Getting Published : Academic Publishing Success 9780230392113, 9780230392106

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Getting Published

Palgrave Research Skills Authoring a PhD The Foundations of Research (2nd edn) Getting to Grips with Doctoral Research Getting Published The Good Supervisor (2nd edn) The PhD Viva The Postgraduate Research Handbook (2nd edn) Structuring Your Research Thesis The Professional Doctorate

Palgrave Teaching and Learning Series Editor: Sally Brown Facilitating Workshops For the Love of Learning Leading Dynamic Seminars Learning, Teaching and Assessment in Higher Education Live Online Learning Further titles are in preparation

Getting Published Academic Publishing Success

Gina Wisker

For Liz Harrison, a writing inspiration; for the participants on the writing courses I have ’run’; for Liam and Kitt; and for Alistair, who had much more still to write.

© Gina Wisker 2015 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2015 by PALGRAVE Palgrave in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of 4 Crinan Street, London N1 9XW Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave is a global imprint of the above companies and is represented throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries

ISBN 978-0-230-39210-6 ISBN 978-0-230-39211-3 (eBook) DOI 10.1007/978-0-230-39211-3 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Typeset by Cambrian Typesetters, Camberley, Surrey, England, UK

Contents

List of Illustrative Material

ix

Acknowledgements

x

Part 1 Why Write? Forms of Academic Writing and How to Go About Writing Them 1 2 3 4 5

Introduction Why are we writing? Setting up effective writing practices, managing time, space and writing energy Writing for and publishing in academic journals Writing for and publishing in books Writing for academic publication when English is not your first language

3 12 31 57 75

Part 2 A Closer Look at the Process 6 7 8 9 10

Writing from research and practice – planning and writing different parts of the thesis or article Writing literature reviews and thinking about methodology and methods Writing abstracts and conclusions – emphasising meaning and worth Developing good writing according to structure Publishing from your PhD

95 113 132 151 168

Part 3 The Writing Process and You 11 12 13

Finding and developing your voice(s) in the disciplines Managing time, overcoming blocks and getting the writing done Writing creatively and reflectively to support your academic writing for publication

v

187 207 233

vi

Contents

Part 4 Learning from Feedback, and Playing a Full Part in the World of Writing 14 15 16 17 18 19

Responding to feedback Turning your conference presentation or paper into a publication Writing for online outlets and publications Edited books and new editions You are not alone – developing and working with writing groups, communities and critical friends Conclusion – the politics and impact of writing for academic publication

References Index

253 264 281 296 304 321 335 349

List of Illustrative Material

2.1 A fishbone diagram: things that hinder or help writing progress 2.2 Choosing what to write 4.1 Shortened form of the proposal for this book using the Palgrave Macmillan format 6.1 Chapters of a thesis or dissertation/sections of an article – just over half way through completion – looking at how I am progressing and giving myself advice about what to do next 9.1 The first stages in the development of this book 11.1 Example of a paper submitted using a social science formula 11.2 Example of a paper submitted using a literary formula 13.1 Visualisation – the whole cake 14.1 Referee 1 comments and my responses 15.1 Some issues with conference presentations and papers and suggested ways of turning them into publications 16.1 My own reflective blog about the writing of this book 18.1 Early stages of writing with colleagues

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21 29 66

110 166 196 198 241 262 271 293 318

Acknowledgements

I should like to thank Michelle Bernard and Alison Curry for their patient professional support in getting this book ready and colleagues at Macmillan Education who have supported its production, copy-edited and put up with my procrastination. GINA WISKER Professor of HE and contemporary literature, University of Brighton, UK Extraordinary Professor of Education, University of Stellenbosch, South Africa I also wish to thank the following for granting permission to reprint excerpts in this book: Sage Publications, Dagny Holle and Mark Obermann for the use of excerpts from ‘The Role of Neuroimaging in the Diagnosis of Headache Disorders’, Therapeutic Advances in Neurological Disorders, ISBN/issue number: 1756285613489765, June 13, 2013; Sage Publications, Beverley Simmons and Allyson Holbrook for excerpts from ‘From Rupture to Resonance: Uncertainty and Scholarship in Fine Art Research Degrees’, Arts and Humanities in Higher Education, ISBN/issue number: 10.1177/1474022212465687, 20 November, 2012; Larry Cebula for an excerpt from ‘Advice for Academic Bloggers’, Northwest History Blog, November 6, available at: http://northwesthistory. blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/advice-for-academic-bloggers.html; and Routledge and Taylor and Sandra Annett for the use of excerpts from ‘New Media Beyond Neo-Imperialism, Betty Boop and Sita Sings the Blues’, Journal of Postcolonial Writing, Vol. 49, issue 5, p. 15, downloaded 3 November, 2013.

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Part 1 Why Write? Forms of Academic Writing and How to Go About Writing Them

1 Introduction

This book aims to support you in your writing for publication, and to be useful to you throughout your writing career. It is not a remedial book, and it is not a grammar book. Instead, it is an experience- and research-based book intended to enable and empower you further in your writing so that you really feel you have expressed what you know, and what you want others to know, as well as possible, and readers will want to access use your work. We are concerned here with the practicalities of getting published as well as with the inspirations and the excitements of writing. We are also concerned with the ways in which emotions and identity are entwined with, inform and occasionally hamper writing, so while we look carefully at discipline-based expression, structuring, articulating what writers have found and want to say, we also look at breaking writing blocks, and at academic identities. As you find out more about how to write, where to write and about your readership, you will also find out more about yourself and about how you can manage your work and writing energies to produce publishable writing of which you can be proud. In the competitive world of academic research, teaching and writing, the expectation that academics will write and publish is something that might now be taken for granted, though for some colleagues who have predominantly been researchers, or teachers, or practitioners, it can come as something of a surprise that your good work is, in itself, not ‘enough’. But it is logical, isn’t it, that it should be written about, published, read and used? In whatever format is suitable for your work and for your readers. The main reason for publishing academic writing is to share with your peers and others what you have found, what you do, what you have developed and what you have to say about your own work, practice and/or research, and that of others. Knowledge is something we construct and debate with others – to move us on. We have opinions and views about it, and we continue to practise and research and want to share this evidence as well as research-based opinions and views in both a spoken and a written dialogue with others. It is now an expectation of academics, whether staff, students or independent writers, that we will write for publication to enable that sharing. In my view, both writing to share with others and to explore, develop and express our own ideas to gain clarity for practice are 3

4

Why Write?

equally essential. They are indeed part of the process of thinking, questioning, experimenting, dialoguing and of being an academic colleague, practitioner, researcher, teacher, mentor or student. You need to write. If you keep your discoveries and practice to yourself no one else can benefit from them, and you lock your ideas away, unable to share, discuss and benefit from dialogue with others. If you lock your writing in your desk drawer (as I have, on occasion), no one can appreciate what you have discovered, no one can discuss it, suggest any additional or contradictory thoughts, or contribute to its development and use. Hiding it is part of the initial process of writing, perhaps; but hiding it for ever is not. Releasing all you have to say before it is at least readable isn’t wise either. In between lie the practices of writing, the pleasure and the perseverance involved, and the continuous developing and refining of good writing habits to enable you and others to engage in writing and sharing. Rowena Murray’s Writing for Academic Journals (2009) which, like several other favourites, feeds into my practice and this writing, shows concern about the remedial perception of support for writers, the writing courses, books and journals on writing. Writing and improving your writing is not a remedial activity; it is one of finding your voice and the words to communicate with others as well as possible in the context. Just like riding a bicycle or baking a cake, some people are perhaps naturally better at writing than others, but just like cycling or baking, even they had to learn how to do this well enough to share it – and then they might have forgotten some elements of that process and could benefit from reflection and working on what is effective for them in their own writing. For some, elegant expression might well be more effortless and natural than for others, but for others writing is a struggle, and publication seems to be a step beyond their reach. Support and development are perpetually useful for all of us, and so is sharing strategies which lead to success, and strategies and practices that help to overcome problems. We all have problems and issues with our writing, even if it is only knowing where to place the most recent excellent piece so that it gets the maximum readership, or how to get going again once marking and meetings and domestic demands have drained our writing energies. Many of us can start to write for publication by co-authoring with more experienced colleagues, especially in the sciences or social sciences, where this is common. Many of us can benefit from sharing our writing with trusted critical friends and learning from each other (see Chapter 18). We can all (continue to) learn good writing habits and sound practices for publishing our work. The remedial versions of writing courses have been replaced by a conscious, positive recognition of the necessity of writing development as an activity to help nurture and maintain skills, and the focused, structured articulation of research and practice, in the appropriate outlets, for the appropriate readership. We must share our work or it lingers, hidden and silent, paralysed. Writing support from courses and colleagues is part of that process, and

Introduction

5

courses and colleagues can be supportive and helpful both for those who are new to writing and for those who have 20-something books and hundreds of articles behind them. Each new piece of writing demands of us that we muster our abilities to manage time, find our voice, organise our ideas and arguments, marshal our research and findings, and the work of others which is in a dialogue with our work, and plan and develop our evidenced arguments in a way that truly articulates our research and can be read by others. Each new piece of writing will need a home, an outlet in publication of some sort, and the outlets all have their own rules. The pressure on publishing in the now thousands of available outlets is becoming tougher, so we need to be astute, confident, and to persevere, to keep learning and building on that learning. This is not a remedial activity – it’s rather like training for our own bit of the Olympics. Each step contributes to the next, each achievement will feed in the next time and there will always be next steps.

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For whom is the book intended?

This book is for anyone who would like to write effectively and share their work with others through academic publication. If you are reading and using the book you are probably a postgraduate, a research supervisor, an academic, a researcher, a professional person, or all or some of these, and you are certainly someone who is a writer, and would like to develop that writing further and to publish. Getting Published is written from the context of increasing demands on and expectations of researchers, academics, doctoral students and professionals, and specifically the demand that scholarship, academic processes, research and professional work should be articulated in and communicated through various forms of writing for publication. This book will help you to decide why you want to (or must) write, what you should and could be writing now and in the future, where you are going to get published and how you are going to write in the different forms that really allow you to express what you know, believe and can do, so that you can benefit from shaping and expressing your work, and get it published so that others can benefit from reading it. As practitioners and researchers, we want to share our ideas, curiosities, discoveries, our valuable research and our experience, and want to know that someone is reading our writing, enjoys it, finds it useful and is changed in some way because of it. We seek a readership that can make use of and appreciate our work. This leads us to look for a variety of specific publication opportunities, and different opportunities at different times for a range of purposes and readers. Academic and academic-related writing takes a variety of forms, from PhD theses and master’s dissertations, journal articles, and published books to writing for conference presentations, materials to support student learning and writing, and writing online, whether blogging or for more formal publication. If

6

Why Write?

we write for academic publication, we are probably now more than ever focused on writing for the right outlets and audiences in the appropriate voice to match the outlet, the international journal, book, magazine, trade paper, or for working documents that can be used directly by others. We are also likely to be intent on writing in our own voice(s), and in our discipline using the discourse of that discipline for the selected publication outlet. Getting Published builds on research, experience and practice, my own and that of others. The book is actually a product of my own practitioner research, which means that you will find here many references to research that I and others have carried out with writers, reviewers and editors. It is reporting on research, and building on that research, rather than self-aggrandising selfreferencing. It grows from insider experience and the variety of successful writing practices and techniques from my own years of working as an academic author, observing and discussing writing aims and techniques with others, and as an editor of other colleagues’ writing for international journals, reviewing and refereeing for other journals and publishers. It also builds on my own research and experience-informed supervision of postgraduates and their writing development, through to success, and on being a mentor/teacher/ supervisor/adviser on writing courses and retreats for both academic and creative writing. In this book we focus on how you can develop your own academic writing voices and the successful writing practices and habits that will enable you to complete your work to a high standard and be published and read. The book makes experience-based suggestions for professional practice in seeking and gaining publishing outlets, dealing with reviews, getting published, determining impact, and making the most of your writing energies. I see writing as a practice very much bound up with identity, and so focusing on ways of writing goes beyond merely instructional hints and tips, though they too are helpful in enabling you to carry your arguments and thoughts, your evidence and your engagement with ideas and practices. We develop writing identities, we project versions of identity through our writing, and writing affects our identity. Writing is also a situated social practice, by which I mean that in writing we seek to involve ideas, identity, experience and research in contexts with others to inform, persuade and engage in a dialogue. The book offers you a thoroughgoing exploration of the forms of academic writing as well as detailing the demands that effective and successful writing make, and moves behind and beyond them by using creative writing to nudge your academic output and by using reflective writing to develop, learn from your writing and improve it. It combines insights into effective academic writing and practical exercises to enable you to produce varieties of academic writing. The book will enthuse and support you actively in your writing through to publication and a successful academic writing career.

Introduction

7

Getting Published takes you through the research- and experience-informed practical steps to feed your writing for and from professional experience and/or research for qualifications, conference papers, journals, books and online publications. It provides research-informed and real-life practical examples from theses, journals and book publications, and offers opportunities to practise. In considering how to go about this writing, we also look at identity, voice, writing habits, and writing and publishing practices (and politics) and the impact of your work. There are useful research- and experience-informed ideas and practices, and a range of activities to enable you to try out a range of writing tasks and tasks related to writing. We shall be looking at the following aspects of writing.

Identity, authority, your voice and situated professional and social practice This will encourage you to write in ways that enable and articulate versions of your experience, professional practice, your identity, your ideas, experience, research, arguments and understandings, and their worth, with authority and fluency, and to engage in dialogues with others through your writing.

Writing when English is not your first language Here we consider writing conventions, ensuring no plagiarism is allowed to creep in, developing academic writing skills and habits in another language, and looking at available support.

Planning to publish This section provides invaluable information on identifying what publishers are looking for, what the journal conventions are, and how to write effectively to suit them and get your work in print, writing books and e-books and for online formats. It looks at dealing with reviewers and working with editors, developing your own strategies for publishing your work and actioning your plans for getting published in the right journals, books and online outlets.

Reflective writing This section is about engaging the self in learning from reflection, exploration and expression, and accompanying, supporting and deepening your writing.

Creative writing Here we cover unleashing, nurturing and then harnessing the creative processes for varieties of writing from the creative itself through to more formal academic writing.

Practical writing habits This section engages you in developing sound writing habits, planning writing

8

Why Write?

tasks, overcoming blocks through managing writing energy, managing your time and your files, saving your work, editing and re-editing, and completing, publishing and marketing your work.

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The author and this book

I have always been interested in writing and ‘managing the writing energy’. This book is based on many years of my own learning from, struggles with and enjoyment of writing for publication. Latterly, it has also benefited from engagement with research-informed experience and practice concerning the kinds of conceptual, critical and creative-based writing expected of academics writing for publication, and of postgraduates and postdoctoral students writing for their PhDs and for publication. It benefits from insights and strategies developed for and arising from my running workshops and staff and educational development sessions on overcoming writing blocks, writing for publication and turning conference papers into journal articles in a number of university and college settings in the UK, Australasia, South Africa and Ireland. I have worked for over 30 years with students, supporting them with their writing. Initially, this included practice-oriented students, helping them get over writing blocks to write essays and reports. Some of these students included electrical wirers, apprentices involved in learning the motor-vehicle trade, dyslexic undergraduates, international students and all kinds of students facing writing blocks when they realised the enormity and length of a long essay or their dissertation. Many of my students were and are mature returners more used to writing for personal purposes or for work, if they do any writing at all. I have worked with scientific and medical science postdocs writing for professional journals, and with many PhD and master’s students writing dissertations and theses for qualifications. Latterly, my work supporting and empowering writing has involved working with academics who want to publish their work in journals, and as chapters in edited books. It has also been developed in working with colleagues who have themselves published many journal articles, books and student support texts over the years. Writing communities have been a great help to me and I hope will be to others. I and others have found working in writing groups with other colleagues, or with a co-author, to be a way of enjoying the dialogue of good practice, appreciating the mutual exchange of working with a critical friend.

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The four parts of the book

Part 1: Why write? Forms of academic writing and how to go about writing them This part introduces reasons for writing and the processes of writing, writing outlets and the writing journey. It considers writing for publication in theses, journal articles and books – in an introductory fashion.

Introduction

9

Part 2: A closer look at the process This part looks step by step at the writing of research and professional practice for academic publication, with examples and practice activities. Part 3: The writing process and you This part looks at identity, writing energies, supportive groups, the practical steps for planning writing and accessing writing outlets, managing the writing, saving it, editing, re-writing and finishing writing tasks. Part 4: Learning from feedback, and playing a full part in the world of writing This part looks at playing a full part in the writing, editing, reviewing and publishing processes. Each chapter offers advice drawn from experience and research – my own and that of others. So that the book is as interactive as possible, each chapter has questions and activities asking you to consider your own writing aims and practices. Each offers opportunities to try out writing developments, such as writing an abstract, responding to reviewers, learning from the writing of others, and others’ comments on your writing, as well as from reflection on your own development as a writer. There are links to podcasts on some of the issues, such as turning a conference paper into a paper for publication and breaking writing blocks, and there are many references to other writing and to websites to enable you to follow up issues which interest you.

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The politics of writing

Toni Morrison, African American Nobel Prize winning author, writes eloquently about writing: ‘Writing is about danger for me; it’s like life - you can go under. Like all art it has to be political and it has to be beautiful’ (Toni Morrison, interview with Stuart, 1988, p. 15). Morrison captures the exhilaration as well as the ethical imperative of much writing. If you write, you engage with issues, evidence and ideas, and contribute to ongoing dialogues about things that matter, from small steps forward in science to exploring how literature recovers hidden histories (which is Morrison’s life work) to enabling the voices of participants to tell their story and to do critical justice to that story in your findings. Writing is about getting into the dialogue of knowledge construction, sharing and understanding. It is political with a small ‘p’, engaged. Publishing that writing is a next step that makes it available to others: To an outsider the ‘ritual’ that characterises academic publishing must appear rather strange and for the newcomer it probably presents a ‘threshold’ that needs to be successfully negotiated if one is going to participate fully in the community of practice. It is a threshold for acceptance. (Participant, Wisker, 2013a)

10

Why Write?

In one sense, I felt very hesitant about embarking on writing this book. How can I give other people advice with their writing? I still find writing both a struggle and an amazing delight. I could not live happily without it and I have always done it. Writing does enable me to express what I need to, so that others will find it interesting, accessible and useful. It does more than that, though – more often than not articulating what I have found in and made from the writing and findings of others and my own research, articulating what I am thinking or trying to think enables me to draw out the new ideas and expression, make something a little cleverer than I had expected. The act of writing is a creative act. The planning is matched by sudden flashes of inspiration. Working with ideas, theories, professional practice and experience and then finding the words to engage with ideas and arguments, with research and experience, and to articulate effectively is always a very demanding and rewarding process. I decided that I would write a book from my own experience and research, and the research and experience of others, as recorded in their writing. It feels more authentic to look at what others find useful and successful, what has worked for them, what works for me, and to ask provocative questions and make suggestions from that basis than to produce a ‘self-help’ book with all the answers, since I don’t have all the answers. No one has all the answers. We all write differently, have a range of reasons for writing and getting published, and a range of ways of doing the writing that work for us. I hope that drawing on my own experience and that of those I have worked with, written with and edited and published, and on the research I have done myself with writers, and that which others have conducted on the writing process, will all be useful to you in your writing journey and your successful writing for publication. Whatever stage we are at in our writing careers, we can always improve, rewrite, edit and enjoy what we are writing, and strive to write whatever it is to a higher standard. The intention of this book is to engage anyone who wants to write for academic publication in focusing on managing the energy, enjoying the writing, completing to their own and others’ satisfaction, and getting published. This involves, along the way, developing different voices to satisfy a range of publishing outlets and audiences, developing different forms and discipline discourses, helping to break writing blocks and overcome procrastination, and helping to develop a confident voice and engage a readership, for whatever reason. This book takes as its starting point the belief that we can all improve our academic writing, gain confidence, be effective in writing, publish effectively, and enjoy it more. It suggests that there are many ways of approaching different kinds of writing, of overcoming writing blocks, and of reaching an audience through publishing. This book, then, will engage you in forms of academic writing, including reflective writing and the harnessing of creative writing, so that your academic writing becomes a powerful vehicle for your own engagement and your own voice(s), and it gets published.

Introduction

11

I really hope you find Getting Published to be readable and useful to you in your writing for academic publication, and any other writing you do. I have really enjoyed writing this book, though I cannot pretend it has been easy, but writing is like that (for me, at least): an enjoyable struggle. The comment on page 9 above from one of the participants in the research I recently conducted on academic writing and publishing, says a great deal about why we write and seek publication. It is a ritual, and a rite of passage, a threshold to cross and to keep crossing. It is also stimulating, and stretches us conceptually, intellectually and emotionally as well as physically. I hope you will benefit from this variety of writing explored and expressed in an accessible form, the exploration of real examples of writing and editing, such as crafting an abstract, working with feedback to improve performance, models and examples of effective writing, and opportunities to practise elements of writing using tasks and activities to support your writing as you articulate your ideas, findings and arguments. I hope you will find the insider information about reviewing, editing and the politics, processes and practices of publication useful. I wish you an enjoyable writing journey as you write for academic publication. Note: Throughout the book I use the UK-influenced term ‘supervisor’ to refer to those who supervise the research of others, usually on a postgraduate or undergraduate course. This term is variously expressed as ‘advisor’ in the USA and US educational contexts, and ‘promoter’ in South Africa.

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Further reading

Morrison, T. (1988) Interview with Stuart in N. McKay, Critical Essays on Toni Morrison (Boston: G. K. Hall). Murray, R. (2009) Writing for Academic Journals (Maidenhead: Open University Press), p. 5. Sword, H. (2012) Stylish Academic Writing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). Wisker, G. (2013a) ‘Articulate – Researching, Writing and Publishing Our Work in Learning, Teaching and Educational Development’, Innovations in Education and Teaching International, Special issue, SEDA @ 20, 50(4), November.

2 Why are we writing? Setting up effective writing practices, managing time, space and writing energy

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • • • • •

Reasons for, and some ‘dimensions’ of, academic writing Personal, learning and institutional dimensions Writing for academic publication – what we want and need to write When and where to write Fishbone diagrams: time management and planning At what time of the day do you write best? Where do you write? Writing to be published – what has stopped you? Deciding what to write about and planning the stages Choosing what to write Plan it and get going

In this chapter we look at reasons for writing and the practical processes of where, when and what to write, and why you are writing and publishing. We consider time management; planning; and setting up effective practices for articulating your ideas and findings, research and experience. This is practical advice; there are activities, tips and information about what to do, where to go, and what to avoid. Suggestions about structuring the argument, sections or different kinds of writing in different parts of a publishable piece can also be found in Chapters 6, 7, 8 and 9.

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Reasons for, and some ‘dimensions’ of, academic writing

Your writing practice is bound up with your sense of self as well as your 12

Why are we writing?

13

research and experience, professional and personal. We explore here some issues related to what Murray (2009, p. 5) calls the psychosocial dimension of writing for publication. This includes the whole issue of managing yourself so that you can get your discoveries and issues, your expressions, out there in a readable form, in the right outlets, and so you identify and manage any issues such as fear of failure successfully and productively, moving towards the joy of sound expression, finding your writing identity and finding your voice(s). In the build-up to the Research Excellence Framework (REF) in the UK (2014), a system which audits and classifies research outputs according to subject area or ‘unit of assessment’, one of the most upsetting statements I heard was ‘I’ve done my/you’ve done your four pieces for the REF – now I/you don’t need to write any more.’ Research exercises can cause us to focus on only extrinsic reasons for writing. However, they have also focused us more on defining and choosing the recognised outlets for writing, and have brought a measure of respect for our writing from academic institutions and colleagues. The UK REF accounting will be over for a few years (2020 is the next one in the UK. In New Zealand, Australia and South Africa there are also ongoing individual research ratings exercises). However, that intent on focusing on the absolutely acceptable outlets in which to publish will remain with us, and we will be making choices or have choices made for us about where to publish because of our careers. Some of this is excessively stressful, limiting and poisonously competitive, but some of it is liberating and exciting. For academics who publish, and in the right places, recognition follows achievement. The reason for the REF is to capture a snapshot of ongoing good work, the research and writing from it, practice and research into that practice, and writing from it. It also intends to explore and evidence the impact of writing and publication from research (and other results from research). Research excellence frameworks or other national measures of worth and impact do not intend to stop further publication because of some notional target that ‘enough’ has been reached. This goes to the heart of the dimensions of writing for publication: the public and accountable, the recognised dimension and the private dimension of the importance of developing a voice, being heard because you must be heard and because you have something important for others to hear, and being variously worried and elated about this process. So, one short piece of advice would be to be really pleased if your writing is recognised locally and nationally in research exercises, but not to be put off if it is not, and not to stop writing just because a notional acceptable quota has been reached. Any such recognition exercise is meant to encourage a writing (and research) culture, not stop it. Intrinsic motivation is helpful here. Intrinsic motivation for writing is, I would argue, absolutely crucial, because you will always put in more effort and time than you expected to do, and because writing is so entwined with our identities and sense of self-worth and achievement, that, in the end, the twin rewards of voicing, articulating well and getting published are even more valuable than

14

Why Write?

making a fortune (I remain to be surprised and contradicted, but doubt you will make a fortune from academic writing!). Rowena Murray explores three dimensions of writing development. She talks about the ‘rhetorical, psycho-social and cognitive’ dimensions of writing, then also adds ‘behavioural’ (2009, p. 5), explaining that attitudes to writing and good habits go hand in hand. Time management, for example, is important, as well as the ability to write in an elegant fashion. If we do want to be published, there is also a hard-nosed, dedicated, politically (socio-political, small ‘p’) astute dimension we need to add to Murray’s list. Speaking more broadly, in situating our writing in a social context, that of both the university and the world of publishing, there are other dimensions that I believe underpin the development of academic writing. I have found these dimensions while working with postgraduate researchers and supervisors. Each has a negative and a positive side, which we need to take notice of if our writing is to be published.

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Personal, learning and institutional dimensions

I argue that we can consider our writing for publication in terms of three dimensions: personal, learning and institutional. I suggest it would be useful to think of both the positive and the negative aspects of each dimension, in order to build on the positive and learn to manage or overcome the negative aspects.

Personal Negative aspects – lack of confidence; insecurity; feeling you have no right to write and have nothing to say; internalising and feeling paralysed by a lack of positive support and by a negative response to your writing; poor networks of family, friends and colleagues holding your work back. Positive aspects – development; support; aware of your right to expression, identity, your voice, and of different voices for different writing contexts and outlets; confidence; perseverence; having positive responses to all feedback, even the negative (seen as developmental); support of others and for others; critical friend networks and family support; only being obsessional when it is necessary and not letting writing, like anything else, destroy your health and wellbeing.

Learning Negative aspects – reluctance to deal with poor habits; seeing writing development support as remedial; not really learning from feedback or criticism; not really learning to diversify both your writing styles and your choices about where you send your writing (so that it really gets out there and to a wide audience).

Why are we writing?

15

Positive aspects – continuing development as a writer; learning both the practice and strategies of writing: at the meta (overall) level – dealing with publishers and with academic and commercial contexts and systems; at the mesa (practical) level – getting the work out in time, well-fashioned, expressed and appropriate to the context, time and the discipline; and at the micro level (detailed, very focused) – how to develop stylistic elegance and sound, practical expression, from structure to grammar. The essential practicalities of sound research, and attention to detail, underpin all of this, as do good writing habits, knowing your own shortcomings and working to overcome them, whether they are lack of confidence or structure, or general writing blocks. Channelling your energies to maintain momentum and get the writing completed is important and so is ensuring it shows sound thinking and articulate expression.

Institutional Negative aspects – being held back by a lack of awareness of the politics of publishing in academic outlets, or the lack of support institutionally; relying on extrinsic motivations alone and so writing only for overt recognition and reward; being held back by lack of recognition, negative feedback and people or practices which undermine your right to write. Positive aspects – identifying intrinsic motivations; turning negative feedback to positive results; learning how to write both well and strategically; using the appropriate practice and research to fuel your writing; pitching your publications at the right journal and publication outlets, for the right audience, in the right form, at the right time; maintaining publication momentum with follow-ups, with a series, a book; learning how to use publishing and marketing connections and mechanisms to keep your work in the public eye professionally and more broadly with appropriate audiences and advocates.

c

Writing for academic publication – what we want and need to write

Writing for academic publication is an opportunity and a vehicle for communicating what you want to inform others about, your knowledge, research, skills, experience, values, attitudes, beliefs and arguments. It can accompany other forms of communication. However, your work does not have to be published externally by a major publishing house to be useful, significant and of high quality. Some of the most useful and significant pieces of writing are produced to support the work of colleagues and students in-house. Some are to share information and celebrate. Some are to enable you to explore and reflect on your experience, professional practice and feelings. You will have written before, a great deal, probably more than you think, and some of you using this book have already published, possibly books as well

16

Why Write?

as journal articles. So why do you want to use this book now to support your writing and publication?

Activity Consider the following questions and note your thoughts: 1 Why do you want to write? 2 Why do you want to publish? 3 Why do you want to publish regularly, even obsessionally? 4 Is writing part of your role? 5 Is it for internal or external recognition and auditing; for example, a Research Excellence Framework (REF) or other research audit? 6 Do you need to get the research and the work into the public sphere so it can be built on and used? 7 Is it for credibility, promotion and your academic career? 8 Is it a duty or a personal need? 9 Is it for money? Credentials? Self-development?

People on the writing courses I have run have cited all of the reasons listed in the Activity box. They and I have commented that publishing is a natural product of our developments, innovations and research. It is, however, not the end. We want our work to effect change, so we need to make sure it is read and used.

c

When and where to write

Time (or rather, the lack of it) is the reason most people give to explain why they haven’t written as much as they would have liked, and why they haven’t published as much or as frequently as they need to. While it is glib to suggest that productivity is all about time management and time planning, there is some truth in that. Time, or time management, is our biggest enemy in writing. We are going to look at finding the right time to write, turning times when you feel you can’t write into times when you can, and managing your time. Some of the time issues are personal, and some professional, which leads me into a bit of a mission statement. You need to ensure that your writing time is not hidden, that it is considered to be an important part of your work and recognised, even by colleagues who do not themselves write for publication and therefore might not be aware of how long it takes. It will always take longer than any time you have been publicly awarded or which is recognised – that is my experience. However, unless we strive for some realistic equation in any workload model, between the importance of communicating research and

Why are we writing?

17

practice through writing and publication and the recognition of the time it takes, it will always remain at least partly both our personal gift and a hidden activity. This is unhealthy for you, and is not a good practice for those coming after. They too need evidence with which to persuade whoever has responsibility to allocate their workload time to allow them enough time to get the writing done. Writing time needs to be recognised in workload planning. There is a whole chapter on overcoming writing blocks (Chapter 12), and it is useful to consider whether some of what has stopped you from writing and publishing so far emerges in the personal dimension – that is, a lack of confidence, a feeling that it has all been said before; or in the other dimensions: learning (not enough development as yet) or institutional (lack of support and opportunity). Writing might require some sacrifices, but it certainly requires some reorganising of what you already do, and part of this is about negotiating with line managers as well as with yourself and your family regarding appropriate amounts of time spent on getting the writing done. Writing time can be in short, regular time slots, and it can be longer, dedicated periods. Murray cites Boice (1987) when thinking about ‘snack’ and ‘binge’ writing (Murray, 2005, 2012). Snack writing is short, sharp bursts of small amounts of writing fitted into a busy week, and binge writing is when larger amounts of time are available and you keep writing and writing (and editing and editing). One aspect of the way this book supports your writing is that you are made aware of such definitions and practices, and that you might find one of these – snack or binge, for example – suits you better, or that both suit you at different times and stages of your writing, and help you to fit writing in and around everything else you do. You might fit in some tidying of a short paragraph between meetings, or teaching, or on a train, while some of your reading, research and thinking have gone on alongside it, so you feel a sense of moving on. You might also realise that you have to have a dedicated period of time, from a couple of hours to ten days, to a sabbatical, in order to complete projects. We all behave differently and respond differently to these differing amounts of time, and sometimes you need to balance a range of these time slots and behaviours. I write well if I have short bursts early in the morning and get a few things done. I can also write small amounts while waiting in an airport, on a flight or a train, and between meetings. In the main, however, larger amounts of writing and re-writing have to take place when I have dedicated time, whether stolen from the weekend or a holiday, or, better, when allocated formally. One colleague, not a regular practising writer, has been very stressed by the double whammy of being allowed writing time but being given unrealistic expectations of how much she could write during the period allowed. Another, practised writer was overwhelmed by being allotted a dedicated period of time to write and just could not get into the rhythm of writing full time. Don’t do this

18

Why Write?

to yourself. Anyone can begin to panic in that situation! It’s like expecting to get a chapter written in the one and a half hours when your partner takes the children out for ice cream on a Saturday. Putting the washing on and tidying the desk will probably be all you get done before they are back. Be realistic. Plan. Expect the hold-ups. Define the exact amount of writing you think you can get done, reward yourself when you do it, or turn around and find the next period of time to do it if it hasn’t worked out this time. Put writing into an online calendar and ensure that at those times it takes priority over anything short of a real emergency. Use any tendency to procrastination fruitfully, to get other writing-related tasks done so that you feel you have at least moved on with the labelling and filing, the checking and the annotating, the searching for other appropriate journals in which to publish. When you get stuck, allow yourself to do something else to take your mind into that freer space where you might be able to rethink a problem, rephrase a sentence, open up a paragraph and carry on with writing. Recognise that time is something we believe we manage, but sometimes it slips away from us and we can fritter it away on minor tasks instead of major ones, if we don’t manage it properly. Procrastination, frittering time away and feeling guilty are quite different from planning time off and time to think, rather than to write. Sometimes the guilt that accompanies procrastination and frittering time away paralyses you further. Keep taking stock of what you have done and need to do, recognise the problems, reward the successes and move on.

Activity: Writing NOW Consider: 1

2 3 4

Your current writing project, and look at some of the time, task and project management exercises that exist, to help you to objectify the elements of the writing process. What could hinder you. What else you have to do during the time you are hoping to write. Who and what can help you to move forward.

Write your responses as bullet points, in notes, or by drawing a diagram.

Even this piece of visualising, clarifying and focusing helps you to feel more in control and will help you to identify times and action points – for example, ‘get Ch. 1 finished by end of next week, check references for article on X by Thursday 11am before meeting’ and so on. Part of time management and plan-

Why are we writing?

19

ning success is to prioritise your writing; part of it is to be very focused and genuinely plan, label and stick to it; and part of it is seizing opportunities to juggle. If you have some writing, or reading for writing, or finishing off that you need to do, and suddenly some time becomes available, have the material with you so that you can use that time. One of my students once told me that his most productive time working towards writing was thinking while walking to the library. Yesterday I was stuck for two and a half hours in a traffic jam on a motorway – luckily I had my iPad with a book on it that I needed to read (I was static, they closed the road; don’t do this if you are in a moving queue!). This was not how I wanted to spend my time, but I stopped feeling frustrated and concerned just by doing that reading (and now I feel a bit smug and slightly ahead of myself as it has been done). For every one of those successful, smug moments, there is at least one where I realised I was being unrealistic – thinking I could write on a laptop in an aeroplane, or thinking I could fit in writing when I had to make the breakfast, do the washing and clean the kitchen. However, in planning mode, one of these activities can be deferred (kitchen), one can go on as I write (washing) and the third can be done quickly, so I can get back to my writing. There is a lot of dead time and a lot of unplanned time wasted in life. Keep a notepad or some means of writing with you at all times. You never know when or where you will have a good idea, solve a problem, or come up with a perfect phrase. You will need to capture this in order to not lose it. If you have a list (for example, on a notepad or phone) related to writing tasks, which you update and always carry around with you, you can always have something you can add to your writing. You are never going to be really bored and will be able to move on, in little snack stages, even in awkward moments, and even if what you scribble and note needs typing up later on. I have mentioned stealing time from dead time. If you always have that iPad or note pad handy you can make notes about your thoughts and capture them, develop ideas, and plan and tell yourself what you need to do and to write next.

c

Fishbone diagrams: time management and planning

A fishbone diagram can help you to look at ways of managing time and solving writing-related problems. This diagram expects you to consider people, policies, practices, processes and things that are holding you up or preventing you from writing, and those that could or do already help you (see Figure 2.1). The trick is to unpack the problems and clarify them through the use of the diagram, then unpack what helps. You can work out ways of dealing with what is hindering you, working with other people, using policies to support you, so you can feel in control. The final result before the actual action is an action list, which gives you the space to work out who you can ask to help, in what ways,

20

Why Write?

what you need to ignore, or to pass to others to sort out, what can work in your favour, what to avoid, and what to do NOW. This is a variation on a ‘fishbone’ problem-solving diagram used in business management. Finally, draw up an action point list of what to do first, and by when. Action points: • • • •

Get PC checked out and fixed so that it works more quickly and has fewer annoying viruses. Ask colleague A to take over the committee work for XX and lead on Y. Find a trusted person to copy-edit and a way to pay them to do this – agreeing timelines that will support me in my own production. Put into an online calendar some key milestones in the writing and some times which I know I will I have some free time, so it is public and I can commit to doing the writing then.

Completing a fishbone diagram and action list helps to bring out the issues competing for your time, perhaps causing you stress, and certainly hindering your writing. It also enables you to see what you can ignore completely, deal with first, put off until later, and then prioritise, so that your writing gets done in the time span you have given it. For example, under the practices and processes heading, I acknowledge the time it takes to get the PC working, saving, and the time that is lost when it crashes, and then I acknowledge time for editing and copy-editing. Next, I look down below the horizontal line and see some processes that could help and some people who could help. Under ‘people’ I seek help for the copy-editing from someone I can trust, thus freeing my time to do the thinking and writing, and under ‘things’ I get the PC fixed or replaced (more costly, and not as quick) so that it works and won’t slow me up or lose my work. I have identified problems and gone some way towards sorting some of them out. The action points then list the actions: ask X to carry out the initial copyediting, phone Y to come round and make the PC work faster by removing the junk from it. One of the biggest problems I identify is me and my own behaviour. I need to list ways of solving this! Having objectified the problems and some of the things and people that can help, I consider some of the behavioural changes or practice changes which free my mind, help me face the issues, and help me to plan my way out of problems realistically. I also then look at the calendar and find times when I really can find a few hours to write, and I put notes in. In planning mode, I feel more in control. It might in the end not quite work as smoothly as I had hoped, but the planning gives me confidence, and more will happen and be successful than if I did not plan it and deal with the problems.

Someone to copy-edit

Engaging colleagues to take the lead

Prioritise some of these

Colleagues

Myself - managing my time

am meeting on XX

Should have Wed

Have to send in XX

Children

Colleagues

Rules

Myself – poor time management

Things that help

Learn about EndNote to make refs quicker

Editing and copy-editing

Time it takes to get the PC to power up??

Practices and processes

Things that hinder

Upgrade PC

Nowhere to work in evenings

Poor security

Old PC

Things

FISHBONE DIAGRAM: THINGS THAT HINDER OR HELP WRITING PROGRESS

Expectations – must produce the strategic document

Policies

People

FIGURE 2.1 A

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22

c

Why Write?

At what time of the day do you write best?

This might seem a strange question. However it is worth identifying the best times for your writing energies and opportunities, then using them. Some of us write well early in the morning, but run out of steam by the middle of the afternoon. Some of us write well in the evening and late into the night. You are unlikely to be both a night owl, writing late, and a lark, writing early, though sometimes deadlines mean that you might have to bring the two together. When I run writing courses, I ask about people’s best writing times, so the participants can think about maximising their writing energies when they feel freshest and are most likely to be able to keep writing. I write best early in the morning, from 5.30 am onwards. (I used to write best during the night.) Having said that, today I am tricking my writing rhythms, as it is 2.30 pm and I am still able to think and write. So, some of the time you need to stick to your known rhythms and sometimes you need to break those if they are no longer helping you to write, edit and produce your best work. When you break them, try a different time for writing, give yourself a list of things you need to write so it is planned, and realise you have effectively stolen this time from your own regular routines. As you will see in Chapter 12 on breaking writing blocks, in our research (Wisker and Savin Baden, 2009) one of our respondents talked of ‘managing the writing energy’ and how giving up the writing energy he has during the day to bureaucratic work just to get it out of the way leaves him without that energy and unable to write later. You might have to write emails and policy documents and to mark assignments (as I do), but if you also need to write, you might need to prioritise the writing when you have the creatively, critically, conceptually fuelled writing energy and leave the essential but less creative tasks for another time. In this way you are harnessing your writing energies. Try to do ten minutes of essential emails if you must, then get on with the writing, or switch off the internet function and ignore the emails completely for as long as you can, allotting them a reasonable block of time in the day when you have done some focused writing.

c

Where do you write?

Where you write might not seem to be important, but it is. You might be someone who can actually write anywhere as long as you have the notebook and the pen, or the PC, or you might be someone who needs the security and familiarity of a special chair, desk, light and space.

Why are we writing?

23

Activity Consider for a moment when you have done your most satisfying writing, and think about where it was? What were the characteristics of the place where you wrote well? Think of the location, furniture, view, air, noise, temperature, support, intrusions and lack of them and anything else that supported your writing practice in this place. Can you find some time and somewhere like this to do your writing?

Many writing retreats take place in beautiful surroundings. This is partly because the relaxing context of somewhere away from work and the demands of family and colleagues, somewhere that is comfortable, in the countryside with beautiful views, and somewhere to walk and sit and think, can all help you relax enough to get the thinking and the writing under way. Many of our greatest thoughts and creative solutions to issues come from being in the kind of nurturing surroundings that let those thoughts out, so they can then be translated into writing. I write best, I think, at my desk at home. It is more complicated than that though. I need flowers round me, good light that is not behind me, and not shining off the screen, enough room to have the papers and books I am working from around me so I don’t spend my time trying to find them, a comfortable seat that supports my back, and food and drink to hand. And it even gets a little more complicated than that: I feed the birds and have the bird feeder and bird bath just outside my window, so there is always something going on while I write, and then when I stop for a minute I can re-capture my dwindling thoughts by looking at the birds. When the rhythms of my writing and thinking run down, I move to another space and take a single writing item with me to do it somewhere else. I used to write on the kitchen table, which meant I constantly had to clear all my work away, as I also prepared food on the table, but it was my space, and so I could cook around my work, and step away from a boiling pot and write some more. I had small children at that time and they were also in the room. This was not an easy location for writing. I then switched to writing with my back to the TV as the children got older. This also was not good, as the noise meant I listened to what was on the TV and it distracted my thoughts, but I was minding the children and I had to multi-task. I can write, I have found, to the drone of a football programme on the TV, but not to something that demands I follow the dialogue. Ideally, I am in my own space without interruptions for a few hours at a time, able to manage the heat, light and ambience. When my writing rhythms

24

Why Write?

slow down I put a certain kind of music on, not for the words or sound but for the rhythm, since it enables me to rev up again in time with the rhythm and I find I can suddenly engage better and faster with various writing tasks because I have started to respond in time to the music. Some authors write in garden sheds (the poet Dylan Thomas) or specially constructed writing locations (the fantasy writer Neil Gaiman), and others write where there is ambient noise, in a coffee shop, perhaps (J. K. Rowling). While the ideal place to write is probably (for some) in isolation, in beautiful surroundings, with only chosen interruptions, such as eating, walking and sharing with others, sometimes we need to write in places that don’t appear perfect. If I suddenly look excited in a boring meeting and note things down, it could be an idea about the next agenda item, or it could be solving a problem in the writing I am doing, which is running in my head while I give the meeting half my attention. (NB: This doesn’t work if you are teaching, actually conducting an experiment or leading the item in the meeting.)

c

Writing to be published – what has stopped you?

Now we need to think about the transition from writing to publishing, and the kind of blocks that stop you and enablers that can nudge you into publishing. When I run courses on writing for publication I always ask about that transition, since many participants are natural writers, writers for fun or by choice, but many stop at the point of finding out how and where to publish their work, perhaps because this seems overwhelming, a bit of mystery, one step too far, not their aim, or something only achieved by the chosen few.

Activity Think about what has stopped you from publishing (quite as you would like) so far? List up to five reasons for not publishing, or not publishing as much as you would like to – so far. Putting these in order might help you to approach and sort each out separately, or see overlaps that suggest a pattern. When you have written down your reasons, note by each one at least one idea about how to tackle the problem, get going and maintain the writing momentum.

A couple of mine 30 years ago were: •

I have no idea where to send the writing.

Why are we writing?

•

25

Only really well published writers send their writing for publication – my work won’t be good enough.

A couple of mine today are: • •

I feel weighed down by having too many half written pieces hanging about. There is so much good material out there so easily accessed that I am not sure what I can contribute.

I never run out of problems and concerns. Learning to manage and overcome them is an ongoing experience. Colleagues have said they have problems because of: • • • • • • • • • • • •

Not knowing how to publish. Haven’t been published before. No structure at the university to help develop this. Not having a PhD, so the work won’t be taken seriously. I am not ready/it’s not ready. Writing style. Lack of self-belief. Insufficient commitment by the writer. Time. Drifting away from the focus. Not seizing opportunities. Not having anything substantial to write yet.

The identified difficulties and blocks fall into several categories. Some people do not feel ready to write yet, and that could be about their sense of security in their writing style or their research achievement so far. Some are not sure how to go about writing for publication, and some have no idea how to time their work, or to structure it. Some have not given it enough time or priority yet. You need to identify and tackle these issues if the writing is important to you and to others. Being ready to write because the ideas about the practice or research are now clear means the piece can be written. This is a reality check. Much work has to be done before you are ready to write, and some of this work is writing, of course. It includes planning the work and planning the writing; planning the time; organising the shape of the piece; reading and gathering notes on the literature that will underpin and inform your argument; reading about, deciding on and defending your methodology and methods; and analysing the data and writing about your findings – interpreting them. You take notes and develop them at every stage, then theorise, argue, tell the story, polish and finalise the writing.

26

Why Write?

