the excess word count results from unnecessary long sentences, extraneous citations, etc. That's obviously stuff I need to cut. But I also feel like there's a point where I, as an author, should just say that I'm done and move on to the next thing.

When should one throw in the towel, admit they probably won't get their article down to the maximum word count, and just submit to journals whose word counts they reach (even if those journals are less good fits/less likely to accept)?

This is a really great question. Allow me to share some quick thoughts, and then open things up for discussion.


Let me begin with the general issue of how long any given paper should be. In brief, my view here is that a paper should be exactly as long as it needs to be to get its job done–no more and no less. Some papers need to be 6,000 words long. Others need to be 10,000 words long. Others still need to be 15K. Here's why. A number of years ago, I published a 17,000-word article, 'A New Theory of Free Will.' Before sending it out for review, I sent it to a couple of established friends in the discipline, who both suggested–purely on the basis of how long it was–that I should cut it down to two or three separate papers. I believed then, and still believe now, that that would have been a mistake. The entire point of the paper is that the theory advances should be taken seriously primarily because of how much it accomplishes: specifically, how many diverse physical and philosophical phenomena it promises to explain better than alternatives. So, I kept the paper long, published it in the form I thought it should be published, and am glad I did.

My second point is related to the first. My dissertation supervisor once told me that at some point in one's career, one will undergo a transformation. Early in your career–particularly in graduate school–there are good reasons (based in lack of experience) to defer somewhat to others who have more experience than you. Since the reader who posed this question is just entering a PhD program, I think this is probably what they should do: show the paper to some more experienced people, and ask them what (if anything) they think should be cut down. In fact, I think this is generally good advice: don't just ask other people in the abstract whether and how you should cut down your paper. Show your paper to a few people and see what they think! That being said, as one advances in one's career, I also believe one should learn to see oneself as capable of making these kinds of decisions. At some point, one should become 'one's own philosopher.' Some philosophers think journal articles should be short and narrow. Others of us prefer longer, more ambitious work. As you advance in your career (particularly after you've received your PhD), you should by all means decide what kind of philosopher you want to be–as it's your career, not anyone's else's!

All this being said, I think it's very easy to delude oneself into thinking a given paper needs to be longer than it actually needs to be. So, here's a tip I've found helpful: use journal word-limits as a challenge to see what you can do. Here's what I mean. Many years ago, in my very first undergrad philosophy course at Tufts, I turned in an 8-page paper to Dan Dennett–a few pages longer than the course's 5-page limit. Dan said, "This is great, but I want to see you cut it down to no more than 4 pages without losing any content." I was sort of in disbelief, as I didn't think I could possibly do that–but he turned out to be right: I got it down to 4 pages, and it was a vastly better paper. Because this lesson always stuck with me, I've long done something similar with journal articles. When drafting papers, I try not to worry much about editing or keeping things concise. I just write things up. Oftentimes, however, this results in drafts that are quite long. Suppose, then, that I draft up a 12-15,000 word paper (which is pretty common for me). Here's what I do next. Because I know that quite a few good journals have 10K word limits, I'll save the initial 12-15K version, but then revise it to see if I can get it down to 10K words without losing anything essential. This is nearly always (though not always) possible. Supposing I get it down to 10K words, here's what I'll usually do next. Because I know that a lot of good journals have limits around 8K words, I'll save the 10K version and see if I can get a new version down to 8K words without losing anything essential. Oftentimes, this is possible–but other times, I'll worry that the 8K version may have cut out something important. What I might try, then, is to submit the 8K version to a journal or two, and then if referees have a problem with what is missing (saying the paper needs to address the very issue I cut!), then I'll decide that the 10K version is better and tend to shoot for journals that accept papers of that length.

In other words, I've found it helpful to save multiple drafts of papers, with each version progressively cut down to shorter journal word-limits. It's often quite a challenge–but I've found that it's not only a great exercise: it also results in multiple versions of a given paper to try with different journals!

Finally, given that this reader is just beginning a PhD program, I think it may be helpful for grad students and other early-career authors to be aware of the kinds of 'common mistakes' people at their career-stage tend to make. For example, throughout my career, my sense has been it's common knowledge that grad students and early-career authors have a tendency to engage in too much background exposition. The reason for this, I take it, is fairly straightforward. In grad school, you need to show your professors and dissertation supervisors that you understand the literature–so it's common to write papers that begin with a bunch of exposition trying to 'prove your bona fides' to your reader. However, this isn't really how journal articles work. Journal articles are generally expected to get to the point quickly. Why? Because, at this point, it is generally assumed that you know the background literature. Sure, a good journal article should begin with a bit of stage-setting: maybe a page or two. However, whatever background exposition you provide should be just enough to motivate the paper without ignoring relevant literature (which, alas, in my experience is a big problem in philosophy).

But these are just my thoughts. What are yours? For those of you with experience publishing successfully, how do you go about deciding how long to make a paper, and whether and how to cut things down to journal word-limits?

