13 September 2019
On 10 September at a little after 17:00 PDT, I sent a message to the handling editor for my paper at the journal to which I'd submitted it on 20 February:
What is the present status of my article, and for what reason does it have that status, whatever it might be?
I've not yet received any reply.
I had waited until the 10th because, discounting the twenty days between when I received the first pair of reviews and when I sent a revision along with replies to the two reviews, that marked the sixth mensiversay.
When a paper has been held so long without a decision, the editor should not have waited to be contacted by the author(s), but should initiate contact. And, given such delay and that the author has asked for information that the editor ought to have at-hand, a query should receive a prompt reply.
13 August 2019
Four weeks after I submitted a revision of my paper on probability, along with additional responses to each of the referee reports, I am still waiting on word from the journal. The website reporting on the submission is not particularly instructive. Under the heading
Status the report says
02/20/19 Waiting; under the heading
Last Action the report reads
Referee Assignment Request. My guess is that a request to a specific referee candidate has been made by the handling editor. I don't think that the report will be or has been updated to reflect declined requests; it might be updated when outstanding requests have been accepted.
Evidently, a swift rejection did not result from my explaining that the first pair of referee reports involved some major errors on the parts of those referees. But I am not made to feel particularly hopeful; it is pathological that the paper has not already been properly reviewed.
17 July 2019
I acted where I reasonably could to accommodate the most recent reviewers of my probability paper, but each of the reviewers made some rather dire errors. So, along with a revised version of the paper, I wrote responses to the reviews, and on 16 July sent these to the journal that had requested revisions.
The hope for publication rests upon three possibilities. Possibly the reviewers will acknowledge their errors; possibly the editors over-rule the reviewers, either on principle or to protect the reputations of the editors and of the journal.
I think that the chance of acceptance is poor. If the paper is rejected, then I will undo some of the revisions, and seek another journal to which to submit the paper.
12 July 2019
DreamHost, the hosting service that I use, recently broke this 'blog in at least two ways.
First, they deleted one or more files from my installation of Wordfence, which deletion crippled security. Second, they corrupted the database that underlies the 'blog, causing an old entry on usernames to be very imperfectly duplicated, with a date-stamp of 30 June 2019.
I noticed the problems in the wake of an up-dating of the operating system used by DreamHost; I infer that something went wrong in that process.
I contacted DreamHost and then stewed for some days, leaving things as they were to allow the support staff to set things right. They repaired the installation of Wordfence, offering an implausible conjecture about what had gone wrong. They did not repair the database appropriately.
26 June 2019
Early on the morning of 26 June, I received a set of requested changes from the reviewers for the journal to which I submitted my probability paper about 125 days earlier. I have not read the demands carefully at this point. I am postponing a careful reading until I am better rested, and have had an opportunity to adjust to my annoyance at some of the comments that I encountered in skimming one of the two reviews.
The other of the two reviewers insists that I should write another paper, discussing incomplete preferences. To that demand, I will reply that I have had one paper published on that subject, and that the next paper in the programme is to synthesize such discussion. The lack of awareness of the reviewer about my prior work is an artefact of my selecting a blind review, so that my identity was concealed from the reviewers.
Assuming that the remaining demands of the reviewers can be met reasonably (or that the editor can be shown that any demands that are not met are unreasonable), my paper will be published at this journal.
20 June 2019
I've not received a decision about my probability paper from the journal to which I submitted it four months ago, and the journal's website continues to report the paper's status as
It might seem that none of the various reasons given by previous journals for rejection could be offered with plausibility after four months, as the supposèd short-comings pronounced by earlier editors and reviewers would quickly be evident. However, my experience is that some journals feel entitled simply to report — Ooops! — that work got lost or delayed in process, but could quickly be seen to be grossly deficient either before it was mislaid or after it was unstuck.
Meanwhile, I think that any reasonable reviewer will make a cursory examination of a paper before accepting it, that any reviewer competent to assess my probability paper would quickly recognize that its potential significance were considerable, and that he or she would therefore be reluctant to delay for weeks before making a more careful reading. Perhaps a long time were required to find a reviewer, or perhaps the paper is once again in the hands of some credentialed fool not competent to review it.
I hesitate to query the handling editor, for fear that, as in the case of the previous journal, the paper would be given-over to a reviewer who promises a quick review and then provides remarks that are careless and wrong. On the other hand, I also know from experience (with my paper on indecision) that some journals will allow a paper to idle indefinitely unless its author rebels.
20 May 2019
I've not yet received a decision on my probability paper from the journal to which I had most recently submitted it, and the journal's website continues to report the paper's status as
Waiting, although 20 May was a soft dead-line (and 20 May has passed in Europe).