These smaller bits of writing will go into the writing of an article, but they won’t suddenly issue from the blank screen of your PC. The work still has to be done in advance, as does the planning of the writing, then the writing itself. You do not always have to start at the same place in the cycle of work and writing from it. You might, for example, spot an outlet for your work, such as a conference (with precedings before the conference or proceedings after it), or a journal which has a special issue call for papers, and decide to focus some research and writing towards that particular opportunity, or you might be researching and practising professionally and then decide to write from that. You will make different decisions at different times in your writing career.

c

Deciding what to write about and planning the stages

You might be a natural planner and achieve all you set out to do in the set time. You might find you don’t plan but it happens anyway, and you might find you plan and it doesn’t happen, or you don’t plan and it doesn’t happen. Planning is a good idea, as you should get more done than if you had not planned, but it is also good to free up some time for unplanned thoughts and writing. Some of the writing I do is an outpouring of ideas and I have to edit it and move it about later. I don’t want to censor everything that suddenly pours out of my mind and goes out on to the screen because it is a form of brainstorming, the energy is so positive, and much of the actual writing process enables me to free up my thoughts, work at a more complex, critical and creative level and sometimes express myself better by working through it in the writing. Not all of this initial writing will be kept, of course, since it will need a good deal of refining down into a well expressed form, in order to be used. Some people write to a strict plan and strict headings, and in this way control the kind of material and amount they write. This is also essential for the right shape, focus and organisation of your writing, and at some point we all have to ensure there is a plan and a structure. You are not necessarily one kind of writer or another. If you are an ‘outpourer’ you might need to write in that fashion, indulging in such outpouring of free writing in order to release the energy. Next you will work through some of the thoughts and responses, edit in a more structured fashion and occasionally nudge yourself out of blocks by putting in structure, which shows you where the gaps are and where the next piece of writing must go. If you are a ‘naturally structured’ writer and respond better to structure, you might occasionally have to give yourself a nudge to let out a mixture of the reflective and analytical in your writing, so that the written word will not become taut and mechanical. Some of the very tightly planned pieces we write to a formula, especially in a scientific paper, can be so mechanically constructed with set words leading into each section that it is difficult to determine what is being added, what is new.

Why are we writing?

27

You might need to move yourself further along the outpouring or the structured ends of the writing continuum in order to enable the creative, conceptual thinking and the brainstorming, as well as the logical flow of argument, claims and evidence.

Nothing is wasted Some of your writing is ‘writing to write’ – to nudge you into better writing. Some of it is in excess to the current topic. You read it through and edit it, and if you drift away from the focus of the piece you are writing, some of this drift can be thrown away, but some of it can be kept. It might be very interesting and suit another, later piece. Pop it in a new file and label it carefully, to return to. Know your own styles and voices, manage yourself, and learn good practice from others. This is one thing writing courses can help you with, as can talking and sharing with a critical friend.

Activity: Picking an appropriate topic on which to write and publish Consider the following questions: • • • • •

What is appropriate for you to write and publish now? What have you been working on? What do you think the market wants right now? What are the current debates which your work could add to/change? What makes what you want to write exciting? To you? To potential readers?

As you decide what you will write about, for whom, and where to publish it, you need to be aware of a few issues. You should be clear about the subject area(s) you want to write about. Your favourite subject might not be topical/interesting to others, so you might need to pick something else for now or see if you can give a favourite subject a topical spin, link it to new discoveries and questions, a new book, a current debate. Alternatively, find something (else) topical and interesting that you have something to say about and on which you have completed some research or have some professional experience from which you have some data. Then consider: • • •

What’s been done already? By you? By someone else? Where might you choose to publish it? What outlets are available?

28

Why Write?

Think of three or four different areas or elements of your work on which you might like to publish. Some will seem fresh and not require too much work to get you started, and you might feel confident that you can see what other work you need to do (reading, data analysis and so on) and how you can plan to get going with the writing. Some subjects might seem really popular and topical but actually you are not personally very keen on such a piece of writing right now, or you have very little data, and to start to write would involve a complete project before you had anything to contribute. Some might interest you, but you think probably no one else apart from your friends or your mother would be interested. Some are really very topical right now and you have enough data available to start writing immediately – and so on. Consider about four areas you could write about, what work you have done already, how topical it is, how it might engage with other work in the field at the moment, how it might address a problem, answer a question, how well placed you are to be taken seriously if you write the piece, who could help you, and how much work there is still to do. Very importantly, also consider where you might plan to publish it – so what kind of audience, format, length and shape it will need to be in, and then finally decide on one of these topics for now, keeping at least a second in reserve. The idea is to clear your mind, be realistic, motivate yourself, focus and plan, and then start writing. The four choices are suggested diagrammatically in Figure 2.2. You might like to think through four potential pieces for writing and see how they fit these four choices. These are visualisations of the ways in which you question yourself and your piece to determine if you could write it now, what extra work needs to be done, and whether you are enthusiastic about it and willing to devote the energy and time to getting it done, written and published.

c

Choosing what to write

Determine which of the four choices shown in Figure 2.2 you have: • • • • • • •

Is it exciting? How much research has been done/is still to do? What are the theories underpinning the work? If there is still much reading, thinking, data gathering and analysis to do before it could be written about – is it doable? Is it interesting to others? Does it matter? Are you credible as its author?

Your PhD thesis or lecture won’t be published as it stands, though, and your conference paper will need some alteration and refining.

3

1

???? not sure what to look at

Topic of the article

Topic of the article

An issue I know a lot about – it’s exciting and doable

– need to find out more … about themes, theories, reading, gather

Publication I could write for

Where can I publish this?

Topic of the article

Not sure what my argument is, not sure what to add or express here, this really does not seem a likely topic …

Need to find more about x, y, z, need to find some/ generate some data

An issue I know something about

WHAT TO WRITE

4

2

FIGURE 2.2 CHOOSING

29

30

Why Write?

Select a piece that is exciting, current, doable, will not take you too long to update and finish off, and for which you can see both a readership and a suitable publication. You might have a few of these, in which case develop a priority list. You might be a little stuck, like the person who completed the diagram in Figure 2.2, where really only No. 1 was doable, though No. 2 could be worked on in the future, they had too many questions about No. 3, and No. 4 bored them and was going to mean too much work.

c

Plan it and get going

Structure the time, the work to be done and when – from defining the question or issue, reading, theorising, writing as you go, methodology and methods, and the research in action, analysis, interpretation, then writing and editing. Find the time to do the work, and get going, considering the structure, main issues, themes, topics, data, arguments and story. Write and edit, edit, edit. Share it with others. Ask yourself – how can you ensure it is useful? How can can this piece, published, effect change in academic terms/in our roles as academics – teachers, researchers, facilitators of learning, managers, and so on? The remaining chapters will help you to look in more depth at structure, different kinds of writing in the different sections of an essay or article, or in the chapters of a thesis or a dissertation, and the places, politics and practices of publication. Congratulations! You are writing!

c

Further reading

Boice, R. (1987) ‘A Program for Facilitating Scholarly Writing’, Higher Education Research and Development, 6, 9–20. MacLeod, I., Steckley, L. and Murray, R. (2012) ‘Time Is Not Enough: Promoting Strategic Engagement with Writing for Publication’, Studies in Higher Education, 37(6), 641–54. Murray, R. (2009) Writing for Academic Journals (Maidenhead: Open University Press), 5. Murray, R. and Newton, M. (2009) ‘Writing Retreat as Structured Intervention: Margin or Mainstream?’, Higher Education Research and Development, 28, 541–53.

3 Writing for and publishing in academic journals

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • • • • •

Essentials What to write Finding the right journals Working with conventions for publishing journal articles in your discipline Organisation and structure Starting the actual writing Approaching editors What are editors looking for? Getting on with the writing – when and where Submitting and beyond – working with revisions/modifications and knowing when to stop Conclusions

Most of the publishing we do as academics and professional practitioners is likely to be in academic journals in the form of journal articles. While not everything we do or write suits a journal article, and academic journal articles as a published medium are currently under a great deal of scrutiny with regard to quality, accessibility, time to publication and the important issue of impact, none the less they are still by far the most popular and widely accepted way for us to publish our work. This chapter looks at the journey of writing a journal article – from ideas through to publication. Chapter 4 looks at writing for books, and Chapter 14 considers the reviewing and refereeing process in more detail, so these other chapters might well be usefully read alongside this one. Journal publishing is a professional, political and personal practice. It is a tried and tested way of sharing ideas, research and arguments, and for many of us it is part of our role and identity as academics, researchers and thinkers. 31

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However, not everyone chooses to publish in journals. You might feel that journals are inappropriate for your area of work, and cannot reach the readership who can use your work. You might also feel that journals are over-formal, limited in what they can accept and publish, and indeed that the whole issue of publishing in journals is so bound up with institutional and disciplinary politics that you would rather not take part. You might also believe all or some of the above and still realise that publishing in journals is part of the academic profession, it is expected, it will ‘count’ when you seek promotion or want to evidence your work in annual review and academic monitoring, and provides credibility for your work in the face of grant holders, funding bodies, university management hierarchy and students. You might realise that, actually, you can publish in academic journals while also enabling others to share in and make good use of your work in other formats, through podcasts, lectures, online blogging, interactive sessions and so on, and less academically oriented and presented publications. Perhaps engaging with the very strictness, formality and structure in which academic journals expect you to shape and express your work can be seen as a useful exercise (one among several) to select, clarify and articulate that work. If you have decided, that you want to, should or must publish journal articles, then this chapter should be helpful to you.

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Essentials

Here are a few essential pieces of advice on publishing in journals. They are unpacked further below. You need to select the right parts of your work to turn into journal articles, and write them appropriately to suit the expectations of the well-respected journals in your discipline with regard to style, voice, layout, length, discourse and so on, so they can be read by others in your specialist area (and more widely if possible), who will find what you have to say informative, exciting and useful. You also need to want to write about this element of your work, because a journal article takes time and effort, and you need to feel that others will find it interesting and useful. Try not to churn out articles just because you have to. These might be useful for your CV but you could become alienated from your own work if you are not committed to the process. None of this is as simple as it sounds, and you might well choose not to publish journal articles, seeing this as colluding in a consumerist in-crowd activity managed by a few who decide on the style, shape and location of anything that is published – a process that excludes a lot of good work. It is also quite often a very lengthy process and this is only sometimes related to the quality of your work, so you will need a great deal of perseverance to become a regular journal article author. Some articles are very hard to write and then are

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returned from journal reviewers after an inordinate amount of time requiring an inordinate number of corrections. You will need the hide of a rhino to keep going and not be annoyed or undermined by this ‘review and rewrite’ process and by the slicing and dicing of your work from less sensitive, peer reviewers. I am not intending to put you off publishing in journals, merely making clear the realities of the situation before considering ways of engaging with writing and publishing in this medium. Try to enjoy the process. It really is an intellectual development exercise. It stretches you, and you gain from it. There is much joy in seeing your ideas and arguments well expressed and in print, and in particular, when someone else says how what you wrote made them think, and moved them on. As an ideas person and a completer finisher, I enjoy deciding what to write, I enjoy much of the writing when it is going well and when I feel I am doing the ideas and the work justice in my expression, and then I enjoy seeing it in print. I hate being stuck, feeling I cannot express myself or the ideas, make anything valuable out of the data, make my own argument clear. I hate floundering around in reshaping and re-writing over and over to satisfy myself, and others. I get impatient waiting for reviewer responses and then writing and re-writing again to comply with the expectations of the peer reviewers and editors. However, by the time I have agonised and edited and re-written it, whatever it is, it usually does look and sound better, so then I am happy again, and grateful to the time and specialist effort of the reviewers which made me re-think and re-write what I wrote. If you can identify the parts of the process that reward you and those you will need to really persevere with (essential though they are), you will feel more in control, and should enjoy it all. In this chapter I’m assuming that you want to get journal articles out, published, read and used, representing your work as best they can.

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What to write

Every time you decide to write a journal article, consider very carefully what to write, why and where, because the writing process will take time and will also present a version of you and your achievements to the outside world. First, you need to decide what to write about (see Chapter 2). Much of this is about spotting what is topical, writing it as well as you possibly can, turning it round professionally, directing it towards the right journal in the correct format, and being ready to respond constructively and fast to peer reviewers. Then, when it is eventually published, you will need to market your work to as many people as you can so that they can read and use it. Write on a topic that interests you, in which (preferably) you have some local (national or international) recognition already, perhaps because it is your professional area, your research area, or has formed part of your PhD (see

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Why Write?

Chapter 10 on publishing from your PhD), it is topical, and has some currency in the publications world. Write on something you have researched, or on which you have carried out professional practice and can find evidence with which to explore this. Choose something you can write in the time available. Ideally, you will write about something you have researched and/or practised and know a lot about, on which you have a view, an argument, and something new to add, which interests other people. It is something that can be published after due peer review in a journal, which those who need to read it can freely, or at least easily access, so that your work can be read and used.

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Finding the right journals

There is a hierarchy among the journals in any discipline. Find the right ones for your work, for you and for your topic. Select at least one suitable outlet for your paper, and hold a couple of others in reserve.

Warning No. 1 Never send the same piece to two different journals at the same time. This is a quick way to put editors off, because it is actually quite insulting to the amount of time editors and reviewers devote to evaluating and commenting on your work (and perhaps surprisingly, two editors might even send the same piece to the same reviewers). Sending work simultaneously to two journals could mean that the editors of those journals will just refuse to look at this or any future work.

Warning No. 2 Many articles are rejected because they are sent to the wrong journals. Sending research on secondary school education to a higher education journal, or vice versa, wastes your time, and that of the editor. Read widely in your field. Browse the library online, looking at journals you have used yourself, and journals that feature the areas in which you are working or intend to work. Track back through the journals you have used yourself in your own work, and look at the information on what they publish, then look at some of the other journals that their authors also publish in. This way you are narrowing the spread, but also becoming aware of the variety of journals published in your field. Read through publishers’ websites to seek out appropriate journals and read carefully what their aims, focus and current interests seem to be. ‘Advice to authors’ gives you full details of the length and format for articles submitted to that journal. Read this carefully, look at back issues to see what themes, arguments and major slants on issues are being taken, to see how your work might fit into an ongoing debate. Read any free sample whole issues, and any free sample essays so that you can identify the arguments, tone, ways of laying out articles and of making claims from

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evidence that are acceptable in this journal. Ensure you access and download a couple of articles from each of these potential outlets so you can examine how the work is laid out, typical numbers of figures, graphs and tables, how the literature is being used – in a list or fully explored – and so on. This will help you to shape your work to fit the journal. Look for calls for papers from journals for special issues, as editors are likely to take more notice of your offer of a contribution if it fits a call. Ask information services and library staff for advice on journals in your field and on accessing information about quality journals, impact factors, citations and other evidence of the esteem of those journals and other outlets. These colleagues are a valuable insider source of information and they might also run short courses or have online information on sourcing the right journal and trade paper outlets and how to go about preparing your work for publication. If your university/local university has a writing centre or a centre for learning and teaching, these colleagues might also be able to help you and they might run courses you can attend that will take you through the steps of finding the right outlets and preparing your work for publication. If you are doing a master’s or PhD, your supervisory team might also be able to help you. Other postgraduates or academic colleagues also finding their way through this jungle will have insider information about what to do and what to avoid. Ask colleagues who publish regularly what journals they have found to be both receptive and accessible to work with. The friendly, accessible ones are not necessarily the weaker ones; they could be those with editors who feel it is a journey to get published and are interested in supporting new writers on that journey, even if in the end they don’t actually publish them. Some editors are not so generous, so be prepared to handle negative criticism and rejection, and to move on. Some academic journals are read widely, some are highly specialised and read by a very small specialist group, some are unscrupulous poachers who have no track record, approach you with flattery and expect you to pay to publish, and others are the lead journals in the field. You can find out about how to choose your journal by asking library or information services colleagues what are the lead journals in the field, by asking colleagues who publish, and by looking up the impact factor of a journal you feel might be appropriate for your essay on the web of knowledge (webofknowledge.com) or the web of science. In the humanities in the UK, the lead journals are on the A list and those that could be quite significant but are not the lead journals are on the B list. In the social sciences, highly rated journals will be on the social science citation index. In countries other than the UK, there are different systems to define the leading and acceptable journals, so in South Africa, for example, there is a very tightly controlled list of acceptable journals and, sometimes, when writing in South Africa, you might find you are limited to only two journals which would be acceptable to your university and to the South African

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Why Write?

National Research Foundation (NRF) funding body. Publications in these acceptable journals in South Africa attract payment. Paid or unpaid, control and gatekeeping are essential. Choosing the right place to submit and then to be published can be complex and very competitive. When you start to scour the available journals, it is often a little optimistic to direct your essay at the lead journal, since it will be very difficult to get into it; they will have a huge number of submissions and only publish both leading edge and extremely well-written work. However, perhaps that describes your work, so I don’t want to put you off, and you should certainly keep that lead journal in mind if not for your first piece of work, then for your best work in the near future. If you do try to pitch at the lead journal first, have a couple of others in mind in case the work is not accepted this time (don’t lose enthusiasm, and don’t give up). One of the pieces of advice I give to colleagues on the ‘writing for academic publication’ MA course and the shorter workshops I run at the University of Brighton is to follow the publishing history of a lead figure in your field. Look on the web of science or the web of knowledge, key in his or her name (surname first), and narrow the search to the relevant field. There could be a great number of J. Brown, but fewer perhaps of G. Wisker, so be prepared to narrow and focus and find out what your lead figure has been publishing over the past few years, where their work has been published and what this author’s citation rates are in these publications. (These appear underneath the journal article or book reference on the web of science or web of knowledge reference, and if you look them up on Google Scholar they often also appear there.) Look also at the impact factors of the journals (these appear when you click on the journal name itself, and open up information about its impact history, and are also often on the publishers’ website as part of their information and marketing). This gives you an idea of how the most prolific and/or successful writers in your field cleverly develop certain elements of the field for which they will become known, spread their work around and across the range of publications, co-author with others, and maximise their research output as far as it being published is concerned. Some potential publication outlets are trade papers, such as Nursing Times or Educational Developments, which will reach a wide readership and usually tend to be less research-intensive and more practice-based and oriented than journals. You will be able to identify these easily, as you probably read them regularly for updates. They are often more straightforward to read than a journal article. The pieces the trade papers take are often shorter than journal articles at about 1,500 words, with very few references. The opinions and arguments might be strong, but the description and defence of the literature and methodology will take up less space than in a journal article. Authors and readers go more or less straight to the discussion and argument, and the tone is accessible and often more colloquial than in a journal article. Researching where and how to publish is important, and the first time you do it, it takes a great deal of time, but soon you will be armed with a list of the

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journals, trade papers or online journals (see Chapter 16) you find useful, which might want to publish your outputs, and with links to access their websites for guidance on how and what to publish, how to lay out your contribution and deal with references.

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Working with conventions for publishing journal articles in your discipline

Find out what the conventions are for publishing in your discipline. These will differ between disciplines, and between sub-sets of the discipline and interor multi-disciplines, as published in interdisciplinary journals. Look at Chapter 11 of this book, which focuses on the language of the disciplines, and at the work of Lee Shulman (2005), Chick et al. (2012), among others who deal with ‘signature pedagogies’ and disciplinary differences in teaching and writing. When studying journals in your discipline check the format, language, and both the disciplinary conventions and the version of those in the specific journal. • • •

What is the range of articles, tone and focus you can find by checking across several issues? Does the journal use a great many technical terms? Is it more discursive, or more conversational?

Skim read several issues of several different journals, looking carefully at 10plus articles, not so much for their content but rather for the ways they are constructed, argue, are presented, and the ‘take’ on your discipline that they offer. Consider the following: •

• • •

What are the most popular and favoured approaches to the discipline evident in this journal? For example, if it is a literature journal, do they take a historical, a heavily theorised or a cultural-studies-oriented approach to literature, and consider history, film, art and readership (perhaps including the fans), as well as any novels, plays or poems discussed? Or do they take a more formal, structurally oriented approach, which largely considers the language used, the structure and expression? Are their essays largely focused on issues of gender and gendered writing practices? Are they mainly about practice or mainly about theory?

These are snippets of the range of approaches found in literary journals, and every discipline will have such a range of leanings and versions as these represent. Don’t send an article to a journal that has a focus on gender unless the article also has a focus on gender (this may be obvious, but I have done it).

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• •

What forms of writing are people publishing in this journal? Is it acceptable to publish literature reviews, theoretical models and essays drawing on your experiences? For example, with a social science journal, is the focus more on theory, empirical data and new studies, on action research, and on links between theory and professional practice? Are they looking at learning and teaching, training, or employment issues in a particular field? Are they publishing creative work, radical approaches and radical forms that stretch the discipline? Are they very conventional? Or not?

• • •

Read the text closely to identify the writing styles used. Is what is normally accepted in this journal very formal – for example, very distanced, passive or always in the third person: ‘it was questioned whether...’; ‘this study will investigate…’; ‘the detailed sample indicates that…’; with many academic terms, or is it relatively informal and more subjective (this is more likely in some social sciences), such as using the first person, ‘in my experience…’; ‘I will look at/discuss/explore…’; ‘we discovered that…’. Or does it use both styles in a single essay or in the context of the journal issue as a whole?

Activity Find three journals you have read, used and in which you would like to publish. Go online and read carefully what the publishers say about their readership, authors, author guidelines; and examine the sample copy they offer. Look back through lists of contents over the past few years so that what you offer is not identical but in alignment with what they are taking, and with what seem to be ongoing discussions in the field. Read carefully through a range of work published in these journals and identify: • • •

• • • •

what sort of area of work the journal usually publishes any special treatment or angle any particular flavour, research approach or preferred kind of writing (personal or professional in language, highly complex and filled with technical language, filled with diagrams… and so on) tone audience complexity and specialist elements format, length, presentation, layout, footnotes, endnotes, referencing and so on

If a range of conventions and styles is used, which do you want to use?

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There are many disciplinary differences in conventions for publishing, so you will need not only to be sure you are focusing on the right journals, but also that you are completely clear about how journal articles are written in your discipline, including a focus on the tone, audience, layout and use of language of the discipline. You need to know about the conventions of argument and of engagement with your readership, as well as ways in which it is acceptable to develop a storyline of what happened (if needed), an argument and the evidence (always needed). So, analyse the word lengths, whether it takes 3,000-word essays or 9,000-word essays; the number and kinds of figures and diagrams expected in the journal you have chosen; whether it takes many colour illustrations or none; and analyse carefully the conventions of length of abstract, tone of essays and intended audience, so that you pitch your own work at the right length, shape, tone and with the right kind of language and content for the chosen journal. You are reading and analysing – ‘processing’ – these journal articles not so much for content but for the way in which they are written. When you come to write and pitch your own work, you will need to decide how to work with the conventions of the journal in the context of the discipline and your own work in the discipline. You might also be working between disciplines and have to choose which format to write to, or how to merge and blend the different disciplinary tones, discourse and formats to show your work crosses between the disciplines. This latter choice is a little daring, because it is unfamiliar to some editors and readers, but often absolutely essential because it represents the ways in which your work crosses disciplinary boundaries (if it does), and so adds something new (there are other ways of adding something new, but this is one way). Do be careful, however, to ensure that you submit to a journal that has previously published work crossing disciplinary boundaries. That way, they are more likely to have a more open mind and so are their referees. For example: (i) If you are writing about research discoveries in neuroscience, seek a journal which publishes on research in neuroscience; (ii) If you are writing about teaching about neuroscience, you can try either a journal about neuroscience (after making sure it has previously published articles on teaching – you are crossing disciplines), or one that focuses on teaching and will be interested in neuroscience as an example of that (but you will have to make the article more focused on the teaching practices and theories, as well as the neuroscience); and (iii) If you are writing on teaching neuroscience in Nicaragua in comparison with teaching it in the UK, choose a journal that looks at comparative approaches, at teaching, and will see neuroscience as an example. In this third case your article would emphasise comparability and difference, culture, custom and practice, as well as teaching, neuroscience, the intersection of these, and the influences they have on each other.

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The theorists you would use, the approach to your readership, the arguments put forward and the shape of the article would differ in each case because of the disciplinary conventions (science; science and teaching, which is a social science; science and teaching as social science; and culture and context, also as social science, but perhaps with a humanities orientation). When you are steeped in the particular ways in which your part of your discipline or interdiscipline is written, you might not even see the conventions, and be surprised when a journal cannot recognise what you have sent them. If you analyse the conventions you use in your own writing, and those in the journal – looking for layout, emphasis on methodology and methods, ways of dealing with the literature, use of citations, modes of argument, where the data is discussed and how, and so on, you are more likely to be able to produce an article that can both fit and where appropriate take the approaches, the question and issues into new areas through your mix of disciplinary approaches. Sometimes it is a good idea to tell the reader, in a short sentence in the abstract (and at the same time, the editor and referees), that you are taking this mixed interdisciplinary approach, so that they can see what they are reading and appreciate it, or ask for clarification.

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Organisation and structure

Look back at the three articles you chose and now consider their organisation and structure. How have they organised each journal article? Look at this in terms of the standard shape of an article. There are disciplinary differences which emphasise some parts of a paper more than others, but most published articles have the following sections: • • • • •

• •

Abstract Introduction Literature review (in humanities this tends to be merged with the Introduction. It is longer in the social sciences.) Methodology and methods (often short in the sciences; often absent in the humanities) Data and discussion (in thematic or similar sections in the social sciences and humanities, including the introduction of the theorised themes, and selected data in an argument. In the sciences, usually description, selected interpreted data then lengthy discussion, which is also interpretation) Conclusions References or/and Bibliography

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Activity: Structure Ask questions of and analyse each of the articles chosen, exploring: • •

•

•

•

•

•

How it establishes the reason for the work, and its importance and impact in the field and in ongoing discussions in the field (abstract). How it introduces the context, the need for the work, where it fits in, and what credibility, such as background, work, research and experience that the author has to write it (introduction). How it engages with the literature, both the established theories and relatively recent critical work in the same areas, with the main arguments and concerns related to this area, this question, this work, and how it enters the dialogue with these previously written pieces and emphasises that what it has to say is a new contribution (literature review). How it discusses, describes and defends why the work was undertaken in the way it was, with whom or what, in what ways and why not in others (methodology and methods). How it engages with the data produced, the evidence and the information found, ensuring that all this is related to the initial question (social sciences, humanities, related fields), or hypothesis (sciences and related fields); the statements about aims and intentions of the essay as expressed at the beginning; and shows how the evidence/data/findings do relate to the initial question or hypothesis and so on, and to the theories that have helped in setting the question or hypothesis, which underpin the understanding and approach to the field and to the question or hypothesis. Look at how it makes claims and backs them up with some form of evidence and does not just overload with large amounts of undiscussed, unrelated information or data (data and discussion sections). How it concludes. Is there a sense of exhaustion and repetition? Or does it draw the main findings, factual and conceptual, together and make a statement about main factual findings and new conceptual understandings about the field, and about meaning in the field in terms of areas explored in this work? Does it clearly signal the importance of the work? (conclusion). In what state are the bibliography/references? Are the books, articles, reports and so on referenced in the correct format for the journal? Are there any references that do not appear in the main text, or vice versa? Is referencing thorough, with the essential texts referenced and up to date, with new, important work in the field referenced where appropriate and

→

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Why Write?

•

•

• •

not just for show (that is, they have been used in the essay text to develop ideas and arguments, interpret findings, not just added cosmetically to the list)? (bibliography and references). A bibliography is a list of the books, films, articles, reports, podcasts, websites and so on, that have been used in the essay, in alphabetical order. The references section actually is: (a) often the same as and in place of the bibliography; or (b) often more like endnotes, with elaborate discussion of certain items and references, people or texts, probably because expanding this information in the main article would remove from its sense of flow. Do make sure you use the right conventions for your journal when you write your own bibliography, references, endnotes or footnotes. Make sure you reference in the text and at the end in the forms the journal expects; for example, Harvard, MLA. How might you join the conversation of published work? Processes and parts of writing your own journal article. Even if you don’t like what’s written in the journals or the style they use, can you see how your writing might fit in terms of focus, tone of voice, and organisation of the ideas and argument?

Now, choose your preferred journal (and have a couple as back-ups) and study its format, expectations, version of the discipline, language and style, structure, ongoing topics and debates, typical issues and concerns, and so on. Focus closely on the conventions for writing an abstract (see Chapter 8 on abstracts). Draft an abstract on one side of A4, following the rules of the journal to which you would like to send the finished article. Your work on the abstract will include a consideration of length, tone and structure. It usually sets out the importance of the research and the findings; why this needed to be done, and why it needed to be done in the way it was; what it contributes; and why it matters. Some journals structure their abstracts rather like mini articles – that is, in short sections such as aims, argument, main literature and how this work engages with and contributes to that literature, methodology and methods and reasons for them, ethics and how they have been taken into account, main arguments and achievements. Most abstracts use a similarly logical shape, but without the headings. There are many models but you might find the CARS model useful. John Swales established the CARS model, which helps you to put together a good argument through creating research space and indicating where your work will fit and what it will contribute.

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CARS = Creating A Research Space: Move 1: Establish that your particular area of research has some significance. Move 2: Selectively summarize the relevant previous research. Move 3: Show that the reported research is not complete. Move 4: Turn the gap into the research space for the present article. (Swales, 1990) Helen Sword (2012, pp. 77–8) finds this method quite a straitjacket. I agree and disagree. It helps me to think logically, but I might well move away from it or embellish it once I get going. Also, it does not suit each discipline in the same way, so while it might help me to open an educational or women’s studies social science piece, I would be unlikely to establish a gap in the literature in the same way for a literature piece. Here I would probably spin off from a significant quotation, and try to attract the reader with a problem, question or something speculative before reverting to a more systematic discussion and exploration. For example, I am trying to write an essay on a novel at the moment. Sarah Waters’ The Little Stranger (2009) is a novel that uses the figure of a ghost to question versions of post-war Britain. A CARS approach might go like this: 1

2

3 4

The Gothic figure of the ghost in literature is frequently used to indicate disturbance, hidden versions of history and so enable readers to question conventional versions of events and of values. Previous work by Julia Emerson (20XX) establishes the social importance of the ghost, particularly in writing by women, and work on Sarah Waters to date has largely focused on her treatment of relationships between women in the nineteenth century (Lake, 20XX; Palmer, 20XX). Little research has been conducted into the use of the figure of the ghost in literature to explore contradictions in post-war Britain. This essay explores uses of the figure of a baby ghost in Waters’ The Little Stranger to disturb versions of post war Britain.

A more speculative, literary beginning might look something like this: How best to suggest the poisoned narratives of a damaged post-war England where class, heritage and hierarchies are out of date and both psychologically and economically destructive, rotten? Sarah Waters’ intrusive baby ghost in The Little Stranger disturbs social complacencies, refusing easy resolutions and solutions for representatives of a society caught in a peacetime social revolution. A third version might start with a quotation from a critic which provides an opening into the discussion of the novel in this article, and another might start

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Why Write?

with a quotation from the novel which is going to be explored in depth as a way into the discussion. The conventions are different, and you have different choices about how to start your work even within these conventions. Before you undertake really imaginative creative writing, or a radical approach, just ensure that the journal seems to have a few other pieces that start in a similar way, or the editor and reviewers might not recognise what you are doing. However, if you find the CARS or any other model does not let you really ask your questions or explore your arguments, you will need to deviate from it with something new, something hybrid. These are scaffolds, not straitjackets. They are meant to help the work to be written, not to stifle it. Producing a draft abstract or opening paragraph suggesting why the work needs to be done and addresses a gap, making a case for your work. Once it is clear in your own mind, you are ready to share it with an editor.

c

Starting the actual writing

Keys to the start of successful writing of a journal article are outlined above – pitching it at the right journal, having something interesting and new to say, writing it well, working with the suggestions, and so on. The structure of a successful article can be determined by looking at and analysing structure in those articles you have already scrutinised for the above activity. If you get stuck in terms of the shape and expression, look back again at the successful published articles you scrutinised as part of that activity, and see how they set the scene, structure their arguments, use the literature, link the paragraphs and so on. Take these shapes and processes (not the content!) into your own work to enable you to move on. This part of the chapter considers in brief, and in outline, the role, intentions and characteristics of different sections of a typical journal article, and the wording that enables you to write and to link these sections. These are introductory ideas about what you will normally find in the different sections of a journal article. You will have identified this already from your reading, and from your activity scrutinising examples of successful articles, above. There are introductions to the writing in each of the sections (or chapters, if you are writing a book, thesis or dissertation rather than an article), below, followed by a full exploration of the abstract and introduction sections. The chapters from Chapter 4 onwards elaborate on the language and the writing of each of the sections, or if it is a thesis or dissertation, each of the chapters with these functions (abstract and so on). You might like to look at Chapter 6 for a closer look at the process, and Chapter 7 at the specific writing of literature reviews, methodology and methods sections. A brief outline of the intentions of each section has already been suggested (above), so these chapters are expanding that outline.

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There are different conventions in the various disciplines; see Chapter 11 for more detail on these. You will probably find several variations but I think it is useful to have a broad sense of the different conventions, since you will meet them if you read widely and if you work in an interdisciplinary area. Broadly speaking, Science articles have an abstract, introduction, short literature review, methodology and methods section (which is likely to be short unless these are unusual methods, since experimental methods are usually referred to only briefly), then a short introductory element to the data, which is presented at length, in sections, followed by the discussion of the interpretation of the data and important findings from it, and finally, the conclusions. Social science articles have: abstract, introduction, literature review, methodology and methods, then thematic sections where the themes and issues emerging from the data are discussed, and the conclusions. Humanities articles may be the same as social science articles but are more likely to have: abstract, introduction containing the literature review and an exploration of the underpinning theories, no methodology and methods section, and straight into thematically focused sections which deal with the data (quotations, images, arguments), theorised and discussed, then the conclusions.

Title You need a good title that will catch attention, be specific and clear about the contribution of the article, and be easy to pick up by search engines. I once wrote an article about supporting higher education colleagues entering distance learning. I called it ‘On nurturing hedgehogs…’. It did go on to mention distance learning, but I don’t think it has been read by the right people. It was probably found initially by those who care for hedgehogs! Nor do I think that my most popular article ever (if frequency of online ‘hits’ is a judge of that) in an online journal, Slayage, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer studies, is sought for by people who want to read about Buffy from a feminist, intellectual viewpoint. It is called ‘Vampires and schoolgirls…’ and gets ‘hits’ almost daily. Being more precise will attract people who want to read your work, and will go beyond the disappointment of the strange title to the excitement of your well-written piece. Get at least some of the keywords into the title. Helen Sword (2012) helpfully discusses titles at length, differentiating between functional titles that outline exactly what will be considered and how; those with disciplinary jargon indicating that the author is serious, sensible and a part of the discipline group; or playful ones (like the two above), which could also have a subtext, linked with a colon perhaps, informing us of the more serious intent of the piece. So if I had written the hedgehogs piece to attract attendees at a conference on supervision it might have been called: ‘On nurturing hedgehogs: Development online for distance and offshore supervision’. The words beyond the colon specify exactly what is being discussed – in this case, postgraduate supervision at a distance.

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If your title is entirely dry and functional, or filled with jargon, or all of these and very long, it could attract the serious readers. However, your potential reader might not pick it up with a search engine, might be put off by the dry jargon and expect a dry article, and might get confused at the whole focus. Some long titles are best cut into one-liners. Some authors give you the entire article in brief in the title. They indicate what they are writing about, the methodology and methods, and their contribution. This full story is better positioned in the body of the text.

Key words Most journals now expect you to provide 5–10 key words. These indicate to potential readers the focus of your article, appear in search engines, and attract readers. In my own subject, higher education, a piece of work with keywords such as ‘assessment’ and ‘student learning’ will receive many speculative hits. The readers might go on to read the piece and then use and cite it. If everyone uses all the same absolutely essential terms then those searching might not discover the differences. Try adding a few key words that really focus your contribution. Here are some examples. ‘Academics and learning spaces: An exploratory study in higher education’. This is quite explicit. You mention the focus plus the methodology and methods. You could sharpen it up by suggesting this is an area where there are many debates and strong opinions: ‘Politics and personal space: Academics and learning spaces in higher education’. Or, make it more playful and reference a fairy tale (‘Goldilocks’): ‘Who’s been sitting in my chair? Academics and learning spaces in higher education’. All three examples suggest what the article is about. The last one indicates rather than states the politics for those who know the fairy story (but you would be able to work that out even if you didn’t know the story). All three use the colon a linked phrase to provide an opportunity for clarification and expansion and to focus more closely.

Abstracts What are the characteristics of a good abstract? You will need to consider: • • •

•

Context rules (the expectations of the journal). Discipline (the expectations of the discipline). Your taste (this is your abstract. You might want a little more on how the work was carried out, a little more on how important the contribution is, and so on). The language of abstracts (usually passive, third person, no references, no quotes).

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An abstract should normally be no more than 250 or 350 words long (check with the journal, though, as some want 100 words, some 500, some want structured abstracts and so on). Start with: • • • • • • •

What is the problem/issue this piece of work addresses? How has it been addressed? Why has it been addressed in this way? What is new here? What is the significance of this work? How and what does it contribute? Why does this matter? This is not about your interest in the topic – it is an assertion about the importance of the findings to the field.

Activity: Writing an abstract Decide on a potential article and consider what your work could contribute to the field, what it has to offer, what gap it will fill, and why it matters. Look at the conventions for writing abstracts and the above suggestions and examples from the essays you have been scrutinising while focusing on structure and organisation. Now, using only 250 words: 1 2 3

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Draft an abstract for your article/a potential article. Share your abstract with a trusted critical friend (ask first, then email it, or sit down and share with someone who also writes). Ask the friend to provide positive, constructive, critical commentary on how clear, focused, effective and well expressed your abstract is, how it seems to fit in with the norms of the discipline and the target journal, and what could be done to make it even clearer, more focused, more explicit, a more effective abstract. Refine the abstract.

Other elements of an article Introduction This contains: • •

Context for the research or discussion and evaluation etc. of professional experience. How this research fits in with what went before – previous work, internationally, and yours, in brief.

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• • • • •

Why Write?

Establishment of a gap in knowledge, and boundaries to the work presented here. Researcher’s position, why you did the research. Research design in brief. Passion and enthusiasm for the research journey. What we shall find in the article, in brief.

(Most of these elements will be expanded in the sections that follow, so keep the introduction brief.) Review of the literature/theoretical perspectives The literature review section can also be called the theoretical perspectives section because it engages with the historically ground-breaking, and the current and absolutely essential literature, establishing the arguments in the field which underpin your work and arguments (not everything in the field) showing how your new work contributes to the conversation, the ongoing dialogue in the discipline, in this area. It also establishes the theories that inform and underpin the work and which will reappear in your discussion of the data and your interpretations and conclusions. It contains: •

• •

•

Carefully explored, referenced literature, not just a list of works, but a sense of their contribution to the development of the areas of the field, to the question, their agreements and disagreements in relation to the issues under discussion. Underpinning theories and work of theorists explored, explained and brought into the discussion informing the new work you are contributing. Dialogue between theorists and the researcher/professional/contributor – you the author – showing that you can clearly indicate where your work is contributing to the discussions and developments in the field. Key terms explained; key theories clarified.

A literature review is more than a review, it is not a dead list, it genuinely shows what elements of previous work inform your work. It does not set out to tell the reader everything about that other work, instead focusing on the main arguments in relation to the work you are discussing. It is not just a list – there are no marks for merely cutting and pasting! The literature that underpins your work, and the theories that inform and enable it, are not merely left hanging in the literature review section, they are woven throughout the rest of the article in a dialogue with your data and the findings that you clarify when you discuss the data, and when you assert in the conclusion the important contribution to factual knowledge and conceptual meaning.

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Methodology, design of the study and methods As an editor and peer reviewer I know that this can often be a weak section. Some essays establish the literature and seem to move on through a range of data to make some claims. If the reader does not know why or how you conducted your study they cannot judge whether you conducted it fairly and appropriately (if at all), and cannot try to conduct a similar study themselves. They need to know about what you could not do (the limitations) and, very importantly, what you could do and how you could do it with what/whom, and when and how. You need to give readers enough appropriate information (but not obsessional detail) so that they can determine, given the ways you conducted your study, if it is real, trustworthy, reliable and valid. They need to be able to trust what to do with what you claim to have found and achieved. At the point where you might be cutting a large study into manageable pieces for separate articles, you might well find that you need to narrow down the methodology and methods to ensure that it is clear and focused, just for this particular essay. So you might decide that while your study involved four sorts of experiments, interviews, surveys, focus groups and case studies, or six authors looking at three issues, for this article you will narrow the focus and tell the reader what you did, and why, in the segment of your work you are exploring, about which you are telling a story and making an argument in this essay, so readers can see more clearly and focus their reading. There will be space and time enough to write future essays with more of your findings and arguments in them. Methodology is the overarching set of beliefs about how knowledge is constructed, deriving from the way you believe we construct knowledge (epistemology) as this is affected by the discipline, and how we see ourselves in the world and relate to the world (ontology). It is the overall approach to your research that informs the research design and the scheme you develop. Methods: are the ways in which you ask your questions and test your hypotheses – for example, experimental methods, or interview methods. The vehicles, the actual tools of your trade, are the survey, the interview schedule, the materials used to carry out the experiment and so on. In this section you explore, and explain, and defend your use of methodology and methods, and indicate the sample, numbers, timings – whatever details the reader needs to know to be able to work out if what you then indicate as being important from your work is sufficiently managed, focused and dependable. Validity is a term used of much qualitative research, meaning that internally it is rigorous and dependable, but not absolutely replicable, as people, places, contexts and so on change. Reliability refers to more scientific methodology or large-scale surveys – for example, in the social sciences, and it suggests that the research activity can be repeated to produce similar results (see both The Postgraduate Research Handbook (Wisker, 2007) and The Good Supervisor (Wisker, 2012) for further

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Why Write?

explanations; also the major research methods books I reference there, and published since (including Savin-Baden and Howell Major, 2013). Ethics are also very important. You also explain the procedures to ensure that the work has been approved and undertaken in an ethical manner, with consent, confidentiality, without harm, and so on (rarely used in some disciplines such as literature or much of the humanities, but essential where working with human or animal subjects, for example). You also detail the: • •

design of the study; and order of research or practice activities.

The data and discussion section presents your results, turned into findings, and their interpretation, and it is where your theorised, evidenced contribution begins to show. How you use your data and develop a discussion exploring and explaining what it indicates, and how your argument depends upon it, differs between the disciplines. The presentation of results section follows. Science and (sometimes health using clinical research) use a clear, annotated and discussed record of what has been discovered. This is followed by a separate discussion section that uses selections of the data which help to make the case, move the argument along – not all the data, just the data that contributes to the argument you have developed from analysing all the data in relation to your questions and the underlying theories. Then you clearly argue the findings and their significance. Social science, health using social science methodology and education don’t usually have a presentation of results section; instead, they combine data or information and discussion in thematic sections. The discussion section – this integrates results and discussion. Humanities or arts don’t have a presentation of results section, instead they combine data or information and discussion in thematic sections. For a humanities or literature-based essay or thesis, and sometimes for one in social science, health or education, there are often several sections exploring different themes and issues in a linked discussion. For all these disciplines, however, readers do not want an exhaustive set of data which they struggle to understand. Instead, they want you to have theorised, analysed and made sense of it, to present it in appropriate, focused extracts and then explain what you have presented and how it really is the evidence for your argument and for your claims. So, make sure that tables, statistics, bar charts and quotations: • • •

appear in extract; are discussed fully in the main text; Original data may be shown in full in appendices (though this is unusual).

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The Conclusion serves two purposes: (i) (ii)

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To summarise briefly what was researched and discovered, challenged, proved, disproved, how it was done, the main arguments; and To indicate both (a) factual conclusions (what new knowledge or information has been discovered) and (b) conceptual conclusions (how arguments and re-conceptualisations have been able to alter understanding, enabling us to understand in a new way. What new meaning has been produced).

Approaching editors

Normally these days you will upload your article straight to the journal through an online entry point such as ScholarOne if the journal has an online submission option. Mechanical systems, such as ScholarOne, avoid the personal touch and invite you to upload your paper facelessly with no prior contact. This is a smooth process once you have mastered it, but sometimes, and certainly early on, personal contact could help you to direct your work to success. Sometimes the personal touch is appreciated (and effective), so, if you can, approach the editor with the idea for your article or your brief about the nearly completed article, via email or at a conference. If you can find out who is the chief editor, you can Google their email address and approach them directly, gently and tentatively offering them something very interesting they can see fitting into their journal, and which you know they would be interested to consider. Perhaps, and if the editor asks for this, include specimen material or links to papers you have had published already, or given at a conference on a similar theme, then send the abstract and links. Not all editors like to be approached directly, however, so you might choose to just do your research into the journal, and upload to ScholarOne (or whatever system is used) as indicated in the instructions on the website for that journal.

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What are editors looking for?

I thought I would reflect on my own practice, though the experience certainly differs between editors. I am looking for: • • • •

An author who has enthusiasm, focus, credibility in the field and some track record if possible. A good idea that is developing into a sound piece of writing. Debate, engagement with topical and essential ideas and reading in a dialogue. Well planned and well presented work.

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• • • • •

Why Write?

Conceptually robust, good research, good research methodology, methods, data analysis strategies, sound data and analysis. A sound sense of what this piece contributes to the field and to ongoing discussions. Work that is really interesting to read, engages interest, flows logically and elegantly, says something genuinely new enough. Writing delivered on time. An author willing to work with suggestions, and with the, post review, the editing and copy-editing stages.

It is important that an author has researched the journal and so sends in an essay of the correct length and layout, and pitches the work at the kinds of themes, discussions and in the style and format evident in previous and current editions, or can make suggestions about new concerns and new ways of expressing their ideas. I find it useful if they see the whole peer review and editing process as a developmental one that takes time (reviewers are busy people, and some take a long time to get back to us) and expect that their article will nearly always require more and different work on their part to mould it into a publishable form, and that they will need to respond explicitly to reviewers indicating what they have changed, and what they have not changed, and why. If the piece is over-long, I will ask them to shorten it, and if the English is not at all accessible, they will need to take it through an English editor to ensure that it is acceptable to an international readership. If it is readable in a recognisable form of English (of which there are many, internationally), I will suggest any essential small changes exactly as I would for an article from an author who has English as their first language. Any piece submitted to the education journal which I edit has to go through ScholarOne. Creative and critical work on literary issues for the online journal and poetry magazine I co-edit come in and are dealt with without going through any online system, because we are unfunded and not linked to mainstream publishers. Everything submitted has some form of blind peer review. Scholarly articles for the international peer reviewed education journal, which appears in the social science citation index and other indexes internationally, undergoes blind double peer reviewing (at least two people read and comment on the article and have no idea who wrote it). The creative work for the unfunded online journal and magazine is dealt with by at least the two editors and for the most part a third reviewer (blind) from the editorial board. These processes are representative of the different conventions of the disciplines and of the sector. Chapter 14 focuses more fully on refereeing and editing processes.