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19 responses to “Cutting papers down to journal word-limits?”

  1. Andy

    One heuristic I have picked up is to consider how I would present the material as a 20-30 minute talk, especially as a talk to undergraduates (even better: actually give your paper as such a short talk). Which details would I gloss over or entirely skip in that setting? Those are the bits you should cut. After all, those are the least exciting/least significant bits.

  2. Mike

    I agree with Andy’s talk heuristic. I often start by writing up a 3k word version of the idea (which I could submit to an APA meeting), then expand that into something I can write for a journal. If you already have the longer paper, write it up (from scratch!) as a 3k word conference submission, then expand it back out as the journal’s word-limit allows. I think starting over with a blank page is important, or at least can be very helpful if you don’t already obviously see what to cut. It allows you to reorganize the paper around the key ideas and argument.
    A second, related heuristic is to write the paper by “unpacking” your thesis: start with your main claim, then write down the argument (w/ premises, whatever) for that claim, then write down whatever key terms or issues need to be clarified in the main claim and argument. That should take like a page or two, at most. Then fill out from there with signposting, examples, citations, and references to the literature.
    In any case, a key to writing short, well-organized papers is a lot of drafting, including often starting over again from scratch. At least for me, it takes a lot of work just to organize my ideas and to develop them into something. I expect 6-12 months of work to go from initial idea to a draft I’m comfortable sending to a journal. If you just write up one (long) draft, mostly off the top of your head, and then try to haphazardly cut it down to a word limit, the end result won’t be very good.

  3. Michel

    Learn to murder your darlings.
    Learning to edit is a hugely important part of the paper-writing process (indeed, as far as I’m concerned, it is the process!), and it takes time to learn how to do it effectively. And cutting papers down is part of that.
    In addition to the excellent advice already being offered, here are a couple of tips that can help you to cut or identify where to cut:
    1.) Go through the paper line by line with the goal of cutting at least one word per sentence. This may well require you to rephrase things. But it’s relatively painless, and once you’ve gone through it all you’ll have cut hundreds of words.
    2.) Look at your footnotes. Avoid discursive footnotes to the extent possible, and treat them as a good place to do some cutting.
    3.) Compare the word count for each of your sections. If some sections are significantly longer than others, that’s an indication that perhaps you need to do some cutting there. (You might also have to do some re-organizing.)

  4. Tim

    I recommend a similar strategy as Michael that I call the 10% cut. Suppose your papers is 10,000. And it needs to be 8,000. Try to cut 10% of the words by going sentence by sentence. Suppose you cut 900 words so you paper is now 9,100 words. Well, try to cut 10% again. Continue this process until either (i) you feel like you can’t cut anymore or (ii) you have reached the word limit you want.
    This process has been effective for me. It also sets a concrete goal for trimming a paper. I think it is worth a try or two.

  5. I’m far from an expert (only a few publications, only a couple years as a professor, etc.) but for me personally the most helpful thing has been getting a better understanding of the size of the idea, so to speak. That is, some ideas will fit into Xk words (or, easily fit into Xk words), and some ideas won’t fit into Xk words (or, won’t easily fit into Xk words), and you get a better sense of which ideas are which as time goes on. And so, now when I conceive papers, I have a better idea how long they are likely to be, and I just don’t write the ones that are likely to be too long.

  6. Overseas TT

    There are many turns of phrase whose systematic replacement with shorter phrases will automatically cut down the word count.
    – ‘to be’ is often superfluous. E.g. “seems right” is just as good as “seems to be right”. Relatedly, passive voice invariably results in longer sentences (which are also more tiresome to read, by the way)
    – adjectives, especially ‘really’, ‘very’, ‘quite’ and its kin, are often sperfluous
    – nouns with Latin roots (-tion, -ity, etc.) are often unnecessary and can be replaced with verbs. They also tend to make the text feel boring and constipated
    – ‘There is’ is often unnecessary. E.g. instead “there is one more reason:…” write “one more reason is…”
    – quotations, especially long ones, are rarely necessary outside history of philosophy. You can get rid of most of them
    – also, a personal one: philosophy jokes are basically always bad. Like, not bad in the good way, just plain corny. I strongly urge everyone who reads this to just cut them out. They aren’t funny, sorry (and they take up extra space).
    You can find some of these in Jonathan Bennett and Samuel Gorovitz’s “Improving Academic Writing”:
    https://www.earlymoderntexts.com/assets/jfb/bengor.pdf
    I highly recommend it even independently of cutting down the word count. I started following their guide a few years ago (and over the years added a few rules of my own), and it improved my writing immensely. Philosophy is already hard enough, and we could all do more to not make it more painful than it needs to be.

  7. Mike

    I wanted to second Overseas TT’s advice. It is amazing how often you can literally just delete words out of a sentence, without any other changes, and still retain precisely the same meaning. If you can’t do this for 2/3rds of the sentences you write, you probably just aren’t looking hard enough. As an example, here’s my second sentence again: “It is amazing how often you can delete words, without other changes, and still retain the same meaning.” That’s 7 words gone from a 26 word sentence, for a 27% reduction in word count.