It was only a soft dead-line because the journal simply declared that they attempt to report a decision within three months. Actually, three months is a target widely adopted by academic journals, though the target is often missed.
In any case, at this point it would not be considered inappropriate for me to query the handling editor about the paper, though I'm not sure what good would currently come of such a query. I'm inclined to believe that some journals will hand a paper to a referee for a quick-and-dirty review if pushed, and I'd rather just withdraw the submission than receive another derelict review.
I continue to regard a rejection as the most likely outcome and a Monday as the mostly day for a decision. I've not yet decided where next to submit my paper should the present journal reject it.
7 May 2019
A recent post to Facebook by Timo Virkkala reminds me of one of my peeves.
Eugen Ritter von Böhm-Bawerk died on 27 August 1914. The Austro-Hungarian Empire disintegrated in 1918. The Austrian state eliminated titles of nobility as such with a law passed on 3 April 1919, which law came into effect on 10 April 1919.
Had von Böhm-Bawerk lived into 10 April 1919, then he would have been given various choices as to what to do with his name. One of his choices would have been to change it to
Eugen Böhm von Bawerk, which could alternately be spelled
Eugen Boehm von Bawerk. But of course he didn't, 'cause he'd been dead for almost five years.
Still, the Austrian central bank, the US Library of Congress, and that wretched mess Wikipedia decided to pretend that he'd done just that. He didn't adopt that name, his acolytes and admirers didn't and don't call him by that name, and he might have done something quite different (such as omitting the
[Ritter] von altogether, which would have left his name more like its earlier form) if he'd been compelled to make a choice; but the LoC and Wikipedia still insist on sophomorically transforming his name into that form.
 The umlaut (
¨ ) is an extremely stylized superscripted
e. An umlaut may be replaced by writing an
e after the letter over which the umlaut had been written; simply omitting an umlaut without replacement is illiterate.
Unfortunately, the modern glyph for the umlaut is indistinguishable from that of the diæresis, and the louts in Unicode Consortium decided to pretend that the two were the same character. (Yes, we've hit three of my peeves in this entry.) When not written diacritically, a diæresis should not be replaced by an
e. (I've not seen that done, so it doesn't count as a peeve.)
[Ritter] von Bawerk might still look like a title of nobility, but it would not have counted as such. And somehow such reärrangements were seen as important.
26 April 2019
A psychologist once told me that people do not begin to dream until they've fallen into a relatively deep sleep. I know her assertion to be false based upon my own experience and upon the reports of others. Some of us begin dreaming right after or perhaps right before falling asleep. Being either barely on one side of consciousness or perhaps in an intermediate state in which dreaming occurs is not quite the same as what is normally called
lucid dreaming, but I'm able to notice some peculiar psychological phenomena as such.
Amongst these are spurious memories. In a dreaming state, I seem to remember events that did not occur in the waking world, though I don't experience those events within the dream. Because the events are not dreamt, but instead there is an apparent memory of these events, it can be harder upon becoming wakeful to discern that the apparent memory were false. But such spurious memories do disintegrate much like memories of dreamt events. In fact, I notice apparent memories often disintegrating within dreams, which disintegration is sufficiently troubling to make me more wakeful.
One disintegration, experienced a few mornings ago, was especially disturbing. I dreamt that I had an old Japanese bank note, and I had (spurious) memories of how I'd acquired the note. But I dreamt that some woman stole the note from me; and, as I dreamt of that theft, my apparent memories of how I'd come to have the note disintegrated, as if themselves stolen.
15 April 2019
Another Monday has effectively passed without my receiving a rejection from the latest journal to which I offered my paper on probability.
My paper was submitted to that journal on 20 February, and on 2 March I was informed that it were assigned to a handling editor and that I'd be notified when a report were returned by a reviewer. I don't know whether a reviewer has accepted the assignment; but, while sometimes it takes months to find a reviewer, usually that happens more quickly. The journal says that it makes an effort to make a decision within three months; but, at most journals, reviewers are asked to return a report in something like four weeks or a month. So, while the three-month mark is six weeks away, it is increasingly plausible that a decision will be made soon.
Those who review academic articles and edit academic journals do so as a side activity, and are most likely to give time to this activity on the weekends. Additionally, weekends are psychologically natural for self-imposed deadlines. Monday becomes the most probable day for an editor to inform an author of a decision. Because the journal and the handling editor are in Europe, Monday effectively ends in what is for me the late after-noon.
And the most likely decision is a rejection. I don't think that I quite said this when previously writing about submitting my article to a journal. Instead, I wrote about the fate of most articles being rejection. But, after observing the responses of reviewers at those previous journals, I've reached a judgment about probability. It's probable that my article will again be rejected.
Thus, on each Monday, I look for a rejection.