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Getting on with the writing – when and where

In this section we look at managing your time, and the writing process itself.

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Time planning and critical path analysis When setting out to write an article you have to carry out research or get the results of previous work into some kind of shape, sort out figures, diagrams, references, and then, having written your contribution, edit and share your work, finalise it and submit it for publication. All of this is time consuming. Below I run through different stages so that you can plan how long you might need for each activity, and plan realistically when you think you can send in an article and expect to see it finally published. Start – ideas Decide on what to write about, both the general area and specific questions, issues, perspectives. Research the journals and pick one, with two others as back-ups. Carry out or revisit research and previous writing to identify the new elements, and the specific way through the research. This will enable you to argue your point and develop your argument in your new article. Start – writing Draft the outline (a) the theories and themes on which you expect to focus; and (b) the shape of the article as a whole. Contact anyone whose information is needed in advance. Leave plenty of time for gathering information that is crucial but time consuming. Do you know the field very well? Do you need to carry out a literature search and review, or to update one you did earlier? Do you need any new skills or de-rusting or updating? Leave plenty of time for graphs, statistics and images to be prepared appropriately. Write directly on to a PC or write in longhand then type up the text. The method used will affect timing. Draft the beginning of each of the sections. Draft and re-draft, edit and finesse until you feel you have a viable first draft. Test it and finesse again Test it out on a critical friend or colleague for sense and interest. Test it against your market – ask colleagues and students about its accessibility and interest. Ensure the references are all in the same format and the layout is identical. Edit, edit and edit. Ensure your writing is well presented. When you are satisfied that the contribution is as close to perfection as you can make it, finalise and upload it to ScholarOne with a covering letter.

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Submitting and beyond – working with revisions/ modifications and knowing when to stop

There is an ongoing journal journey that involves refereeing/reviewing and copy-editing. Some editors never get back to you. You need to chase them, as your work might have been lost in the ether between a new editor or a new assistant

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Why Write?

editor, or they have been unable to find a second referee and it has become virtually stockpiled. Some editors send your work to referees even for a proposal, if that is what you send them first, and the outcome of this can help you to refine the work early on. The editors will select two or more referees and send your submission to them, blind, so they do not know who wrote the piece. They will do this through the ScholarOne system if their journal uses it, or manually if not. Referees are your second major reader after yourself (and/or critical friends) and they take a long time to read and produce helpful developmental comments on your work, so it is good to spend time reading what they say, even if it eventually does not lead to your work being published in that journal at that time. When comments are returned, decide how to deal with them. Most will need to be taken on board, so look through the essay, develop a check sheet, deal with the cosmetic changes (typos and so on) first and then look carefully at substantial issues such as theorising, structure and arguments based on the interpretation of data. Intuition is helpful, along with reading between the lines of referee responses; these will indicate if they do not really want your essay when you resubmit it. If it is returned again and there is more work to do – keep changing it. However, there comes a moment when you have to stop, and decide that the next journal on your list will be the lucky recipient of your now rather finely finessed article. At this point you choose that other journal, and re-write for it because the format, layout and so on are bound to be different. When the paper is accepted, often with a few more minor things to do to it, ensure that you know about any further guidelines, particularly about timing. Check it. Edit it. Send it in, usually by uploading the final version to ScholarOne, perhaps as a tracked changes version and a clean version, and an accompanying letter explaining any further changes (if needed), or perhaps by emailing it to the editor – whatever the conventions for that journal are. It will be returned again, probably in the form of a pdf, once the editors have decided when it will be published; or in iFirst if it is going to be published online before hard copy publication. This time it has been returned for copy-editing and final corrections and queries, some of which might have actually emerged during the publisher’s processing of the piece. At that point you have to make those changes or the system will not accept the article. It is good to remind yourself how many copies of the journal or offprints or e-offprints you will receive. Also, check the terms and conditions of any contract. Who owns the copyright? When will the article come out? How high up the citation index is the journal? What versions of open access does it use (if any)? You might pay to make your article available through gold open access, if available, or wait for 18 months to let it appear on your website or via ‘Academia.edu’ (a site that collects and shares links to your publications, and on which you can see which work is regularly searched for, and the country of the searcher), via green open access,

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if it is available. This will enable others to read your work (see Chapter 19 for more on citations, access and impact).

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Conclusions

In this chapter we have considered briefly the ways in which you need to decide on a writerly identity, reasons for writing, what to write, researching the journals, writing in different sections of an article, under different conventions, the long road to publishing, marketing your work, and remembering how important this is. Rowena Murray comments more generally: 1 2 3 4 5

Have a reason to write that is not just about meeting other people’s standards. Make writing meaningful for yourself. Reward yourself for making sacrifices for writing. Take care of yourself as a writer: physically, mentally and spiritually. Find someone with whom you can have an ‘open narrative’ discussion about your writing, not just analysing barriers but also ranging over possibilities and experiences. (Adapted from Rowena Murray, 2005, p. 32)

It is a long road. Tenacity, diligence and meticulous finishing are needed alongside creativity, sparky innovations, and planning and marketing skills. Work hard. Don’t give up. Pitch it right. Use help from your friends/share help between friends. Publishing is competitive – don’t be put off by detractors. Learn from supportive critics. Enjoy writing and publishing – the pleasure really does ‘last’. You have produced a new contribution, it’s yours, celebrate it!

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Further reading

Chick, N. L., Haynie, A. and Gurung, R. (2012) Exploring More Signature Pedagogies: Approaches to Teaching Disciplinary Habits of Mind (Sterling, VA: Stylus Publishing). Murray, R. (2005) Writing for Academic Journals (Maidenhead: Open University Press), p. 32. Savin-Baden, M. and Howell Major, C. (2013) Qualitative Research: The Essential Guide to Theory and Practice (London: Routledge). Shulman, L. (2005) ‘Signature Pedagogies in the Professions’, Daedalus, 134(3), 52–9. Swales, J. M. (1990) Genre Analysis: English in Academic Research Settings (Cambridge University Press).

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Sword, H. (2012) Stylish Academic Writing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press), pp. 77–8.

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Website

Thomson Reuters (n.d.) Web of Science. Available at: thomsonreuters.com/ web-of-science-core-collection.

4 Writing for and publishing in books

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • • •

Why write a book? Some pieces of advice What not to do Deciding what to write about, where, and planning the stages Advice Seeking publishers and defining the right book to sell to them Producing an acceptable outline – standard elements Planning and time management – actually writing the book Conclusions

Many of us feel we have at least one book inside us. It seems to be a human compulsion to consider getting into print in this way. For many people that book is a novel, for others it is a book about their life’s journey or that of someone close to them, and for others it is an academic book. There is much in common with whatever kind of book it is in terms of defining, planning, writing, managing and finishing, and then ensuring it is published and read, but we shall learn from several sorts of books how to go about writing a book that is, in the main, academic.

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Why write a book?

You have to be able to think big to consider writing a book. This is partly because they are (of course) long – longer than journal articles and about the size of a thesis at 50,000–80,000 words on average – but also because all the aspects of a journal article – the research, reading, planning, time management, writing and re-writing – are multiplied. We can all work out the maths with this. A journal article could be 5,000 words, but a book is 10 or 15 times that size. It seems like a mountain to climb, an endless journey, impossibly huge, and yet you meet people who have written several books and can see the 57

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Why Write?

next one approaching them. They are busy people, they seem quite ‘normal’ and many of them may be Nobel prize winners, but others are not. They are people who have something to say, the research, reading and the desire to share it, and the tenacity, perseverance and completer-finisher characteristics to get it done. They also usually have friends, both personal and professional, and people in support roles, paid or unpaid, who will nudge them along, ask questions about their writing, read bits of it, seem eager to see it develop, and help with some of the phrasing, the copy-editing, the sourcing of references, whatever is needed to help tidy up the process while the author is steaming ahead.

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Some pieces of advice

Have several reliable, topical ideas and the reading and practice to begin to flesh them out into possible book ideas. Talk to people who have completed books of any sort at all, from a children’s storybook to a massive scientific tome, and ask them how they planned it, kept going, and finished it, who helped them, what writing and life practices helped them and what they needed to avoid. Look at other books and see how they have been constructed. If you can access the authors, ask them about the work involved. Use their advice and apply it in your own context. Read books quickly for their shape, the development of the introduction, the chapters and conclusion, their size and structure and the number and focus of chapters. Look at the way ideas develop, how theories and arguments underpin and inform the book, and how themes structure it so that, for example, you might notice that several chapters lie under the specific themes and the whole has a theorised underpinning with strands and themes running throughout. Start to make it manageable. A book must be manageable or those other normal people who have authored a book wouldn’t have managed it. Much of the problem with not actually writing that book is seeing it as a lifetime’s activity, and so not being able to start.

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What not to do

In George Eliot’s nineteenth-century English novel, Middlemarch, there is a learned, rather fusty character called Casaubon. He is doomed in his attempt to research and write a book because he chooses a topic that is huge and unmanageable – ‘the key to all mythologies’. There cannot be a single key to all mythologies; he would have to read everything written even before he began his own work, and then he would be writing for ever. Casaubon expects his wife to type out his work and do research for it, but criticises her when she asks questions.

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There are lessons to learn from Casaubon’s mistakes: • •

Pick a manageable subject to which you have access in terms of materials, data and practices. People to share your thoughts with are valuable assets. Choose the right people, supporters with a critical edge, so that what they say and how they say it is true, well thought through and helpful, even if it seems harsh at times, whether it is about your tone, content, claims, language or whatever element of the book on which they are commenting.

Casaubon also refuses to read the German theorists because he fears their ideas will conflict with his own. Clearly he is not going to be able to situate his work or book in any kind of informed critical dialogue. He is avoiding contextualising it in the field; he can’t cope with other minds engaging with similar ideas in a different way. He is missing the point of academic writing, which is to engage, share, critique, support, move the construction and co-construction of knowledge on and let as many people as possible into the conversation who can contribute and benefit, so that they learn from each other. He is a closed book himself, so it is unlikely, should he ever write it, that anyone else would want to open his book. He doesn’t write it. It remains an endless task.

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Deciding what to write about, where, and planning the stages

First consider whether what you want to write is really a book, or a series of articles. If you feel your ideas, findings and argument taken together have the depth, length and overall cohesion to be a book, and are likely to have a wide readership who will buy and use it, then it could be a book. You will need to differentiate in your own mind between this large, focused task aimed at a sizeable number of readers, and perhaps a shorter task – a journal article with a highly scholarly focus. Some books grow from successful articles. Some books should have remained as articles because the ideas within them are not extensive, varied and developed enough to sustain a whole book. Don’t decide to write a book on something that would be better placed as an article. What size of book is it? And with whom should you place it? Consider the following questions: • • • •

What is appropriate to write and publish now? What have you been working on that is lively and topical and likely to interest readers? What does the market seek? What are the current debates?

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• •

Why Write?

Where might you choose to publish it? What book publication outlets are available?

It is important to be clear about the topic of your book and why you want to write about that topic at this time.

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Advice

Be clear about the area(s) to write about right now. Your favourite subject might not be topical or interesting enough to others to be written up into a book, and you might need to look around for another subject you know enough about to start writing. Or you might have to consider whether you can give a favourite subject a topical spin, so that something you have written on already or are writing on and working with can be updated, re-written and focused as a particular development of a topical or revived interest. You need to be very focused about what the gaps are in the market and/or to choose something (else) topical and interesting that you are working on, or could develop. There are books that are before their time (too early for people to be interested in this issue) or after their time (there are already so many books on this subject that it is impossible to get yours into the dialogue, or into the publishing house and out on to the shelves). While we know that books are part of an ongoing discussion about an area of knowledge, none the less not all discussions are equally topical, and unless you can give something very popular a new topical spin, it might be a good idea to look for something related, something a little new, but still in the same kinds of areas of interest as other books. How will you find this out? Go to conferences to see and hear what the current fascinations and topics are and determine if there is enough interest for a book. Or is this issue just a conference discussion? See who the players are in the area, on the conference circuit, and try to find out if any of them are going to write a book on the theme you have in mind.

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Seeking publishers and defining the right book to sell to them

There are several ways to find the right publisher for your book. First, don’t begin with the book you want to write. Instead, think about a book the publishers might publish and consider the people to whom they sell books. Neither your PhD thesis nor your lecture will be published as it stands! So ensure that if you pitch a book idea it sounds like something readers will want to buy and read. Some might seek the seriously heavy topics of a PhD, but to sell these as a book you will need to ensure that it sounds attractive

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and readable. A book is a different, more marketable, differently shaped way of sharing your work. There is no point in attempting to persuade a publisher to agree to giving your ideas a try when they are in the process of signing up the biggest name in the business. I once tried for over a year to get a publisher to accept an outline of a book on the novelist Angela Carter until they finally admitted they had just signed someone else. It wasn’t my book that was at fault, as it was never written (well, a very small version was eventually written), so how could it be bad? It was just that I was not well known enough for them to consider. This might sound cynical, but it makes sense. Publishers are not in their jobs to enable you as such, they are in their jobs to satisfy a market, an ongoing, a new or revived interest, and to sell books. Of course, you too are part of the readership and your work might help to shape that future market. You negotiate the book you could write and would like to write, the book which they would like to publish, the book which a wide and appropriate range of readers would like to read and use.. Begin by looking at what the publishers are producing. Look at the current and recent lists of those who publish books you like, books you use, books you see other people in your field reading, using and recommending. See what books are already out in a list, and what is coming up. Offer them similar books to those they publish, but on your own area of specialism so that they can extend a popular list. If this is a list to which you would like to contribute, think of a couple of areas in which you have the expertise and would fit into and appropriately extend their current lists. Identify the approaches or interests they seem to be concentrating on, and consider offering a book for their series. Many publishers now really only publish the bulk of their books in established series, perhaps on the basis that readers like similarity, and the series, or several volumes of it. It is likely to be bought in its entirety (by libraries if not individuals) because of that similarity. Approach publishers with an idea or an outline that fits their series, is clearly of quality and has a place in and a contribution to make to that series, and a way of engaging the professional market and readers. Since the publishers have already done market research and there are already books in the series, producing an outline for one that seems to fit could attract their attention. Study the common approaches, tone, structure and length of the books in the series. If you can interest the publisher with your first approach, you could ask to look at the outline specifications for a book proposal in that series, so that you can construct your outline proposal to fit their spec. The specifications for a book or book series are usually online in the publisher’s information website. Major publishers supply their general proposal forms, expectations and some examples on the web. Study these carefully; they are all quite similar, but each publisher and even each series will have some

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special differences, so if you do not make your proposal fit exactly, you will have wasted effort. The publishers are not going to rewrite it for you; they will find someone else to do it. If they seem to be interested in your suggestion of a book for a series, it is often a good idea to buy or suggest that you be sent an example of a book in that series so you can see the tone, shape and focus of the book, and use that as a model for your own (not a copy, merely a model in terms of tone and shape). I am probably being too pessimistic and over-cautious, but I would never write a whole book without having a publisher who has approved the proposal and wants to work with me. For me, anything other than this is too much of a risk. Others have different views, though. Having said that, for my creative work I operate differently. I write the piece, then I search for opportunities to publish it, but for academic work I’ll find a publisher first. They will want to have a role in shaping the proposal and the idea for the book, and they will always want changes to your first thoughts and ideas, so writing the whole book before starting the negotiation process just leads to extra work for you. There is often also an opportunity to publish a monograph (single authored book) as part of a series. Most major publishers have series for which you could pitch a contribution, but they also produce the more expensive monographs, usually only in hardback, which will sell mainly to libraries. If your book is very specialised you could make the case for it being a hardback monograph. So do not give up hope if you cannot find a series into which your proposed book will fit. Keep talking. If in the end it sells surprisingly more than they imagined, they will produce it in paperback, maybe sell the rights to have it translated into Chinese, or Korean, and make sure it is also an e-book, so nothing will be lost. You just need to get it in the right place at the outset. There will usually be different editors for these series and it is possible they are in different buildings or even countries, but if they aren’t, it is also possible that they might not pass on ideas that come in if you send them to the wrong person. This all depends on the way the publishing house operates, so pick the right editor for the book you want to publish, search the website for this information, and in the end if you cannot decide who to contact, phone one or a few editors until you find the right person. Approaching publishers at conferences where they are behind the tables selling books (you might not realise that these are sometimes the lead editors) is also a good idea. One of my first books happened because of this. A publisher/editor and I were skipping a conference session and started chatting. This led to a book proposal. Once you have published several books, introduce new people to your editor/publisher. They will be grateful to find out about new talent. The road will still be hard for the person you are introducing, and they will have to produce the outline and an excellent book, but such an introduction helps everyone.

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Producing an acceptable outline – standard elements

There are fairly standard shapes to a book proposal. There are many styles, but they all have something logical and similar about them. Different publishers have slightly different layouts, and a series edited by experts could be much more specific about exactly the kind of information wanted in the sections of a proposal, so do study this closely. That kind of information can be found on the website, or if not there it can be sent directly to you if you email the publisher and request it.

Standard shapes, typical draft outline/elements of a book proposal (and what is expected in them) Introduction Outlining the main area of argument and interest in the book. Ensure you indicate that it: • • • •

is accessible in style; contains main arguments, conceptual points and discourse; fills an important gap in the work already published/the market; is likely to be of interest/in demand.

Rationale and audience (these can be separate) • • • •

Explain why your idea is topical and interesting, and what kinds of readers it might expect (be as detailed as possible and relevant). Why is it worth writing, publishing and being read right now? What will it contribute to the field of knowledge and ideas? Who might read it?

Be realistic. If you claim an enormously wide readership, your book might be in danger of trying to please everyone, and this will certainly affect the style and the level of the work in it. If it is an academic book on gender and schooling, for example, it is unlikely to suit both first-year undergraduates who need to be introduced to the terminology and the main theories, and university staff, who would like to see ground breaking new angles and issues explored, and an engagement with the major publications and arguments underlying these. Try to be realistic about a likely market. If you claim that everyone everywhere will find the book essential, it is unlikely that the publisher will believe you. If you position it too narrowly, it will not look as though it will sell enough to make a profit. Canvass who might be interested, ask colleagues and students, and consider whether you will have an international readership.

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If you try to make your book suitable for only a very small number of people, however, the publisher might not think it is worth the cost of publishing it. In that case, the book might be better pitched at the hardback, specialist market section of the publishing house. Market – carry out market research What other books, articles and upcoming conferences are there in the market? Identify, list and evaluate these. Sometimes this forms a very large section, almost the size of a small literature review, and sometimes a short list or a grid. You need to indicate what each book contributes, show the publishers you know the field so are credible to write for it, and indicate also what your book contributes, how it differs from others, moves the field on, and so on. Books in the field When you argue that your book is contributing something new, in a context with which you are familiar, you write something about books in the field which differentiates your work form those already published and shows that you have added something new. The titles below have been invented for this exercise, but you will obviously need to use real examples. 1

2

Sinks, E. and Sparks, J. (1996) Writing for Publication. Established guide in the field, useful for undergraduates, very short at 50 pages. Rather outdated. My proposed book (name it) updates some of their ground breaking ideas and strategies such as…, includes current research and changing practice built on… and makes a new contribution by arguing that… Glaring, G. and Absence, F. (2012) Writing Success. This is a textbook suitable for first year undergraduates. It is a self-help book with examples and activities and little research. My book (name it) is research- and experiencebased and suitable for anyone seeking academic publication.

If you misrepresent the books and don’t say how they differ from yours and how you might build on them, the editor in charge of the series will be suspicious. Their job is to know the field too. They will wonder how your work is so utterly new and marvellous and all these best-selling texts are rubbish. Be realistic and focused, indicate their merits and how your book differs from, builds on and surpasses them, so that it is clear that it fills a gap in the market, whether by updating or adding something completely new, such as being practical where the previous book was theoretical or research-based, or where the other book was a textbook, and so on. This will help the publisher to decide whether to commission your book. Detail why your work is different, how it adds to others’ work/improves on it. The next part considers the main proposal – the outline of the chapters you will write.

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Draft chapters and contents • •

•

Include a draft contents page, outlining the chapters. Provide information on chapter topics and arguments, including the argument and focus of each chapter, and some of the key work they will refer to. Consider including a draft chapter. This can be the introduction, but is more usually a later chapter.

Timing and length Give a realistic date for its completion and a realistic length (one year from contract; 80,000 words, for example). An example – this book I won’t produce the entire proposal, but will give you an idea of Palgrave’s expectations for the shape at the time I proposed it and some of the content of a proposal. It has changed since the proposal and even the title has changed – so this is a working document. Note the language used is theorised, descriptive and the language of marketing. Producing this proposal helped me to clarify what I intended to do. It is also true that the proposal was a first step in a plan and a contract. Once it had been sent it was discussed and changed, and it also changed during the writing process. The emphases have changed and some of the focus of the chapters has changed because, of course, I did not know as much as I do now about the topics or their current originality and interest when I wrote the proposal. A book must change as it is being written. If there are major changes I would like to suggest, such as a shift in focus, or two new chapters, or dropping an entire section, I would discuss these with the editor, as I don’t want to produce a book the publisher won’t accept. If they see work in progress they might also want changes, so I am prepared to re-write and rethink. When the whole manuscript is handed in they might well ask for changes of tone, voice, emphasis, additions and cutting back or out completely. It all depends on how faithfully I adhered to what we agreed in the actual proposal as I wrote the book, and also how it actually turned out – whether what has been written is acceptable. This is only a proposal – it really helps the focus and structure to produce one, but the real writing happens next. This is just an example. If you know other people who have published books, ask if they will share their original proposal with you so you can see how each differs, and in particular how proposals are constructed for your discipline, your part of the discipline, and for the publisher with whom you are likely to seek publication. Not everyone wants to share, so you will need to approach tentatively, and some flattery about his/her published book often

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FIGURE 4.1 SHORTENED

FORM OF THE PROPOSAL FOR THIS BOOK USING THE

MACMILLAN

PALGRAVE

FORMAT

PUBLISHING PROPOSALS: GUIDELINES FOR AUTHORS

NAME: Gina Wisker AFFILIATION: University of Brighton This form is intended to give us a clear idea of your project in a succinct manner. Please complete it as fully as possible, or feel free to use it to structure your own proposal. On submission, your proposal will be read by the appropriate commissioning editor at Palgrave who will if necessary discuss it with colleagues and/or send it for review by one or more external advisers chosen by us for their specialist and/or market expertise. We are committed to making publishing decisions as swiftly and efficiently as possible. However, obtaining reviews does take time and if there are any circumstances we should bear in mind from the point of view of timing (if, for instance, the proposal is under consideration by another publisher), please do let us know.

THE PROJECT 1 Proposed title and subtitle 'Get Published: Academic Publishing Success' 2 Brief description of project's scope and content Include here a description of what makes your project distinctive. What are the particular benefits offered by its content, scope, organisation and/or educational features? What needs does it aim to satisfy? Introduction, rationale and market This book is for postgraduates, academics, researchers, professionals and anyone who would like to write effectively and share their work with others through academic publication. It is written from the context of increasing demands on and expectations of researchers, academics, doctoral students and professionals, and, more specifically, the demand that scholarship, academic processes, research and professional work should be articulated in and communicated through various forms of writing for publication. This book will help you to decide why you want to or must write…. 'Get Published: Academic Publishing Success' builds on the insider experience and variety of successful writing practices and techniques from my own years of working as an academic author, observing and discussing writing aims and techniques with others, and as an editor…. The book will actively enthuse and support you in your writing through to publication and a successful academic writing career. It considers: continued

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Writing your research and experience for: • Doctorates and masters • Journals • Books • Online and other forms and outlets • Practical writing habits - engages you in developing sound writing habits The author and this book I have always been interested in writing and 'managing the writing energy'. This book is based on many years of my own learning from, struggles with and enjoyment of writing for publication. Latterly, it also benefits from engagement with research-informed experience…. This book takes as its starting point the belief that we can all improve our academic writing, gain confidence, be effective in writing, publish effectively and enjoy it more. 3 Proposed content Please attach a chapter by chapter synopsis of the project's planned content and main argument(s). We appreciate that this is bound to be provisional in some respects but in order to make a fair assessment of the project's potential, your initial presentation needs to be as detailed as possible (we would therefore suggest at least half a page per chapter). If you have some sample material available, we would be pleased to consider this as well. The book is in four parts Part One: Why write? Forms of academic writing and how to go about writing them Introduces reasons for writing and processes of writing, writing outlets and the writing journey. Considers writing for publication in theses, journal articles and books - in an introductory fashion. Part Two: A closer look at the process Looks step by step at the writing of research and professional practice for academic publication, with examples and practice. Part Three: The writing process and you Looks at identity, writing energies, supportive groups, the practical steps for planning writing and the writing outlets, managing the writing, saving it, editing, rewriting and finishing writing tasks. Part Four: Learning from feedback, impact and playing a full part in the world of writing Looks at playing a full part in the writing, editing, reviewing and publishing processes. Part One: Why write? Forms of academic writing and how to go about writing them Chapter 1: Introduction Introductory discussion about reasons for becoming involved with academic writing, why you should and can be involved, and an introduction to the forms and formats of writing, reasons for them and ways of going about them. Explores themes and processes dealt with in the book. List of proposed chapters A brief description of the chapter aim and content. [NB: Sometimes you are asked to produce a line, or a paragraph and you might be asked to produce a draft chapter.] continued

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Conclusion Bibliography Index 4 Market and competition 4.1 Please indicate the primary market for your project - i.e. where it is going to sell in greatest numbers - and your best estimate of its size. If it is a textbook for students, what specific courses is it written for and at what level (1st/2nd/3rd year undergraduate, MA/MSc)? Are such courses normally compulsory or optional? What are typical student numbers? Would your project be suitable for the whole or just part of the course? The book will be bought and used by…. 4.2 Please list any secondary markets that may exist for the project. For example: library market, academic associations (please specify which), general sale, etc. 4.3 Please list (including author, title and publisher) those publications that your project will be competing with for the end purchaser's attention and money. These might not be direct competitors, but simply what your primary readership is buying/using at the moment. What are the key benefits of your project over and above these other publications that would persuade potential customers to buy it? Competition [NB: This section looks at about 12 books, UK and international.] A list of books, a short indication of what they focus on, and how they differ from your book, and how your book stands out, is what is wanted here. There is no point in only flattering the other books, and no point in saying that they are rubbish either - the publisher will know some of the other books, but they will trust you to indicate that you are aware of them as competition, and can show exactly how your own work builds on them and differs from them, and what your unique selling point is, your contribution to a gap in the market. Be realistic and clear. 5 Additional information 5.1 How long do you expect the project to be overall (in thousands of words and/or printed pages)? [NB: 80,000 words or less would be appropriate for many monographs - but ask about edited books and whether this book will fit into a series where the average word length is shorter or longer.] One year from contract. 5.2 Does the project require any illustration? Please indicate if you envisage including any of the following and, if so, approximately how many. Tables

2

Graphs/charts

2

Line diagrams

3

Photographs Plate section Other

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helps. Under each chapter heading I have expanded the contents in a short paragraph, as indicated in the examples included. I have also included a long list of books explored and evaluated in order to situate my own work. I establish my context and that of the proposed book, and market both myself and my work. I maintain both a marketing tone and one of descriptive, realistic detail. Hints and tips about the journey through proposal and review onwards, summed up These relate to publishing books but might also be useful for journal articles. Decide to write about something that interests you, in which you already have some recognition (preferably topical), which has some currency in the world of publications, and that you can write in the time available. Find at least one suitable outlet for your book. Produce a viable proposal as best you can in relation to any guidelines for proposals they have sent you. Don’t try to change the proposal format, and if there are strict guidelines relating to a series, write exactly to these. Don’t make it up – the editors won’t recognise it, it will just be more work for you, and they’ll probably reject it; they have a format. In the future you will be able to devise your own format – but not just now. Responses to proposals you submit You hope that the publisher will love your proposal, send you a contract and you can get going with the book. However, if it all comes back months later, turned down flat, with a shallow excuse, then contact the editor, thank them and ask for advice on ways in which it might be better directed at their market. Then re-do it. Or dump it. Or find another outlet and reorganise. You can learn from anything and everything. Spot where your submission went wrong. It could be that actually they can’t cope with your version of this issue or your take on the discipline and have their own ideas. I once wrote a full outline on contemporary women’s writing, and the guest editor made me re-write it twice. We could not agree and it never went any further. I investigated – she was a medievalist. I wondered if it really was her area. I wondered if I did really know more than her or didn’t understand what she wanted – who knows? If the publisher likes it and wants you to write more about it so they can judge it better, weigh it up and carry out the writing unless you don’t want to go any further. Sometimes this is just a way of indicating to you that they don’t really know if you can do it. Maybe you were too naïve and did not have the track record the company wanted. I once dropped a book at this stage. I showed them I was able write a book, however. ‘Let’s have a rolling contract,’ they said. I thought about it and my gut reaction was – I’d do the work and nothing would happen – I don’t know why. Perhaps I was unconvincing. Intuition and long conversations help here, so I rang a few friends. Send the next version with a letter detailing developments. Wait. Follow up with a call or an email asking about developments. Follow up again.

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If it is accepted At this point you are very happy! And it is important now to find out the terms on which your work is being accepted and published. These range from offering you an advance to write the book, to offering you a small percentage of sales. Unless you have really stumbled on something unique and have an amazing marketing connection here, you will not be making any money out of your writing at this stage. You have to stifle your thoughts about the 0.000001p you will make per hour in the writing and get on with it. The rewards are – recognition, exercising your intelligence on a project, and perhaps building an identity through this work that might eventually produce more recognition and sometimes more money. But money isn’t why we publish. Intrinsic gratification is the safest – and most reliable reason – in my view. Extrinsic reward is also very nice, of course. This too differs with the discipline since scientists are less likely to write for the fun and self-development of it than poets, perhaps. Ask about the terms and conditions of any contract. Particular issues include who owns the copyright (in case you might like to re-publish in the future), and whether there will be any advance (and if that is then taken off sales royalties). You will also need to know how you will receive royalties. Humiliating though it sounds, do find out if you have to pay back any advance if the book is pulped, which could be because the publisher did not manage to market it properly or left it in a warehouse with hundreds of others, or because actually, it was not such a good investment as a book after all. In this case both you and the publisher lose out. Grandiose though the idea might be at this stage, you could have a winner here, so you need to know if there are likely to be overseas rights. And whether your hardback (marketed at £99.00 and sold to only half a dozen libraries) will be available at the same time at £19.99 in paperback? What are the plans for an e-book, so that potential readers on the other side of the world can download and use it? It is really important to ask questions about publicity, marketing and distribution, since strangely, if publishers leave the book unmarketed and undistributed, it won’t sell, and no one except your mother and your best friend will know it existed, and since it cost you thousands of hours of strenuous thinking and writing this is a real waste. So ask these questions. Nowadays, good publishers are really in touch with ways to market your book – online, through flyers at trade conventions and conferences and so on, and they will push it. This is wonderful. When they really push it, they may also undercut its selling price, though, so you might earn less than that 0.000001p but at least people are finding it useful and buying it. Whether you have an advance or not, you should get some free copies. You will need to know how many you will receive – six is a common number. You can give these to important others and to your mother and your boss and you can also sell them if you wish.

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One important document at this stage is the author’s form, because it enables you to indicate all those people to whom you feel they should market the book, even give a copy of the book, and what bookshops and conferences it could go to. You are the best judge of this. Do not expect the publishers to know the very specialised areas in which your work would easily be sold. You know them. These people are your friends and colleagues. Tell the publishers. Make sure that when you go to the conferences where you will speak you also take flyers, copies of the book, and are willing to talk about your book. Don’t be shy – you are the best person to market it apart from the online market on Amazon and the publisher’s website. Is there advance publicity and, if so, can you take advantage of it? Because if there is, you can send it, using a humble and surprised tone, to all your contacts, who might be interested in buying your book and reading it.

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Planning and time management: actually writing the book

You will have a lot of interesting things to write about, the publisher has said yes, and you have a year to do the work. You might well now feel suddenly paralysed: it is too big a job, and there is no time. There is never enough time, but actually it is not true to say there is no time. You will need to manage the time. Some other activities will have to take a back seat, you will need to prioritise the writing as far as you can when you can, and you will need to let others know you are doing that. Managing it is the only way forward. Remember you have an outline already in the book proposal, so some of your introductory chapter is already written. The thinking behind the other chapters has also been started through the proposal. You probably have 3,000 words already on your journey to the 80,000 – good. Writing a book is like writing an article, only a much, much longer enterprise. Refer to Chapter 3 for the general schedule of work to fit the time planning of the book, recognising that the planning and writing take longer than an article but have similar stages of data gathering, drafting, testing out with friends and students, and finessing. Write the draft chapters, revisiting, re-writing, neatening and finessing. Draft and re-draft.

First stage At an early point I draw up a grid of all the chapters to be written and start to indicate what I already have, such as data, an essay, a conference presentation, into each slot for each chapter. I also write myself notes which tell me what I need to do in that chapter. If this is all too big, I can’t get on. I make it brief. I copy this grid off but I also update it as I progress through the book, so I can see progress.

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Second stage This stage is really a mad dash at writing out ideas just as they come, moving round the script, putting more in, changing the order of ideas, and leaving references unfilled. It is a mixture of conceptualising, theorising, ideas generation and first expression.

Third stage I note what I have already done, and I then re-write it and add more theory and literature (which means I have to do a lot of reading) to enable/back up/contradict my writing. I return to the second go at it and see what does and doesn’t make sense. As I write it through again, I clarify, cut, rephrase, turn my sentences round the right way and ensure it is theory-informed, and that there is evidence from the data. This is the slow part, while the first dash at the chapters is a mixture of that feeling of paralysis at the big gaping hole of an empty chapter, and a rush to get ideas and words out and on to the page. I enjoy the sense of development. I know about the messy expression, I have written a lot of words, they won’t all be the right ones, but I do know that once I get into the major stage of theorising, adding more literature beyond that article by XXX, that book by YYY, and my hints at referencing, that I will be making this more conceptually robust and a better argument. The third time I write it I am also working very hard on expression, ensuring it has activities and questions that I layer in, ensuring that the very new research in the field is not just mentioned but dealt with in the dialogue with my own work, and adding that really new, more specialised, edgy work in there, which will provoke new thoughts. Now I am adding the edge, the newness, the criticality. Test a draft you are happy with – perhaps a draft of a few chapters – on a critical friend/colleague for sense and interest, and test early drafts of bits of it against your market, colleagues and students, for accessibility and interest. Make changes from this testing of drafts so that it is likely to be more coherent and to suit your intended readership. Then, as with an article but on a grander scale, ensure the references are all in the same format, and layout is identical. Edit, edit and edit, and ensure it is well presented. Send a copy of the manuscript, usually in electronic form, to the editor and keep one for yourself. But check whether you need to send a hard copy too. Will they accept your whole book in an email file? Often they want both a continuous file and one that separates out chapters. Beware of unrealistic time planning, procrastination, despair, repetition, lost manuscripts (both electronic and hard copy), broken computers, lost text, wires pulled out, text not saved and so on. It is also possible that someone else gets similar work to yours published first (unlikely, though, since this is not a mechanical process), there are too many deadlines coming up at the same time for you to meet the target for completion, or life disasters intrude.

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Once you have sent the book to the publishers, their comments might be so destructive that it makes you want to leave academic writing for ever. (Don’t!) Round about now, I send the whole book or parts of it to a very helpful friend who will ensure that my rough stab at getting it into the format this publisher wants – for example, Harvard style referencing, 12 pt Times Roman, indents and so on, or whatever the format is, is about right. I also send it to another trusted topic expert friend to read it. Once I have responded to their insights by finessing the book further, the fourth time I write it, I send it to the publishers to see what they think. This is a long stage because, nowadays, they send it out to at least two reviewers, and up to four. Each of these spends a good deal of time commenting in depth on each chapter, indicating what is missing or not well expressed, needs fleshing out or cutting back. If you are used to peer review from journal articles, this is similar, but it still always feels a mixture of annoyingly harsh (I thought I had done this! Please, not one more time!) and helpful (now it will really help me to improve because they know what they are talking about and I can fix these problems). I move from the first response to the second, usually through walking about and remembering what I thought last time. Then I get on with the changes. Some might be unreasonable, but working out what is unreasonable about them also enables me to regain control and rewrite somewhat. It is also critically helpful. For others I develop a chart in response to their comments, as I do for journal article reviews. I carry out the changes, some of which might involve substantial re-writing, re-reading and reading to inform what I am doing, and then thank them for their suggestions. The final piece is rather like a response to a feedback sandwich, or to a PhD examiner report, when you make the changes. You had hoped it would be all good, now you have work to do, but you know on the whole it will be a better piece because of it and you also know they have spent a long time peer reviewing your work – they have a hand in it now. Thank them, work with it, make the changes explicit, get on with it and move on. All of this has to be timed in. Books produced too quickly probably lack the peer reviewing process. Even in the self-publishing poetry magazines with which I am involved, two of us peer review and accept, ask for changes or reject. When everything is accepted without a critical response, the piece of work probably isn’t as good as it could be.

Conclusions We have looked at developing your book from first ideas, identifying the market and publisher, writing the proposal, sorting out a timeline, and the writing process through to correcting and editing your own work, and getting it published. What you decide to write about and who you decide to publish with

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are important issues in book publishing. Making it manageable, and planning and managing the time and the structure are essential skills to develop. Developing your voice, maintaining momentum through to the end and meticulously completing the whole book are also essential, as is relying on support, on groups of professional friends who will read it and support some of its construction. I hope I have defused some of the mystery. It’s definitely doable.

Activity Consider the following questions: • • •

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Why do you want to write a book? What topics are you working on that would make a good book? Which publishers would suit your work?

Further reading

Rocco, T. S. and Hatcher, T. (eds) (2011) The Handbook of Scholarly Writing and Publishing (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass).

5 Writing for academic publication when English is not your first language

In this chapter we consider: • Getting published when your mother tongue is a language other than English • Academic English – writing for academic publication • Avoiding plagiarism • Critical thinking – and writing • Confidence • Some rules about avoiding plagiarism specifically when writing in journal articles and scholarly documents • Mimicry • Support for academic writing • Conclusion

It is difficult to write in another language – perhaps your second, third, fourth or fifth language – and to develop both a sense of your own voice and a sense of confidence and articulacy. Yet many journal articles are published only in English and authors have to learn not only fluency in English to read and discuss these with others, but also the high level of fluency needed to write a journal article in order to get their work published, to be read, so that they and their work can be part of the ongoing dialogue on the subject.

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Getting published when your mother tongue is a language other than English

Everything we discuss in this book is useful for anyone writing in English, whether it is or is not their mother tongue, since everything here concerns writing and getting your ideas, experiences and research into written form for publication. Also, though this chapter focuses specifically on some of the issues 75

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experienced by those for whom English is not their first language, most of what we discuss will be useful for anyone writing for publication, since it looks at issues concerning expression, authorship and getting published. However, I am going to focus rather more in this chapter on some of the issues that EFL (English as a Foreign Language) and ESL (English as a Second Language) speakers and writers meet more often perhaps than those who have English as their mother tongue. Working in Hong Kong, Ken Hyland (2012, p. 60) addresses the issue of access and circulation, commenting that ‘International publishing means publishing in English. Research shows that academics all over the world are increasingly less likely to publish in their own languages and to find their English language publications cited more often.’ There is international peer pressure to write in English because articles and books written in English will be more accessible, more circulated and cited more regularly. This is potentially frustrating unless you are very comfortable writing in English. However, Hyland points out that academic English is a specific and learned form, and as we see throughout this book, it both varies with the discipline to some extent, and with the publication context and the readership. There are also arguments about trying to make all kinds of academic English more accessible by using a more conversational tone, more first-person usage (see Sword, 2012; Murray, 2009). None the less, English, as any other language, has a certain kind of formal register to convey academic ideas. The word ‘convey’ is not one I use in everyday speech, but it feels right in an academic publication. A little more formal, not too specialised, it suggests that I am saying serious things to serious people, in short (another expression I never use in speech), it conveys the academic tone, it is the register for discussing research and professional practice. Both ‘convey’ and ‘in short’, along with ‘in that respect’, for example, are expressions, constructions used in argument that provide a more formal yet still accessible register for the academic writing for publication we seek. Hyland notes that academic English is something we all have to get used to in order to publish, since (referring to the work of Casanave and Vandrick, 2003), ‘while most research attention has focused on the obstacles faced by Non-Native English speaking researchers in getting into print, academic English is not anyone’s native language. Native English speakers (NES) also struggle to produce polished texts’ (Hyland, 2012, p. 60). Editors frequently point out that writing tone and register difficulties are experienced across the board. Gosden (1992) and Swales (2004, p. 56) argue that the most important distinction in publishing is not between native and non-native English speakers but ‘between experienced or “senior” researcher/scholars and less experienced or “junior” ones – between those who know the academic ropes in their chosen specialisms and those who are learning them’ (Swales, 2004, pp. 58, 59). This argument seems to focus mainly on the comfortable and appropriate use of discipline language in journals and

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books, rather than seeing as most important those issues of writing in a language other than the author’s mother tongue. I do not intend to underestimate the difficulties of becoming articulate in both the disciplinary language and in the one which is not your first language in which you comfortably think and write, but some of the issues are about conventions, which we all have in common, while others could come from the variety of our learning backgrounds and the particular approaches to what and how we write, which I shall deal with next. The third issue is one of actually having to spend a long time on writing fluently in another language, usually English, and this can be seen as a personal, cultural ability as well as a political challenge. In terms of the cultural and political challenge, there is a choice to publish only in your own language, a choice made, for example, by the internationally renowned author Ngu˜gi wa Thiong’o, who now only publishes his novels in Gikuyu because he wants to identify his heritage, acknowledge and use his language in this context and also, I would imagine, to stop the idea that the only good writing is writing that is in English (therefore, by elision, that the only good thinking and research is by people who have English as their mother tongue, with which I certainly do not agree). Much good writing is produced by those whose languages are not English, but who have recognised that to be read worldwide they have to write competently enough in English, which is not the same as suggesting that the English-speaking part of the world has all the good ideas. It is your (politically and culturally inflected) choice. Publishing in a more local or specialised field might well mean it is appropriate to publish in your own language, or to do so first and later seek translation, since English is the major international language of the moment for publishing, and you might also want an international audience. A different major international language – Spanish or Mandarin Chinese, for example might well take over in time, in which case we shall all be learning how to feel comfortable and articulate in that language. The choice is yours, and so is the hard work.

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Academic English – writing for academic publication

Many writers feel overwhelmed by trying to write fluently about research about professional experience, as well as by having to write this in a language other than their own. Research conducted with postgraduates, including international postgraduates (Morris and Wisker, 2010) revealed anxieties at the writing process, fluency with language, and the kinds of freedom that supervisors can clarify for research writers struggling with levels of expression, discipline and culturally inflected language. One of our participants commented that she felt hamstrung by the need to conform to certain forms of disciplinary-based writing that prevented her using her own voice, but the supervisor suggested

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that she gave herself more freedom in this writing, which enabled her to display her own voice, showing that this was her own engagement: Some English teachers told you that no you have to … avoid writing in personal, like say I, or me and you have to avoid this and my supervisor said the opposite. He said, no, you have to put your voice in the study, yeah, because if you don’t it will be a very impersonal thing, so he said, okay you have to, you need to learn, but you can write with freedom. (Participant B, 2010) She is learning a variety of rules of expression here and if she realises that there is freedom in one area, in other words that it is acceptable in this discipline to indicate that she has conducted the work, she has the views, and she can use ‘I’ to do so, she might be more able to express her views and discoveries in the discipline language, and in print, when she writes about her research. The issue of whether to use ‘I’ or not is inflected by culture, discipline, context, and personal choice. Idiomatic and personalised, culturally inflected expression is another issue. When comfortable with your use of academic English for publication, and as your work becomes more recognised you should have more freedom to use constructions, and turns of phrase as well as expressions which indicate worldviews which differ from some of the rigidities and constraints of expression found in the discipline journals. Good control of language and expression, argument, engagement in the dialogue in the field within the academic disciplinary conventions in English is essential for anyone seeking publication. It does not, however, mean that we all have to sound exactly the same, nor that our culturally and personally inflected versions of English have to be erased. Good communication is the aim. We shall now tackle another major issue.