  8. Marcus Arvan

    Mike: Indeed. Here’s another 3 words deleted that doesn’t change the meaning of that sentence: “It is amazing how often you can simply delete words and retain the same meaning.” 😉

  9. Andrew

    “Amazingly, you can often delete words and retain the same meaning.”
    But it’s also important to do the harder task of realizing not every sentence, paragraph, or even section you wrote has an important function in the central argument of your paper.

  10. Marcus Arvan

    Andrew: 🙂

  11. Incoming PhD

    Question OP here: thank you all very much! These suggestions have been immensely helpful, and I will employ them promptly! (Though, I suppose, “These suggestions were helpful and I will employ them” might be better…)

  12. NH

    I will employ these helpful suggestions, surely.

  13. sentence-shortening game player

    “Amazingly, you can often delete words and retain the same meaning.”
    Amazingly, deleting words often retains sentence meaning.

  14. Mike

    Ha! I like the sentence-shortening game.
    Prose that’s been through this game usually sounds sharper and more impressive, too.

  15. Anon

    I recommend thinking of a paper as a skeleton: there is a thesis, and every vertebra is a paragraph developing an idea in support of that thesis. Go through, write one full declarative sentence summarizing each paragraph. Then look at your list of sentences, and see which don’t relate logically to the thesis, or barely relate to where they should be omitted, and what parts might/should be re-organized to shorten the paper. This is an aggressive way of editing that I think makes papers go from good to great. I do it before wordsmithing, which matters a lot too. It’s helpEd me publish a number of articles, though your mileage may vary.

  16. Anon2

    Unrelated: tread carefully when editing. For example, “deleting” doesn’t (Indeed, can’t) “retain.” Deleting is not the kind of thing deleting can do. So the proposed sentence shortening above fails semantically, well-intentioned though it quite rightly is. (More importantly IMO, see sentence “skeleton” edit idea immediately above.)

  17. Mike

    Anon2: There are obviously some key technical terms we often employ in philosophy which your average periodical editor might think are superfluous, but which really aren’t. But if you wrote the paper, you’re not apt to suddenly forget that (oh yeah!) you’re using that modal to convey some special flavor of modality (or whatever). So, I think “tread carefully” is bad advice for early-career people when it comes to wordsmithing. I think it’s the opposite: be as aggressive as possible! Those still learning to write are probably unaware of the hundreds of wordy locutions they use which could be trimmed. It takes time, practice, and experimentation to learn that stuff.
    Anyway, it also just seems demonstratively false that deleting can’t retain meaning. Overseas TT started this discussion with a great example: “seems right” says exactly the same thing (in colloquial English) as “seems to be right”. I also think the meaning was retained in my example as well:
    (a) It is amazing how often you can literally just delete words out of a sentence, without any other changes, and still retain precisely the same meaning.
    (b) It is amazing how often you can delete words, without other changes, and still retain the same meaning.
    (c) Amazingly, deleting words often retains sentence meaning.
    I think you could quibble with whether there are any truth-conditional differences between (a) and (c), but I’m confident that (a) and (b) have none. The problem with (c), vs (a), is that (c) is more ambiguous. The “without other changes” clause makes the point it expresses explicit. That does seem to matter, as this exercise itself demonstrated (B demonstrates the point OverseasTT was making, while C doesn’t).
    Still, (a) vs (b) demonstrates that even words which, at first glance, seem to be doing work (“literally”, “any”) actually aren’t.
    You might think I’m proving your point, but often the difference between (say) (a) vs (c) either doesn’t really matter (again, you’ll know when it does), or will be clear from the broader context.

  18. Anon2

    Fair points, Mike. It’s a matter of costs and benefits. The value of (a) vs. (c) will be hard to judge. Sometimes allowing additional ambiguity or unclarity is worth it if it lets one cut a bunch of words. And agreed also that words like “literally” and “any” in your example are worth cutting. So yes, early career folks should edit aggressively. Just not so much that they add too much ambiguity/unclarity. “Edit aggressively” is indeed a good phrase by which to guide one’s practical reasoning.

  19. Evan

    I would be cautious about deleting certain adjectives like “very” and “extremely.” In some types of philosophical researches, these qualifiers may be irrelevant, superfluous, and hyperbolic.
    However, if you’re doing qualitative research e.g. phenomenological research, then those qualifiers may be relevant as they presuppose the variation or degree of something e.g. feelings.
    In other words, those types of qualifiers may be used to precisely depict the level of something. There is a difference between something being “painful” and “extremely painful.”
    For example, having your finger pricked by a thorn may be painful while stepping on a landmine would be extremely painful.
    Thus, getting rid of certain adjectives may not cost you accuracy, but it can cost you precision, which may be important if you’re doing phenomenological research.

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