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Avoiding plagiarism

One of the issues we all feel most uncomfortable with regarding writing is plagiarism. Baldly speaking, this means passing off someone else’s ideas and words as if they were your own. Jude Carroll comments about plagiarism: Plagiarism is about when you submit someone else’s work as your own. So the question is about how does work become your own? What happens to work to turn it from somebody else’s work into your work? And the answer is you must change it. You must change it to show that you understood it. In the way that we play the academic game in the UK, the way you show your knowledge is by showing your understanding. And the way you show you understand is because you’ve changed it. If you don’t change it, how do I know you know it? (Carroll and Dhugga, 2008)

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Plagiarism is often poor study behaviour, hiding behind repeating the words of others instead of working to show that someone understands what they are writing about. I believe most instances of plagiarism are related to poor academic skills rather than to criminal intent, but as a form of theft (of other people’s words and ideas, without crediting them) plagiarism is treated as a very serious issue in universities and in publications. It is not only the crime or accidental slip of the novice writer and researcher, however. World famous professors have been found to have plagiarised their PhD students’ and research project workers’ efforts, and some have also self-plagiarised, which means taking and repeating parts of their own work, as if it were completely new, for this new publication. Plagiarism is the use of the work of (usually) other people without crediting it appropriately through citing identified, selected parts of it, showing you understand and can engage with it, and then referencing the authors. I ask students to ‘say where you got those words from’ as good academic practice. This is the main visible problem – that people pass off someone else’s actual work and the thinking behind it as their own, without crediting the original author. But is it not just a matter of good academic practice, it also fundamentally relates to understanding and developing a confidence in writing about what you understand, and to some extent it is culturally influenced. In some cultures, particularly those with a Confucian heritage (China, Taiwan and countries using Confucian heritage teaching and learning practices) and much of the Arab-speaking world, the established practice of deference to authorities means that it is perfectly acceptable to repeat the exact words of the authority, who surely knows more than you do, says it better and, more importantly, should be quoted word for word as respect for that knowledge. However, this deference to authorities by repetition does not enable you to show that you can process the knowledge, thinking, arguments and contextualise them, contest them, agree with them, engage them with your own work, which is what is expected in academic writing. Carroll and Appleton suggest that ‘Although all students find defining plagiarism and collusion difficult, International Students (IS) often need particular help. It will not be enough just to define plagiarism or tell them not to do it’ (Carroll and Appleton, p. 14). Instead, it is helpful to recognise that they have different skills as well as different approaches, and explain and model the acceptable approaches for, in this case academic English in terms of study and writing. While Carroll and Appleton are largely considering undergraduates and postgraduates, and so writing for assessment, the issues are much the same for learning to write for publication in a differently culturally inflected academic context with its own set of rules. Though many academics see international students as lacking in skills, in fact they bring skills such as citing appropriate proverbs to illustrate ideas or describing the context and background to ideas in great detail. For some (and, of course, for many stay-at-home students), reproducing large chunks of

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others’ texts is a way of signalling they know of the existence of this information (Ryan, 2000). Carroll and Appleton argue that successful use of these strategies account in part for ISs’ past achievements as signalled by their entry into UK higher education. Once admitted, many need help to add new skills and to set aside others in order to succeed in their new environment. Remaining with the issues faced by students grappling with academic writing in English in an English speaking and study context, how a writer identifies ideas and arguments in the work of another, in the practice of ‘mining’ texts, to gather ideas and quotes to be used in the new writing for example, is affected by cultural and disciplinary habits and rules. This identifying, selecting and using of quotations (duly referenced) as a part of establishing the place for and building your own argument is valued in broadly defined Western and European originated knowledge and writing practices ‘but some ‘ISs’ find it both strange and disrespectful’ (Carroll and Appleton, 2001, p. 14). If you begin with a cultural view of deference to authorities, it takes some time, some careful discussion with others and examples of how to deal with the words of authoritative people other than repeating them verbatim, before the academic writer, student or writer seeking publication, is comfortable with writing in a different manner. I have a great deal of sympathy for this as an issue, not least because, when I was studying history years ago, I also felt that what I was dealing with was undisputed fact, expressed well, and so what else would I do but repeat it since I had no foundation to question its truth, or a way of doing much more than paraphrasing it at best. In that disciplinary context I had to learn to recognise what seemed fact, as interpretation, and identify arguments and their sources, setting contested views against each other and referencing the arguments of historians, in order to situate my own interpretation, and back that up with evidence and argument, selecting from the experts to help the argument (again, referenced, part of the argument and interpretation).

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Critical thinking – and writing

This is where we move away from cultural conditioning to the issue of critical thinking. Critical thinking lies at the heart of the main problem with plagiarism. Let us return to my own experience with history again, here. When I began to read beyond GCSE History, at A level (for matriculation), I discovered that there were actually many different versions of what happened in time and place, and that some of the interpretations of events were deeply contested. I was studying commonwealth history when I discovered this and did so because I had been living in a commonwealth country, or rather three, over the previous three years. I had some personal insights regarding issues, problems and points of view, and I then started to study and read a number of books. I found contradictory information not of dates, places, laws and so on, which can be traced as

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facts, but different selections of facts. For example, women did not seem to be present or play any major roles in History, and the indigenous peoples were sometimes not even mentioned, their history erased, ignored. I also found contradictory interpretations of the intent and achievement of people, events and the various readings of intent, value and results of actions. In terms of the UK’s historical relationship with commonwealth countries, the focus of my work at that time, I had found utterly different interpretations ranging from benevolence (the British go over there, enlighten people and bring education) to malevolence (the British imprison their leaders and steal their assets, such as gold and rubber). This might seem simplistic, but for me it was the revelation of contestation, of interpretation of facts and of the questioning and perspectives that underlie the questioning and then the interpretation. This revelation was troublesome to begin with (realising history is not just facts but constructed knowledge, interpretations of ‘facts’), but it enabled me to do more than merely reproduce, and instead to question the feeling that I had no right, no information and no voice to query given versions or present a debate, since prior to that I was unaware that there was a debate. Critical thinking is the death of plagiarism. It is founded on the realisation that there are many interpretations, different contexts, values, cultures, approaches, perspectives and so on, and that nothing is completely fixed, certainly neither ‘facts’ nor even scientific results, which come from contexts, funding, one experiment chosen over another, and rely on foregrounding some results more than others. We all have a right to a voice, and making that a reality depends on our working through these problematic and contested versions of events, values, discoveries and so on. In doing so, it moves us on from regurgitation and repetition. We have to present the contested issues, so we reference them, and we have to use at least some of our own thinking and our own words to do so. I am against plagiarism because it is theft, and it is also often a product of laziness, a lack of hard work on the part of someone who has not made the time to read enough, to think about the question, to move beyond feeling confused, to search for even partial answers and an argument and issues for which to stand up. It is lazy thinking, but it probably often shows insecurity and lack of confidence in thinking and arguing, in articulating issues and points of view. Plagiarism is an example of poorly developed learning skills. As such, critical thinking needs to be developed, and so does the language to develop an argument based on engaging with the work of others in both a critical and a generous, respectful manner. Academic writing is about engagement, discussion, entering the dialogue with others, developing your own argument and using evidence to back it up. Establish the issue, question given arguments and points of view, use others’ work in short, specific, and appropriately referenced quotations, then explain what it means, what it means to you, and how it is being used in your

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argument. Make your own ideas and the ideas of others part of a respectful but challenging discussion. We have now moved from crime to culture, to critical thinking, to learning and writing skills. Academic writing enables you to vehicle your learning, show you have learned and constructed knowledge, and can articulate and communicate that to others. Publication of this is one of the highest forms of engaging in a public discussion in which the ideas and words of others are properly represented, understood and engaged with, challenged, developed and properly referenced so that their ideas and words in debate can be seen to lie behind and feed into your new contribution. This appears most obviously in academic writing in the literature review (see Chapter 7).

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Confidence

Confidence in another language comes gradually, as does the sense that you have the right to enter a discussion and bring to bear in that discussion both what you have read and found, and what you think about it. You will be able to express how you appreciate the arguments and different perspectives and can yourself feel comfortable with presenting and negotiating them, so you can make your own case. That is academic writing that shows critical thinking, and is exactly what is expected of everyone, including second or foreign language speakers and writers of English. Early stages in the development of confidence in writing for academic publication when English is not your first language will resemble those experiences I went through with my history studies; that is, discovering there are arguments, there is critical thinking and interpretation, even of what are considered to be ‘facts’. The art of what you do when writing is to engage in this argument – where the word ‘argument’ really means discussion – putting forward a point of view based on reading, interpretation and a coherent line of thought, not an aggressive argument insisting that you are right! It is important to find models of academic writing that engage with facts, with points of view and arguments in the language of the discipline, and can deal with contested views – differing arguments about an issue, interpretations of a problem or finding, or an event. There are many activities in this book that ask you to look at effective articles in your own discipline and to ‘process’ them – to see how they are constructed and make their case. Chapter 11 offers examples of this. The next activity specifically asks you to consider the same issues and practices but from articles by authors for whom English is not their first language, as far as we can tell. You will need to seek out the journal articles for a study on forms of effective writing for this activity. The idea is to see how well and in what ways these articles can convey critique, engagement with the literature, construction of knowledge, and their arguments based on evidence and claims

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as they appear as a thread running through the piece. You can read to see whether there are moments of awkward expression in the text and how the author might have got over those. For all of us writing for academic publication there are some standard connecting phrases which take us from statement to argument, which enable contested views to be seen in a debate, and which help us establish the point we are making ourselves based on our critical assimilation of and engagement with this other work and emphasises our contribution. Some of the standard connection phrases could be less familiar to a writer for whom English is not their first language but they are necessary to get the argument going, show your ownership of your contribution to knowledge. There are many different phrases which help the argument along such as ‘in this respect’, ‘however’, or ’it can be argued that’, ’While the work of x and x suggests that…, it is important to note that y and y dispute their findings and instead indicate that…’ ‘building on the work of zz we can see that…’. Look for these connectors in the work of English speaking authors and the authors for whom English is not their first language. The ways in which they negotiate a language that is not their first language to develop engagement with previous work, and establish and maintain their own contribution can then be used as models for yourself and your own practice. Learn from the ways they argue and connect ideas and evidence. Then use similar link words and phrases to help articulate your own quite different arguments and evidence. This is not plagiarism, it is learning to write using the language and structures of academic argument.

Activity Find a copy of a good journal in your own discipline, one you read regularly, and which has in it one or more articles that you think are by a writer who has English as a second or foreign language. Pick authors from international contexts where English is not the first language, and who have other than English names. You might not get this right of course, but it is a start. Analyse published pieces in your discipline from this journal; choose three pieces on a variety of issues. Consider: • • •

How are they establishing their argument? How are they using the work and the findings of others? How do they integrate quotations from others’ work, and references to the main findings of such work, into a discussion between the work of other’ and their own work? →

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•

•

• • •

How do they introduce their own views, their own findings and their own contributions into this discussion? How are they using the connecting phrases (above)? Can you see evidence of phrasing and word choice that you would think of as being culturally inflected? If so, do you find the piece fluent and easy enough to read, or does this language choice make it difficult to follow, in your view? Has the author acknowledged the use of an English-speaking editor, or is there perhaps a co-author who is English-speaking? What evidence is there of problematising and questioning given facts and interpretations? What kind of language or discourse do they use to do this?

Basically, (i) Consider the language of the discipline, the kinds of arguments and the informational words used when making a case in your own discipline about, for example, an engineering design, or a piece of literary criticism, or educational findings, each with its own separate subject-specific discipline discourse words. (ii) Then look carefully at the language of persuasion, claims and evidence, and argument backed up by evidence; for example, ‘and I should like to suggest that’, ‘this set of findings clearly indicates that’, and ‘while it could be argued that … the research data clearly shows the contrary and indicates that…’ (also see above). How effectively do you find that these authors convey their arguments, their evidence, their engagement with and contribution to the literature and the field? This should give you some phrases to use that will link together your own ideas and arguments. This use of phrasing is not plagiarism because you are not copying ideas, or the exact wording of their findings. Rather, you are learning to identify and develop fluency with the links, connections and developments that people make in writing more generally.

Let me offer you a parallel or similar experience – an analogy: it is like finding your way around a new city. You need maps, bus and train tickets, a sense of the culture and geography, the rules and the freedoms. You do not have to copy everyone else’s route through the city. After a while you make your own decisions, avoiding mistakes, avoiding copying, and you can defend the choices you have made, and will always learn new things. In this case, these are the rules of writing and the language that suits publishing in your discipline, and in English.

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Some rules about avoiding plagiarism specifically when writing in journal articles and scholarly documents

Any quotation beyond four or five lines will always be too long unless you are using it as a case study to take apart, or unless your work is in ethnography and you must repeat word for word what someone else has said in an ethnographic interview. For both of these uses you would need to contextualise and reference the material and then analyse and discuss it in relation to your argument. It is acceptable to identify small extracts from learned documents, critics and theorists, and to use them as examples of critical thought, evidence of work in the field, and conversations in that field in a discussion with your own work, contextualised, analysed and referenced. This shows your understanding of what they are saying and your dealing with it in relation to your own argument. These are examples of good ways of dealing with the work of others. This practice takes more time than cutting and pasting, of course it does, but it moves you on from an ability to photocopy and cut and paste into one of interpreting, arguing and adding, with appropriate reference to the work with which yours engages, and to do so with confidence, which is what academic writing is all about. As we collect information towards an article, we might well note down and copy over larger parts of others’ work than we will eventually either quote from and reference, or paraphrase, discuss and reference. This is no different from taking notes from books. This patching together of quotations, however, is called ‘patchwriting’ (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009) and is only one, very early stage of your dealing with these influential or exemplary texts and thoughts. The next move is using appropriate parts of this work, selected deliberately, understood and explained, in your own argument, and fully referencing them. You cannot just re-use these large patches, you have to respond to them, develop an argument around parts of them, integrate parts of them with your own arguments and those of others. Never just repeat them as if they were your own. If you are worried about the levels of reproduction of the work of others, you could put your writing through Turnitin, a commonly used piece of software universities use to identify plagiarism. Latterly, most e-submissions are put through Turnitin as a matter of course. This will show you how much needs to be rephrased, changed into your own words, discussed further, and how you are being seen to use the work of others. You might feel you are paraphrasing to engage in discussion, and your debate is not as elegant as the actual words used by the author you are referencing, but that paraphrase and engagement in debate with some of the words as a quotation shows your engagement and your understanding and argument. This engagement, showing understanding and moving forward rather than copying (which does

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not prove you understand), is what is wanted in an academic publication. This is further explained in the sections on the literature review in Chapter 7. You might well find this is a main issue for you, but think about the discussion on entering the dialogue and finding a voice (Chapter 11). Showing your understanding and your right to enter the debate with your own work is helped by that stepping back, understanding and not just repeating text. Jude Carroll’s book on plagiarism (Carroll, 2013) might help you to identify the rules, and also explains at length the continuum between poor habits of learning, critical thinking and argument and the crime of theft of others’ ideas and words without acknowledging them, passing them off as your own. We have explored these issues and practices, above. If in doubt, look also at the rules on plagiarism on your university’s learning skills and assessment websites, and any on the websites of the publishers for whom you are writing your academic publication.

Mimicry When considering entering into a dialogue in the field of writing for academic publication, one of the things that postgraduates and staff colleagues have found useful in writing courses is the stage of ‘mimicry’ (Bhaba, 1994; Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009). Mimicry is a stage in gaining access to and facility with complex discipline and research-discipline-oriented language. You are no longer a mimic when you use the words, know what you are talking about and can convey that clearly to others. The term comes from Homi Bhaba (1994), the postcolonial critic, and refers to performing, like copying, the acceptable behaviours and expressions of the dominant group, which took/take place in contexts of cultural difference, whether of different countries and ethnic cultures, or discipline cultures, or even the cultures that operate during different stages and contexts of learning. Mimicry is a natural stage in your learning to use the language of the discipline, and the language of academic argument. It is a stage where we carefully analyse academic articles for their language, the ways in which they establish argument, link the work of others in with their own; the way they move between theory and engagement with their own ideas, practices and findings, and bring this together into the language of argument, which involves evidence to back up claims. The different kinds of language, from descriptive to conceptual and theorised, are discussed in Chapter 6, on writing in the different sections. Mimicry involves initially learning the meaning and use of the words commonly used to make the argument and commonly used in academic papers in your discipline. It can be seen in both your use of specific technical terms and of linking phrases (such as those used above) to help drive your own arguments forward. I also discuss mimicry as a stage in developing your writing – see Chapter 12, on dealing with writing blocks and overcoming them.

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Initially, your use of these words and phrases might feel as if you are playing a part and not quite owning what you say – you might feel uncomfortable with it. Consider this paragraph – it is full of discipline-specific words: Learning leaps take place as the student moves through the liminal space of not understanding, to ‘conceptual threshold crossing’, after which moments of revelation and understanding they can then begin to express, articulate, build their own ideas and arguments and move on at a new critical, creative and conceptual level in their work. This is my writing (written as if a quotation), explaining moments when you understand something complicated and find the language to write or talk about it, in breakthrough moments or learning leaps in your learning. The unusual language: ‘liminal space’, ‘conceptual threshold crossing’, is probably new to you. If you were writing about development of learning (one of my areas of interest), you would need to find, understand and then use these words or words like them. At first they seem vague, alien, you have to look at them and understand the research that underpins them, so that you can own what they mean. If there are too many of them in one short sentence, this is a big complicated job, and the relations between each of them can make understanding even more complex. We discuss this when we talk about ‘fog’ in scientific writing in Chapter 11, where the linking of essential terms with multi-syllabic words that could be expressed more simply actually makes it harder to understand, complicates meaning and leaves the reader stumbling and confused. When you gain an understanding of research-based, theorised terms, you can use them in your own argument, usually explaining them and referencing them briefly for the reader’s benefit before you move on to talk about what they argue and show. At that point you have moved from a stage of mimicry – using them because you think they are right but you don’t fully understand them – through understanding them (reading about them and seeing what they mean in a few contexts, considering how they might be used for your own work, in your context), then using them yourself comfortably and with an eye to the reader who might not understand them and so needs them briefly explained (as you first did). When expressing an argument or exploring work by others to embed your own work, the link words, the connectors are also important (see above). They are used between elements of evidence and argument, others’ work and your discussion of this in relation to your own writing. Learning these link words, such as ‘in this respect’, ’however’, ‘it has been argued that…’, previous research suggests is not merely an issue for someone for whom English is not their mother tongue. We all have problems with such phrases initially. The form of mimicry that enables you to get from point one to point two – to engage an argument, to show two or three sides in an argument and get your own

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point across based on consideration of the points and the quotes from others, and the language of this engagement and argument – is both discipline-specific and research and academic-specific. Stylish academic writing (Sword, 2012) involves moving beyond a mastering of these links and expressions, using them where and when you need to, and developing a more creative flair with your own forms of expression. My advice is to learn to use them first, then start to deviate. That way you are already in the academic world and writing in a way other readers understand. Then you can add your particular use of culturally inflected imagery, of your own form of expression. For example, I can transfer limited numbers of expressions from my literary studies into my academic learning and teaching work. ‘Liminal spaces’ is one of those phrases. In Gothic literature studies, it refers to a place inbetween, on the way to another place, but it could be referring to a felt condition rather than a place, or the existence of a ghost or vampire, between the living and dead. This term, these figures of speech, are used not just to entertain, but also to suggest that we are doubtful, things are being questioned, there will be moments when understanding will be revealed, but we are in the space (or someone is in the space) just before that revelation (in ghost stories, of who killed whom, of family secrets and so on). In the learning and teaching in higher education context I also use this term, for moments of frustration, the time between not quite understanding and then fully understanding, when the meaning is becoming clearer … you are nearly there. Both uses suggest something troublesome, a moment, a situation, a condition that will lead to change. I cannot pick up large chunks of the language I use in English literature criticism and safely place it in writing about higher education, however, or vice versa, so I have had to learn then use the language of each discipline in order to develop an argument in each. This is normal; we have to learn it and we do so by processing good articles and good writing from our own discipline. In this case, if English is not your first language, look for the links between elements in the argument and how you can proceed from one stage to another, mimic these, and use them as if they are levers between stages, joints and mechanical connections that help you to move on. You will soon find that they come naturally – they are the tools of the trade of academic writing.

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Support for academic writing

There is often institutional support for academic writing which you can access. It is important to find the support at the right level, tertiary English, writing for academic contexts and publication, rather than undergraduate writing support, as your needs will differ from those of undergraduates when you are writing for academic publication. Writing centres at universities worldwide

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focus on helping students to write, in relation to the specific, different needs of individuals, and sometimes the needs of different disciplines. Many of those who visit and are supported by writing centres are mother-tongue English users and there are many who are international students. For international, non-English mother-tongue academics writing in English to gain publication there could also be writing courses as part of these centres or part of the work of the learning and teaching centre. There are also many books dealing with language support for students and authors whose first language is not English. Reporting on issues of publishing in English when it is not your first language, Curry and Lillis (2004) acknowledge that language is socially and culturally constructed and situated. And like my student (see below), it involves issues, so they argue that ‘writing is rooted in social cultural traditions and ways of constructing knowledge (Bazerman, 1998; Lea and Street, 1998; Prior, 1998)’ (Curry and Lillis, 2004, p. 663). They followed writers’ real world writing and publishing activities in a longitudinal study, which became several articles using notions of discourse community and community of practice as well as speech community. There is a controversy raging about support for English written work (see Matthews, 2013) as I write, so I shall outline some of the issues. To be published we all seek help from others in reading our work, peer reviewing it, and proofreading and editing it. Much of this is part of the formal peer review process the publisher undertakes to ensure the work is ready for publication. This is not quite the same as English language editing, though in many cases concerning journals that are published in English but not based in the UK, English language editing is recommended, sometimes offered at a fee, and indeed is essential to enable the piece to be published. This kind of support is matched in the many websites, courses and individuals that support authors in writing in a language that is not their first. But what is the extent to which this language can be supported? One colleague, Jennifer Krase from Aberdeen University Students’ Association, comments in David Matthews’ article (Matthews, 2013) on work she did supporting the writing of others while an MPhil student. She notes that in supporting others she spent some of the time writing, dealing with syntax and spelling, but actually also facing (though not necessarily dealing with) mish-mashes of downloaded material, Wikipedia entries, and text that was little more than notes. There is clearly a large gap between professional tidying and the turning of undigested material into academic work. This kind of careless and disorganised work can be produced by writers from any context. If English is not a writer’s first language there is the double problem of the agglomeration of half-formed text and a lack of control over the language in which it must finally be presented. Speaking constructively on this topic, Brumback notes:

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Before submitting the manuscript, it is imperative that the author carefully proofreads the text to confirm the proper use of English grammar. For non-native English speakers, it is important to enlist the assistance of a native English speaker in this proofreading process to verify proper English usage and syntax. (Brumback, 2009, p. 54) This might seem straightforward, but as Krase rightly notes (in Matthews 2013), universities need both to support students and monitor their activities more rigorously. I would argue that it is better to insist on the appropriate and advised levels of academic English at all stages of a student’s writing career. In this book, we consider those who are likely to publish – PhD students and academics. It is both cruel and a cause of stress to fail to provide appropriate, developmental language support so that all students and, again in this case, those students and academics intending to publish, can develop the writing skills in English they will need now and in the future. For anyone wishing to publish beyond a work produced for a qualification, finessing and finalising the text to make it read better in publishable English through the use of an English editor is acceptable, falsifying skills through using the services of those who will alter and improve the work is not acceptable, and employing academic others to write everything for you, turning data into lucid English prose from scratch is clearly unadvisable as well as unethical. It will, in the end, only lead to problems later when the new academic is expected to write and publish and finds yet again that they can do good work, but they are not capable of writing about it and getting it published without enormous amounts of clandestine and expensive help. Rewriting someone’s work for profit will only hand the problem on. It is in the end disempowering for the students who become academics if they are hiding this inability and problems of fluency, as if it were a disability. Support needs to be public and open, and English language editing advertised in journals if appropriate.

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The fluency needed to write for academic publication is something you will develop if you are entering and staying in the world of publishing. Years ago, one of my international PhD students came to me and said, sadly, that she was so fluent in her own language, that many others came to her to try and help them with their expression, but that in English she felt the quality of her thought was not properly presented, and that her expression was hampered. In the end she had a viva with two versions of her thesis, one in her own language and one in English – and opened them up simultaneously to answer questions. She overcame the lack of fluency but did not want to deny her achievement in her own language – she really did produce two theses! But what helped her was to write in her own language first, giving herself the

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quality of her thought, letting it be supported by her facility with her own language, then work on translating it herself so that it read fluently in English too, and finally seeking both translation support and later proofreading to pick up typos, spelling mistakes and so on, not for the construction of complex arguments. This is one way through this difficulty. Another is writing in English from the start. If the quality of your thought is harmed by translation, it might be better to write some of it in English immediately, work out the more complicated conceptual elements in your own language, then turn it into English, finally getting someone with English as their mother tongue to read it through to pick up the kinds of difficulties that might occur. At this stage they would not be taking your work over and writing it for you; instead they would be finessing its finer expression.

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Further reading

Brumback, R. A. (2009) ‘Success at Publishing in Biomedical Journals: Hints from a Journal Editor’, Journal of Child Neurology, 24(2), 4, 5, 54, 370. Available at: http://jcn.sagepub.com/content/24/3/370. Carroll, J. (2013) A Handbook for Deterring Plagiarism in Higher Education, 2nd edn (Oxford: Oxford Centre for Staff Learning and Development). Carroll, J. and Appleton, J. (2001) Plagiarism: A Good Practice Guide, Oxford Brookes, Joint Information Systems Committee (JISC), May, p. 14. Casanave, C. and Vandrick, S. (eds) (2003) Writing for Scholarly Publication (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates). Curry, M. J. and Lillis, T. (2004) ‘Multilingual Scholars and the Imperative to Publish in English: Negotiating Interests, Demands, and Rewards’, TESOL Quarterly, 38(4), 664. Gosden, H. (1992) ‘Research Writing and NNSs: From the Editors’, Journal of Second Language Writing, 1(2), 123–39. Hyland, K. (2012) ‘Welcome to the Machine: Thoughts on Writing for Scholarly Publication’, Journal of Second Language Teaching and Research, 1(1), 60. Lillis, T. and Curry, M. (2006) ‘Professional Academic Writing by Multilingual Scholars: Interactions with Literacy Brokers in the Production of EnglishMedium Texts, Written Communication, 23(1), 3–35. Morris, C. and Wisker, G. (2010) ‘ESCalate Final Report’, Higher Education Academy. Available at: www.brighton.ac.uk/clt/index.php/download_file/ view/86/158/. Wisker, G. and Savin-Baden, M. (2009) ‘Priceless Conceptual Thresholds: Beyond the “Stuck Place” in Writing’, London Review of Education, 7(3), 235–47.

Part 2 A Closer Look at the Process

6 Writing from research and practice – planning and writing different parts of the thesis or article

In this chapter we consider: • • • • •

Planning the plan: planning (and actioning) the writing project that accompanies the research process and/or practice Structure of a thesis or article Work with others Differences between journal articles, dissertations and theses Keeping track of different kinds of writing in the thesis or article

This chapter considers planning and writing your research and practice with a view to publication. It looks at the doctoral thesis, the masters dissertation, and research and academic publications unpacked. It does not focus on how to go about the planning and managing of research, nor does it offer ideas about appropriate methodology, methods or data analysis; instead it focuses on the kinds of writing you might be expected to produce given the different functions of parts of a thesis, dissertation or article. It offers a close look at the planning and structuring of your writing practices – planning the shape and format, the different steps of the writing and the sections of the work, through to completion. It considers structuring the work itself so that it is manageable to write, and can act as an appropriate shape, a good vehicle for your ideas, interpretations and arguments. It looks at the writing processes, structure, style, form, argument and expression in different sections of a dissertation, thesis and journal article. This chapter builds on Chapter 3, which explains the elements of an article. Dissertations and theses can be considered as being disseminated and shared when they are submitted and accepted, though you would need to 95

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shape and focus each of them for actual publication as you would an article or a book (see Chapter 10 on publishing from your PhD). Unlike theses, dissertations are rarely available for public access on library shelves, but are now often available online. I have written a book on developing postgraduate research and writing the masters dissertation and PhD thesis (see Wisker, 2001), so for detailed and extensive discussions and suggestions I refer you to that and the many other good books on producing the PhD thesis (for example, Eley and Jennings, 2005; Trafford and Leshem, 2008). Here we consider different intents and different kinds of writing expected in various parts of dissertations, theses and articles and the planning and structuring of the writing in those different sections. The remainder of this part (Part 2) of the book focuses on writing the abstract and conclusions; the literature review; methodology and methods and other key elements of a research- and practice-based piece of writing for publication. Earlier (Chapter 2) we focused on choosing what to write, where to send the finished piece of work, and on planning your time. This chapter, Chapter 6, looks at the planning and structuring, and introduces ways of identifying and tackling the various forms of writing required in the different parts of the piece. (There is more on structuring in Chapter 9.) Planning the plan: ‘one major difficulty students have is the absence of a plan for their presentation, whether it be a thesis, dissertation or an essay’ (Rudestam and Newton, 2001, p. 103). Planning is essential. It focuses us on what we are going to write, what is necessary to enable us to write, and when we can write. It makes us think about what is possible and how to both manage our time and to meet deadlines. In the end, while planning takes time, it also saves time, as less work is wasted and you will worry less about what you are doing, and doing next, especially when you are busy with activities other than writing. I would suggest that ensuring you have a plan is essential for every piece of writing, at whatever stage you are in your career, because without a plan you could get lost, see the whole piece as huge and unmanageable, and the steps to completing it obscure. With a plan, even though you might well change it, you can see both where you are going and where the writing about your work is going. You can also see which bits need to be expressed more coherently, need information added, seem a struggle to read, do not fully convey a coherent argument, need emphasis in a discussion, need more theorising or more evidence. You can audit your own work against your plan to identify how far you have got with it, what needs to be done next, what is still a bit ill-expressed and what is complete. As the work progresses, you can use your plan to identify achievements and see how far you have developed in your writing. You can map achievements against the plan, and see how the ideas and arguments of your work, asserted at the beginning of the piece, are carefully and coherently written in the various sections, through to its conclusions, which emphasise the importance of what

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has been found, what is argued and what the piece contributes. With a plan in hand, like a good map, you should be able to stand back from the whole and see the argument, story and coherence. A plan will also help you to manage your writing time and activities so that the journey through the research and writing do not seem overwhelming, and you can see when you have made progress and what to do next. A plan and a structure aid both your working practices and the overall coherence of the whole. They also enable you to plan and manage your writing energies – you can see where you are in each of the parts of the work and decide which part needs refining and moving on, what needs adding or subtracting, rephrasing and illuminating. You can plan your time realistically – being able to see progress, stuck points and periods when you can get back into the writing, and then write well so that it can be read, with argument, logic, explanation, theories and use of evidence to back up claims in a readable and linked, coherent fashion. Dunleavy tells us that planning the structure of a thesis requires ‘heroic optimism’ (Dunleavy, 2003, p. 43). This is a scaled-up experience depending on the length of the piece you are writing and how often you have published previously. For a relatively inexperienced writer, it feels like a challenging task to write a journal article or even a 1,500-word newsletter piece. However, there are some standard shapes, and identifying the key points you want to make and setting them out in advance as subheadings (which can change) can break the back of that immense (80,000 words or even just 5,000 or 1,500) endless empty landscape with which you are faced when the bright ideas and the emerging research information all lie before you.

Structure of a thesis or article First, let us look at the structure of the thesis or article as a whole and then think about the structuring activities that can help you to plan, write and put into action. Later in this chapter, I talk about research as a journey and the thesis as a well-built building, with different forms of writing telling the story or exploring and recounting the journey. A PhD thesis or a masters dissertation have much the same structure, tone, voice, use of data and argument, and audience or readership as an academic journal article in your discipline. This is logical because the main aim of each of these outputs is to be read by as broad or narrow a range of experts in the field as suits and can benefit from your work. However, a thesis tends to be more heavily weighted towards, and more interested in, establishing the appropriateness, thoroughness and the solid credibility of both the literature review and the defence of the methodology and methods. Situating your new work in the established literature, which includes the theories underpinning your work and other people’s work from which yours springs, with which it is in dialogue, is a very significant and lengthy part of a thesis. The defence of the methodology and the theorising behind the choice of methodology and methods (and rejection of

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others) is also a heavyweight part of a thesis. With a shorter journal article, showing you have done all the reading is important, but you are not establishing your credibility as a relative novice entering the field. Readers want to see what you have found, what you are offering. You are not proving your credibility in the same way as you are in a PhD and the literature review section will be proportionately shorter in an article so that the literature review is perhaps 10,000 words in extent in a social science thesis of 80,000 words in all, and perhaps 600 words in a 6,000-word essay. The length differs between disciplines and universities for the thesis and between disciplines and journals for the article (see Chapter 10, which looks at publishing from your PhD).

Activity Researching others’ practices – journal articles and dissertations/theses, exploring and analysing others’ structure and expression. To develop a clear sense of what a typical, acceptable thesis, dissertation, or journal article in your field looks like, you will find it helps to research the structure and expression, the voice and the way the arguments are developed, also the way that the data is used in the argument. Select work which has already been accepted and published in the case of articles or books, or has been granted a pass mark in the case of theses and dissertations. Look at two or more theses or dissertations. To find them, you can ‘Google’ key words that fit your interests, ask librarians for online theses, borrow from friends, colleagues and supervisors. Auditing someone else’s work in this way should help you ensure the characteristics of what you appreciate works well in their writing is also apparent in your own wrting. Ask yourself, when reading, how does the abstract establish the way in which this research contributes to work done in the field, fill a gap, offer a new view, how it does that, and why does it matter? How does the introduction introduce the context, a relatively short indication that this work has an important contribution to make to ongoing dialogue and debate in the field, what its (sufficiently) unique approach or arguments are, and why the work needs not only to be carried out at this time, but also read and shared now. How does it make a case that others are going to benefit from reading it? How do the literature review/theoretical perspectives in each paper or dissertation/thesis set out the main arguments, and main areas of theory, published work and ongoing research, then indicate how this piece of research draws on and engages with the areas of theory and contributes in a dialogue to the literature with which it fits, from which it grows, which it develops a new view on, and engages with?

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How does the methodology and methods section or chapter define clearly the methodology and methods being used; how the methodology relates to the world view; the way the author recognises that knowledge is produced, constructed and tested; why this methodology is being used and where it has been developed, who are the theorists behind it, and what are the limitations; what methods are used and why, and why other methods are not used; the limitations of the methods used and any interesting combination of methods; and lastly, how this work is carried out with what sample or selection, if that is appropriate, and over what time, and why it is this sample over this time. How effective are the sections on introducing the data? How effective and clear are the sections on explaining how the data was analysed and why it was analysed in this way? These issues are rarely explained in humanities and arts theses and dissertations, but are strong sections in the sciences and the social sciences, and related disciplines such as business and health professions, which more often use social science methods and methodology. Both science and social science explain how the data has been analysed and why. The data tends to be introduced in detail first in a science piece, followed by theorised discussion that uses analysed data in an interpretive fashion to develop an argument, make a point and argue a case. In a social science piece it is introduced and discussed, interpreted and theorised in terms of the major themes that have emerged through the data analysis processes, and these thematic elements tend to form whole chapters or sections depending on the length of the piece. The argument wraps the discussion of the data in all disciplines. In the arts and humanities, themes in the argument tend to underpin each chapter or section, with the data – quotations, illustrations, records of artistic productions – forming both the evidence on which the argument is based and, in the case of creative work, often presenting the argument itself, which then needs to be explained with an accompanying theorised discussion. Finally, there will be a conclusion section, which does not merely repeat the introduction but instead draws together (i) factual conclusions – what was found, how many, how often and so on; and (ii) interpretative conclusions – that is, what this suggests, how the author has interpreted the facts and findings; and (iii) conceptual conclusions indicating how what the author has found has enhanced or developed human knowledge and understanding, and added to or enhanced meaning. Reviewing this information on what to expect in each section of an article, a masters dissertation or a PhD thesis should be helpful when you plan, write then audit your own written work, in the process of writing your dissertation, thesis or article.

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Work with others

It can be immensely helpful to read (all the text of or selected parts of) books on writing and structuring, and to try out exercises, then reflect on the implications for your own writing. It is also useful to start to build peer support by writing with others and sharing your insights into the processes, any problems and ways of overcoming those problems. While doing this, pay close attention to how you, your friends and colleagues put a piece of writing together, plan and structure it, as well as how their finished pieces look and read. We can all learn from each other whether we are just starting to write for publication, or have already written and published a great deal.

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Topics to consider and discuss with others – peers and friends How did they decide on their final title? How did they decide what was finally written in the abstract and when was that clear to them (it is often drafted first and written last)? How did they decide what the competing voices in the literature review were saying in terms of laying out the theories and the field, and then engaging in a discussion with what they were closely focused on? How and when did they really understand the methodology and methods they would use? Which ones did they work through? What were the implications? Why did they reject some approaches and choose others? How and when did they decide on patterns and emerging trends in their data, their theorised understanding of these, which categories to focus on, and which threads to take from all this to enable an argument to emerge? How did they ensure that the claims are backed by evidence; that they didn’t include any extraneous data or discussion that was not part of the claim, the argument and the thread; and, in the conclusion, how did they decide, what they had discovered, why it mattered, and how it changed people’s understanding as well as contributing to knowledge?

Differences between journal articles, dissertations and theses

Journal articles can be seen as mini versions of dissertations and theses. In much of Europe and Scandinavia they are often actually working parts of a thesis in process for a doctoral candidate, as they will be published parts of the completed thesis before it is submitted. For other academics, journal articles are often a written record and a theorised analysis and discussion of examples of the outcomes from a series of experiments; a long piece of research with a team, cut into manageable chunks, so that various members of the team lead

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on their specific essays from the research; stand-alone pieces constructed from individual pieces of research; or pieces of writing based on your own individual research. My education work tends to be part of what seems now to be an ongoing life’s work, and is usually written with a co-author, while my essays on literature are also a bit of a life’s work. The latter are designed by me, and appear as pieces of work that emerge and are written through as I track down a particular fascination. This might well have previously seen light as a conference paper, or just be something I am interested in, will use for teaching, has grown from my teaching, or I have been asked to write because I have written in a similar area before. They are always individual pieces, and each needs planning and structuring. Length would seem to be the main difference between theses, dissertations and articles, but there are other distinctions between them, since an undergraduate dissertation might well be the same length as a journal article at between 5,000 and 9,000 words. Journal articles are like mini theses in their shape, and often the tone can be more accessible than a thesis or dissertation. Because of its brevity, a journal article needs to gain the interest of the readership more quickly than a thesis and to maintain it through usually one or maybe two lines of argument. For a thesis or dissertation, and increasingly for a published essay, the abstract will attract the readership. The audience or readership for a published article might be much more scholarly and focused, or more generalised, depending on what you are contributing – a footnote to an ongoing piece of research, a survey article, or a contribution in a developing field. The thesis or dissertation will be read by the candidate, his/her supervisor, a critical friend, perhaps a family member (in bite-sized chunks), the examiners and possibly the Chair of a viva, if there is to be one. Once it has been finalised, if it is lodged in the library or, increasingly, also online, it is likely to be read by other academics who are already specialists in the field. So the language for a thesis or dissertation is often ‘insider’ language, specialised as well as readable. While the key terms are explained, knowledge of many would be assumed, as it is unlikely that a student of literature is going to stumble as a complete novice into reading a piece about electronic engineering unless they are on a special mission. For theses and dissertations, because of the small readership, insider knowledge and terminology are assumed to some degree. This explains the density of the language of some scientific work in particular. However, theses and dissertations, which are so dense as to be unreadable, expect not to have to explain any terms and assume insider knowledge are unlikely to be welcomed even by specialist examiners. They should be made readable even to this quite small readership. Journal articles will have a much wider readership ranging from regular readers of the journal to specialists hunting down new work on their specialism, to your students (if you have students). So it is important to make the work accessible to all of these readers.

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Kinds of writing in different parts of a publishable piece – the chapters of a thesis or dissertation/ sections of an article

Language – kinds and tones of writing The different kinds of writing in different parts of a publishable piece are explored in both Chapter 3, looking at journal articles, and in Chapters 7 and 8. Different parts of the thesis, dissertation, or the journal article, require different ways of using information, reading, argument and voice. The abstract uses passive language, sets the background and highlights and raises contribution and importance. It does not go into detail, has no personal voice, would not use ‘I’, ‘we’ or ‘they’. Readers want to know, in short, what this piece contributes and how, and therefore why they might want to read it. The introduction is both accessible in tone – it is written in the researcher’s or writer’s voice – and asserts the credibility and right of the writer to produce the piece, so some of the language is of assertion and confidence; some is more informative about the current work, the context; and some develops the main argument briefly against that context. The introduction makes the case, and mentions some of the key work in the field and how this new work contributes to it. In a journal article and in work in the arts and humanities, the introduction tends to involve the literature review and theoretical perspectives; there are no separate chapters or sections for this purpose. There are different versions of an introduction in different disciplines. However, the intention of this section remains the same – to introduce the piece of writing; introduce the context, and state why it is topical and important; the main issues; the author’s right to speak about the contribution to the field; his/her credibility, unique position, experience and so on; what the major debates and issues are that will be explored; and what the reader will find is the main contribution the author will make. Some introductions take the approach and comments made in the abstract and develop them further. Some start anew and establish their fascination with the topic and then lead into the previous research in the field and what their work will contribute. The literature review and theoretical perspectives elements can be introduced at the start of the text, and they often appear in the introduction if it is a humanities dissertation, thesis or article. If they are a separate section or chapter, as with the social sciences, or a short separate section with the sciences, this tends to be a very highly theorised, complex and systematically established and developed part of the work. It also needs to lead the reader into the dialogue in the field into which the author’s work makes a contribution, so it needs to be logical and readable. In a thesis or dissertation, the major themes and areas of research are identified, into which the author’s own work fits, from which it grows, and to which

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it contributes. The main theoretical areas and historical developments are explored, explained and referenced, in so far as this establishes the underpinning knowledge and indicates the author’s credibility in the field. If this is exhaustive – everything anyone ever knew about health promotion or international accounting, without any link to: {a) the arguments and debates in the field; and (b) the author’s own research and the contribution and contradictions it enables – then it sits rather like a dead lump of information. Instead, the writing shows the author’s understanding through managed selection and clear explanation. Selections are made from the theory and the literature to ensure the writer’s credibility is established, and so are the theories, arguments and debates with the theory and theorists, and the arguments and debates within the literature resulting from research using the theory. The author ensures that the arguments and debates are clearly drawn out of this discussion of the theory and the literature, so that these debates and arguments are clear to a reader, who then hears that this work adds to, contradicts, shifts, takes the arguments further, uses the theory in this manner, adds to and re-interprets the previous work. The theory or theories which underpin the research need explaining, exploring the work of the theorists as it establishes an underpinning view. Theories act as a lens, enabling interpretation to take place. The work of the main theorists is not the only work engaged with here, since others have used those theories in their own work, and this is also drawn on to establish the theorised focus of the piece. The literature that engages critically with theory in new studies is discussed, as it moves beyond the theory itself. This newer writing is an example of the ways other researchers have used the theory to explore areas of the field, to ask questions and develop cases. Look at the examples that follow of typical language used in a literature review.

Examples of writing in a literature review ‘Theories of learning, such as Flavell’s (1979) theory of metalearning (being conscious of one’s own learning, owning that learning) and Vermunt’s theories of variation (2004) suggest that…’ (This establishes major theorists and their theories.) ‘Research which further develops our understanding of the theories of student learning (Flavell, 1979; Vermunt, 2004 focusing on learning the disciplines, includes that of Meyer and Land (2006, 2012), whose threshold concept theory suggests that …’ (This establishes newer theorists who have built on that earlier work and taken it further – theirs are key theories, however, not just uses of theory in a research project.) ‘Building on the work on threshold concepts in the disciplines (Meyer and Land 2006, 2012), X and Y (2013, 2014) have explored ways in which

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students acquire and evidence threshold concepts in biology and accounting …‘. (This references the underpinning, important theories of Meyer and Land and then looks at how the researchers/writers have used those theories in their own research practice in their work on learning in biology and accounting. It indicates how this new work is using the theory, then will go on to explore the new work, arguing for the new theory based knowledge which is created). This section establishes the pedigree of the theory which your work uses, and the theory upon which it builds. It will include older references, but won’t try to exhaustively work through telling everything descriptive and informative about every learning theory ever. It will assume some knowledge on the part of the reader, but use the learning theory clearly, explain it and its effects, and defend the use of particular learning theories growing out of this historical basis. The sense of a debate between theorists, and a debate between those putting the theories into action in their own research is essential for your writing to be able to join the debate, or for you to have a right to speak. Your work has grown from both the theories and their interpretation in practice in contemporary or recent work. You are establishing the background, explaining the theory, exploring and then commenting on and dialoguing with uses of it in practice, indicating that your work has something new to offer, or something to offer in a new context.

Methodology and methods Writing in this section is a mixture of theory, a literature review (of the methodology you are going to use) and informative description, backed up by argument and explanation. You are explaining why you have chosen a particular methodology (based on your beliefs about how knowledge is constructed, positivist, post-positivist, constructivist and so on) and specific methods (ways which you will gather your data, while the actual tools for this, for example survey questions, interview questions, observation sheet are the practical ways of putting it all into action). You need to let your reader see that you understand that this choice is based on a view of the world and on how knowledge is constructed (ontology – your sense of being in the world; and epistemology – knowledge construction) in relation to this particular piece of research. You situate your choices in the literature about methodology; for example, you let your readers know that, for the purposes of this piece of research, you believe that knowledge is based on facts which can be discovered through positivist methodology based on experimentation which gives a sense of reliability through repeated experiments, or based on quantitative large scale data collection through, for example a large scale survey or questionnaire or a smaller survey. You believe that this will uncover the truth; and it is reliable because it has been tested (explain the previous testing of the questionnaire/survey/

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experimental method) and the items that are proved to work (the wording wasn’t misleading; answers could be differentiated) to indicate that choices of methodology and method are backed up. Or you believe that there are no fixed truths to discover and prove, that knowledge is constructed, and/or interpreted in context, and you choose to use focus group interviews as a method to enable participants to create understanding through discussion. Your writing here is similar to that for the literature review because you are situating your choices in the literature about methodology and methods, and theorising the ways in which you will gather your data. The writing is also informative because you could indicate to a reader that the sample is of X amount because it was chosen in a certain way (random, opportunistic and so on), and that the data is collected, where and when, for what reasons (time of year – students available, people to be interviewed, accessing a location, plants in flower) depending on what you are gathering as your sample. There are two kinds of writing here: theorised and defended in the literature; and informative and descriptive, which explains the choice, sample and process.

Data analysis and interpretation chapters or sections There are two sorts of writing in these sections in the sciences and social sciences, and one sort in most examples of the humanities. If you have analysed data sourced from experiments, sampling, interviewing and other methods, you will need to discuss, explain and defend how you have analysed it and why. For example, you have carried out 20 interviews with head teachers chosen from a stratified sample of schools in the areas of X. You have asked them six questions about leadership in the schools, and the issues and ways of overcoming problems. You now begin to explain what you have done to analyse the data: Interview data was transcribed and the respondents’ names were anonymised. Transcriptions are kept on a password-protected PC and coded. The details about the coding are kept in a separate file, so that only the researcher has access to the information about names and codes. The data was read through and re-read, identifying a range of themes arising from the responses in the interviews. The themes that have emerged are… Then you would indicate the themes. A finely tuned piece of analysis could even quantify the number of responses that appear in each of the themes. In order to (a) illustrate evidence and prove the time you would need to select specific quotations, not too long (unless it is ethnography, when you produce the whole interview data); and (b) to discuss what is emerging in this chosen theme, and what issues are raised during these specific quotations used in evidence.

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This kind of writing is informative and explanatory: why you analysed the data as you did; and then interpretative: what is emerging from the findings and why. Finally, it is conceptually engaged – how does what is emerging relate back to the theories and concepts that underpin the research in the first place? At this final point you are at a more abstract level in one sense. You are questioning the evidence, what has already been done and found, and you are also at a more conceptual level, because you are saying what you have discovered in relation to the underlying theories established in the literature. You are relating that discovery to the literature, so you will reference the many theorists again. You are also moving on to make comments, which will be elaborated on in the conclusion – that’s why this matters; this is what it contributes. These are conceptual comments. Thus we have here explanatory, informative, analytic, theorised and conceptual writing: ‘The 20 interviews were transcribed and analysed by reading and discovering the frequency and kind of thematic responses.’ This is informative, explanatory, quite passive – you could also say: I transcribed/someone transcribed and I analysed. ‘It was discovered that/I discovered that…’ This is informative and a more personal voice. ‘Three themes emerged – the themes of professional leadership whereby… and of empathetic leadership … and of problem-solving leadership…’ This is analytical writing. You now indicate what this could mean. ‘In relation to the theorists defending my work, the work of XXX and YYY (19..) suggests that empathetic leadership enables … and that those who play empathic leadership roles are more likely to…’ Now you are interpreting the information you have provided in the data (quotations) in relation to the underpinning theories. If you have read through the literature review again and reminded yourself of the arguments of the theorists, this is where you start to inform the data, interpreting and understanding it by using the theorists and their theories.

Structuring the data sections I used to run a PhD student workshop called ‘What can I do with all of this data?’ In recognition of the moment when, research launched and data coming in, you are suddenly surrounded and overwhelmed by it, every bit seems precious and unrelated to every other bit, there is a shedload of facts, quotations, statistics or results – whatever is appropriate in your field – and

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you suddenly can’t quite remember what you were looking for in the first place. Now, what kind of an argument might emerge from this? Doctoral candidates and any researcher, whether of professional practice or of a field of their own interest, can find themselves with ‘large quantities of disparate data and little developed idea of how to fit it all together, to make meaning from it’ (Wisker, 2001, p. 89). Like clearing out the attic, some of the gems you discover and want to hang on to can find a place in the written piece, some can be stored away to include in future work, and some less priceless can be thrown away because they are superfluous, repetitions of something already included and without need of duplication. In everyday life, if you want to go back later into the attic, or the shed or understairs cupboard, or wherever you store things, and find a mixture of books, clothing, old toys, ornaments and important papers, it is sensible to store them in locations that are easily accessible, logical and labelled. So it is with data. Some you can use now, as it forms an absolutely crucial element of the argument you are beginning to develop through your writing; some of it helped you to understand what the main issues and arguments were, but you only need a small, single excerpt to make that point; and some of it you don’t need any longer once it has helped that understanding, or don’t need at all because it is interesting in its own right but not at all part of what you are working on or writing about just now. Data analysis is based on the themes, arguments and specific issues on which you are working, and on the tightly focused, maybe rather cruel process of selection of the absolutely necessary because of the size of the publishable piece. In a thesis you can include more data, properly analysed and argued through, and even more data in an appendix if you feel it will enrich and deepen a certain area of your argument for which there was not enough space in the chapter (but beware of dumping everything you have found in a long appendix – it is better to select and argue for what you have selected). In an essay you can’t do this. You have to be ruthless. Take only the richness which made the overall understanding; and only the absolute essentials to prove your points. This does not mean I am advocating ignoring data that contradicts your argument or which when you analysed it emphasised new, unsuspected areas, just to ensure you get the 5,000 words done. The selection and the sifting is part of the overall comprehending and interpreting process. You begin to understand what the data tells you as you read it all, categorise, process and then theorise and discuss it, so it is important to have a mass of data and to wade through it, seeing the strategies and themes that emerge and looking for the patterns and trends. Once these have emerged, use those that will work in an argument, leaving hints that there are many other riches to discuss later (in a further piece of work) and focus sharply on the essentials emerging from this interpreted and discussed data in your ongoing argument, underpinned by your theories and driven by your research question.

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Conclusions

Writing in the conclusion is both assured – you have found something, argued it through, proved it – and tentative, suggesting there are limitations to this and more work needs to be done. Conclusion sections for chapters should contain two or three kinds of conclusions: factual conclusions state the important findings that add to our knowledge, for example: Of all civil service workers surveyed, the majority (90%) were confident that they would be able to retire comfortably on their current pension with supplements, while only 10% expressed doubt about this. Half of those who expressed certainty were women and half men (54% women, 46% men). These are statements of fact adding to our knowledge, statements built on both the detail from your data and your analysis of it. The next kind of conclusion is interpretative: This suggests that even with differential pay in the civil service, women are at least as sure as men that their pensions will cover their retirement. And conceptual, adding to understanding and to meaning: Debates remain current about the value of pensions and the ways in which people plan for their retirement. This research suggests that there is a high degree of satisfaction with the current pension structures, which might be related to the comfortable levels of pensions in the civil service as compared with others in less secure, less well paid jobs. We discovered relationships between current comfort levels, attitudes to pensions and a sense of security, which suggest either a level of illusion built on complacency fostered in the civil service job role, or a healthy sense of satisfaction and appropriate levels of pension. Further studies might explore… This contributes to knowledge and expands meaning. The first section is factual, the second adds to discussion at the level of interpretation, the third at the level of ideas and meaning, the conceptual level, showing that it is adding to meaning and not closing down the debate. The language differs: one states facts, the next interprets and suggests, the third speculates and problematises, philosophises and theorises, operates conceptually, adds to meaning and leaves some of the issues still open – as this was not an experimental closed study – but one that is still constructing knowledge in a social context. You are making a claim about the knowledge your work has deepened or enriched, and you are making a claim about the importance of your contribu-

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tion. The tone of the conclusion will depend on the discipline. Scientists with positivistic experimental studies can be more assured of their findings; while social scientists tend to be more likely to suggest, indicate and leave some of the problematising open. There is more discussion of writing the conclusions section or chapter in Chapter 8, where you will also find three examples: one science, one social science and one humanities.

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Keeping track of different kinds of writing in the thesis or article

The grid shown in Figure 5.1 below can help you to plan the writing process, since you can detail for yourself what you have put into each section or chapter, what is missing, what needs to be moved, changed or upgraded. This helps you to keep track of the process. It also helps you to manage your writing time, since, as you become bored and tired and emptied out with one section/chapter, you can look at the grid, find what needs to be done – perhaps only a small piece of work in another section/chapter – and get on with that. A few years ago I saw an exhibition in Dublin Public Library about the work of the writer James Joyce. On the wall was a chart of his writing trajectory while working on Ulysses, published in 1922, a huge novel with a vast array of different sections, writing styles and voices. I was intrigued. Joyce started some sections simultaneously, right at the beginning of his work on the book. Some he stopped for a few months or even years, some he started, stopped, restarted, stopped. Some he began late on in the book. Everything finished together at the end. What struck me was how we might well not need to start at the beginning of whatever we are writing, and keep going until we finish. Instead, we might work on different sections at once, and move between sections. This enables us to keep up momentum, write differently, reduce the octopus shape which I discuss in Chapter 9, where the front matter is very heavy and overworked and the rest hangs a bit disconnected and ill-formed. I was also aware that keeping a chart, such as the one on the wall that depicted Joyce’s journey through Ulysses in writing terms, would help me to see where I was going, what was missing, what still needed to be refined and enriched with data or theory, and so keep track of any piece of writing. This is particularly useful if you are doing a day job alongside the writing. It is great for writing an article, and essential for writing a book. The chart shown in Table 6.1 can help with your time management and planning, as well as in your awareness of the kind of writing you do at different points in a journal article or a thesis. As you become tired during the complex theorising elements of the literature review, once you have passed the point where you have indicated who argues what and are into the part where you establish your own complex contribution to the field, you might find you feel

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Table 6.1 CHAPTERS

OF A THESIS OR DISSERTATION/SECTIONS OF AN ARTICLE

JUST OVER HALF WAY THROUGH COMPLETION

–

–

LOOKING AT HOW I AM PROGRESSING

AND GIVING MYSELF ADVICE ABOUT WHAT TO DO NEXT

Started

Quotes/refs

Abstract

Started but need to revisit once everything else finished Jan

None needed

Introduction

Outlined Jan

Context, credibility main claims Feb

Literature review

Sketched Jan

Dealt with x theory, y and z critical views, need to clarify w/theory June

Methodology Explained reasons and methods for methodology and methods Mar

Factual details added Apr

Theme 1 data and discussion

Just a mass of raw data May

Need to develop themes arising from analysing the data and argue through them using data to drive that Jun–Jul

Theme 2 data and discussion

Selected data Jun

Added some comments Jul

Theme 3 data and discussion

Just a mass of data Jun

Conclusions Drafted main findings, factual details, facts and conceptual notes onwhat they mean, has added – need to find more from analysing and discussing data, and link back to theory Aug–Sept References

Started the list and started to check dates Jan–

Corrected

Edited

Checked references, added information about May

Explained limitations Apr

Engaged comments and data withtheories, cut back data appropriately September

Done

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that you have nothing else to say. If this happens, move on, start writing the information section of the methodology chapter – or do some different kind of work on your research or on your record of practice. For example, pick out some quotations or other pieces of data for the data analysis and interpretations section. Start to draft your interpretation and discussion of the data you have chosen in an exploratory and analytical way, in defence of your argument. This involves different kinds of writing. Moving between sections, conceptual and argumentative, theorising, analytical and merely informative and descriptive enables you to change gear in your writing, find renewed energy and move on.

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Conclusion

This chapter has looked at different kinds of writing in different parts of an article, thesis or dissertation, recognising the importance of descriptive and informative writing, conceptual and critical writing, where the author theorises, defends, explains, analyses and draws conclusions, and so on, and what kind of language is used to convey the author’s argument, story and new work in each of these contexts. It has provided some examples of the ways in which you might express yourself in the different sections, particularly considering how you move on from one statement or argument to the next. It is important to note, though, that much of this is discipline-related and so you do need to look carefully at the conventions of your own discipline, the practices in the journals you use, and in successful dissertations or theses. Study how they are written, the kinds of language used, how they engage a reader with an argument and manage that golden thread of the argument throughout the whole piece, and where and how they ensure the reader is aware of the story of the work and of the research. You are writing to express your ideas, arguments and findings, but above all you are engaging your reader, so at every stage, with every kind of writing, do make sure it can be read, understood and followed by your reader. The next chapter looks in more detail at writing in the literature review and in the methodology sections.

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Further reading

Dunleavy, P. (2003) Authoring a PhD (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan), p. 43. Eley, A. and Jennings, R. (2005) Effective Postgraduate Supervision: Improving the Student/Supervisor Relationship (Maidenhead: Open University Press). Available at: www.mcgraw-hill.co.uk/html/0335217079.html. Rudestam, K. E. and Newton R. R. (2001) Surviving Your Dissertation: A Comprehensive Guide to Content and Process, 2nd edn (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage), p. 103.

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Trafford, V. N. and Leshem, S. (2008) Stepping Stones to Achieving Your Doctorate: Focusing on Your Viva from the Start (Maidenhead: Open University Press). Wisker, G. (2001) The Postgraduate Research Handbook (2nd edn 2007) (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan).

7 Writing literature reviews and thinking about methodology and methods

In this chapter we consider: • • • •

What are literature reviews? My story as a case study Defining and defending the methodology and methods and writing about the research processes and data analysis Conclusion

Both the literature review and the methodology and methods sections of your dissertation/thesis or journal article need to situate your work in the field, and develop and defend your own argument and contribution. The literature review is the key area in which you develop your own voice and ensure that your work is built on, and in a dialogue with, the theorists and practitioners, critics and other professionals who engage in and write about your field. In the methodology and methods section or chapter you also situate your work in terms of the methodology, which you define and defend, and the methods, which need explaining and arguing for. Here you indicate to others that you are aware of the range of methodologies and know how your own world view and that of the discipline and the research area can be supported. You also show how your world view, discipline and research area are enabled and understood through a particular methodology and the methods of data collection it underpins. Both literature review and methodology and methods sections or chapters situate your work in the appropriate literature and show that you understand theories, those you use and those you don’t, that you understand methodologies, research methods and practices, and current work in the field, and can argue for the source of your work and how it depends upon these. You also show the theories underpinning the literature and methodology, the uses others have made of them, and how your work 113

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builds on and extends or deviates from them. What these two engagements with literature in the field are not are ‘thinly disguised annotated bibliographies’ (Hart, 1998, p. 1). You really need to read carefully and write in a conversation with the theorists and critics: don’t just list them, instead show you have read and engaged with them in writing, and can use, agree with, disagree with and build on them, to underpin your own work. Beyond the conversation or dialogue with experts and your own choices and theorised research/professional work, there is other, informative and descriptive writing in the methodology and methods chapter explaining the nuts and bolts of the research design. A literature review is not a dead list of books and journal articles; instead it is where you engage with theories and other works in the field and situate your own theorising, your own work, your own contribution alongside this ongoing dialogue. You are exploring both the theories that underlie your work and identifying which you are using, and situating your own work and writing in the conversation between other researchers and practitioners. Your writing here is that of a well-informed theorised debate establishing the theories and the field, defining and defending your choice of theories and of perspective and angle on the field, showing you are aware of other theories and perspectives and can argue for the ones you have chosen from which your work springs and/or to which it contributes. A great deal of thorough reading and engagement, thinking about and then articulating your take on the field, your own work and how it fits in, is what is developed here. In the research on conceptual threshold crossing in doctoral learning in which I was involved (Wisker et al., 2010), the period of developing the literature review was seen as absolutely critical, because, on reading through what has already been thought, argued and written, you find where your own work sits and contributes, and start to enable your own voice to speak out with confidence, background and the right to add to and change the conversation. One of the participants in a recent piece of research also considered and commented on the importance of the literature review in engaging theorists, critical thinkers and the researcher’s own ideas and words: I think it would be important, the first step would be to ensure lots of reading but I think that would just be the first step and then it’s about using the ideas and that’s often the hard part. So again it’s about finding ways to scaffold that so there could be sort of different ways of trialling those ideas which you then use as discussion documents to try and take those ideas forwards. (Participant, EARLI research, in Wisker, 2013b) I shall concentrate on the writing of the literature review in the first part of this chapter, and on the methodology and methods in the second part. This is in one sense very different writing, and in another, quite similar. In the

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methodology and methods section you are establishing your world view, ontology and epistemology. You establish your sense of being in the world and your view of the world (ontology), and your beliefs about how knowledge is constructed and communicated (epistemology), and how these two underpin the choice you make about the methodology, the overarching approach to a way of understanding how knowledge is discovered or constructed, proved or argued. Understanding and proving can derive from a deductive, positivistic mind-set/ontology, which is likely to lead to experimental and quantitative research methodology and methods (methods such as experiments, large-scale surveys leading to statistical analysis). Or perhaps, instead you see knowledge as being situated socially and culturally, and constructed through questions and answers, with whoever and whatever, in contexts that affect these questions and responses. This is likely to be a post-positivist, constructivist or interpretivist methodology, and is likely to use methods that explore, question and never assert anything as fact, but instead suggest from the data. It uses qualitative methodology and inductive approaches, so the methods would perhaps be interviews, case studies, textual analysis exploring themes, or the positioning of artefacts in a historical context, relying on interpretation to derive meaning about history. In the methodology and methods section there is also a literature review of sorts – one which shows that you have read, explored and considered the literature about methodology and methods and know why you have chosen the ones you have, and what the explanations of and arguments for the methodology and the methods are. The literature in this involves, for example, explaining deductive methodology, quantitative research and why you are using a survey or an experimental method, or inductive methodology and a constructivist perspective and why you are using interviews and what kinds they are, what they can and cannot help you find out, and why. These choices are largely discipline based and situated in the literature – and the writing about their basis in the literature and your reasons for using them derives from your dialogue with that literature. There are two kinds of writing involved here. It is both theorised and based in argument because you are defending your choices, and informative and descriptive because it details the study in a straightforward way.

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What are literature reviews?

Basically, these are: • • •

Engaging in a dialogue with experts, theorists, and those who have used their work already, finding your own voice among those of others. Avoiding plagiarism. Referencing.

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Literature reviews are an essential underpinning to your work, ongoing throughout your research and your writing about it. As you read about the subject area, you also start to concentrate on the important theorists whose work lies behind your own research, to gain an understanding of their work and write about it, with selected quotations and much interpretation. As you do this you discuss how their work will underpin your own. During the course of your research you keep reading and broadening the scope. You keep finding more complex, conceptual, critical reading, related reading, and more examples of areas in which you are working. This helps to sketch in a picture of the established and current range of work in the field in which your own work will be situated. You narrow the focus on to the specific areas that underpin and inform your own research, with which you may be in agreement or may challenge. You focus, use and defend the theories underpinning your work, and the critical applications in other people’s that relate to yours but differ from it. You indicate the underpinning, the informing, the similarities and the differences. You situate yourself in the field. Reviewing the literature helps you to appreciate the field, the theories, others’ arguments and writing, and to underpin, inform and situate your own. It also helps you to develop an informed voice. You need to identify and explain your contribution and defend it, in order to situate and explore, develop and defend your own work, and indicate the contribution it makes to the field. The literature review is an essential part of any research process and of any piece of writing for academic publication. In a thesis, it will probably be labelled as a chapter, unless you are working in literature studies, where it is likely to form part of a longer introduction. Think of the literature review as several things. In terms of your own research, it is a vital and ongoing piece of work which establishes and carefully builds up your engagement with a body of previous work, and situates your own work in this body, indicating how it grows from and contributes to the body of work, and is adding something new. The reading we do for a literature review never really stops, since we are writing about the field, approaches and even variations on our own question and topic right up to the moment when we have to submit a thesis or send in an article for publication. It can seem like an endless task, partly because of this continuous stream of re-reading to be done. It can also seem endless because as you forage and read, so you find other trails and interesting points, ideas and writers’ theories and developments, different from, similar to, or helping to cast a light on your own. This is important. You will read more widely than you need, and that breadth of reading helps you to see a full range of work and ideas surrounding your own work and in which it will be situated, to which your own work contributes.

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Work for a literature review includes typical research and writing practices: • • • • • • • •

Search Retrieve Read carefully and take notes; don’t read material that merely repeats the basics Narrow the focus and question Find theories Identify themes and threads Follow themes, conversations and arguments Synthesise and draw these together

Situate your own work among these ongoing dialogues, showing how it grows from some, challenges others, and can be understood better in relation to others. Once you have the overall themes, trends and variants of the arguments, you need to indicate that you know these, and narrow your reading focus to home in on the theories and critical work that directly underpin your own research. You are reading established theories, the values based on these theories, which underpin and inform the ways in which you see your own field and your own research, and questioning your own professional practices. Other work uses some of these theories; deals with issues, areas, questions and problems related to your own, or are similar to yours but in a different context; asks slightly different questions; and uses the theories you have read about to provide a focus on that other work, some of which you will acknowledge and work with, and some you will acknowledge but explain that your own work differs so you will go no further in discussing that particular work. Identify and understand theories and argue about why to use them and how they help in focusing, indicating the main threads and themes in major critical and researcher/writer contributions in ongoing debates and disagreements. Much work repeats the basic underpinning ideas and arguments, then adds something. Don’t just repeat: build, situate and show where and how your own work contributes to the ongoing conversation. Keep adding the relevant new or insightful points to the literature review until it is time to submit. Identify and engage with different perspectives, views and arguments by presenting them and then indicating where your own context and your own work lies.

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Activity Think about the following common problems with literature reviewing and what you will do to overcome them and get on with the sourcing, reading, note taking, synthesising, writing, debating and the adding of your own work to the dialogue. Some problems are explored below. 1 I don’t know where to start! What are the main areas, ideas, issues in which you are interested? What particular problems and questions do you have? Have you read anything that sparked off your interest to set up an argument? Is there any new contribution to the debates with which your work is engaged that you heard at a conference or during a discussion with a colleague, or from a comment a student made while you were teaching, perhaps? (Fresh eyes are useful here.) 2 I can’t find anything to read Maybe you are looking too widely or too narrowly, or just floundering in the oceans of writing. Think of your key words, write them down, and then search for the research documents these produce, in your field, looking them up using the search engines Google and Google Scholar. Look in a thesaurus for related terms in different cultural and intellectual contexts. Similar ideas are expressed in different terms. Carrying out focused reading and searching requires good contacts with online and real libraries, magazines, conference proceedings, and experts in the field who might answer you directly. Remember, or find out, who are the key writers and researchers in your field, past and present. Some of them might be from a broad range of international contexts, not just the people you have heard speak at local conferences. Look up their work on the web of knowledge, read it and the work that they cite and what those they are citing also cite. By now, you will have a trail of specialised reading. There will be more material, but you will find the reading that key authors cite will enable you to engage with the theories, their research, and their contribution to knowledge. For the purpose of this chapter on authoring the literature review, it will also help you to process exactly how they link different work together, emphasising succinctly the key issues in a dialogue with other researchers and writers, and so then add their own angle on this work, and their new knowledge.

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3 Where do I start with all these theories? There will be some theories with which you are familiar, and you will need to read, explore and consider others in order to develop the theoretical perspectives that underpin the literature review, the entire research process, and the writing up of the process, its findings and their meaning. Theories are lenses that help you to focus on and address your question, problem or hypothesis. They help you to enquire from certain theorised perspectives and then to interpret and understand the data you produce. Identify a broad and then a narrow focus regarding theories, critical, researched engagements with theories, and contributions to your own and related areas. The literature review is where you construct and write about the theoretical perspectives of your work: ‘Developing a theoretical perspective that integrates reading, thinking and writing as a process gives authors academic authority to design, undertake and draw conclusions from their research. A literature review is therefore a technical means to a scholarly end via theoretical perspectives’ (Vernon Trafford, in Savin-Baden and Howell Major, 2013, p. 114). 4 How do I find my way through it all? This is the process of reading thoroughly, and then selectively, and engaging from the start in an analytical and critical discussion with what you read, and keeping good notes. What is involved is thorough, insightful, hard work, including reading, note taking and drawing this into themes and threads of argument and debate. Next there is organising, planning, structuring, filing, and labelling, then stepping back and drawing out the themes and threads. 5 It is huge and endless, all this reading, how on earth can I manage it all? If you think you have to read everything to the same depth, you will never get to the end of this. You will find it hard to step back and see the patterns and major contributions, as opposed to those that just add a little to the main arguments going on. 6 What on earth can I offer? Feeling worried that you have the right to say anything in the middle of this huge morass of writing by others, all of which is polished and published, is a normal stage. However, it is important that you join this ongoing conversation about theory and literature-informed research because you will have something new to offer, and so you have a right to engage with what is already in the literature, argue with it, agree with it and then add something new.

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7 How do I ‘speak out and speak up’ about my contribution? You are in a learning conversation. Everything about your topic and your field is not yet known, and you have something to offer; in fact, it is your duty and your right to offer it, because otherwise others might have to go out and find it for themselves, or could miss this important piece of work. Make sure you get into the written, discussion and analysis conversation with anyone who can be useful to your conversational contribution and for whom you too can be useful. Read and engage with their work carefully and critically. It is a mutual exchange and development. When you are a little further down the publishing road, some of the people you talk to at conferences will be reviewing your work, and your applications for grant funding, so being antagonistic and dismissive will not help your case. 8 What does a literature review look like? This is dependent on the discipline conventions and those of the context in which you are publishing, but over time it also depends on the way in which you carry out and write up your literature review. After the next section on the story of a literature review, we look a little more at the language.

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My story as a case study

The literature review is the place in a thesis or dissertation, and in a shorter form in a journal article, where you situate your own work in the broader field. The first time I was asked explicitly to carry out a literature review I was given the key term ‘assessment’ and sent off to read about it – so I went to the Senate House Library, London University, and started searching using keywords. I found hundreds of tons of books and journal articles and started running some of the articles off to read. As I sat among a massive pile of paper and armfuls of essential books the job seemed huge and impossible, endless. I started reading, with no idea of who the key figures were in the field. While reading I also thought about some of the things I had noticed about the topic. I didn’t know a thing about it after all. I had a few ideas from my own experience, such as how assessment is not just about grading and providing a figure that is meant to signify an achievement; it is also about setting up a feedback dialogue and hoping that the student whose work you are assessing learns from your response. Or it can be a little sterile and only compare one person against another and everyone against certain standards and outcomes. I jotted down some of these key tensions in the notion of ‘assessment’ and found as I read that others appeared from the texts I was reading, and then also from my own memory and experience. I collected notes of these themes and tensions, and where I had found them in the literature.

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I also began to realise that many of the writers repeated each other’s arguments – sometimes adding to them, sometimes restating them, sometimes finding other examples, sometimes applying key ideas from an earlier writer to their own work. What was emerging then was: key theorists who raised the issues, establish the headlines and the underpinning arguments, and some of the reasons for some of the problems. They theorise the field from experience, thinking and writing from research. Other critical thinkers then build on the original writing, adding their own take on it, and applying the themes, tensions and theories to their own examples. I then drew a diagram showing the major theorists and the major themes that were emerging so that I could see the tensions and the issues. In terms of assessment, the theories that began to emerge were: assessment as a form of scientific measurement of ability and achievement versus assessment as a developmental tool or vehicle to enable a kind of dialogue between the material, ideas, approaches, skills and so on. The former was an external measure, the latter concerned with what was to be learned, the learner, their ways of constructing knowledge and expressing it. This included the practice of assessment as an opportunity to learn and improve. I saw work on summative assessment – the assessment that identifies and measures what has been learned using criteria, established at the outset, related to outcomes probably, and could produce a publicly recognisable mark against a set of norms – 60% suggests that…; 54% suggests that… – by which the person’s knowledge, skills and so on were measured to indicate externally what they had achieved and could do. I also saw work on formative assessment, which engages with the learner in the middle of their learning, contributes to a discussion about that learning, makes suggestions for improvement and does so in a dialogue with the learner until they submit the work. I saw the tensions between final measurement and ongoing development, and the different roles for feedback in these. My literature review could have just dealt with these tensions, since most of the literature adopted a stance about the beliefs and practicability of operating these views on assessment in practice, but I was also being asked to contribute something about external examiners. Actually, that made my literature reviewing job easier. I could write about the tensions, exploring the theories underlying them – theories which introduced a view on scientific measurement, power and authority, development and difference. I mentioned the key figures whose theories underpinned these approaches and the work of the critical thinkers, those who had used them more recently in their own work; for example, on developing learning outcomes in alignment with assessments, or encouraging feedback dialogues, or ensuring that students learned about what they were learning through self-assessment. I could then add the small amount of work on the ways in which external examiners were meant to ensure that all of this was fair, both to the subject

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(turning out students who genuinely could practise it) and the students (being fair about their achievement), as well as the quality assurance mechanisms of the subject and the university. Having established theories, themes and the preliminary discussions and brought the issues of quality, gatekeeping and fairness into the debate, I could then situate what our new work was looking at and would explore and show. I produced a kind of literature and argument pyramid, from theory at the base, through contemporary critical use of it in practice, emphasising debates, to finally situating our own work at the pinnacle. Of course, I couldn’t say at that point what it would really find and show. That would be added after we had completed the research, but I could even at that stage say what we were looking for, thinking about and aiming to explore and discuss. This was my contribution so far to the knowledge in the field, and would indicate (once we had found something) what my and our contribution was to the whole area of assessment and the role of external examiners.

A developmental moment Literature reviews are an important stage in the developing of critical thinking and articulate expression. In the research my colleagues and I conducted on doctoral learning journeys (Wisker et al., 2010) and the ‘parallel’ project that asked the same questions of international postgraduates and supervisors, the literature review emerged as a stage in doctoral student work when they take ownership, find their own voice and argue for their place in the developing literature in the field. Confidence comes from articulation, and most engagement with the ideas and arguments of others appears in the literature review. There is, of course, a tension between engaging deeply with the theorists and critics in a way that enables your own voice gradually to be heard, and feeling that just getting the task done is all-important. One participant in a more recent study concerning literature reviews as developmental stages, asked: Problem: Are the theorists sacrosanct? Can they be challenged? If challenged, will the examiners or the accepted format of the Lit review allow it? Should this be so? Why not said or thought differently? I just need to pass this thing! (Participant, EARLI research, Wisker, 2013a) You need to get on with the work, the research, but it is important to find how to engage with the theorists and the rest of the research community, and to join the dialogue in the field. Merely repeating what they have said won’t be enough; you have to take them on and engage, agree, disagree, prove, and add your own ideas and words. After all, it is a conversation and it won’t develop unless you join it with confidence and speak about your work.

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Another participant notes the difficulty of standing back, seeing the themes and critical issues emerge, finding the words to discuss them, then the words to tell their own story about their way through the literature, including that underpinning the methodology, or informing the choice of methods. I couldn’t abstract beyond what I was seeing ... whenever I sat down to actually do it, it seemed that I couldn’t or wouldn’t – like a child who doesn’t want to do homework. Then I remind myself that it’s not about ‘discovering’ the link and the argument, it is about me making it, constructing it, literally ‘making sense’ in the sense of bringing into being links and associations between concepts, theories and concepts … for me it often is a matter of thinking very hard about what story I want to tell, what argument to make. (Wisker et al., 2010, p. 38) It is not just a story, it is also making full use of the theorists or what one participant (Wisker, 2013a) calls the ‘new leading lights’ whose ideas and arguments lead you to clarify your own, in engagement with theirs, and setting your own in relationship to them. This participant talks of the exciting struggle to find their own way through the theorists they are using. The quotation highlights a combination of the factors that contribute to successful threshold crossing, because this articulated intellectual struggle leads to an ease with engagement and expression. Well, I mean I would, certainly, I mean I would stand by my first comment which is to read deeply and widely on a particular, like, say if it’s a particular theorist you’re interested in like Bourdieu or Foucault or whoever then it’s not enough to read a couple of texts, you do need to immerse yourself, but then I think there could be ways, the next step to that would then be about trying to apply those ideas and then maybe doing that in discussion with the supervisor, you know, so not writing a whole chapter but maybe 2 or 3 pages to where you can attempt to apply the ideas and then you can use that as a discussion forum ... So yeah, I don’t think it’s enough, I think it would be important, the first step would be to ensure lots of reading but I think that would just be the first step and then it’s about using the ideas and that’s often the hard part. So again it’s about finding ways to scaffold that so there could be sort of different ways of trialling those ideas which you then use as discussion documents to try and take those ideas forwards. (Participant, EARLI research, Wisker, 2013a) This participant suggests developing discussion documents, to engage in the discussion, then bring these back into the main literature review as a whole, with the work of the theorists and critics flowing as a discussion with their own

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work. You might try standing back and extricating the discussions in documents with which you engage, then pulling the whole together, or visualising the different themes and arguments in a diagram, labelling the arguments and the theorists or critics, and even providing extracts and comment on these, on the diagram, then writing that through. Here is a social science example of authors dealing with more recent writers in the field, developing the debate and situating their own work, and then identifying a key theorist and explaining how they will use their work. For more recent writers, they establish some of the current debates and some of the major contributors to these, sketching in their contributions because this is there to show they know the field and that they are developing it: Our larger theoretical framework draws on social practice theories of academic literacy/ies, which view social activities as underpinning all types of communication (Barton & Hamilton, 1998; Gee, 1998; Lea & Street, 1998; Lillis, 2001; Street, 2003); emerging from particular cultural traditions and knowledge-construction approaches (Bazerman, 1988; Prior, 1998); and always entailing power relations (Canagarajah, 2002; Jones, Turner, & Street, 1999, pp. 282–3). (Lillis and Curry, 2006a) Here they establish key thinkers and writers in their section of the field, clarifying what their thoughts are, in brief, not just listing them, but differentiating between and building on them. Then they move to release some of what they have found (which is partly why you have to continue to work on a literature review, since when you write the first draft you have probably not yet found anything). They sum up what has been noted from the range of writers and arguments they have referenced, talking about ‘building’ on this and they ‘propose’ their ideas and findings as part of this ongoing discussion. Two salient findings form the backdrop to our current focus: first, as noted, networks both constitute and afford scholars access to the resources needed for English-medium publishing (Lillis and Curry, 2006a); and, second, that ‘literacy brokers’ play a key role in the production of texts for publication – these include colleagues, language experts, and gatekeepers such as journal editors and reviewers (Lillis and Curry, 2006b). Building on the idea of literacy brokers, here we propose the notion of ‘network brokers’. (Lillis and Curry, 2006a, p. 283) Next they move on to the theorist they are going to use, deviate from, build on and put to work. Bourdieu’s (1985) theory of forms of capital (economic, cultural, social, and symbolic) provides the overarching framework for analysis of networks in academic text production.

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In contrast to cultural capital – which Bourdieu sees as the symbolic goods created and circulated within the family – the notion of social capital helps understand the importance of securing access to resources beyond the family: social capital is the aggregate of the actual or potential resources which are linked to possession of a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition – or in other words, to membership in a group … (Lillis and Curry, 2006a, p. 283) They introduce a quick comment about Bourdieu’s theory of forms of capital, acknowledge the importance of this to their own framework, set their own work and the interpretation of capital in contrast to Bourdieu’s, and by doing so give him more space in terms of what his views are, analysing what he says and then quoting him in order to clearly situate their version of his theories in action in their research, which they go on to discuss in more detail. In the literature review, the writer situates their own work in a dialogue with previous work, the theoretical perspectives offered by the theories, and the work carried out by others in the field, which is gathered into tensions and themes, which enable you to see where your own work might agree or disagree, and which theories can enable you to take the various perspectives – assessment is empowerment, disempowerment or enabling and so on. They provide the delicate yet firm structure to enable your ideas, arguments and claims to emerge from your research, so that you contribute to the ongoing dialogue, and your work can be seen to grow from it. One participant commented: A big learning experience for me has been that doing a doctorate is not a search for the truth but is really just taking part in a conversation. I suppose that is also a learning experience in that when I sit with the ‘learned’ in a conference I feel confident in challenging them as I now see myself as a peer. (Wisker et al., 2010)

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Defining and defending the methodology and methods, and writing about the research processes and data analysis

This section looks at writing a logical, persuasive defence of your choice of methodology and methods, writing about quantitative and qualitative data analysis and interpretation of findings – linking underpinning theories and evidence, making claims and substantiating them. It looks also at the kinds of writing we are involved with, at writing busily and informatively, and at writing conceptually, critically and creatively when discussing a research project.

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There are different disciplinary conventions in use for writing about methodology and methods, and in some disciplines it seems they are largely assumed and therefore need little discussion or argument. However, some experimental methods do need discussion, all need some ethical defence, and changes in methodology and method may also need explanation and defence. In the sciences, often there is a fairly brief statement that a particular experimental method is being used, and in literature, for example, the methodology is unlikely to be mentioned unless you are doing something other than exploring the writing of particular authors in a particular time and place, using critical reading and theory to enable that exploration, dialogue, discussion and argument. However, should you be working largely with interviews of live writers, with archives, with productions and presentations, or with publishing, you might well also need to explain the kinds of methodology and methods you are using. For social scientists and those in the health sciences using non-clinical practice, mainly social science methods, and for those in business, who also use social science methods, the explanation and defence form a substantial chapter of a dissertation or a thesis, and in the case of a journal article, form a separate section.

Differences between methodology and methods Broadly speaking, methodology grows from your world view of how knowledge is constructed. It is the theory-informed overarching structure for your research, while methods are the ways in which you will acquire your data and information, enabled by, for example, questionnaires, interviews, observation, surveys and so on; or for science, experiments; and for art, practice. Your methodology is decided by your discipline and the ways in which you and it construct knowledge, and view the world. Hussey and Hussey explain it clearly. Methodology refers to the overall approach to the research process, from the theoretical underpinning to the collection and analysis of the data. Methods refer only to the various means by which data can be collected and/or analysed. (Hussey and Hussey, 1997) Your methodology will affect the ways in which you collect data, the data you collect, and how you analyse and interpret it to create your findings. I write at length about what methodology is, what methods are, how they relate to one another, and how you choose and put them into action in both Wisker (2008) and Wisker (2012) so here I shall confine myself to suggesting ways that you might phrase such writing about methodology and methods. As noted earlier, methodology is based on your view of the world. If your view is fact-based, believing that asking the right questions will produce the

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truth (positivistic), your writing will be likely to make statements that are factual, clear, causal and logical. If you believe, however, that knowledge is constructed and interpreted you are more likely to be arguing a case based on interpretation of data in terms of theories, context and perspective. The kind of writing that follows is therefore different: one more informative, and the other based more on argument and explanation. To be very simplistic, if you believe that factual knowledge can reliably be discovered, that we can really know factual answers to questions, and that proof and evidence assure truth, you could well be a scientific researcher or a social scientist – and you will certainly be a positivist. If you feel that knowledge is constructed, interpreted, never completely provable, but rather produced in the context of discipline, time, place, questions asked, analysis used, and interpretation – you will be a post-positivist of one kind or another – for example, a relativist (knowledge is understandable and produced relative to…) or a constructivist (it is constructed in the context or from the perspective of…). This is important for your research in terms of its construction, the actual work undertaken, the analysis and the interpretation of the findings. It also affects the language used in your methodology and methods chapter or section, and this is what we are concerned with here. For more on methodology and methods as such, see Wisker (2008) or The Undergraduate Research Handbook. The methodology (overarching world view of how knowledge is produced or found) and methods (the ways a researcher goes about finding out, testing and gathering data) and their explanations lead to different kinds of statements and arguments. Clear statements are important whatever kinds of methodology and methods you are using. Let your readers know what you believe about how knowledge is produced or discovered, how you research, how they can deal with the results, and the findings they offer you: ‘This is a positivistic piece of research using experimental methods to explore … experimental method was used with … to determine … 5 experiments using … were undertaken over a period of 10 months…’ Back up with theory and literature to establish the appropriateness and credibility of the methodology and method used – use the literature, state what the experts say, transfer to this context and project: ‘This project uses ... which is based on the theory of ... (e.g. grounded theory) which states that “ ... ” and enables exploration using...’; ‘Work carried out by XXX used X methodology and methods underpinned by/informed by this theory and was able to explore ... discover … prove … evidence … enable…’. This kind of writing emphasises the solid theoretical base of your work and is persuasive, using the work of others, showing how your work grows from theirs. Argue its appropriateness, explain reasons for its use: ‘Interview methods/experimental methods with XXXX were chosen because ... it would enable ... There would be less likelihood of ... in order to ensure that...’. This is

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argument writing. You make a case for the methods used in relation to what they enable you to find out. Give precise details of the methods in action in gathering data, the samples, the processes used – amount, number, location, size, frequency levels: ‘10 interviews with specialists, each one lasting for 20 minutes’. This is factual and informative writing, so that someone else might replicate the method, or something similar, to enable a reader to fully appreciate the work carried out, and your research does not appear vague. Some further examples of the writing in different discipline research in the methodology and methods section can be found in Chapter 6.

Acknowledging limitations Acknowledging limitations uses conditional language and might seem defensive and hesitant but in fact it strengthens your case both for the methodology and methods and ultimately for the claims your research makes, because it enables you to acknowledge that whatever you do and whatever you find is always conditional to some extent on what you asked and how, and what method you used. So you use words such as ‘while…’, ‘however…’, ‘could…’, ‘would…’, ‘could be argued that…’. There is no respect lost by acknowledging limitations. If you claim too much or insist on perfect proof, any reader would be suspicious, because research is not absolutely fixed, it can always be questioned, always needs to be explained and its claims considered in context. This applies especially with issues such as why you carried out a process or practice, or the way you did that, since someone else might well conceive the research quite differently. Acknowledging limitations also allows you to show what this part of the research work enables you to acknowledge that, as far as possible, what you did was appropriate to your research question and context, and the kind of research (methodology) you undertook. In this way you are clear that it can be seen to produce results that can be trusted, but also there are necessarily some shortcomings – for example, a limited number of participants, responses only from those who chose to respond, who were consulted in certain conditions, and not others, and so on.

Writing about your analysis Early in a dissertation, or a thesis, and in an article that writes up research findings, you need to indicate that you have analysed the research data. Just prior to discussing the data you explore this further and defend your methods of analysis. Here is a sloppy piece of writing: ‘Teachers were interviewed across a wide range of subjects in different secondary schools. The data was analysed looking for themes about their interests in how pupils spent their lunch breaks.’ Any reader or examiner would want to know more about every aspect of this piece of writing. How might you sharpen it up? These are questions you

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would need to answer in order to tighten the writing about the analysis so that as readers we know precisely what the objects, subjects and processes were, when and how and why? Which teachers? Why did you pick them? Where were they? How many? Why did you interview them, not get them to complete a survey? What’s the use of an interview? What are the limitations of an interview? How long were the interviews and what kind of interview procedure did you use, and why? Why did you not use a structured interview or a semi-structured one? What did you do with what they told you? Did you take notes? Tape it? Both? Did you put them at ease first? Did you ask them to complete a consent form? Did you give them advance information about the reasons for the interview? Did you explain what would happen to their responses? What if they wanted to withdraw? Did you explain confidentiality and your ethics clearance from your university? Did anyone refuse to be interviewed? Why a wide range of subjects and not a lone one? Did you start fairly small – that is, two from Maths and three from English? Were the teachers male or female, how many, what ages, does this matter? Why did you pick them – just from those who agreed? How would this affect what you found out? How did you select the schools? Why? Where were they? Are they all the same kind of school? Why did you stratify them? Did any refuse? How did you get access to these schools and the teachers? Was the Head supportive? How often did you visit? Why? This might sound exhaustive but these are just the kinds of questions that would run through readers’ minds if they wondered about your findings and use them themselves or think about carrying out research. Once you’ve examined who, what, when, why, how, in advance, you will probably refine your own research methodology and methods and sharpen up the work you want to do and then report on in your writing. So much of this initial defence of methods and methodology actually appears in a proposal, and it also then appears more sharply in the dissertation, thesis or journal article. You need to have thought of as much as you can and explained it at proposal stage. You don’t have to have specified a sample, but you need to know what kind of sample you would have and why, and what are its limitations. Merely arguing that there was a lack of time or money will not be a good enough reason for that choice. Here is another piece of writing that is less sloppy: An opportunistic sample of 12 research supervisors was chosen from among the participants (25) at a research supervision workshop in University X. This sample was chosen from a group that had already selfselected to be part of the workshop. By doing so they indicated that they were developing as supervisors. Additionally, they were familiar to the researcher and so were likely to be more willing to discuss the interview questions and issues arising from their responses to these questions. The sample included males (15) and females (10) aged 28 to 50, each having supervised for one or more years. They came from a wide range

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of countries: Canada, Sweden, Norway, Turkey and India. They represented the broad range of discipline areas (i.e. grouped in faculties) in that University (Humanities, social sciences including business studies, and STEM subjects, that is science, engineering, computing and mathematics). This opportunist sample offers useful information on…

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Conclusion

In this chapter I have suggested some of the phrasing you might use in the section on methodology and methods, and the section on the literature review. To work on these you will need to look at some examples of journal articles that you feel explain, argue, develop a case for their own situated work and for the reasons why they use certain theorists, theories, and certain methodology and methods. Process these and identify the tone and language they use so that you can become more familiar with and adept in it yourself. Then practice it. Some of the phrasing, above, should help you in your practice. For doctoral students engaged in their PhDs, and any of us engaged in research about which we want to publish, the moments where we can bring our own ideas and understanding, our own new knowledge about the field, into conversation with established and published work is one of revelation, clarification through the writing, and communication. We have defined such revelatory moments as ‘conceptual threshold crossings’ (Wisker and Kiley, 2012). The writing in the literature review begins this work of entering a dialogue with experts, and it is continued in the methodology and methods chapter, at the start where you engage with the theorists. It continues into the use of the same literature and theories in the chapters (or chapter) that present, theorise and explain the interpretation of the data, where this is theorised, and conceptualised, and then again in the conclusions where the factual and conceptual findings are again theorised in that ongoing conversation of which your own work now makes an important extension, addition, clarification and contribution. One of the participants in the doctoral learning journeys research (2007–10, published 2011) put both being stuck and then the clarification and articulation, in this way: The making sense, the revelations and clear expression, the articulation, come from hard thinking, theorising and engaging in this ongoing discussion in the field. And then there are these wonderful moments where things just slot into place, but only after a long engagement and in-depth knowledge … then suddenly all relates to each other, like my argument is revealing itself to me. Of course this isn’t the case … I can’t really explain what happens, but it does feel like the pieces of my puzzle physically move towards each other. (Wisker et al., 2011, p. 23)

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This research writer knows he/she is telling a story, fitting his/her work into a jigsaw, and that the telling and fitting are all accomplished by first understanding then finding exactly the right expression. The literature review and the methodology and methods, and then the interpretations of the data are important sections or chapters. They help you make your case, in context, and in dialogue.

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Further reading

Barton, D. and Hamilton, M. (1998) Local Literacies: Reading and Writing in One Community (London: Routledge). Canagarajah, A. S. (2002) A Geopolitics of Academic Writing (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press). Curry, M. J. and Lillis, T. M. (2010) ‘Academic Research Networks: Accessing Resources for English-Medium Publishing’, English for Specific Purposes, 29, 281–95. Hart, C. (1998) Doing a Literature Review: Releasing the Social Science Research Imagination (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage), p. 1. Savin-Baden, M. and Howell Major, C. (2013) Qualitative Research: The Essential Guide to Theory and Practice (London: Routledge). Street, B. V. (2003) ‘What’s New in New Literacy Studies?’, Current Issues in Comparative Education, 5(2), 1–14. Wisker, G., Morris, C., Cheng, M., Masika, R., Warnes, M., Lilly, J., Trafford, V. and Robinson, G. (2010) ‘Doctoral Learning Journeys – Final Report of the NTFS-Funded Project’. Available at: http://www.heacademy.ac.uk/ resources/detail/ntfs/Projects/Doctoral_Learning_Journeys.

8 Writing abstracts and conclusions – emphasising meaning and worth

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • •

The abstract as a marketing tool Examples of abstracts and conclusions Conclusions sections Your conclusions Writing the acknowledgements, references, tables and appendices Knowing the importance of what you have written, and being able to market and disseminate the essence of your writing Picking the right publication outlet Conclusions

This chapter is about stepping back and getting an overview of the importance and achievement of your writing, and making sure that this is clear to your readers. This could be seen as developing a ‘helicopter view’, because it is the moment when you see the patterns of the ideas and themes, the shapes of the linked sections, and the thread of the main argument, almost like flying over a landscape where there are clear visual points of importance, roads and a mountain range. You will have the patterns and the main argument running throughout your work, clearly visible to any reader, and this needs first to be very clear in your own mind, since capturing the main contributions your work makes attracts, impresses and intrigues readers. It makes them want to find out more, to read the whole work. Importantly, the clearly stated contribution to knowledge, meaning and worth of your work needs to be underpinned by a well expressed, well-assembled research or professional development story, where your written representation of your work appears in the sections and carries the reader through, holding their attention, maintaining well established, well evidenced and well theorised arguments. There are two absolutely 132

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crucial moments in any article, dissertation or thesis when you emphasise this overview, the real reason this piece has to be read, and the meaning and worth of your work. These are the abstract and the conclusions. Both are usually started early to help you to identify and to map out the importance of the work carried out in the way you have chosen. Both remain with you as reminders underpinning your work throughout, and both are written after all the other parts of the piece of work, when you can see the shape of what you have produced and can step back and make a clear statement about its contribution to knowledge. You know you have something important to write about, something to say. You have found a topic, developed it, practised and experimented, explored, analysed, understood and worked out what is important to convey to others. As you work your way through the sections of your journal article, thesis, dissertation or book it is just possible that you could be so involved in the process of informing, defining, backing up with theory and reading, and laying out the data and discussing it that you almost forget to step back and let your readers know: • • • • • •

Why they need to read this. What it offers to the discipline and the ongoing discussions in that part of the discipline (or inter-discipline). Why you carried out your research, bringing your professional practice into view, and why in this way. What they can learn from reading your piece. What the main contributions are to knowledge and ongoing debates. Why all this matters.

These are points covered by an abstract. As we work through our research practice and our writing, oddly we may lose sight of these points, but they are the reasons we are articulating and sharing. So by stepping back, getting it into perspective, writing down a clarification, defence and claim in this way is very helpful. The abstract, however, is usually drafted early on (although it will change once you have data and findings). For funded projects it provides reasons for the funding, and for publications it is sometimes sent in advance to persuade an editor to take your journal article, or a publisher to take your book outline. You will be used to producing abstracts for conferences perhaps, but sometimes these are rather speculative. The abstracts you produce for your completed article, thesis, dissertation or book will need to capture succinctly what your work contributes and why it’s worth reading. Sometimes abstracts are also summaries of the main work, but these will also need to answer the above points about contribution to knowledge and meaning – that is, the articulation of the essence of the work and the claim it makes as a contribution to the field. In their final form, abstracts have a specific formal language. We shall look at that in this chapter, giving examples of abstracts and their writing.

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By now you will probably be too daunted by its significance to write a good abstract! But stepping back and considering the list of points will help you to get started. Your first structures are drafts. You might find that answering questions out loud and taping then transcribing them will help your flow. You will need to edit and re-edit the abstract to make it do its work for you.

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The abstract as a marketing tool

Remember, while your abstract for a thesis or an article is a scholarly and succinct piece, it is also a marketing exercise, and the message it sends to potential readers markets the rest of your work. It can appear in an index of abstracts online or in a library. If it is first seen online, readers will perhaps have to pay (or their libraries will have to pay) to gain access to the rest of your journal article or thesis. If the abstract is misleading, these people might waste their money and may not want read your work again in the future. If, however, it is catchy, intriguing and very clear, they will feel they have been introduced appropriately to both this piece of your work, and your future publications. A good abstract is a fine opportunity to sell your work in a scholarly manner. Abstract language, in a scholarly article abstract, is not much of a sales pitch, though, so often publishers and editors of journals will use what you say in other marketing contexts and make it even more accessible to get the worth of your work over to a wider audience. We are in the scholarly academic business, but it is also a business that needs to make money, and publishers, funding bodies and research councils will be relying on your abstract to fund you, buy your work and perhaps also that of your research colleagues, and to enable you to establish and maintain credibility in your field. Abstracts are also discussed in Chapter 6.

Activity: Abstracts exercise This activity, and those that follow, give you the opportunity to identify the characteristics of a good abstract from appropriate examples; to review them; and then to consider how you would build your own. PART A Read three abstracts from journals you have consulted, read or feel are important in your field. As you’re reading, highlight the key words, phrases and statements. When you’ve read the abstracts, consider: 1

What is the main rationale or argument for the work reported and discussed here for this article, and how is it established in the abstract?

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2 3 4

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What clues are there about the way that the article is structured in terms of reporting research and developing an argument? How do they situate this new piece of work, the contribution made in this article, briefly in the literature? If it is a research-based article, what does the author say about the methodology used? How do they briefly defend that methodology and those methods? What does the author claim this work has contributed to knowledge, to our understanding and to ongoing discussions in the field? If you were to outline a model for other people on writing abstracts, based on this example, what would it be like? How would you suggest that they structure and phrase it?

Abstracts are the main marketing tool for your work. They are the section of your work that ‘travels’, and is available on search engines, while the article or thesis remains hidden. They are the taster that invites the reader to find out more. They convey the importance of your work in a few hundred words. They should not be merely a summary of the whole piece of work, though in some journals in the sciences, that is acceptable sometimes, as long as the importance of the work is also emphasised. They are rather like a succinct, focused introduction to an article, setting out the rationale and main argument, emphasising the major contribution to knowledge and understanding. The way you write your abstract depends on your preference, which style best fits the type of article you are writing, the norms in your discipline, and what kinds of abstract the journal you are targeting tends to publish. Some of these details you can check on the publisher’s website, and you can also work it out through analysing closely a few abstracts in issues of the journal. PART B Using one of the examples in your own discipline with which you are satisfied and which could act as a model, write an abstract for your own article. Write quickly without worrying too much about your choice of words; then go back and revise. Ensure that in your abstract it is clear that you have answered as many of these questions as you think are relevant regarding this piece of work, this contribution to the ongoing work in the field. You might not be answering these questions directly but someone reading the abstract should be able to easily determine, for example, for whom the abstract is intended:

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Who are the intended readers? (implied, or stated) What does this work contribute to meaning and ongoing discussion in the field? (make its importance and impact clear) What did you do? Why did you do it? (this is very short, not a methodology chapter, instead a convincing taste) What happened when you did it? What do the results mean in theory? What do the results mean in practice? What is the key benefit for readers? What remains unresolved/what further work needs doing?

Share your abstract with a critical friend. Can they give you any feedback? Can they see the answers to these questions in the abstract? Could they explain it to someone else and explain why the other person needs to read it? Before you finalise your abstract, look carefully again at the abstracts in your chosen journal to make sure it fits in terms of shape, length and tone.

The conclusions section is not a public marketing tool, but it too has to articulate the importance of the work that has been done, how it contributes to the ongoing dialogue in the field, how it adds something new in terms of information and something new and rich in terms of understanding, and of meaning. Some readers, including editors and examiners (of theses) read the conclusions section straight after the adstract to determine what your contribution is and to see if there is alignment between the abstract and conclusions. We shall look first at discipline based examples of abstracts, and then at conclusions.

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Examples of abstracts and conclusions

I have selected abstracts from three fields, to act as examples of ways of constructing and expressing the key issues of an abstract in different disciplines, though there are many variants and each journal or university (if it is a thesis) has its own rules with which you must comply. These examples are not perfect, no model is, but they are effective and have been published (so they have been through the reviewing process and been refined). Broadly speaking, they come from the social sciences, sciences and humanities. These abstracts each seem to me to be effective without being so complicated or complex in their working that they are only accessible to specialists (and your work might have to be more complex and accessible to specialists, but probably less so in

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the abstracts and conclusion sections). They are all readable, make their point clearly, use the language or discourse of their discipline areas, and offer ways into the rest of the work as expressed in the remainder of the article. They are clearly abstracts for the article that follows. They link the overview of why the work needed to be done, in what way, and what it has added to the field, without merely summing up the article that follows; our appetites are whetted and we want to read on. They use the language of abstracts. However, were you to read the whole article in each case, you would see that in the full text of these three articles there is much more discipline-orientated and complex language, interpreted data, and use of theory to inform the work. For the reader, the abstract and conclusion are both sound insights into the whole article or thesis and offer an attractive, readable way into what has been achieved from the research or practice, as reflected in the whole.

Examples of abstracts Example 1: Science – Neuroscience Dagny Holle and Mark Obermann, ‘The Role of Neuroimaging in the Diagnosis of Headache Disorders’, Therapeutic Advances in Neurological Disorders. Published online before print, June 13 (2013). Abstract Headache is a common clinical feature in patients in the emergency room and in general neurology clinics. For physicians not experienced in headache disorders it might be difficult sometimes to decide in which patients neuroimaging is necessary to diagnose an underlying brain pathology and in which patients cerebral imaging is unnecessary. Most patients presenting to the primary-care physician with a non-acute headache and no further neurological signs or symptoms will not be suffering from an underlying serious condition. This review focuses on the main primary headache diseases, including migraine, tension-type headache and cluster headache, as well as frequent secondary headache entities with common clinical presentation and appropriate diagnostic and therapeutic algorithms to help guide the decision on the utilization of neuroimaging in the diagnostic workup. We all know something about headaches, so the authors have a potentially large audience for this piece. However, it is also strongly research based and scholarly, which would attract a specialist audience. The abstract is clear, logical, readable, accessible and develops the argument that will be opened out and clarified in the whole paper. The conclusion (see section below) sums up the importance of the findings and the decisions made as a result. Neither abstract nor conclusion contain complex scientific or foggy language – for example, multisyllabic words used

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where straightforward ones would be easier to read; see Chapter 11 – and both are accessible to the general reader. The position is established – the common disorder of headache, the difficulties for physicians not used to dealing with headache disorders, and the varied norms of such disorders, here defined as non-acute and not in need of complex treatment. The authors have narrowed the field: non-acute headache disorders and physicians who are not specialists in complex headache disorders, and they have made the situation very clear for the general reader. Some words such as ‘entities’ and ‘therapeutic algorithms’ might be less familiar to such readers, but are probably very familiar to anyone who normally reads this journal. Different readers will want to read on, for different reasons, general or specialist. There are no grand claims such as ‘no one since…’; ‘no single…’; ‘this paper establishes a unique view’ and so on. It moves from headaches to physician to the usually recognisable treatment of symptoms and then to the main diseases that might cause headaches, followed by a clear statement that diagnosis and therapies can be helpful. Example 2: Cultural studies – Humanities Sandra Annett, ‘New Media Beyond Neo-Imperialism, Betty Boop and Sita Sings the Blues’, Journal of Post-colonial Writing, p. 15, downloaded 3 November, 2013. Abstract This essay argues that theories which frame media globalisation as either Disney-style neo-imperial domination or as radical techno-politics fail to account for the complex network of exchange that takes place in animated media. Instead of framing media use in terms of ‘top-down’ versus ‘bottomup’ activity, this essay demonstrates how animators and audiences in different national and cultural contexts may inhabit multiple positions, entering into fraught, yet often productive, relations of complicity and collaboration through different media technologies. To that end, it highlights two particular historical moments… This is a clear abstract which emphasises the ways in which animators’ varied post-colonial contexts enable them to produce work from different positions, which can be many and varied. It emphasises the historical moments of the two productions and goes on to look at transnational aspects. It has several words and phrases you would need to research if you were not familiar with the discipline, such as ‘inhabit multiple positions’, where theories of personality and culture would need to be considered before the full issue of the article could be understood. As with the previous scientific abstract, this has its own ways of arguing, using the theorised language of the discipline, the discourse, and the ways it controls understanding. So, while ‘theories which frame media globalization’ might sound complex at first sight, it can be simplified, and you

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might need to unpick the phrases and gloss the argument. I suggest this could be simplified as: theories considering the ways in which the media seems to be universal to appeal to and draw from everyone, but it is actually based in different situations, contexts and emotions that are also culturally formed. So, one culture might react with confusion and perhaps rejection of certain images from another because of context, ways of interpretation and lack of familiarity. The points are clear, and the use of discipline-specific, theorised language is occasionally complicated but not over complex. It states the main arguments, and the main issues being analysed and we can see what interesting arguments are being made about culture affecting social media and popular cultural productions, and how different people in a range of cultural contexts interpret things differently. An insider would probably have no difficulty with the language, and the main points are emphasised clearly. However, an outsider would need to gloss, as I have, and perhaps to look up some of the words that are somewhat (and mistakenly, I would suggest) taken for granted, such as ‘transnational’ (used later). The issue in reading such an abstract for an outsider could be that some of these words seem familiar but they are being used in a theorised manner here. When you are writing an abstract, there are several issues this example raises. The readership is the first. If you write for insiders you probably do not have to translate the specialised use of certain words, and can assume your readers also use them, so translation would be a little insulting. Or you could decide that certain terms will always need a little translation, since sometimes readers merely pretend they fully understand them if they are insiders to the culture of the discipline and its discourse. You might also decide that the piece has a potentially wide audience and so make it more accessible. The first article on headaches makes it more accessible in the abstract and conclusions than it actually is in the main body of the text, where more complex scientific arguments and evidencing take place. Example 3: Social science – Education Beverley Simmons and Allyson Holbrook, ‘From Rupture to Resonance: Uncertainty and Scholarship in Fine Art Research Degrees’, Arts and Humanities in Higher Education, 2012, p. 16. Abstract This article focuses on the phenomenon of ‘rupture’ identified in student narratives of uncertainty and scholarship experienced during the course of Fine Art research degrees in two Australian universities. Rupture captures the phenomenon of severe disruption or discontinuity in existing knowledge and typically signifies epistemological rift for the students. On one level candidates become anxious and directionless; on another they adapt and resolve the

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challenges they face. All candidates enter research degrees ready to be challenged, but can soon become overwhelmed by what they perceive as chaos in their thinking, combined with organizational hurdles and, in the disciplinary area of fine art, an unfamiliar and newly evolving community of practice. They identify struggle as a crucial stage in their scholarly development, knowledge construction and the advancement of research and art making in their discipline area. This article advances a perspective on the roles of challenge and adaptivity in knowledge production that further informs the literature on the supervision needs of new researchers in both cases as a focal point for neo-imperial complicity and collaborative reinterpretation among creators and viewers of global media. This abstract is very clear and well argued, as are the previous two examples. To read it you would need to understand the more specialised use of familiar words such as ‘rupture’, which in bodily language suggests a cut, split, break away. It indicates something similar here, but it is a word taken into a different, specialised context to suggest breakdown and breakaway in terms of doctoral students’ studies. This is an education article abstract but it also refers to ‘global media’ and ‘neo-imperial complicity’. Some of the language is a mixture of politicised media theory and interpretative language, and some of it is the language of education theory. While ‘epistemological’ is familiar to educationalists it might need sourcing for those who are uneasy in using the word (epistemology = (roughly) beliefs about how knowledge is constructed, often differently in different contexts and disciplines). To read this and other specialised words in context, a rough definition might do or you might instead need an interpretation of the exact use of the more complex words.

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Conclusions sections

Conclusions are just as important as abstracts and are often read immediately after them, before the reader explores the full, evidenced argument of your work. As a writer, you need to ensure that the conclusions really emphasise what you did, what you found and why it matters, what it contributes, and how it changes our thinking. Focusing on work on the doctoral thesis can cast a useful light on other written pieces. Research into the ways in which doctoral examiners examine PhD theses indicates that they often tend to read the abstract and the conclusions, then look at the appendices, references and introduction. After that they read the whole thesis, having established from these highly focused, succinct pieces exactly why the work needed to be done, why it needed to be done in this way, how it was done (in brief), what main factual findings came from it, and what conceptual and interpretative findings. In other words, they have established what it contributes to information, to knowledge and to further understanding of an issue in the field and the questions arising from the issue it addressed.

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Having this meta-view, readers can then delve into the thesis itself and see whether the literature review, methodology and methods, data and discussion actually do what the abstract and conclusion say they do – whether the claims for contributions to knowledge made in these key sections are rewarded and achieved in the rest of the article, dissertation, thesis or book. This is true of a PhD thesis; it is also true of masters dissertations and of journal articles, which are, on the whole, structured as mini-theses and also claim to make a contribution to knowledge. The conclusion of your writing in any form needs to be succinct, focused, emphasising the contribution your work has made and the implications of that contribution, and even suggesting further work, so that the whole area feels authoritative, lively and engaged, and you sound that way too. Trzeciak and Mackay (1994) suggest there are useful ‘ingredients’ in a conclusion. You might not want to include all the elements they mention and, given the nature of the discipline and journal, and your own choices, it is not always necessary or desirable either. However, this is a useful list. • • • • • •

A summary of the main part of the text A deduction made on the basis of the main body Your personal opinion on what has been discussed A statement about the limitations of the work The implications of the work for future research Important facts and figures not mentioned in the main body

(Trzeciak and Mackay, 1994) There are several other views, depending on discipline and intent. Considering writing style, Pallant (2004), argues that the conclusion should leave a reader ‘with a clear impression that the purposes of the essay have been achieved’ (p. 41). Her list of what to ensure is included in the conclusions encompasses several different kinds of conclusions, so you will want to select from it: • • • • •

A summary of the main points (being careful not to repeat exactly what you have written before) Concluding statements Recommendations Predictions Solutions

(Pallant, 2004) Despite being common in business projects, recommendations are not usually included in articles, dissertations or theses. You might indicate something like this:

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Research reported here suggests that further work could be/should be carried out on…. This work indicates that those deciding on XX might want to take YY into consideration in making their judgements.

Both of these are roundabout ways of recommending action. One suggests further research, the other implications for practice, but neither makes direct recommendations. Normally, we would assume that the argument, underpinned by research and/or professional practice evidence, will be making a case for action on its own without a recommendations section. We leave the reader to decide on exactly what they might do as a result of reading our work, since this will differ depending on their reasons for reading it, and their own context. Conclusions should include: • •

•

A brief summary of the piece. The main factual conclusions – what information we have, how our knowledge has been extended in this particular case related to this field and this question. Interpretative conclusions – what have you interpreted from the factual findings and the ideas developed Conceptual conclusions – how have you and we as readers developed our understanding of the importance of the areas being studied, so that the concepts, the powerful ideas, have been further developed and enriched, the meaning deepened and enhanced.

Examples of conclusions Example 1: Science The neuroscience essay on headache treatment by Holle and Obermann (2013). Summary Headache is a common clinical feature in neurological patients. Patients with classic episodic migraine and TTH need no further neuroimaging as part of their diagnostic work. These patients do not have a higher rate of relevant cerebral pathology than anyone else in the general population. Sometimes, however, it might be reasonable to perform neuroimaging in patients frightened that they are suffering from severe illness who present with common clinical features. Distinct red flags on clinical neurological examination point to secondary cause of the headache and require further neuroimaging to detect treatable causes and severe disease of the secondary headache. Note that this article has a summary, rather than a conclusion. This is often the case with scientific pieces. However, the authors have not just summed up the

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whole, they have also guided us with some arguments and a perspective. This conclusion has similar straightforward features to the abstract, but it also makes some statements based on the findings explored in the review-orientated essay. My own summary of the authors’ summary would indicate it is clear that for most patients with a variety of headache disorders there is no need for neuroimaging, there are no complex situations, and the headaches can be treated. However, it moves beyond the scientific findings into considerations about people and suggests that an extra dimension of patient care is needed. We should recognise that anxiety is a problem, and so neuroimaging could be used to settle the minds of anxious patients. The conclusions section adds to knowledge about a variety of headaches, ways of identifying them, physicians’ activities, neuroimaging in identification and treatment, or a recognition that complex treatment is not necessary. It also comments on the sensitive recognition of patient experiences. The stages are logical and accessible, and there are some suggestions made, though they are not quite recommendations. These are that most headache problems are not over complex, but that patients might need the reassurance of a more complex diagnostic procedure – neuroimaging – that is not otherwise absolutely necessary. Both the abstract and the conclusions are very accessible to readers, but that is not to say that the paper is non-scientific and simple. It becomes more densely scientific in the main body of the text. The authors have taken pains to ensure that the abstract and the conclusions are as accessible to a general readership as they are to specialists, and have then increased the complexity and deepened their data, analysis and discussion in the main body of the text. Example 2: Humanities article The article on new media by Annett (2013). Conclusion Transnational collaborations through new media are not free of risks. As Gajjala says, new media technologies were all based on ‘social discourses and material practices that viewed the privilege of the world from the less privileged’ (2004, 106). Yet we must be careful not to mark the divisions too rigidly. In the cases of both Betty Boop and Sita Sings the Blues, both show how animators and viewers were in fact multiply positioned in their privilege and disadvantages. … worked from the minoritarian position of Jewish immigrants in the United States during the 1930s, they retained a state of privilege and a male film maker’s complicity in Orientalist conceptions of representing race and gender. This conclusion sums up the problems that have been explored in the article: risks, positioning, the interrelationships between cultural context, perspective

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and the cultural production. It brings theory (Orientalism) in an unobtrusive, conventional manner to place this statement about the very present issues of cultural difference. We are directed in the argument arising from the discussion by phrases such as ‘proposes that’ and ‘Yet we must be careful’. The conclusions go beyond summing up and listing. They work at a conceptual level with the issues of context, perspective, media and media content, but it is still all accessible. Example 3: Social sciences Beverley Simmons and Allyson Holbrook (2012). Conclusion Fine art candidates experience an exacting level of uncertainty during their doctoral candidature. This potentially erodes their intrinsic commitment, as revealed by the range of anxieties experienced by the informants in this study, and manifests as rupture in response to an epistemological rift or fault line in their experience of knowledge. The intensity of their struggle around the discontinuity in knowledge is revealed in their attempts to bridge the gap between what they know and what they do not know. This is evident in the way candidates question their existing well developed art practices and the technologies required and explicate their lack of conceptual or written skills. Many elements of the findings reported here support earlier studies that recognized the dilemmas that artists face when undertaking a practice-based research degree in the visual arts, notably the findings of Hockey (2007). What is new is a shifting of the site of struggle from the personal, such as threats to creativity or creative identity, to an epistemological struggle brought on by a severe disruption or discontinuity in, or rupture to, existing knowledge. This is a very well theorised argument. Beginning with a focus on fine art candidates as a special case, it offers a contribution to knowledge, which reminds us of the theories that have played a part in the essay as a whole. The special case of fine art doctoral students is emphasised, and we are told that they face ‘ruptures’, difficulties and challenges, which differ from those faced in other disciplines. The conclusion emphasises ‘what is new’ so we can see not only that the group – fine art students – are new in terms of the contribution to knowledge, but that the crux of the piece is that the threats to security of self and being in the world (ontological insecurity) are particularly complex and problematic for those who are engaged in creative work, for whom the self is greatly bound up with that creativity. I have omitted a large section of the conclusion to help a specific focus here, but suggest that, if you would like to see more of the staged argument, you access the piece directly. It also makes comments about the role of the supervisor in helping to manage the difficulties students face.

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Summing up this section All three sets of conclusions are clear and easy to read. They are discipline based in terms of the field, the language and theory used, and even the structures of argument. Each emphasises to the reader the main points being made – headaches, causes and the need to reassure patients; postcolonial cultural contexts, the production of and reception of media texts; and the specific issues that cause ontological insecurity and stress, and how they might be managed for fine art doctoral students. When you can make your point as clearly as this, readers want to read the whole article, which will be discipline-focused in terms of literature accessed, forms of expression and argument. As a reader you should have a sense that you have the overview from the abstract and conclusions and can work through the piece as a whole. Each is complex, each makes a contribution to knowledge, each has a staged abstract and a staged conclusions section, which highlight the importance of the work in the continued dialogue in the field. When you come to write your own conclusions section, think carefully about clarity and accessibility, evidence fuelling argument, and about how much discipline language and argument structure you can use, and how much the conclusions can stand back, emphasiseing the importance and worth of what you have found and be accessible to as broad a readership as appropriate.

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Your conclusions

Activity Explore the conclusions of two or three journal articles in your field. It might be that all they do is sum up the whole of the piece – and maybe that’s acceptable. Certainly, at school, we were told that the conclusions were just a summary of the whole, or of the introduction, and seeing them in that way helps the writer to begin structuring. But they are more complicated than that. They really assert what the piece of work has contributed, so it is a good idea to explore these characteristics in the essays/articles you choose – and the transfer of this to your own writing. When scrutinising conclusions, your own and those of others, check the following points: • • • • •

What is the context for this work? Why was it carried out? What is its importance and what gap does it fill? What factual information has it contributed? How has it extended our knowledge? (Factual conclusions)

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What has it been able to say about the findings? (Interpretive conclusions) What contribution has it made to our understanding about the field? And the issue? How have contradictions and differences been dealt with and how has it developed new views/new conceptualisations/new deeper meanings? [Conceptual conclusions] What have we gained from reading this?

I used to find it really difficult to work out what my conclusions were, but now I try to answer the questions I have posed (above). Then I go back into the text to make sure I have answered them and that the conclusions of this piece of work do really round it off and tell readers what they have gained from reading it.

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Writing the acknowledgements

When you write a dissertation, thesis, journal article or book, publishers and readers check the text for accuracy and completion often using the acknowledgements, references, figures, tables and appendices. It is absolutely normal to feel like stopping once you have expressed the uniqueness of your professional expertise and the importance of your experimental-based data or your analysis of those long ethnographic interviews, and those huge literary texts, and you are aware of the contribution your work makes to knowledge and have drawn that out in the abstract and conclusion in particular. However, it is these items from the preliminaries and outer carapace that are actually essential elements of showing how what you have written is trustworthy, can be traced, questioned and built on, and that it is accurate, truthful, and you are acknowledging that you have not done it alone.

Acknowledgements It is in the acknowledgements that you and your readers recognise that, in writing, we are definitely not alone. There’s often a hidden layer of people who enabled you to get the book, thesis, dissertation or journal article out (though acknowledgements are rarely added to a journal article unless certain people have contributed to the research). Here you can acknowledge the faithfulness and tenacity of your family and friends, even the dog and cat, but mainly this is the place where your readers can check that you have recognised the key people who have played a part in the development of your work, whether local colleagues or those who have allowed you to use and refer to their work. This establishes your credibility in the field.

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Find out whose work you have used significantly and thank these people for their influences. Thank those who have helped to edit the English to ensure it is accessible and clear; and those who helped with the layout, typesetting and reference checking. This sets a good pattern for others looking at your work, so they can see that we all work with and depend on the skills and support of others to get our writing published, and they can also see something of the context of our work. At the end of your work you might also include: • • • •

Charts, tables, etc. Abbreviations, glossary References Bibliography

Chapter 6 looks at the differences between references and bibliography. Depending on the accessibility of your work and the detail you need to go into to enable a reader to access elements of the original research findings, these elements of the thesis, dissertation or book are there to enable your reader to fully understand what you are saying in your writing, and to indicate the meticulous completion of the text itself. You need to know the importance of what you have written – be able to market and disseminate the essence of your writing, write succinctly and then also provide information on the other elements of the work: references, appendices, etc. Your abstracts and conclusions sections for chapters are crucial, as they set out what your work is about, why you did it, why you did it the way you did, what you found, what it contributes to our factual knowledge and our conceptual understanding, how it furthers our understanding of your contribution to the field, and how it situates your work in an ongoing discussion and dialogue in the field. They are each constructed by you stepping back and emphasising in these ways. Credibility, accuracy, clarity, reliability, validity and ethics are all mentioned in these two crucial sections, which really sum up your impact on understanding, your contribution to the field.

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Knowing the importance of what you have written; being able to market and disseminate the essence of your writing

Your writing needs to be read or it would be like a message in a bottle – off it would go into nothingness. Part of ensuring it is read is getting it published, and part is making sure it has something to say, has quality and is worth reading. Marketing it is crucial. You need to work with the marketing department of the publishers to highlight and focus on your work, to ensure that it

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is promoted at conferences and through the advertisements the company takes out in the higher education press. You also need to work with the marketing people at your university so that they can announce your work, or it won’t be read. In the academic world, we rarely make a profit from our writing, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care whether it’s read and used. Knowledge needs to circulate to contribute to discussions, and for professional practice as well as for experimental research, some of our discoveries, published and shared, could even go so far as to save lives. Some of our writing about our findings, innovations and solutions to problems offer practices and processes that raise the quality of human life. So we really do not have a choice. It is unethical (and a waste of effort) to keep our insights to ourselves, either by not publishing or by not marketing. Instead, we need to ensure that our work is read, so that the hard work and good writing as well as the crucial knowledge is not lost.

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Picking the right publication outlet

Ensure your work is going to be published in an outlet where they will market it to reach a readership and be appreciated. Ask the editor of your chosen journal about the journal’s circulation, and ask a book publisher about the company’s marketing practices. Check friends’ and colleagues’ views about the standing and appropriateness of the outlets where you are intending to publish. Do they feel that this publisher, journal or trade magazine has a good reputation? Do they receive advertising material from the publisher suggesting that they read certain articles or buy certain books? Are the publishers likely to push your work enough? The major journal publishers now select certain popular lead pieces to market the journal on a regular basis. Could you ask if your essay might be included in this list? You will find that more people will read your work and then look for more of it in the future if your work is occasionally made freely accessible. If the publisher does not select particular essays and use and market them, people might well be reading the works that other publishers use instead of yours. Be choosy and ask the right questions. Of course, if you are just starting to write you might have to be a little less choosy at the beginning, but none the less, it is best to check how your work will be marketed and pushed, because if your work is hidden in a box in a garage or warehouse somewhere (or the virtual equivalent with a publisher who does not market at all) and never advertised, marketed or made available, then you won’t be read or heard. You need your piece of work to be made available to readers, and the right range of readers, so that it will be noticed, read and put to use. Whenever it is used and found useful, cited or included in a course or a funding bid, for example, this also needs evidencing and tracking since such proof of usefulness contributes to research exercises, and so to esteem and your own reputation. It is really

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heartening to find out that people read your work, engage in a dialogue with it, and use it to feed into their own practice. To sum up: •

Pick the right outlets: publisher and journal. Ask about their circulation and marketing. Check these out yourself and also by asking colleagues. Really work hard to ensure your work is clear regarding all the elements which might be used for marketing:

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Abstract Keywords Main important points rewritten in a couple of sentences to advertise a book

If you have your work accepted for publication and it is appropriate to do so, offer a lively sales blurb. Once you have been published, look for and ask for your work in bookstores and at conferences. If the bookshop cannot find your book and they do not know where to shelve it, make a suggestion. If at a conference, on this occasion the bookseller or publisher has not brought your book, or the journal they publish in which your work appears, remind them, they will make a note to bring it the next time. If you are going to a conference and there is a new work of yours newly published, see if the conference organiser or the publisher would be prepared to make an announcement and launch it.

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Activity Think about what you need to do now to: • •

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focus and clarify the main contribution of your work; and direct it towards the most suitable publication outlet which will market your writing to your intended readership.

Conclusions

This chapter has taken a meta approach to writing your article, dissertation, thesis or book. We have considered the sections which help you to step back and identify your achievements, and have also looked at how to pick the right outlets and ensure that your work is properly marketed so your message is both clear and available to readers.

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Further reading

Pallant, A. (2004) English for Academic Study: Writing (Reading: Garnet Publishing), p. 41. Trzeciak, J. and MacKay, S. E. (1994) Study Skills for Academic Writing (New York: Prentice-Hall).

9 Developing good writing according to structure

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • • •

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Planning your structure Organising your ideas Being creative with the structure en route Common problems with structuring Practical activities to make structuring and sticking to it a little more manageable Different kinds of writing in different parts of your work Planning and managing the process – developing grids Development of a book on writing (this one) with 19 chapters Conclusions

Planning your structure

When you structure your own work, whether experimental in form or more regular and familiar, you will find structuring processes helpful, in the same way that readers find them helpful in their reading, taking them in steps from one place to another. Structure is both logical and ordered, part of the holistic shape of your work. You will probably find it useful to proceed step by step from abstract through to conclusion, but the whole piece must also be seen in its logical shape using signposts and key words, when both writer and reader step back to see what is being said and how. How to structure your writing for academic publication, is a key concern for all of us and something I engage with in a practical fashion in workshops and individual supervisions, as well as in feedback on students’ and colleagues’ writing, and, of course, endlessly in my own writing. There are disciplinary and contextual differences, as well as differences related to your own aims and readership. However, having said that, in our reading we often see that journal articles and dissertations or theses are structured in very similar ways. I suggest that you read and process several journal articles and theses or dissertations in your discipline, in your preferred publications and 151

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by publishers you read regularly, and see what structure you are likely to be working towards. If you process articles, dissertations and theses this will become evident. When processing we are looking to explore how others structure their ideas, defences of theory, methodology and methods, their data and interpretation, also linking theoretical underpinning, developing themes that run throughout, and ensuring that there is a readable argument, as well as links between evidence and claim. You might find that laying out the items of an expected structure, with gaps to fill in, helps you to write in the expected ways within the expected sections. The typical structure of a scientific piece is: abstract, introduction, literature review (minimal), methodology and methods (sometimes only taking up a few sentences), data and discussion (data briefly introduced, presented quite extensively, then analysed, interpreted and discussed at the end, usually in a single separate section), then conclusions. A typical social sciences structure is: abstract, introduction, literature review(lengthy), methodology and methods (lengthy), data and discussion – in themes, so that each section or chapter deals with a theme – and conclusion. The social science piece usually has these as headings, while a literary piece or one from the humanities or arts might well not have any subsections at all beyond introduction and conclusion, with the thematic chapters or sections exploring data and argument in between. If it is more journalistic in form it might be divided up more and have a subsection inserted whenever a major new area of interest is introduced. Think of the structure of any piece as a view of the world from space. The key issues and arguments stand out like mountain ranges, Hadrian’s Wall or the Great Wall of China; threads and shapes are like the continents; and the themes that run through the text are like the colour coding of seas, land and cities. Step back to see the whole picture, and lead your readers through it by reminding them where the argument is going, what will be seen later, and wherever they have been, by summing up the previous chapter or section to move on to the next. There may be flurries of the experimental in a certain section, such as a combination between a working extract of your commentary and the theorising from the experts, visuals used in the theorised discussion, a parallel use of texts of critical, creative work and reflection. Set the scene for the reader at the start and remind them where they are going as you change from form to form and argument to argument and lead them along. That said, we are now still wondering what to do to enable the structuring to take place. In the following sections in this chapter and in other specific chapters we look at the kinds of writing that are used in the different sections of an article or chapters of a thesis/dissertation. Overall, in your planning and writing to a structure, you might find it useful to consider:

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A grid, which helps you plan. The overall shape, like a building. Metaphors that enable the visualisation and imagining of the text as a structured piece and how the different elements cohere. A plan to help you keep track of your own progress through the structured piece.

Once you have your structure in place, you can allow yourself to get your ideas down, start to complete some parts of the structure of the whole, give yourself notes and questions about other parts of it to enable you to think about and research what to put in them, and get some early draft writing done.

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Organising your ideas

Get your ideas down on paper. Incomplete sentences, streams of consciousness/free writing, mind maps, lists of ideas and outlines are all good ways of getting started. These methods will help you to figure out what you want to say, which is the main purpose of this phase of writing. You don’t have to worry about the writing being bad, because you will revise it later. The concern with structure of your writing at this stage is at the level of ideas, drafts, paragraphs and sentences. 1 2 3

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Organise your ideas – give your ideas some structure. One preferred structure is: why, what, how, what if/so what. Write a first draft – write one or more paragraphs for each section – why, what, how, what if/so what. Don’t worry about quality, just write. Revise/edit – the most important part! Look at each paragraph and revise it until it feels good to you. You might need to break each paragraph down into shorter ones. While revising the text, devise topic sentences – these are placed at the start of each paragraph, expressing the main idea or core theme and forming the basis of the argument of the paragraph. The rest of the paragraph would support that argument by providing evidence and examples. Write a list of topic sentences to check the structure of your piece of writing – do your main points have a logical order, and does your argument make sense? If you tend write first and structure it later, ensure that you look over your work and identify or create topic sentences to guide the reader. Read your writing out loud to test it aurally. Do the words flow, or do they sound disconnected and jarring? Try this out with a critical friend. Does it sound clearly thought out, well expressed and logical? Make sure that the paragraphs fit together – does each paragraph follow from the last and lead into the next? How can you make the paragraphs link better? How about using ‘connecting’ words such as ‘however’, ‘but’ or ‘though’?

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Look at each sentence and rewrite it until it feels like a good one – each sentence needs to have one main idea. Present your idea simply, and don’t make the sentence too long or complicated. 8 Write your introduction – you could write a ‘programmatic introduction’, which lists your topic sentences to tell your readers what the article will be about. Devise a topic sentence for the whole piece to use as the first line of your introduction. 9 Write your conclusion – summarise your main points and restate your argument. Structuring enables focus, clarity, manageability and emphasis, and helps you to develop your own authorial voice and your ownership of the project as you are writing about it. The clarity of the structure of the thesis or dissertation, and of the essay or article, are decided by the expectations and norms of the discipline, the outlet and expectations – journal norms, norms for the thesis or dissertation, and decided by the project itself and the control of the author. As there are norms, we might as well work with them to produce work that readers find familiar enough to allow them to focus on what it is we have to say that is new, rather than trailing around a structure they find unmanageable. None the less, there are arguments and original combinations across disciplines which demand that the structure of our writing is as experimental and creative as the work we wish to convey. Experimental, creative pieces are often produced within the norms and bounds of disciplines and contexts that expect such rich differences. Many of the creative arts or – working with teaching, for example – involve the individuality and person of the researcherwriter and this is often expressed in some creative deviations from the expected shape or expression of a standard piece in the discipline. Work in which the experiment, the creativity itself, involves some part of this creativity in its content might well need to mirror or develop this creativity in its form and expression. When these original, creative experimentations go beyond the range expected or the norms in the discipline or inter-disciplinary work, it is advisable to explain the intention of the work, and the way in which the unique and unusual structure and format are part of the newness of the piece and essential to it. Explained clearly, defended as you would with a development in methodology or methods, and with an argument in the literature, unusual structures should be clear, and readers should be able to cope with them provided they don’t completely lose the thread of what you are suggesting, creating or arguing. To prevent readers getting lost, you might need to signpost your work a little more than with a conventional structure. For those working in the arts and humanities, or the creative design elements in engineering, for example, there is a rich collision and intersection

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of discourses, essential theoretical reference points, and ways of argument. Some years ago I argued that, ‘Much creative work takes place in the intersection of critical perspectives, cultural contexts and the personal’ (Wisker, 2001, p. 213). Some of the more creative students I have worked with, or colleagues working across disciplines as diverse as journalism and teaching theory, marketing and business in relation to a third area such as the law, find certain issues cause them to move between these norms and make something new. Here is where their authority and ownership of the project and the confident voice to talk about it come in, when they are engaging: (i) the different theoretical perspectives and literatures to underpin the crossovers they are working with; (ii) the different methodology and methods employed; (iii) the different theorists referred to and the perspectives they offer; (iv) the different shapes from the normal written product; and (v) the language and discourse used. This voice emerges through the combined structure and the choice of discourse, explaining structure, explaining terms, and bringing several areas together into something new and accessible to a wider readership. New is potentially idiosyncratic and highly personal, but it must also be readable, so it will need careful explanation, guidance, structure and inner coherence. If you are authoring something with a relatively new structure or mode of expression, test it with broadminded colleagues in the different disciplines in which you are working – colleagues or friends who are both experimental and creative, and already published. Less formulaic disciplines in terms of the ways in which the findings and arguments are expressed encourage such creativity but they also have their own expectations of published pieces. Breaking new ground needs signposting – mainly for your readers. In many writing formats the main structure is one of building upon arguments, step by step, and yet being immersed in the range of different perspectives and arguments. If there is a rich variety of data and several perspectives on its interpretation you would like to suggest, you need to construct a clear way through or that richness will only be perceived as confusion in your writing. Readers need guidance. They can disagree with what you have prioritised and seek out their own areas of fascination in your work, deviating in their reading from the thread you emphasise. That’s fine, but you and they need the thread, the emphasis, the selection and the pointers and selectivity. What they do with it after that is their own creation.

Structure is also culturally inflected In writing courses I have run, Korean colleagues have commented that it is important to establish the whole story and whole set of arguments before even attempting to make a case. Some other colleagues find making a case is inappropriate – they consider that the case can be made by the reader from the work they have been given. Others include the voices of several case-makers in an equal dialogue, perhaps because they come from community-based,

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knowledge-making backgrounds. When I have not selected what to discuss and have not focused enough on one issue for some readers, my work has been compared to USA Today, which I gather must mean I float superficially from point to point. If I intended a survey – that is, flitting and establishing patterns – I should signal that at the start of the piece, so the readers know what they are reading. If I focus just on one point, one small option (I have sometimes been criticised for doing that), perhaps the journal doesn’t like that kind of writing, and it may be at the end that the editor wonders why I am attaching such huge importance to a tiny sliver of new knowledge. So I need, at the start, to pick a journal that publishes the kinds of works I hope to write, then define this clearly and tell the readership what I am doing. I need to manage their expectations, and then the structure, voice and work will follow.

Journey Any piece of research is also structured as a journey, the journey of how and why you conducted this work as you did, and what you found out from doing so. However, the writing is less of a blow-by-blow account of the journey. In the main, it presents as something complete, with only some of the steps of the journey discussed – wherever the initial context and issues, the aims and outcomes were identified, where decisions were made, where the end was reached, and then what further steps or trips needed making. Telling readers about some of your connected decisions and findings would be an interesting tale, but describing every single step would probably be boring because the detail would overwhelm the significance. To some extent, you tell the story of why you needed to do this, why you did it the way you did and not in other ways, what you have found, how you found it, some of the problems along the way (these are mainly hidden), and why it is important and matters. Neither a thesis nor a journal article usually tells the entire journey. However, some forms of writing are about, for example, the autoethnography of the research process, or of an experience in professional practice from which understanding and some points can be drawn. For this kind of writing it is perfectly appropriate to detail more of the journey, its pitfalls, side trips, excitements, hurdles overcome and wrong ways avoided, because this is the substance of the piece. You need to decide whether your readership, your academic and other audiences want this journey, whether the journals you are approaching usually publish this amount of detail, and if the whole point of your work is exactly this – to share the journey. Usually in such journey pieces you will draw some learning and conclusions, and make some comments to advise people after the event. This structure of a journal article or thesis in which the journey is a significant element would be much like a standard shape but more likely to have in its centre and as its focus the stages of the journey and to include advice and suggestions in the conclusion.

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Stories Articles and theses also present a story – not of the way you went about the research (a journey model) but of the ways the area of knowledge has developed; the ways in which the theories have developed and are critiqued and contested; the ways the methodology and methods have been developed and used; and how your work grows from, is integrated with and contributes to these. This is a story – you and your work, or your work alone (unless you are working in a paradigm that allows you to be part of the process) are part of the story in so far as you engage with elements of it and comment and move it on. The story is the story of the theory in practice undergoing the research. If you are writing about research conducted in your professional practice, you might well have mini stories about how this happened, how it worked and what the results were, and you might use case studies that are themselves mini stories within the overall story for the article or thesis. The information and discussion of the information provided in literature reviews, which present as an argument, and which emerge from your data interpretation, need to be expressed as a story – first this, then this, but this, because of this, then this, why this, why not that, what this can suggest and so on – a story that is also an argument or discussion thread to enable coherence. However, ‘it is surprisingly easy to lose track of the central thread’ (Swetnam, 2003, p. 89). And some of this problem is a result of the need to structure a plan for the whole essay or thesis and see for yourself how one part, question and content flow into another and references back and forth, giving a sense of mastery of the whole piece, however large it is, even at the draft stage. Organisation of your story of the research exploration and findings is important. Elsewhere I point out that, for many, the need to structure the written account, the thesis, is more of a challenge than the research itself. For a fuller exploration, see Wisker (2007). Along the way, link the research and the writing about it, draw from it – there are ‘classic pitfalls in research design’, including ‘putting the cart before the horse’, ‘great expectations’, and ‘sand through the fingers’ (Rugg and Petre, 2005, p. 153), each of which tends to feed into pieces of writing with a confused structure. Make sure that the research design is clear, and then choose whether you will produce a conventional structure or a less conventional one for your article or thesis. Storyboarding You could use storyboarding as a way of structuring the story you are telling your readers – why you did what you did, what happened and what it means. In one professional writing course I know, students are asked to storyboard the shape of their piece – to see how the different main points and arguments run throughout, how the underlying themes operate, where the beginning, middle and end are, and how to build on and through them. This could work visually with separate sections being outlined on memo-sized pieces of paper (or the e-

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equivalent), then moved around until the parts of the story you are telling, the argument you are making and the research journey you are detailing are slotted into the most effective shape.

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Being creative with the structure en route

If you produce an initial structure, you can deviate from it as you work. The real structure of the argument and the main points you want to emphasise develop as you write, at the level even of the paragraph and the sentence. The way you place an emphasis, an alternative view or a subsection can affect the emphasis and flow of the argument. Changes made in the text in one part of a written whole will affect the main argument of the whole, so you might need to go back and re-write to shift the emphasis as it emerged. We are balancing the need for an explicit structure to guide our writing with the awareness that it is not that formulaic, and to guide the shaping and arguing through new knowledge, the making of new points. We can acknowledge that we need to allow ourselves some flexibility too – and much re-writing – as the emphasis emerges as we write, and we begin to clarify and understand what really matters and what is essential as we write. We write and re-write to bring this out clearly. For some, the clarity begins the piece and the rest follows; while for some it emerges as they write, and then they return to emphasise it throughout. There is no best way, and the way with which you are comfortable might always suit you or might well need to be changed in the future. Having an idea of your own disciplinary or inter-disciplinary voice and a certainty about your argument, is a good start. Pausing in your writing and returning to ask questions of your written piece about expression, clarity, shape, patterns in your writing, the journey and the story (as you do of those pieces you read) can often enable you to identify in your work something that feels unbalanced or unfocused and could be rebalanced, re-focused, through cutting, adding and reshaping. Moving beyond the formal to the elegant comes next. Much of the work in Helen Sword’s book Stylish Academic Writing (2012) can help with elegance of expression that does not lose its seriousness. Her comments on bringing the personal back into the writing where necessary, and on cutting out the fog or excessive conformist complexity (see Chapter 11) is useful to help shape your own expression, making stodgy or curt academic writing explicit and elegant enough to better convey its message in a readable fashion.

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Common problems with structuring

I am going to discuss these as cases – and use metaphors to do so. See if any of the difficulties you might have with structuring appear here, and if they are not here – to what can you compare them? Using analogies often helps us to

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address problems. They make us use our imaginations and think beyond the problem to a solution; in this case to a manageable structure that enables us to get the work out there, finished and readable.

The octopus My preferred problematic structure of choice is a very ‘Brighton’ one – a sea creature: namely, an octopus. There’s a heavily reworked introductory section in my piece of work that currently reads pretty well, and then everything else I have to say is a bit of a mess – its ends dangling like so many (eight at least) tentacles. They know they are linked to the body because they might well have subsection headings, but they’re not well written, the links are unclear; they repeat things or have gaps; and they dangle there waiting for me to rewrite each and pull it successfully into the main structured whole.

Egg boxes In this structure there are neat little sections of the essay without any links between them. We move jumpily from the introduction to the literature review, then the methodology and methods, with no sense of an underlying question or argument, or that a selected group of theorists are being used to explore the question throughout. It needs an argument, a story, cohesion between the sections saying ‘we have just considered this, in the next section we will look at…’. The egg boxes structure means everything is dislocated and disparate, and needs more real writing and editing to make it smooth and coherent.

Chunks This is similar to the egg boxes structure, but in many ways worse. The data seems to have been lumped into the essay in chunks, without any underpinning theory. The literature review is a list of reading without expansion or discussion, leaving you wondering whether the author has actually read the list or has any idea that several of the authors listed disagree with several others, and out of that disagreement comes an interesting view on just what the writer is considering. He or she fails to make the links between the chunks of text. The whole lacks coherence, a structure that moves from literature to methodology and methods, to data and analysis and discussion in a coherent whole. It needs re-writing to pull the strands of thought together, ditch the unnecessary data that doesn’t relate to any claim or argument, and ensure that the arguments included are backed up by literature and data.

Recipe This is similar to the kind of structure I was suggesting you consider using, but in this case the carefully planned individual sections, each carefully completed, contain nothing worth reading. The structure is all, the message and new information is lost in the mechanics of a structure identical to hundreds of other

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essays. The writer has ploughed through the introduction, literature review, methods and data analysis and you are left at the end saying, ‘So what?’ – nothing new here, nothing interesting argued, just a mechanistic connection activity, like food madefrom a recipe (except there is, in the end, nothing substantial to eat or ingest). My own adherence to recipes is much looser. While this structure works for some, it won’t work for me.

Magical mystery tour This version of a mismanaged structure is filled with creative bursts and jolts forward, setbacks and little sense of direction. This is a (potentially) rich experience without much structure. If suddenly, without warning, a structured piece of work appears on this chaotic trip, such as a discussion of some data that interprets the findings and theorises them, or some connecting idea or theory which places the new work in a dialogue with other work, you’re really quite surprised. The rest of it has been interesting, sparky and confusing, and you are left feeling that something interesting has happened but you are not sure what. You take away confusion or a surprise gift.

Spaghetti junction This is a less positive version of the magical mystery tour. In this model there is a whole range of predictable and unpredictable themes, issues, theories, arguments, bits of data and arguments all clinging here, there and everywhere and not connected very much. They are poised in mid-air in a lot of traffic and much is happening, but without much sense that the directions are leading to any real, close or manageable destination. You follow some of the themes and arguments and get somewhere at least, but resolve next time to get the train – that is, read someone else’s work which is more straightforward and organised.

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Practical activities to make structuring and sticking to it a little more manageable

If I didn’t structure in advance I would never be able either to begin writing or move beyond the odd piece of unstructured input and then run out of steam. Structuring and returning to and revising the structure enables me to force out the arguments and express myself more clearly, and to manage something quite large (an article, a thesis, a book) over time, in between the day job and life’s domestic crises. I have developed a patchwork or grid that I try to use whenever I am doing some writing. It closely resembles the revision timetables I used as a teenager. Along the side, the vertical axis lists, for example, the chapters of a thesis/sections of a journal article/chapters of a book. Along the top are my comments about progress on these, from ‘not started’, to ‘finished and returned’, responding to editor’s comments. In the sections, I either tick – ‘it’s done’ – or

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write in notes – ‘remember to look up Trafford and Leshem’ – ‘bits about examination to be added’ – ‘clarify the theory of’ – ‘rewrite that bit about…’. This grid enables me to see what is still to be done, how it is (or is not) developing, what pieces I can write in now and plan to write in, having gone off and done some more reading, analysis or discussion. It reminds me that there are necessary stages of ideas checking, adding and editing to each part of the work. The grid also enables me to see the structure.

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Different kinds of writing in different parts of your work

Different parts of a traditionally shaped essay or thesis have different kinds of writing in them. In terms of your planning (see above), your management of time and energy (see Chapter 2) and if you get stuck or bored, or run out of energy or data, you can stop writing temporarily in one section or part of the work, and move round to write in another section, thus releasing new writing energy. You need to keep track of what you have done and what is to be done next, which you can do in a grid (see Figure 9.1 below) and/or by using highlighting in the text and adding questions and prompts in the gaps so that you can return later and carry on with that writing. Through putting planning and structuring into action in your writing in this way, you are taking a structured approach and you are also following your energies and choices. You can stop writing that discussion and dialogue with the complex theories and literature, and move into a purely informative and descriptive piece about the sample you have chosen, numbers responding and so on. You can appreciate there are different kinds of writing in the different parts of the structure and can maintain momentum and congratulate yourself by writing in those different parts, choosing one this morning, one this afternoon, skipping between them if they are linked, or if you run out of energy in the writing (or for the data and reading) on one, proceeding with new energy to another. You make visible progress and are aware of the different kinds of writing expected of you. The different kinds of writing that can appear throughout the work in the different sections, broadly defined, are: • • • • • • • • •

Informative Descriptive Summary Synthesis Critical and Interpretive Evaluative Identifying contributions to knowledge/meaning Developing an argument* Story-telling*

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*We have looked (above) and shall look more fully later at developing an argument and telling the story (see Chapter 3). In the rest of this section I have included some invented text (and references) to give you an example of how the writing changes and builds, in part of my own field. Some parts of your work tell the reader what you did, what the information from the data says, and what other researchers say. This is informative: ‘Six case studies were developed from the data produced from the survey.’ Some equally informative writing also describes actions and evidence, samples, the process of managing the research and the practice; this is descriptive: ‘A sample of 450 was consulted and the data analysed using XXXX analysis method, from which six were selected and developed using the case study method (X and Y, 2004) which seeks to identify examples arising from the variety identified in the sample, and to expand on and clarify these.’ Summaries bring together a variety of tasks and thoughts – your own and the work of others – so you can then move on: ‘Jagger and Brown (1999) suggest that writers need breaks; Field and Little (2006) indicate breaks are helpful. Bridges and Chasms (2004) warn against too many breaks causing lack of focus. Arch and Spire (2007) consider breaks necessary when…’ and so on. A synthesis is the next step on from this. It selects the main issues and directions, selects from and adds comments to the summaries, providing a guiding comment which brings out main themes, issues and points in the arguments and data, in the information you want to build on and critique, add to or move on from: ‘Breaks are generally seen as helpful to writers, as the work of Jagger and Brown (1999), Field and Little (2006) and Arch and Spire (2007) shows. Each argue for the necessity of breaks for writers, though not every theorist or practitioner agrees, some, including Bridges and Chasms (2004), warn against the lack of focus caused by too many breaks and suggest that…’. Critical writing challenges, problematises, questions and offers an evaluative comment on the work of others, on the reading, and on your own work, so you are neither merely repeating the arguments of others nor asserting the meaning of your own: ‘Recent work on the importance of breaks for those engaged in academic writing emphasises both their creative potential and their contribution to wellness. However, while Jagger and Brown (1999), Field and Little (2006) and Arch and Spire (2007) assert this potential, only Arch and Spire actually offer evidence about the success of breaks in encouraging creativity when they comment on their own longitudinal sample of academic writers that … while the data referred to by Field and Little (2006) is neither fully detailed and explored, nor does it relate to academic writers alone, so it is difficult to rely on the evidence in terms of who and what they are arguing about in our discussion of academic writers. Our own study involves 45 academic writers who were asked to keep a writing journal over 18 months.’ Up to this point, the writing is informative, plus critical and evaluative. It next proceeds to add your own contribution to meaning, engaged with the

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dialogues in the field: ‘Data from the journal indicates the specific nature of breaks which do support creativity and perseverance, showing that those which offer a space to keep processing the issues while the writer is engaged in other tasks or in other enjoyable activities offer a particular opportunity to continue to process and build on the issue of the writing while also offering a relaxing, developmental shift in focus. It seems the precise shift in focus is a major cause of the resultant increase in creativity and fine tuning of the writing once the break is completed.’ All these forms of writing are important in different sections. If you never build up to synthesis, critical and evaluative writing you are merely recording. If you never add your own work to this dialogue, you are not contributing, merely gathering and reporting. Take those journal articles and theses you have selected, continue to process them and look at ways in which writers in your own field move from one kind of writing through to another and in which parts of a dissertation, thesis or a journal article.

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Planning and managing the process – developing grids

I produce a grid and I consider the stages of writing that will be marked in it and ticked off as they are developed and finessed to completion. If I didn’t have the grid I couldn’t keep track of my progress. Every time I looked at the book or article I was writing, I would forget what I had written, forget where I was in a chapter, either believe I had done a lot of work, or think I had done nothing. The grid makes me organised and removes some of the stress. It also ensures I get the work done. It gives an air of being in control. What follows is a working example of a grid.

Grid and writing development in a book I have chosen a book, but this applies just as well to a shorter article or a lengthy thesis. In the example (below) the book has 19 chapters and I am illustrating the management of five of the chapters here. Over time I need to define the content of each, write the initial text and consider how many words, how much and what kind of content so far, and what is still missing. I add some of what is missing the next time, ensure I have quotations from research that myself and others have done, add the references or leave myself notes about references and remind myself about more sections that need doing. As it moves on, I check for overlap with other chapters and ensure that the main work lies in one of the chapters, and the others start to reference that one – initially using ‘XX’ or ‘Ch XX with Ch YY’, as the chapter numbers might change. I keep a tally of the word count and date of each major change of the chapter as I reach the different stages with it.

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Once I have been through the whole book a couple of times, I check on how even the chapters are, whether one needs splitting into two, as the ideas and information have grown and the importance is clearer, or whether two need combining into one as their topics don’t merit separate chapters. I check whether I am giving information on something important in the same way in two chapters or missing it out completely, and whether I repeat or contradict myself. I check through each chapter for clarity and make notes about what is missing and what is messy. After this, I go through each chapter again systematically. While this was a very lengthy and time-consuming activity when I was writing the original chapters, it gets quicker as I neaten them, because I am holding an overview and keeping notes on what needs putting right in each, addressing it and ticking the chapters off as they are completed. As I finesse each chapter I feel I am both more in control of the whole chapter and its parts and stepping back to see the shape of the book again. I can see its weak and strong spots. I have to work very hard on some elements that I didn’t know much (or enough) about, and ensure that they are of sufficient quality. I look at each chapter’s layout and the importance of the introductory paragraphs saying what each of them is about, and referring to the rest of the book and activity sections. I compile the further reading (short) and collect the full set of references, which go into a separate file to be alphabetised and fully checked. Now that each chapter is relatively even in length and layout and refers to others, I check that the references are there, full and correct, and copy them over to the overall list. I check that the correct chapters are cross-referenced. I step back again and this time look around online for new works, essential and absent references, and the strange and unusual that could add something extra to the chapters and to the book as a whole. I check it all through again. This is now a bit of a helicopter view, looking for cohesion and gaps. I ensure the introduction and conclusions really do open the text and round it off, and emphasise what a reader will take from the book. I also check that the titles of chapters are the same in the contents as in the chapters themselves. At this point I hand the whole thing over to a critical friend to read and make comments. I am not interested in someone saying ‘this is nice’ or cutting it to ribbons and replacing it with their own view of what the book (or the article or thesis) should be about. I would like some positive, constructive but critically focused advice on my work. I read it carefully, and then I alter accordingly. It next goes to a professional copy-editor who proofreads and upgrades it, because my typing is appalling. I have had help earlier with making sense of some of it, so my use of other colleagues is threefold – picking up typos, copyediting and proofreading, and critical comment on the quality and structure. When I’m happy because they seem happy, I give it another look through

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and then send it to the publisher. It always comes back with lots of suggestions. I make the changes, or debate them. One book was returned to be re-written four times. It is not usually that problematic – generally there are a few changes required in each chapter, or a chapter is felt to be weak or not essential or over full, and I work to put that right. Someone reading it at the publisher’s has available both my initial outline (which will have changed somewhat), the contents, and the typescript of the book. They can stand back and read it in a way that I can’t – but they are also meticulous in spotting nonsense, layout problems, accidental contradictions, repetition and gaps, overall structural logic, lack of consistency in layout (activities, conclusions, further reading and so on), and they point out the differing levels in the quality of the writing, and the quality and consistency of the layout. I make the changes. And so it goes on…. Planning and structuring are interconnected: you plan the ideas and activities, you structure the book, thesis, dissertation or article, and you plan and replan the activities along the way as you write, in relation to the structure of the piece.

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Development of a book on writing (this one) with 19 chapters

It might be useful to look at how I, for example, start to develop a book (others will do this differently, but an example is always useful), and move on month by month, adding to and deepening the chapters. I shall explore this in a brief grid (see Table 9.1) focusing on a few of the chapters and indicating progress towards a first draft. Planning at the outset helps me to identify which parts of the work have been carried out, and then completed, and what needs to be done next. The plan of the book led to the more refined structure of the chapters. During the process of writing the book, I changed my mind about the exact titles of some chapters. I try to prevent overlap and have to move some sections between chapters to prevent this but still enable flow and cross-referencing. I tend to write out the first version of a chapter in a rush, then return and work on it several times, so that as I gradually move through the book the whole becomes less repetitive but more internally coherent, referencing other chapters and sections in a useful way.

Outline ideas December.

Ideas and some writing about structure and writing in sections Dec 31.

Lit review writing Started.

Methodology and methods writing started.

Ch. 2 Writing your research and practice

Ch. 6 Writing from research and practice (NB change - this title is too much like ch. 2)

Ch. 7

Ch. 8

Tidy, totally reorganise. Move one section into a later chapter (12 and 13 which I need to combine).

Sections on each element of a thesis – is this too much overlap with chs 7 and 8? Add refs.

Added. Use quotes from research on writing achievements. Expand examples. Refs. Feb 26, 3,500.

Outline ideas – Dec 31, 2,000 words. Need to add information from proposal.

Part 1, Ch. 1, Introduction: Why write? Forms of writing and how to go about them

Quotes added

Started

Combine chs 7 and 8, develop new chapter 8a? on writing from the doctorate.

Add full references and activities, find the missing bits on the other PC

Corrected, cut back, added sections on argument.

Corrected. Check overlap with ch. 6. Add activities and refs.

Corrected

FIRST STAGES IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF THIS BOOK

Chapters

TABLE 9.1 THE

Re-label 8a as 8, refine and neaten, add refs.

Neaten and clarify the joined chapters.

Cut back, neaten.

Sent to X and Y. Comments, changes.

Sorted

OK now.

Done

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Conclusions

In this chapter we have considered issues and practice related to structuring a piece for publication, whether a journal article, dissertation or a thesis, and begun to consider the different kinds of language to be found in these different sections. We have also looked at a grid which lays out a linear planning structure, which might be of use in your own management of your planning and writing.

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Further reading

Dunleavy, P. (2003) Authoring a PhD (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan), p. 43. Eley, A. and Jennings, R. (2005) Effective Postgraduate Supervision: Improving the Student/Supervisor Relationship (Maidenhead: Open University Press). Available at: www.mcgraw-hill.co.uk/html/0335217079.html. Murray, R. (2005) Writing for Academic Journals (Maidenhead: Open University Press), p. 5. Rugg, G. and Petre, M. (2005) The Unwritten Rules of PhD Research (Maidenhead: Open University Press), p. 153. Sword, H. (2012) Stylish Academic Writing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). Wisker, G. (2001) The Postgraduate Research Handbook: Succeed with your MA, MPhil, EdD and PhD (2nd edn 2007) (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan), pp. 89, 213. Wisker, G. and Savin-Baden, M. (2009) ‘Priceless Conceptual Thresholds: Beyond the “Stuck Place” in Writing’, London Review of Education, 7(3).

10 Publishing from your PhD

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • •

• • • •

Turning your PhD into publications Reasons to publish Choosing what to publish Deciding on where to publish and considering your readership Publishing as part of the PhD The supervisor’s role in supporting publication from a PhD Publishing after the PhD: selecting parts of the finished PhD for publication – examples Some of the issues to consider and potential problems to overcome – advice from a supervisor’s point of view to other supervisors and to students Who owns the writing? Developmental supportive structures PhD by publication Conclusions

Publication is a natural next step for research, which should be made available to others, to use and benefit from. Publication is also essential for sharing your work, enabling you to be recognised as a specialist in various theories, areas of research, issues or practices, and for you to enter the dialogue that is knowledge creation, sharing, co-production and use. Publication begins the process of dissemination, which leads to action. We look at various options for publishing during your PhD, turning parts of your PhD into publications, and finally the PhD by publication.

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Turning your PhD into publications

Publishing during the PhD, and from the PhD, are important for researchers who need and want to get into the world of publication, whether they become 168

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academics or seek recognition (or both) in the professional world from which (and into which) their work feeds. In the recent research I conducted on peer review and editing, one colleague made a persuasive point about publishing during and from the PhD: doctoral candidates who publish on early phases of their work – it moves them ahead quite substantially. Their identity shifts to one of ‘now I am a researcher’. There is no doubt in my mind that publication is central to being an academic. (Respondents in Wisker, 2013a) Colleagues who have been involved in our research into doctoral learning between 2007 and 2010 (Wisker et al., 2010) have commented on the importance of getting published before the viva (oral examination, compulsory in the UK and Scandinavia, less so in Australasia), because it gave them the confidence that they were already part of the dialogues into which their work fitted and had already been accepted as an equal by their peers through peer review. Lee and Kamler (2008) and Robins and Kanowski (2008) suggest that the skills of writing and publishing, deciding what to publish and where, need to be incorporated with other aspects of learning as a researcher.

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Reasons to publish

Worldwide, the ability to publish is important for doctoral students. In a study conducted in Hong Kong, Kwan comments on ‘the Asian academic job market, which now increasingly looks for candidates, including fresh graduates, with international publication credentials’ (Kwan, 2010, abstract). If you are researching for and writing a PhD, you might not have thought of publishing while you are studying, because you are so focused on the research and the thesis. However, many doctoral students are expected to publish (Gosden, 1995; Li, 2002, 2005). In fact, for some, particularly in Scandinavia and Malaysia, it forms a requirement in terms of what the PhD itself constitutes. Even if they are not completing a PhD which comprises two to four published/publishable articles and a theorised ‘wrap’, most doctoral students would be advised to publish. There is also now increasing pressure to publish during and after your PhD candidature (Lee and Kamler, 2008; Kwan, 2010). Publication is seen as important both in terms of employability – an issue that is now a major focus of doctoral programmes – and concerned with the ethics and necessity of sharing the research outcomes. Publishing during the PhD remains a contested issue for many, however, because it is seen on the one hand as taking away the energies and focus of the research activity and upsetting the trajectory of writing the thesis, and on the other as essential for early dissemination, so that students can enter the discipline-related dialogue in the field even before they have completed their PhD. Some argue that both doctoral students and their

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supervisors have responsibilities towards publication to promote the research and the future of the student (Dinham and Scott, 2001). Delamont et al. (2004, p. 171) see publication as essential and a joint responsibility between supervisors and students, with supervisors encouraging and coaching the writing, and that supervisors need to support and enable the practicalities of this. It is not just a matter of your own choice, however, it is also sometimes one of ethics, and law. Wellington (2010, p. 139) stresses the ethical importance of sharing and disseminating to a wider audience the voices of participants in any research that involves those voices, while it can be argued that there is a wider social responsibility for sharing the findings of crucial scientific and medical research, though all such findings, as with many other issues, might be the subject of an embargo because of patents, security and time-limited, sensitive information.

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Choosing what to publish

Selecting elements of your PhD for publication helps you to focus on the selling points of some of your work and its immediate attraction for a readership. It also helps you to focus on what you are achieving, because you have to stop, select, focus, shape, make claims and finesse the writing. So it is both a process that helps you to market your work and yourself, and one that helps you to really focus on the contributions you are making to knowledge. It helps towards transferable skills (Cargill, 2004) and employability, and can provide confidence to help you through the rest of the PhD writing process and the viva. Your work has been peer reviewed, so you have already begun a research dialogue in the field with the experts. Publishing is a natural part of the research process, but Kwan (2010), looking at the pressures of writing and publishing in Hong Kong, finds that students consider publishing while undertaking their doctorate research and thesis writing as being just more stressful work. It can also detract from the main focus of the PhD and your work momentum. Watts (2012) discusses the difficult decisions doctoral students and their supervisors make in determining whether, and what, to publish, dealing with many of the issues we consider in this chapter. Publishing too early is another issue which Canadian doctoral expert Anthony Paré raises when he comments that this can detract from the research momentum and present to a public audience work that is not yet ready to share. This can have negative effects on a student’s confidence and reputation (Paré, 2010). If you decide to publish or are pressured to do so during the PhD, you will be entering the world of dissemination, which is part of your future. It is important to be sure that you learn the ropes, and that you learn how to select what to offer for publication. You need to know how to find and direct your writing at the right publication, write succinctly and with a tight focus in a short space –

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in the length of a journal article – for the audience and readership you want to inform and engage in a dialogue with and about your work. You also need to know how to revise following review and to cope productively with peer review, critique and even rejection. Dealing with reviewers out there in that world of tough peer review can be satisfying but also, if you let it, it can be daunting, upsetting and de-motivating. If and when you do publish, you will become tougher, more selective, more tightly focused on your main contributions to knowledge, and more concerned with the quality of your writing. The experience will not only train you for future journal publishing but also to ensure clarity of focus and precision of expression and argument in the longer thesis, and in the viva.

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Deciding on where to publish and considering your readership

Your PhD is a substantial piece of work that makes a contribution to knowledge in the field. It is also rather specialised and its main readership is you, your supervisor and your examiners, some critical friends, and perhaps, if they have the dedication, your mother, children, partner, or friends. They read for different reasons, some to explore the erudition and contribution, and others to marvel that you can develop such a specialised argument after such a long period of work. The family tend to read PhDs as a rite of passage, which you are surviving, or have survived, while you carried out your research and struggled through the writing up. But the readership of your article arising from the PhD is different; it could be wider, and it is also specialist. This readership has less time to spend than your supervisor or examiners, those devoted to the 80,000 words. Each of your readers approaches your work with their own interests. They want to read your specific contribution to a field in which they have a specialist interest, though the interest will differ between readers. For example, if I read an essay on academic identities, I do so because I am interested in what is happening to my colleagues or to me, or because I know it is a developing field. Someone who is becoming a researcher might read it because they want to see what lies ahead for them. Another person who reads it because they are interested in the development of higher education will be looking for information about how difficult, or not, the roles are now, the sense of satisfaction, motivation, dissatisfaction, the rewards and so on. Those reading from a human resources point of view maybe, or one of leadership, would like to know more about people who work in an academic researcher role. Someone interested in different graduate jobs might read this comparatively to see what those who go into professional practice, for example, or into the performing arts, fashion or fine art feel about their identities, as opposed to those who take up academic research and teaching roles. Even with a rela-

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tively focused readership, their reasons for reading and the routes they take through reading your essay will all be different. Some will have read thoroughly in the area already, while for some it will be their first experience. When you write your essay arising from your PhD, you need to decide which of these audiences you have in mind, because this will affect the journal or trade paper in which you publish, and the language you use – what mix of erudite, discipline-specific and accessible (it must always be accessible) language in which you write. You also need to decide how the selection and finessing of one part of your PhD for publication will affect the selections you make from the rest of it. Select part of the thesis, ensure an overall structure that does justice to the research as a whole but spotlights this particular self-contained part of that research, and make a clearly argued case for this part of the thesis as a standalone piece. Bear in mind which other parts might also make good articles. Direct each at the right publishing outlet –These might well differ as angles on your work and arguments and issues arising from it also differ. It is also good practice when you select parts of your work to rewrite for publication, that you spread your work around different publications for maximum variety of exposure and readership.

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Publishing as part of the PhD

The context for publishing from the doctorate during its development has changed over the past few years, and the increased demand for published or publishable pieces during the course of the doctorate is now noticeable in a range of countries and in specific disciplinary contexts. In the medical sciences or computer sciences it is expected worldwide that you will publish en route to completion, and that these publications are part of the thesis, providing evidence of engaging in the field and in dialogues with others. Often the articles are the substance, the main element of the PhD. In Malaysia, such publishing of up to four articles is often expected as part of the thesis, and in Sweden and Finland, for example, the thesis is often based on these publications, often formed of distinct papers arising from elements of the overall research, linked by a longer piece placing it all in context and establishing the theory and literature from which it derives. The whole study is something from which each piece takes forward certain discrete elements for publication. In some UK universities, publishing elements of the PhD is expected in a variety of disciplines, while it remains a matter of choice in other disciplines and other contexts, where students can decide to publish some selected elements of the developing monograph with supervisory guidance. Hartley and Betts (2009) reported on the thoughts of a number of PhD students involved in such publication during their studies and noted the importance of practice, support and developmental opportunities.

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Considering the benefits, and some of the challenges and issues Publishing is useful for inclusion in your CV; after the achievement of the doctorate to help you get a job; and will give you confidence before and during the examination, or viva if you have one. (Vivas/orals are normal in the UK, North America, Europe and Scandinavia. Also in New Zealand but rarely in the rest of Australasia.) The peer review process supports credibility in the field, which derives from your shifting position, from novice student, to early career researcher, and member of the collection of voices engaged with discussion and dissemination in your field. When peers have reviewed, commented on, supported and accepted some of your work for publication, it has already achieved the criteria of a scholarly contribution to knowledge that is expected of the PhD itself. Once published, it is an indicator of the sophistication and acceptance of the contribution to knowledge your work makes in the field. Publication enables feedback and confidence – externally for student, supervisor and examiner. In workshops I have run (writing for academic publication in Brighton, South Africa, Ireland and Australasia), students and supervisors have said that hearing the comments from a reviewer helped them to make changes in the articles. It was equally useful in making such changes for those writing the monograph thesis who took out, built up and reconfigured appropriate elements of the thesis for publication and then replaced them, with their peerreviewed credibility, in the single thesis text. Length and focus are important. Selecting appropriate elements to turn into a journal article aids the focus of your writing for the whole PhD. To some extent, there is too much bulk in a PhD, it can seem huge and daunting, and you might at some points be guilty of forgetting what the main questions and findings are. The production of an essay or article, like a mini version of an element of the PhD, in a conventional, mini PhD shape, enables a sharp focus on the article’s contribution to knowledge, and what the thesis contributes to knowledge. It also gives you practice in structuring your work into a manageably sized piece (usually 5,000–7,000 words, which is the standard journal article length). Developing an essay from your ongoing thesis and research enables you to develop an argument and use the literature in that argument. It gives you practice in theorising and defending your case succinctly regarding methodology, methods and place in the literature, explicating the analysis of specific elements of data in tight relation to the research questions, part of which the article is addressing, and using them as evidence for that argument. You are involved in producing something that resembles a mini thesis, from abstract, through introduction, literature review, methodology and methods, data and discussion, to conclusions, both factual and conceptual. The exercise of producing this mini version, the tight focus needed, helps you to open out and work in the same tight way with the full thesis if it is a monograph, and with the other articles and the overall theorised argument, or ‘wrap’, if it is a series of articles plus their ‘wrap’. There might not be explicit in-house support

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for your writing, but supervisors often take this on, and there could also be writing support offered through the library or writing centres, or you can set up your own writing circles to share and support the development of each other’s work (see Chapter 18 on writing communities). Pruchnicki et al. (2008) look at support for writing that is part of a practicebased training programme for postgraduate residents of an ambulatory pharmacy at a US university. In this instance, students are required to complete a range of tasks, including milestones in their projects, conceiving and designing publishable research, and planning and preparing for dissemination via workin-progress presentations and writing for publication. They are supported in this with specialist inputs and courses. Your supervisor is the first person to turn to, and sometimes their own behaviour can act as a model, they can support you, or can point you in the direction of others who are able to support your writing.

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The supervisor’s role in supporting publication from a PhD

One of the roles of supervisors in this context is to guide the selection of appropriate focus and material, and to provide some information on up-to-date work in the field, so that you can position your work and produce something that is new enough and makes a contribution to knowledge. Of course, you also develop your sense of positioning in the field through your discovery of gaps and ongoing conversations at conferences and in publications, but the supervisor can provide guidance, as they might have some further insider knowledge and a sense of what will be seen as suitable for publication at that moment. Lee (2010) looks at writing for publication as part of the doctoral programme more generally, where you might be choosing elements of the developing PhD to publish, with supervisory and doctoral programme help, while Pruchnicki et al. (2008) consider a specifically located course, which the individual students can draw on for publication, from which one might publish after the doctorate if it forms part of a research project. These different supportive contexts and structures are both discipline and context related, but both aim to support you in your choice of and development of publications by considering the stages of: • • • • • • •

identifying and designing projects or part of a developing thesis that can lead to publishable outputs; planning and management of the piece for publication; finding and researching suitable publication outlets; alignment and conversion of the thesis or parts of it; writing, re-writing and editing the text for submission; submitting for publication; and handling reviews and re-writing.

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Look at Chapter 3 about publishing journal articles, to focus on where and what to write, how to manage your time, and submit and revise for successful publication.

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Publishing after the PhD – selecting parts of the finished PhD for publication, with some examples

Once your PhD is finished you must of course begin to turn it into publications and share it with the wider readership of interested experts and practitioners who can benefit from your work. The PhD thesis itself can be considered a publication in many contexts and now it is easier to access it online, you need to check how to obtain permission to publish separate sections in articles, if the submitted PhD is considered as a publication in itself. The selection is important, as is considering whether the whole might be turned into a book. We consider the question of turning the PhD into a book in Chapter 4. If it is a monograph, your PhD is probably 80,000 words long, and your essays from it can never be simply Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 and so on. Each essay or article has its own structure, each being a version of the PhD itself – having an abstract, introduction, establishing the context for the work, linking the work to a larger field and emphasising its contribution, continuing into a literature review element and methodology and methods, and then on to the data, interpretation and contribution to knowledge and meaning. Simply cutting up chapters to publish separately will not work, as each depends on the introductory material at the start of the PhD. You need to select elements of this. Setting the scene clearly, outlining the range of responses to questions in the field and locating your own contribution and approach are all important in any essay and for all of the different kinds of readers who might read your work, though some will skip through the essay looking for certain elements. The literature review might be written up as an essay, as a synthesis of literature in the field, and the methodology section as a contribution to a new use of methodology and methods (if your work has focused on making such a new contribution), or an essay emphasising the methodology with some of your data – a case study in action of that methodology and methods. This is particularly likely if you have developed a new twist to the use of the methodology and methods. It is most likely that the different themes emerging in your data analysis are the richest potential source of articles. If you have three chapters, each taking a different theme, or you cut three different specifically focused extracts from your data sets and focus each on a different theme or angle arising from the whole, or write about similar, related issues from three different data sets, then there could well be three articles here. For example, in a PhD on three writers of the Gothic, each chapter on each writer could be turned into an article, or each theme that involves each of the

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three writers could be an article for example, ghosts and the legacy of the east in the works of X, Y and Z, then domestic gothic in the works of X, Y and Z. In a PhD looking, for example, at issues teenagers present in terms of noncommitment and non-compliance, and how they are challenged by a nurturing and demanding context, a student village resembling a traditional kibbutz, with a farm, could result in three articles. One article could be focused on the context of the student village and the nurturing development and challenging atmospheres experienced with it. Another could focus on the explicit development of the students, which takes the teenagers from non-compliant, socially deviant or depressed youngsters through community building and involvement. And a third might focus explicitly on the role of the community farm in enabling engagement or involvement. So, the whole PhD can have several outputs, based on data sets and/or on themes, on developed theories, on major examples and cases worked through, but each structured as a conventional, recognisable essay or journal article in the discipline. These are slices of the PhD specifically selected so they can both stand alone and give a flavour of the overall larger piece of work from which they have been developed. In this way, the publishable/published writing resembles the ways in which an established researcher develops interests and themes in their research and publications over time. Remember, the conventional shape of an essay or journal article is necessary. You cannot just submit a slice of the PhD. Nor can you repeat the entire introduction, literature review and methodology of the PhD as you would easily exceed any word limit and it would be far too ponderous. For each article it will be essential to begin with an abstract, which sets out its unique contribution, then move into an introduction, which outlines the context of the whole study and the importance of this particular slice of the study, then a literature review/theoretical perspectives and dialogue in the field section of the specific areas of the focus of the essay, emphasising how this piece of work contributes to that dialogue, takes the new knowledge on, and then develops a defence and explanation of the methodology and methods used. The selections from the data and discussion of the findings must all fit smoothly and logically with the overall aim and main arguments of the essay. There is no room for data that does not fit the argument. Leave this for the appropriate part of the thesis (if there is one), select to make your case, and be succinct. The reader won’t want to wade through every example that makes the same point. Finally, the contribution to knowledge, both factual and conceptual, needs to be made very clear in the conclusion. Each individual essay will have a different but related focus, and the conclusions need to emphasise both the link to that whole larger work, and the specific contribution to knowledge made by this specific piece. The shape of each essay is dependent on discipline norms, I have outlined social science norms, above. Each essay is a mini thesis evolving and growing from the main argument and themes. It is not a ‘cut and paste’ of a chapter; it is one of a set of articles

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which have the standard discipline-related structure and stand in their own right, with an abstract, introduction, literature review, methodology and methods section and selected data and discussion, without merely repeating the entire literature and methodology of the whole thesis, yet none the less indicating their origin in these elements of your thesis. The essay must select a slice of the thesis, standing alone, but clearly a product of the thesis.

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Some of the issues to consider and potential problems to overcome – advice from a supervisor’s point of view to other supervisors and to students

Supervisors do not often receive training in supporting their students to publish either during or after the PhD, though some clearly know how to do this and transfer what they have learned as writers who publish to enable them to support their students. Much of what appears in this chapter comes from my own experience in doing just that – transferring my writing and publishing experience into ideas and practices that can support others in their writing and publication. In a Hong Kong context, Kwan (2011) considered existing training supervisors provide for their PhD students, both to help them to publish while undertaking their doctoral studies and to prepare them for early career research publishing demands. From interviews conducted with the supervisors, Kwan found that training could be categorised ‘in terms of five domains of competence’: (1) in conceiving publishable projects, (2) in project/output management, (3) in research communication, (4) in handling reviewers’ comments, and (5) in thesis publication alignment/transfers. (Kwan 2011, pp. 1–19) Her findings showed that most training focused on research communication and on manuscripts-in-progress, though some supervisors she interviewed also indicated that they also gave advice on how to handle reviewers’ comments. One of her main findings was that PhD students were often quite resentful about the amount of time it took to write for publication and felt that it was not really important in itself, just so much more work for them to do. We have to be careful with this, and manage expectations, both as PhD students writing, and supervisors overseeing that writing, because publication really is an essential part of the journey for a researcher, wherever it appears on that journey. I asked a group of supervisors at a UK workshop to define some of the issues for their students that could be useful for their own work. In our discussions, a number of thoughts emerged. Broadly, we looked at levels of support, their roles as supervisors in the quality of the work, timing of publications and issues of publishing too early, thus detracting from the work. For some

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students, writing is not ‘natural’, so supervisor support is very necessary. And for some supervisors, their own publication is quite a new achievement, and so giving advice seems a little like running before they can walk. They looked at all stages of the writing through to publication, considering the importance of finding the right outlet, publishing their own elements of what is a large funded project without compromising the holistic project, confidentiality for others engaged on such a large project and for the funders, and issues of patents, and ensuring the papers are strong enough. They also considered the need to convince students it is worth their time and effort, and issues of calculating and factoring into the research process realistic amounts of time spent on writing the articles. Sometimes too much time can be spent on individual articles, which detracts from the main thesis or the wholeness of the project for the PhD, and the tendency for the work to be fragmented, bitty and disjointed may be increased. On the other hand, the experience of turning parts of the ongoing work into well-formed articles accepted for publication can be immensely empowering and give the student confidence and success, and a foothold in the published world of the discipline. The group of supervisors suggested that with research groups and cohorts of doctoral students, there could be cohort competitiveness, and that sometimes there are co-authorship ordering disputes that would need settling, especially if the published pieces were to form part of the finished thesis. If something had already been published in electronic form, it might not be acceptable later for a publisher in book form, and if a thesis was considered for publication, it might not be considered by journals as new work. All of these are potential minefields to be explored and dealt with, and it is important to find out the exact rules and regulations of the university, as well as the protocols of the publishers and journal editors. We discussed the more specific writing support needs of international students and felt that some might need English language support, which could be sourced from other university colleagues, and that all writers would need proofreading for journal articles (see Flowerdew, 1999, 2001); see also Chapter 3 on writing articles for publication and Chapter 5 on when English is not a student’s first language. We suggested that supervisors needed to manage expectations from the outset, so the doctoral students can see that the research needs to be communicated, and plan it as part of the PhD journey. They need to emphasise the importance of engagement and dissemination for any research and professional practice, and to normalise the writing and publication process more generally, defuse and clarify the complex processes of finding suitable journals, dealing with editors and peer reviews, and finishing the piece. Not everyone has a full grasp of all the journals in the field, and so both generic and specialist advice on searching for journals would be useful – see Chapter 3 for such advice.

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The supervisors decided they could support the emotional processes: the resilience, perseverance, confidence and articulacy needed; encourage and support writing groups; offer to co-write journal articles without stealing all the glory; join with students in conference presentations and book chapters; and put them in touch with editors who are looking for reviewers so that they can begin to develop their skills in reviewing, skills they can transfer to their own writing. They recognised that they can help students to demystify the process of spotting the right journals to write for, and why. As considered in Chapter 3, this involves exploring the web of knowledge, web of science, impact factors, citations, publishers, websites, and following the trajectory of a favourite author – where they have published, how much and with whom – so that students can see how to plan their own writing and publishing journey. The supervisors agreed that it would be unwise to go for the top journal first, and that anyone seeking to publish must be aware of the protocols of publication in their chosen journals. Pushing the forward thinking, the new ideas and conceptions out into new areas is always potentially risky (it could be rejected or even stolen), and supervisors and students need to find where to publish new techniques and new findings in different contexts. Engaging with writing for an academic audience could cut across originality in the discipline because of the compliance with the expectation of academic publishing, which might undermine the originality of the work at an early stage.

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Who owns the writing?

Students who publish with the project group or their supervisor need to ensure they feel their work is still their own, and that this can clearly be seen in any joint publication. It is important to get the order of names right and to indicate at the beginning or end of the piece who contributed what. Similarly, when a PhD composed of published pieces is finalised, identification of who has carried out the experiments or the data collection, who has written what, and the rightful assertion that the doctoral student has done the majority of the theorised research and writing for joint publications is all essential. On a slightly darker note, doctoral students need to avoid getting the work hijacked by their supervisor. Another issue is the differences in publication processes and time to publication because, depending on the discipline, the period of time to submit and accept differs, and for some students, in order for any published piece to form a part of a finished thesis, they must start it earlier rather than later in the PhD process. However, students might start publishing all too early so that they curtailed the research and published too soon. This could upset business or patent issues, and over-simplify the creative and critical elements of a complex exploratory piece. It could also put students off publishing in the future, even if

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they did get the piece accepted. However, we thought that both developing a list of appropriate publications receptive to doctoral students’ work, with an intellectual conversation into which the work could join would help doctoral students seeking to publish.

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Developmental supportive structures

Supportive structures and work-in-progress outlets involving peers are important. These include opportunities for in-house conferences, where students present their work then write it up in a poster or paper form as part of the learning process so that their production and supportive critique can lead to improvement in the work and the expression of the argument. In-house journals opportunities for blogging, so that work could be written, shared, critiqued and improved before being worked up into full-scale articles for publication are other supportive opportunities supervisors have mentioned. Blogs provide immediate feedback and engagement, and help with impact because they are (or can be) more visible, and can enable the sharing of early ideas. But since these ideas can also be stolen if they are not more formally in the public domain, students are advised to work up their critically reviewed blogs into conference papers and/or publications, because sharing in the public domain in a formal manner ensures that their work is recognised and attributed to them. Supervisors can provide support for the rocky journey through publication and peer review. It is very difficult submitting to a journal because negative reviews can lead to a loss of investment in the project and real concern over the quality of the writing. It is important to work with students to recognise that reviewing is a natural part of the learning and development that helps to improve papers for publication; that some of these papers might be better withdrawn until the work is more mature and better expressed; and that publishing is, in any case, a long and complex process that requires a great deal of rewriting – probably even more than a thesis does – because it is going into a public space to be read. Refereeing each other’s work, and looking at ways to respond to referees and improve the work could be done through supervisors sharing their own reviews with students and exploring how they tackled dealing with the reviews and re-writing. Writing groups (Aitchison, 2009) and seizing opportunities to support and co-develop skills for writing with others are all good developmental practices. Planning to write and publish from the early stages of the research onwards at least gives you a focus for the future, though you are advised not to publish too much too early, and to be careful in using all the support you can get from other students and supervisors to ensure the work is wellchosen, well-written, internally refereed and supported, and pitched at the right journal outlets.

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Activity: Case studies Writing from your PhD. What should you do? 1

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Your supervisor urges you to publish and the course requirements expect it but you do not feel quite ready yet and need some informed support and feedback – what can you do and who can you ask in addition to your supervisor? All the thesis to date looks eventually publishable to you but it is a huge piece of work and cutting it down into article size seems impossible – what can you do? It is clear that there is an important element of your work that needs publishing right now but you are unsure how to get it out fast enough, make it public enough, and still retain ownership of the ideas and discoveries, so that it is seen as an original contribution in the final thesis. You are quite weak in your methodology, your data collection is still in its early stages and your work is un-theorised, and you have written little so far. But you feel it is necessary to publish journal articles now with your supervisor’s help and want the supervisor to co-author. You have good ideas and very interesting original work developing, and you want to publish early data, which in your supervisor’s view is not yet quite right for publication and hasn’t as yet quite achieved its potential. Another student suggests that their supervisor is holding their publication back – they would like you to intervene. Your supervisor is an expert in discipline A, you are conducting research in disciplines A and B and would like to publish on this, but you feel unsure about discipline B and unsure about the journals in which you can publish this interdisciplinary research – what should you do and how?

PhD by publication

The PhD by publication is usually produced by someone who already has a significant number of publications in their name, and who is seeking to have that recognised as a coherent body of work. A PhD by publication is not usually undertaken by someone who is starting out on their writing and research career or who has produced practical work related to writing, such as largely professional handouts, PowerPoint presentations, manuals and reports, unless they feel they can devote the time to turning these into publications before the whole is turned into a PhD by publication. It is not a ragbag of written products, it is a coherent body of work with a ‘wrap’ of normally about 10,000 words comprising abstract, introduction, overall literature review, methodology and

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methods, and explanation of the themes and theories that drive and underpin the whole. The ‘wrap’ also establishes the position and contribution of each of the selected, published articles, seen as both separate articles and as sections in an ongoing argument. This ensures the essential thematic and theorised coherence. If you have developed a coherent body of work, probably no fewer than ten articles or the equivalent, from which the body of work flows, underpinned by specific theories or arguments, it might be a good idea to consider writing a PhD by publication. If you are just starting out on the writing and publishing processes, you need supervision similar to that of the Europeans and Scandinavians who produce PhDs by writing both published (or nearly published) pieces and a ‘wrap’. This is a longer, planned process that will depend on the whims and time lags of publishing as much as on your own writing speed and expertise, so be warned. You will need to find a university that recognises and supports a PhD by publication as you cannot assume that this is going to be the situation in every university, and you will need to have the proposal – the themes and the selected articles within those themes, and the arguments and theories involved in the ‘wrap’ – all agreed in a conventional fashion as for a PhD proposal, with the different structure of a ‘wrap’ and subsequent sections each comprising an individual article. It is possible to plan to produce a PhD by publication a few years ahead when you have a few articles already published, plans and a proposal drawn up, and a plan for publishing your work in other articles before the whole is brought together and submitted. A PhD by publication is not an easy option. It is not a collection of random bits of writing, but rather a mature recognition of the coherence of the work of an established professional or academic. In the case of such a PhD, the articles will all have been through the usual editing and peer review processes and already be in the public domain before they are pulled together into the whole.

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Conclusions

We have looked at a range of publishing options for getting your PhD into the public domain. I suggest you consider which of these ideas and actions might work for you. I hope this advice has all been useful, and might lead to writing for publication, being supported more appropriately by supervisors and the research community in universities, should these systematic ideas be developed into practice. You are the one who will ultimately decide which part of your work to develop for publication, and how to locate it, work with it, and ensure it is of the right quality so that it can be accepted into the peer-reviewed world of publications where your new voice can be heard. Perseverance, maintaining

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momentum and emotional resilience are necessary with this, as with all publishing. So do take into consideration these issues, problems, potential concerns and challenges to be dealt with; they are actually just like the challenges you will find when publishing after the PhD.

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Further reading

Aitchison, C. (2009) ‘Writing Groups for Doctoral Education’, Studies in Higher Education, 34(8), 905–16. Dinham, S. and Scott, C. (2001) ‘The Experience of Disseminating the Results of Doctoral Research’, Journal of Further and Higher Education, 25(1), 45–55. Hartley, J. and Betts. L. (2009) ‘Publishing before the Thesis: 58 Postgraduate Views’, Higher Education Review, 41(3), 29–44. Kwan, B. S. C. (2011) ‘Facilitating Novice Researchers in Project Publishing during the Doctoral Years and Beyond: A Hong Kong-Based Study’, Studies in Higher Education: 1–19 (iFirst article). Lee, A. and Kamler, B. (2008) ‘Bridging Pedagogy to Doctoral Publishing’, Teaching in Higher Education, 13(5), 511–23. Paré, A. (2010) ‘Slow the Presses: Concerns for Premature Publication’, in C. Aitchison, B. Kamler and A. Lee (eds), Publishing Pedagogies for the Doctorate and Beyond (New York: Routledge), pp. 30–46. Watts, J. H. (2012) ‘To Publish or Not to Publish before Submission? Considerations for Doctoral Students and Supervisors’, Creative Education, Wisker, G. (2013a) ‘Articulate – Writing, Editing and Publishing Our Work in Learning, Teaching and Educational Development’, Innovations in Education and Teaching International, 50(4).

Part 3 The Writing Process and You

11 Finding and developing your voice(s) in the disciplines

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • • • •

Articulation: the importance of expressing yourself and your work in academic writing contexts Developing your voice in dialogue with the discipline, other people and their writing Academic identity in writing Gaining attention with your style Disciplinary discourse and conventions Abstracts and introductions – social science Different approaches to a similar topic The fog index Scientific writing – advice on writing for medical and other journals Conclusion

You are a writer. You have a right and a duty to write, and many things to express and share with others. Writing for academic publication is just one form of writing with which you could engage. Feeling and knowing you have the right to get into print in academic writing contexts, and finding and feeling good about your own academic voice(s) in the discipline and the publication context are essential for your writing development and confidence.

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Articulation: the importance of expressing yourself and your work in academic writing contexts

Articulation is important. It is both expressing what you have to say and doing it well, the joining together of words, ideas, evidence, reflection and professional, personal and scholarly informed views to communicate (articulate meaning express, and articulate meaning join, like an articulated lorry). It is 187

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about expression and coherence. You have something interesting to say, a right to speak, and people want to hear what you are saying. Some of what you want to write about is highly topical. Some of it is personal, some theoretical, some from experience, whether professional or personal. Or it might relate to the research process, data collection, analysis and interpretation, experiments, observations, interviews, or analyses of events and documents. Your voice enables you to engage your own intellectual and personally processed responses with what needs to be said, so that others can appreciate it, interpret it and fit it into their own thought and experience patterns, learn and move on. You are always writing in a dialogue with a readership, however complex your statistics and data interpretation, however original your methods and your equations, or however tortuous your philosophising and grappling with ideas. In considering and then expressing this variety of writing for different reasons, the disciplinary differences, the rules and expectations of different publication outlets, you begin to think about the different kinds of voice you will need to develop. You have a voice and you have a right to speak, but in the event, when writing, just as when you speak, you will actually need to have several voices available, and they will need to be developed to suit those different disciplines, outlets, purposes and contexts. Even in writing this I am trying to determine the right kind of voice for my readership – not too lofty, not too popular, not too culturally inflected, not too philosophical, personal, anecdotal or erudite. Instead, I hope that my writing voice intermixes the accessible and readable with the theorising, scholarly and experiential. I’m mixing what I’ve read and researched with others with what I have experienced and reflected about myself, and I hope I am turning that into something to make you think and that you can make your own.

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Developing your voice in dialogue with the discipline, other people and their writing

Your voice is produced from your own experience, reading and research, in context and for specific outlets. However, it is also wrapped up with and produced from your sense of identity. The hesitant voice might be one of someone who believes they have no right to speak, or someone who is still exploring their responses and analysing information before they speak. The assertive voice could be based on a firm foundation of scholarly work or it could just be loud and vacuous. When we read, we become aware of the continuum from opinionated to a view based on reasoning, scholarly work and thinking; analysis and conceptualisation; evidence and argument; and we all have a right to speak. Writing gives you a voice in different circumstances. Writing also helps you to find that voice, populate the communication, imagine and relate to a reader or an audience, and communicate with someone. It provides confidence, espe-

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cially when we feel we have expressed ourselves clearly, and especially when someone else responds, recognises that, and has something to say in return. Identity is related to voice, and so we also need to recognise ways of overcoming any history of hesitancy, lack of confidence, fear of failure, historical silencing, and a sense that others know more, so you have nothing to add. This negativity can all develop from a lack of confidence, a challenged or upset sense of identity, and worrying about the right to communicate. Your right to write and your writing identity can also be affected by fear, bad feedback and previous experience of others’ negative opinions. Confidence in speaking and writing needs to be based on knowing that what you have to say is based on research evidence and professional practice as well as located in sound values, and will interest others. You do your ideas and contribution justice when you work hard to find the right voice and the right language and expression to articulate what you have a duty and a need to say, so that others can read it and engage with what you know, argue and suggest.

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Academic identity in writing

Recent work on academic identities (Clegg, 2008; McAlpine, 2012) provides some insights into the various challenges, rewards and issues related to finding academic voices for publication in whatever context. In recent research I conducted on reviewing, one participant highlighted the role of academic writing and publication in our work as academics. It is essential, self-motivated (but expected of us), largely intrinsically rewarded, under-resourced, but both stimulating and important to us. They also stress that academic writing makes us part of a community that shares the work, through supporting, reviewing and editing, and benefits from the writing and the dialogue: Writing is a challenge because, unlike teaching, which is often given, we have to plan and organize writing and publishing all ourselves. This is why the commitment of the individual academic and collaboration with others locally is so important. (Participant, Wisker, 2013b) Rowena Murray considers issues of voice in relation to gaining entrance to what seems an already established clique of published academic writers, where an academic writing voice is also a matter of being identified rather than of being heard. So some of us ‘will see the writing self as positioned by the organisation of other writers and the position of publishing in their discipline’ (Murray, 2005, p. 31). As new writers in an academic field, you already have a voice – many voices, and these are constructed and conditioned by your personal history, education, gender, ethnicity and class, among other things. They are also affected by your sense of having a right to join (or not) the discussion in your field, in the specific context in which you are writing. Writing is

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tied up with our identity as academics, practitioners, professionals and individual people, and the development of our own voice is therefore crucial to us. It is important to have our ideas, our experiences, our research and practice written about and conveyed to others in our own voice. Clegg, McAlpine and others look at ways in which new academics develop their identities as indicated in the varieties of academic roles. They consider tensions that different elements of this role can bring to those identities as professionals, and as people with everyday lives, relationships and demands, so it is often difficult to say in which aspect of our voice we should be writing. This is tempered by the context of our writing, the disciplines in which we write, and the audience for whom we are currently writing. If we want to write so that our students can access our work, it might be necessary to adopt a mixture of tones, language and sentence construction ranging between the informative, the challenging and intellectually provocative, always ensuring that the language is accessible and introduces technical terms carefully before building them into the piece we are writing. Such a piece might be an internal informative item for a handbook perhaps, or for an online blog. The purpose is informational and developmental, it would need to be accessible, and so the voice would be authoritative but also informative, and intellectually challenging without being arrogant. Blaxter et al. (1998, p. 146) suggest we recognise we have several voices even in the academic context, ‘You can, of course, use a number of different styles and voices. You might also use different names.’ You might not want to go so far as to use a pseudonym (or you might if you want to be a recognised physicist in one context and a writer of pulp Westerns in another, say)). A range of pseudonyms is more common with fiction writers than academics., I would suggest, since we are building up a specific identity in our field, even if you write across quite different disciplines, as I do (Higher Education and English Literature Post-colonial Gothic, in the main), what you might face is the decision not to use another name, but to use a different voice, as your voice is nuanced by: • • •

Aim and intention – why you are writing – to inform, persuade, share. Readership – who you want to reach and where. Context – the identity that publication has: popularist and highly accessible, highbrow and highly specialised, and all points in between.

If we look at two ends of the continuum and the voice and language for these, some of your decisions might become a little clearer. These are some of the decisions you need to make when nuancing the voice you use in academic writing for different outlets. A book for a more popular audience, one interested perhaps in skills, or in the learning journey rather than the research, will use a different voice and

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language from an academic journal article. It will want to persuade, to market itself as it develops, and in this case your voice might be one that is suggesting and developing, as well as informing and arguing. If we look at the other end of the continuum of academic voice, we might feel obliged to use the more authoritative, learned voice of the discipline, which shows that not only have we gained entrance to the language of our discipline, we can also use it in writing, with skill. The voices you use for your PhD thesis will be a little different from those of an academic article or book, since your thesis is establishing your work in the field. First it establishes that field, then rigorously places your contribution in it. The thesis language is concerned with authority, authenticity and entrance to the scholarly world. The language of a scholarly article is similar but less ponderous with regard to establishing the field and the right to speak. This voice of confidence also needs to be accessible, however, and there is much debate about the complexity of language (see the discussion on fog in scientific writing, below). There really is no excuse for language and voice that are arrogant, obfuscate meaning, and cut out the reader. We always need to be accessible to our readership. Helen Sword’s book, Stylish Academic Writing (2012) emphasises the accessibility of our writing and thus also our writerly voice, in all contexts. Her work examines the tone and the language used, and the clarity or lack of it in terms of establishing a title, making an argument, setting a case and moving through academic journal articles, so that the most intellectually complex can also be expressed elegantly, stylishly and accessibly. Her advice relates to both developing the argument clearly from the outset and to ensuring the language is clear and focused rather than either hiding the author’s ignorance behind excessive jargon-ridden, hidebound, complex discipline language and expression, or trying to fit in or even impress the readership by using that language. Your voice conveys a sense of what you think, believe and have found, and what you want to convey to others. It is always in your best interests and that of the clear communication of the ideas, argument and information to others, that you write accessibly with confidence and a desire to be understood, without hectoring. I hope the voice here is not hectoring, though it is often a thoughtful, reflective expression that intends to advise rather than (merely) presenting the findings of research (it does that too, of course, but as part of the discussion about writing practices and processes, not as an end in itself). Authentic voice is important. How do you think? How would you express your argument clearly? Use the authentic voice but choose whether, and when, to make it colloquial and conversational because complex meaning can hide behind voice that is too conversational or filled with social niceties, when in fact information and argument, challenge and critical thinking also need to be there. Try reading out loud what you are writing. Share with and try it out on a few different readers to

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determine if your argument and your evidence are clear, and it doesn’t sound deliberately elevated, confusing or too simple. There are other strategies to help you with this. Sometimes it is useful to use voice recognition software so that you can speak, you or the system transcribes what was said, then you return to the writing to finesse some of it, and ensure that it is elegantly expressed. This might help you to develop the varieties of your voice. Voice is fundamental to our ways of drawing in the reader and of interesting and convincing them. It is part of style and interaction. It is also part of identity; we strive to learn the voices of our discipline and to give our arguments authority, but we must not do so at the expense of sense.

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Gaining attention with your style

Both Rowena Murray and Helen Sword discuss the importance of the accessibility of our writing to those who will read it, and the need to maintain that acceptance in the discipline’s writing world while also making the work interesting, able to capture attention, new and contributing something important to the field. It must achieve all of this without being flimsy or patronising, always remembering that excessive erudition is a manner of writing that puts off much of any readership. Sometimes, when colleagues, PhD students or those on my writing for academic publication courses get a little stuck over the tone to use or their ability to write clearly, yet with the authority of their insight and position, in a discipline-orientated context, I suggest that they speak this into a tape recorder and then listen back and transcribe, or use one of the speech recognition programmes available, such as Dragon. Perhaps, because I write across disciplines, I don’t get on too well with such systems myself, which, for example, have been known to produce some strange word choices, so that the system turns John Keats (the poet) into ‘junkies’ and ‘journals’ into ‘urinals’ for me. So I prefer to type as I think, as the voice in my head argues and considers, then change it later if it seems too colloquial. I can rarely write a perfectly formed academic and accessible sentence at the first try, though sometimes when I have been reading and listening to others using the language and contributing in a discussion, I can do that. This suggests that gaining the academic disciplinary voice you need, mixed with that of your own everyday voice, can be enabled by: • •

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Listening to others at conferences and talks. Reading and analysing the effectiveness of good readable examples of the academic discipline voice in practice, in argument and in convincing, evidenced form – as it should be in well-written academic pieces for publication. Trying out your own academic voice on tape and with others, and then in writing.

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Joining in discussions with colleagues on academic issues related to your work. Presenting whenever you can, and dealing with questions and discussion. Writing, then reading it back out loud to decide if it is discipline specific, authoritative and yet also accessible.

Remember that writing for reading can be more complex in its sentence construction and number of discipline-specific terms, while spoken language needs to be less complex and formal but to use more words that state the position, re-emphasise it, and remind about the key issues, because the audience is listening rather than reading. Since we are mainly discussing the written text here, you will need to ensure that what you write is suitable for a print readership. So, when speaking into any speech recognition system, or taping yourself to transcribe, try to avoid the excessively conversational and colloquial, the circling round and repetition of spoken ‘thinking out loud’ expressions. You will need to turn the more conversational elements into more complex language, with more carefully managed sentences, for a written piece. Practise orally and with others, tape, transcribe and refine. Since writing takes a lot of editing, go over your work until it really does say what you want it to in an appropriate tone and language. Try it out on peers, asking them to comment and make suggestions about effective elements and those aspects that need refining – looking at the habits of writing you have, good and bad – and at particular paragraphs of discussion, argument and making your case. Your voice will gain fluency and be more flexible in different contexts the more you are aware of it being a mix of your normal voice, the expectations of the discipline and its context – journal, readership and length. All this practice in listening, speaking and writing, and then re-writing, should help to develop the fluency of your language suitable for: • • • •

opening statements establishing the main aims and points of your piece; entry into the dialogue with the theory and the literature; defence and explanation of methodology and methods; and the explanation and exploration of the data in relation to the developing theory and argument that is maintained throughout, backed up by the literature, by theory and by selected evidence.

Helen Sword comments on the importance of establishing your story, in your own voice, to attract and maintain the interest of your readers: ‘whether as a framing device or as a tale in its own right, the researcher’s story can create a sympathetic bond between the author and the audience by showing the human side of academic endeavour’ (Sword, 2012, p. 90). Your story, making something out of your research or professional practice, a case to make to others, needs to be in your voice. The whole article, book, or whatever academic piece

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it is, needs to have both your story and your voice in there, suitably managed and modified for the audience, context and format, and to reflect your intentions. There are disciplinary conventions as well as those for speech and written work. You will need to research what is acceptable in the articles and books in your own discipline before you make any decision to be very adventurous, though how creative and different you can be, how much you can stretch the forms and expressions expected in your discipline will ultimately be a choice for you and your editor. Much is gained by being adventurous and creative, but as I am quite cautious, I would prefer to establish my voice a little more formally, recognisably, and establish my use of the discipline conventions for expression, before challenging them radically. However, Sword is a little more challenging and radical than I am. When talking about voice in terms of the ways in which we engage others in our argument and discussion, she has some thoughts about the inappropriateness of the passive voice and abstract nouns, which we often find in the abstracts of academic pieces, and throughout scientific articles. Examples of this could be ‘the frequency of adverse reactions to XXX was explored and tabulated using…’. Here no one is doing anything – that is, there is no named subject, and the events and actions take place in the passive and the past. It is impersonal and disconnected. Some writers place themselves as an actor in a scenario in which they have both agency, ‘the researcher suggests that’, or ‘I/we suggest that’. Others indicate that the research is the actor, the ‘doer’ here, rather than they themselves: ‘the research indicates that…’, ‘data to date suggests that…’ and so on. In Sword’s study of 66 journals across a large variety of disciplines, she found only one, a history journal, that forbade the use of ‘I’, and yet many of us teach our students at all stages to remove themselves, to stress impersonality. Feminist research has always enabled the ‘I’ or ‘we’ to be present, indicating the person in the interaction that is researcher, research and communication of the results of that research. There is a great difference between the opinionated, evidence-lacking ‘I’ – ‘I hate winter and snow’, and the ‘I’ who is the researcher who did the work (alone or in a group) and therefore argues the interpretation of the data and turns them into findings. They were present when this happened, this is not an evidence-free opinion, it is an authoritative description and analysis: ‘I interviewed 40 students/teachers and discovered that … I suggest that in instances of XXX it is possible to argue that XXX…’. They place themselves into the research they did, but use the authority of their position, of the process and the data to speak for them in their arguments. These are not baseless, heated opinions, but reasoned arguments based on evidence and process. While Sword argues that the replacing of the ‘I’ in the discussion is now more acceptable, Murray is a little more hesitant, suggesting this is becoming more acceptable, but that the disciplinary rules of journals and

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disciplines often make it a little daring to use ‘I’, perhaps because in scientific contexts we are letting the science speak and this lends the authority. In literary studies, for example, we are exploring texts and bringing critical voices to bear on them, and want those voices to carry what we say. Learn the rules of the publications in the discipline, the rules of the journal, follow these and then try to stretch them, especially if they utterly exclude you as a voice in the work you have done, and the discoveries you have made.

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Disciplinary discourse and conventions

There are disciplinary discourses and conventions for the writing and laying out of papers that you will need to comply with if you want to change them once your work is more established. Sword comments on the variation in terms of livelier and more accessible writing, arguing that in the published journal articles she used for her study (Sword, 2012), in the example of structures, the problem of ‘identically structured articles is that they all end up looking and sounding more or less alike, thus offering the subliminal impression that they all say more or less the same thing’ (p. 125), and that if you write and plan to a template you could risk ‘thinking to a template as well’. Structurally, ‘Hybrid structures offer an alternative for scientists and social scientists who want to add some unique architectural features to work that is otherwise safely grounded in disciplinary norms’ (p. 125). When deviating from norms of argument and introducing new ways of seeing and thinking, it might be safer and might enable your readers to focus on the newness that you offer if you actually ensure that the structure is familiar, since, as Sword also goes on to argue, ‘In a conventionally structured academic article, section headings function like centrally positioned, neatly labelled doorways that lead us from one wellproportioned room to the next’ (p. 129), and with the less conventional we are not sure where we are going. She proceeds, however, to look at both conventionally structured and less conventionally structured articles across a range of disciplines. In the humanities in particular, there is a tendency to structure articles according to arguments and themes rather than according to the social science norms of the standard statements about the literature, the methodology and methods and the data. In a humanities article, reference to how the work was developed from sources is normally hidden, and the literature behind it, which establishes and maintains theoretical perspectives and an ongoing discussion with other critical voices is included as part of the informing focus.

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BOX 11.1 EXAMPLE

OF A PAPER SUBMITTED USING A SOCIAL SCIENCE FORMULA

Title: 'Doctoral “orphans”: nurturing and supporting the success of postgraduates who have lost their supervisors’ Keywords: Academic identity; Completion; Doctoral students; Postgraduate; Supervisors Abstract: Much research into doctoral student-supervisor relations focuses on developing positive interactions. For many students, however, the research experience can be troubled by breakdowns in communication, and even the loss of the supervisor(s), turning the student into a doctoral 'orphan', and impacting on their academic identity and ability and confidence in producing a sound doctoral level contribution to knowledge. Our work with a range of UK and internationally based doctoral students looks specifically at reasons for supervisor loss and/or absence and the students' experience of being doctoral 'orphans' in terms of identity, confidence and progress. In focusing on those who achieve successful completion, it suggests the need for institutional and community support and highlights the development of effective strategies leading to ownership, empowerment and emotional resilience. Introduction There are no words to explain the way how I feel this morning. The tears are there but I won't let them fall. I have spent TEN YEARS (or at this point WASTED) ten years of my life on this thesis. (Student A) This doctoral 'orphan' feels stuck and demoralised. Losing their supervisor along the learning journey is one of several major setbacks …

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Abstracts and introductions – social science

Research into the structure of research articles has focused more on the sciences and social sciences than the arts and humanities (Bhatia, 1993; Hyland, 2000; Swales, 1990, 2004). Identifiable sets of conventions have developed in the sciences and social sciences. In arts and humanities research there is quite a range of writing, and some humanities use social science conventions. Literary articles and those exploring visual examples and issues might take the creativity of their subject matter into play with their structure. In studying introductions to research articles in the sciences and social sciences, Swales (1990) identified a potential structure, the CARS model, based on the research approach of ‘Creating a Research Space’. The CARS model enables the research writer and their readers to see how a research space is created so that the work that follows can address or fill it.

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It seems only fair to offer up a couple of the pieces I have written, not to be models of excellent practice, but as examples of attempts to follow a social science formula or a literary criticism formula. The first paper published in HERD (Wisker and Robinson, 2012) reports on research into doctoral students who have lost their supervisors (see Box 11.1). The abstract broadly establishes the work in the field: ‘much research into…’, (step 1), then offers a new view, and identifies a gap (step 2): ‘For many students, however…’. Then it suggests (step 3) how this new work on doctoral ‘orphans’ will address the gap and provide some interesting and useful theorised information on what happens, and how doctoral students have coped and flourished (or not). The piece then moves on from the CARS model in its abstract, and in the introduction offers something a little more hybrid, because it begins with a quotation from some of the data, from a doctoral student who has been an orphan and survived to tell the tale. Some editors and reviewers do not like the use of quotations at the start of a social science argument, like an epigraph in a literary essay. Gill Robinson and I tend to work that way because one of us is a literature researcher and teacher and the other an artist researcher and teacher. We can’t see a problem with the use of quotations – we think it brings the text to life. Not everyone would agree, however, so in deciding on a hybrid structure, ensure that the journal seems agreeable to this. The next example (see Box 11.2) is a literary one, which has not yet been published. It begins with two quotations, one from one of the main texts, Joplin’s Ghost, and establishes the central issue of ghosting and haunting of cultural histories. The next is a critical quotation from a major postcolonial Gothic critic, David Punter, whose work theorises the concerns that lie behind looking at ghosts, zombies, vampires and other Gothic figures, in postcolonial contexts. This argues that haunting and ghosting from the past is a normal condition in both the postcolonial and African American contexts, since historically there has been silencing and disempowerment. Writers write back to that, offering up stories and accounts that break the silence. The literary Gothic and the reason for using it in a postcolonial context is therefore theorised in the opening. The rest of the essay uses this theorising to underpin and explore the ways that the texts operate to dramatise hidden histories and set wrongs to right, using fictional strategies to do so. It does not establish a gap in the literature (though some literary essays do that) and it does not as yet set out all the previous literature that has dealt with postcolonial and Gothic; instead, it pulls key theories and texts together to underpin and inform the exploration of focused elements of these chosen texts, and to drive an argument through the essay. Methodology and methods are assumed: literary critical practice. Discipline differences might be clear in comparing these two pieces, and you might well find that looking in journals outside your own discipline

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BOX 11.2 EXAMPLE

OF A PAPER SUBMITTED USING A LITERARY FORMULA

Guests in the body: Tananarive Due and Nalo Hopkinson Living history, Changing Selves Gina Wisker '“Your music can help free our people from their binds, so no one can make slaves of us again.”' (Freddie to Scott Joplin, Joplin's Ghost, 2002, p. 212) '… as the great globalising project of modernity, which has its own controlling relationship to the postcolonial, rolls on, one of its more curious current effects is that, perhaps against expectations we live increasingly in a world of ghosts, spirits, phantoms…' (Punter, 200\0, p. 61) David Punter identifies a significant characteristic of postcolonial and postmodernist writing as a form of ghosting, the repressed, hidden histories of the past accompanying those of the present, living in or alongside them, meeting and greeting, reminding and sometimes teaching. Both Canadian/Caribbean Nalo Hopkinson and African American Tananarive Due write what Kathleen Brogan calls 'cultural haunting' (1999) using the conceit of guests in the body - spirit or ghostly possession of women and nested genre structures in the body of the text - to engage with and dramatise issues of oppression and empowerment in relation to history, gender and ethnicity. Tananarive Due's Joplin's Ghost (2005) recuperates the work and effect of Scott Joplin's music while Nalo Hopkinson's 'Tan Tan and Dry Bone' enables a young woman to face up to and expiate her crimes.

alongside those of your discipline helps you to foreground the specific expectations of not just your discipline but the corner of it in which you are working.

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Different approaches to a similar topic

There is a poem by Wallace Stephens called ‘Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird’ (1923), which emphasises different perspectives, perceptions, reasons for looking and interpretations. This is what we are thinking about in our different takes on writing. The conventions that govern research writing in the arts and humanities have received much less attention than those in the sciences and social sciences. Even less attention has been paid to hybrid articles that might enable some creative cross-fertilisation between the disciplines. Below are several ways of looking at, or structuring, the teaching and appreciation of an article on Angela Carter’s ‘The Company of Wolves’, a short story which uses the Gothic, magic realism and horror to engage readers with re-reading the values

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implicit in ‘Little Red Riding Hood’. These implicit values suggest to young women that they are helpless and must be protected by male power. The story exposes these values, makes them explicit, then refuses and denies them, instead offering an imaginative re-reading in which the young girl challenges these values. I use the story to enable students to engage with the ways in which literature causes us to use our imagination, to question things we are told and take for granted, the way we see the world, so I use it in both literary and education contexts. I shall try and structure my three articles to suggest this.

1 Social Science-oriented article on the topic Abstract – establishes that literary texts engage critical thinking, mention threshold concepts (essential concepts for understanding how a discipline constructs knowledge and sees the world). Introduction – establishes importance of literary texts, particularly the Gothic, to engage critical thinking among students. Threshold concepts indicate development in critical thinking through such engagement. Exploration of teaching and learning with literature students to see how they respond. Literature review – information on literature related to use of literary texts and humanities to engage critical thinking; introductory work on threshold concepts and students’ learning. Methodology and methods – defends and explains. Two methods used: (1) partially quantitative and qualitative (survey); and (2) purely qualitative (interview), each used inductively. With whom: 2nd year Lit students, 70 in survey, 15 in interview, randomly selected. (1) Survey of students who have read and discussed the text, uses questions to explore changing thoughts, problems, critical thinking about the issues. (2) Interviews with students exploring their response to the use of story, the values implicit about power and gender, ways they might have developed critical thinking. Data and discussion – themes emerging, comparing the data from the survey and the interviews. Conclusions – critical thinking enhanced through engagement with Gothic literary texts, which encourage problematising and thinking about established values. Language of the paper Abstract – previous research into critical thinking encouraged by literary study (Wisker and Robinson, 2009; Kelly, 2009) suggests that students are encouraged to critique established views through their engagement with the language, ideas, imagery and story offered in literary texts. Theories of threshold concepts (Meyer and Land, 2003) underpin and explore theories of both troublesome and transformational new knowledge produced by such engage-

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ment, particularly with literary texts. Survey and interview research work conducted with students studying Angela Carter’s radical revision of the ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ tale, ‘The Company of Wolves’ (1979), offers evidence of engagement with troublesome knowledge, transformational learning and new critical thinking about gender and power, indicating attainment of threshold concepts.

2 Social science literary hybrid Abstract – indicates the use of literary texts to engage students with critical thinking using the story and language, mentions importance of the Gothic and threshold concepts in this. Introduction – establishes importance of story to vehicle ideas, Gothic, irony, magical realism, to engage critical thinking, learning theories about threshold concepts, student group used. Literature review – information in an argument about the theories of narrative and storying,(turning events into a story) threshold concepts to engage students in critical thinking and understanding literature, strategies of the Gothic in using fantasy, critiquing established views. Methodology and methods – establishes social science methodology of qualitative study, inductive rather than deductive, using (i) teaching method used in working with elements of the text, focus on reading practices; and (ii) focus group interviews with students who have read and discussed ‘The Company of Wolves’ to elicit responses related to critical thinking. Data and discussion – describe the teaching sessions and responses, start to analyse what they are saying and what it reveals about their understanding of the representation used and the arguments explored in the text, looking at narrative, imagery, characterisation. Quote from the focus groups to illustrate emerging themes, each theme under a heading. Conclusion – something about the effective use of Gothic stories to engage students with questioning values and received views of behaviour and so on – how language and imagery and so on engage them with this and how threshold concept theories indicate that such engagement causes enhanced critical thinking at a conceptual, creative, critical level.

3 Literary study Starts with a quotation from Angela Carter about exploring ideas by putting new wine in old bottles. Abstract – explains importance of using literary Gothic in engaging issues of values of gender and power. Introduction (incorporates Lit review) – Angela Carter’s radical use of fairy stories to critique established beliefs about gender and power, werewolves in fairy stories, ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ and previous versions of it, critical

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thinkers’ work on Angela Carter and other Gothic and Magical Realism tales that cause new thinking, and on this tale, questioning whether by changing a fairy story you can really upset established conventional thinking, claim you can. Sections in themes. (1) Women, men, sexuality and power – beneath the conventional structure of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ is a powerful tale about women as silenced, helpless victims and men as invading marauders or paternalistic saviours – Carter’s story explores and deviates from these – reawakening the latent talent of women’s sexuality and power, and offering the lively heroine empowerment. (2) Can re-writing traditional tales do more than that? Can it undercut the values they teach? Fairy stories and myths as controlling devices, ways in which traditional stories construct and instil versions of gender and power roles, norms of behaviour, and how this tale challenges these through a mixture of realism and the Gothic. Conclusion – Angela Carter’s use of the literary Gothic in ‘The Company of Wolves’ (1979), her radical re-write of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ exposes issues of gender and power. The shape-shifting werewolf and innocent young peasant girl are revealed as fairy tale constructions of male power and female victimhood, a perpetuation of gender norms which Carter’s transformed tale both undercuts and re-configures. Seizing her own sexuality and embracing the wolf, her twentieth-century protagonist gains both voice and agency.

4 A more creative response This might develop a poem or narrative in response to the text and the issues it engages, and then use the text and critical perspectives to explain and draw out the meaning of the argument based on the creative response to the reading of the text. Introduction – explains these tactics. Creative piece follows the analysis. Analysis of the creative piece in a critical, responsive mode (as indicated above), bringing in theorists and literary critics, and relating the actual short story and response to it, and to the way in which this newly created piece also grows from it, and tackles gender and power issues. These different versions of approaching an instance of teaching a literature text which changes views illustrates the structural and discourse differences of the disciplines and their perspectives as expressed in ways of thinking, and more explicitly, ways of discussing and arguing in an article. Each is a fairly conventional structural shape and gives only a brief introduction to the quite conventional use of the language you might find in journal articles in these disciplines, albeit just from my own modes of writing. I don’t think I could do justice to a scientific experimental model on the text and response to it, but if I tried it would probably talk about the ‘student model’ (not the rat model) and

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take an experimental design in which various activities (reading and discussion) were seen as scientific experiments, and students tested before the experiment and after to prove a hypothesis that they had changed, with their use of certain language items perhaps as indications of that change. Literary textual engagement does not lend itself easily to scientific experimentation so I will look now at some scientists exploring the structure and abstract language of the sciences broadly conceived. There is no substitute for looking at good journal articles in your own discipline. This is merely suggesting that there are established structures and language, and that there are different ways of looking at knowledge, its construction or discovery, and different modes of expression. Each discipline is a bit of a closed shop, a silo, a fortress, and once you are in it, unless you deliberately write a hybrid piece across disciplines, you will become comfortable with the structure and the language, make some changes when you are comfortable, and wonder why other journals and other disciplines produce such different takes on what a journal article (or book) looks and sounds like. In looking at scientific writing I start with discussion of the ways in which writing can actually confuse, rather than elucidate, meaning. ‘Fog’, which I am exploring below, is something used as a way of trying to seem knowledgeable and claim the importance of your standing and the work you have done, but using unnecessary amounts of long words, which actually fog up that authority and clarity, and it appears in every discipline.

Scientific writing The first ‘teaching’ of writing I ever undertook was with postdoctoral scientists from a large multinational pharmaceutical company, and we had several groups, for two days, to work on journal articles. As a communications teacher, I also worked with engineers, pharmacists and business and health professionals, all concerned with their writing styles, all somewhat different in terms of tone, language and both the rules of the discipline and its outlets and ways in which you can work with or change these rules. Consistent throughout these different contexts was, and still is, the need to write clearly, have an argument to put across and one or more points to make, which adds to the ongoing dialogue, and the need to consider your readers so that they can follow your argument, and appreciate and understand your style.

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The fog index

It was working with scientific writing that I first met the Fog Index. The idea is that when you write you need to use technical terms, the specific words which convey insider specialised meaning in your discipline, but that you do not need to then confuse everything else you are informing or arguing about with words of three or more syllables. Applying the Fog Index is an activity we can all

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undertake with our writing. You look at a paragraph and you count up the number of syllables of your writing. If you have a large number of words of three or more syllables, you are likely to be fogging up your argument by trying to be impressive or erudite, and you are likely to be confusing your reader, who is so busy working out what the long words mean that they lose the point of the sentence. The Gunning fog index was developed by Robert Gunning, in 1952 and measures readability of writing in English. It estimates the number of years of formal education needed to understand a text on first reading. You can work out if your text is ‘foggy’ by taking a slice of your writing, selecting a passage of approx. 100 words. Work out the average sentence length by dividing the number of words by the number of sentences. Next, count the “complex” words which have three or more syllables but avoid proper nouns, everyday words, compound words and suffixes such as -es, -ed, or –ing which make a word longer but not more complex as a syllable; Add the average sentence length and the percentage of complex words and Multiply by 0.4. Not all long words are hard to read so ‘defamiliarisation’ needs some explanation whilst ‘cauliflower’ does not. You get a sense of the complexity and density of words which need explanation by carrying out this test, but still have to decide for yourself if that makes your prose ‘foggy’, too full of complex words which need explanation for your reader to follow your argument. There are other indexes that can be used, such as the Coleman Liau index, Flesch Kincaid Grade Level, ARI (Automated Readability Index) and SMOG (possibly continuing the notion of fog). There are a number of online calculators that enable you to cut and paste your paragraph into them to calculate the number of multi-syllable words, and give you a sense of the fog readability level. One of these is available at: http://www.online-utility.org/english/ readability_test_and_improve.jsp.

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Scientific writing – advice on writing for medical and other journals

In his essay ‘Success at Publishing in Biomedical Journals: Hints from a Journal Editor’ (2009), R. A. Brumback deals with a number of issues in medical science publishing. One of these is the recognition of scholarly activity based on professional practice. He notes that: ‘those choosing an academic career find that scholarly activity is more prized than the clinical service and teaching activities’ (p. 2). As with any other writing, there is a standard order and shape to the parts of an article, but the authors, or main author, do not necessarily write these parts in that order. They are likely to write first about the data and discussion, then theorise this, then read round to contextualise it, then develop an argument that runs throughout the work. The order that is published, however, is more of

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a standard order, a logical one, not a chronological one matching the research process. What appears is a standard abstract, introduction, methodology, data and discussion shape. The methodology is always explained to some extent, because an author cannot merely assume that their work is being read by insiders who know the research process. There is an insistence on structure and order, and a recognition about the order of the writing modelled on professional practice. Brumback details this: From the beginning, the manuscript must be prepared in an organized format. The standard manuscript will include (in order) title page, abstract page, introduction, case summary/methodology section, results, discussion, conclusions, acknowledgments, bibliography (reference citations), table pages, and figure legends page. However, the manuscript should not be written in this order … instead the case summary/methodology section must be written first. Because it is the first part of the work performed, the case summary/methodology section needs to be written before anything else. A clinician first evaluates the patient; therefore, the case summary should be prepared from the results of this patient interaction. The case summary should be thorough and biographical and should paint a complete word picture of the patient. The case summary description should be vivid enough for any reader (particularly someone who is unfamiliar with the scientific or medical field) to generate a clear mental image. (Brumback, 2009, p. 4) He notes the importance of consistency, letting readers know what the scientific question or hypothesis is, and relating what is found and its importance back to that question, or readers will fail to see the importance or the point. The discussion should relate to the findings reported in the results section and so provide an answer to whatever scientific question underpins the research. The discussion should ‘demonstrate the importance of the work and how it will add to the worldwide medical/scientific literature‘ (p.5). Too often, authors expect that readers will in some way work out the importance of the material. These issues – establishing a gap, devising methodology and methods, ensuring an argument, asserting the importance of the question being asked, the modes of asking it, the importance of the findings as a contribution – are all very similar to those of the social science article. The introduction should be very succinct and express the issue and the importance of the work, rather than having a lengthy introduction, which you might well find in social science and humanities pieces. A science essay is unlikely to have a lengthy literature review to establish the place of the work in the field in quite the same way as a social science article might have.

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A major issue in the sciences, however, is that of authorship and ownership, because of the nature of multiple authors on large projects. The first author is usually the person who has written the piece and carried out most of the research reported in it (though not the entire large project). Potentially, others in the list will have carried out and also written about some of the work. There are many cartoons about authorial recognition and ownership, many accessible, for example, in the series dealing with PhD students and their supervisors (see Piled Higher and Deeper, created by Jorge Cham, available at: http://www.phdcomics.com). So, this simple, straightforward and honest way of deciding authorship in relation to work on a paper is clearly not always followed. In writing sessions I have run throughout the years it has often been a very hot topic, as younger or newer researchers feel their work could be stolen, and professors feel the need to be first author if they have contributed ideas, and to ensure that the work will gain publication and recognition. Altruism competes with pomposity; politics with mentorship.

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Conclusion

This chapter has looked at issues and practices concerning the development of your own voice as a writer, and how such a voice, as well as the structure of your writing, is governed by context, discipline and readership.

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Further reading

Bhatia, V. K. (1993) Analysing Genre (London/New York: Longman). Brumback, R. A. (2009) ‘Success at Publishing in Biomedical Journals: Hints from a Journal Editor’, Journal of Child Neurology, 24(2), 4, 5, 370. Available at: http://jcn.sagepub.com/content/24/3/370. Clegg, S. (2008) ‘Academic Identities under Threat?’, British Educational Research Journal, 34(3), 329–45. Day, R. A. (1995) Scientific English: A Guide for Scientists and Other Professionals, 2nd edn (Phoenix, AZ: Oryx Press). Gunning, R. (1952) The Technique of Clear Writing (New York: McGraw-Hill) Hyland, K. (2000) Disciplinary Discourses (London/New York: Longman). Lillis, T. and Curry, M. (2006a) ‘Professional Academic Writing by Multilingual Scholars: Interactions with Literacy Brokers in the Production of EnglishMedium Texts, Written Communication, 23(1), 3–35, 283. Matthews, J. R. and Matthews, R. W. (2007) Successful Scientific Writing: A Stepby-Step Guide for the Biological and Medical Sciences, 3rd edn (Cambridge University Press). Murray, R. (2005) Writing for Academic Journals (Maidenhead: Open University Press), pp. 31–2.

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Strunk, W. and White, E. B. (2000) The Elements of Style, 4th edn (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon). Sword, H. (2012) Stylish Academic Writing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press), pp. 77–8, 90, 125, 129.

Website Cham, J. (n.d.) Piled Higher and Deeper, created by Jorge Cham. Available at: http://www.phdcomics.com.

12 Managing time, overcoming blocks and getting the writing done

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Identifying barriers and writing blocks, and ways of overcoming them Planning, balancing and managing your time – timescales, fitting it all in Identity and writing Being stuck – how does it feel? What can help to prevent or to manage writing blocks? A range of activities and practices Planning to write – time and place Dealing with your inner saboteur Managing the writing energy Thinking and expressing conceptual thoughts Ontological insecurity, stuck moments and the ‘conceptual threshold’ Valuing pre-liminality Movement through a portal Keeping going, perseverance Using the jottings Re-drafting How can understanding different kinds of feedback aid your writing? Some steps in re-drafting More reflections on writing Writing reflectively Seizing the moment, and working hard on the writing Make writing a habit you enjoy Other kinds of writing to break blocks Conclusion – quick ways to get beyond a block in your writing

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We all have issues about finding the time to write, and various blocks and difficulties that affect our writing at some point, or even regularly. This chapter looks at identifying and overcoming various writing blocks at different stages in your writing.

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Identifying barriers and writing blocks, and ways of overcoming them

I believe in writing blocks (I have them regularly), but I also think they can be prevented, managed and overcome. Some of the writing blocks we have can be managed by finding the right conditions, the right places and times to write (see Chapter 2), and being realistic about what is possible. Some blocks arise from the complexity of the thinking, the research and the actual expression. These are more conceptual blocks. Some arise from overwork, tiredness, lack of motivation and perseverance, and others are more deep-seated, and ultimately related to issues of well-being and identity. Anyone can be blocked in their writing at any stage, perhaps for lack of results, lack of confidence, the inability to get on with the work, or annoyance at the difficulty of finding the right expression. One step to unblocking is to remember that it happens in one form or another to all of us, and we can find strategies to ensure we can write more regularly and fluently, and have more control over that writing. Some of those strategies come from our own ways of tackling other problems, and include planning, structuring and timing the work, reflecting on and dealing with problems using guidance and self-awareness of what works for us, and rewarding success. Some of it can come from using what is helpful for us, from the selfhelp guides, which distil a range of ways forward from theory and other people’s working practices, and some strategies can come from learning from others, through discussion and sharing with critical friends, in friendship groups and in a writing community.

Activity Think about these questions: • • • •

Do you ever feel stuck or blocked in your writing? If you do, what does this feel like; how does it present itself? What do you think causes it? What do you do to move on and get writing again – at the right kind of level – through to completion?

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Activity •

• • •

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Write narratively as if telling a story, and then reflectively for five minutes about a block to your writing you have experienced, and the way you unblocked it to carry on writing (narrative writing) and what it felt like to be blocked and unblocked (reflective writing). Then write a list of methods you and others you know or have read about have used to help them unblock. What would work for you? In different contexts? Consider how, where and when you can plan in any of these practices to avoid being blocked, or treat ways of unblocking your writing as being perfectly natural in your writing rhythms?

Planning, balancing and managing your time – timescales, fitting it all in

Time is the most acknowledged reason for writing blocks, for being stuck – time, or rather lack of it. Writers say they don’t have enough time, or they can’t manage it, and they feel paralysed because they have so much to do in so little time. They have said they have been blocked by lack of time, with deadlines too close, the complex conceptual work needed and no time to do it, poor feedback – which paralyses, and not having done enough work yet and so not having much to say. Sometimes it is difficult to recognise what is really blocking you, because some of these things are hardly even conscious and might lie deep in your subconscious, the result of previous experiences of failure or stress, or the sense that you are not as eloquent as others, or you do not have such important things to say as someone else does. This latter feeling of being blocked often comes from reading other people’s perfect prose, post-publication. The authors of these had doubts, and went through stuck places too – you can be sure of it. What do you think blocks you? And what do you not realise/not own up to? In counselling there is a process that helps to bring to the surface the issues you find it easy to face and tackle, and those you might find more difficult; this is called a Johari window. Try filling in the blanks below in the Johari window.

Known Overt Covert

Unknown

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Ours is a simplified version, but I have found it a useful tool in development sessions. Think about what you know troubles and blocks you and that you are ready to share with others – that goes in the known/overt space. What you know but are not so willing to share goes in the known/ covert space. What you don’t really know but could be quite clear to someone else (for example, you might have taken on more writing and other tasks than you could possibly manage in the time available), and could be discussed and overcome, goes in the unknown/overt box. What you do not know and would be unwilling to tackle if it emerged (for example, that you fear failure) goes into the unknown/covert space. These and other reasons (for example, you were bullied at school and so suppressed a sense of self-worth) can emerge through a problem in writing. These, if you can identify them at all, are deeper things that might make you fear writing and fear failure if you submit your writing. You might only need to find and express them to begin to manage them, but some of these concerns might be a bit too deep-seated or even too vague to actually tackle (such as a childhood fear of a dominant teacher telling you you’re a failure, or always wanting to please your father, who made you feel insignificant). If you can bring to the surface any of these issues for yourself, or in discussion with a trusted other person, your critical friend, a relative or a writing tutor, you can then begin to tackle them. Now decide on ways of dealing with these issues – planning and managing your way out of some of them (such as poor time-keeping), reminding yourself you are not at school, that your teacher was wrong in any case, and you have had many successes since you left school and can now build on them (the more covert unknown areas) and so on. Time planning and time management are considered in much more depth in Chapter 2.

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Identity and writing

Because writing is so tied up with our identity, and not just our academic identity, some of the reasons why we invest so much in it and perhaps feel challenged and blocked by it are related to our sense of achievement and our voice, identity and self-worth. So the stakes are high when we feel stalled, put off the writing, get stuck in parts of it and find some of it just too difficult, the ideas too hard, the wording escaping us or we are not pleased with the ways in which our writing captures our thoughts and arguments. These are stages in the writing process. There is also the re-writing process to contend with. Our writing can also be blocked if we have handed or sent in a piece we feel is good enough but we then receive negative feedback (or even positive feedback suggesting changes). At this (normal, to be expected) stage we might well feel challenged, partly as someone doing a job who is told it is not yet adequate, but also challenged in terms of our sense of selfworth and meaning in the world. I am much less worried if a mince pie is a

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failure or I didn’t quite make my point at a meeting than I am if a piece of writing is rejected or highly criticised, especially if I cannot see what the problem is with it. Perhaps your identity feels wrapped up in the writing, or perhaps not. Some of this is subject-specific, and some personality-specific, and some also tied up with particular writing projects and how much they matter to you, your job, your PhD or other writing projects. On the writing for academic publication MA module I run at the University of Brighton, the participants who are reporting on a series of experiments (some of which might have failed) and those who have a methodology that has been assigned by a project, for example, report that they feel less that the writing and expression are part of their ontological security in the world than do those exploring their values and professional practice in reflective and critical writing, and those who are developing their arguments based on their own research projects or their own questions and arguments. If we are very personally involved, we might learn through personal reflection and/or from the more clinical or business-like approach of others, find out what is blocking us or what is preventing the written work from becoming good enough, and set about tackling these problems systematically, and writing well. I have carried out a few research projects concerning writing blocks and breakthroughs, both on my own and with colleagues (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009; Wisker, 2013a). Each project had full ethical clearance. Some of the findings might be helpful and I shall use some of these and the words of the participants, coded alphabetically, as well as the good advice developed by others in the literature and also in the writing sessions I have run. The idea is that you learn to recognise being stuck as part of the normal writing process, and that you find strategies and practices that help you to become unstuck, unblocked, and to move on.

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Being stuck – how does it feel?

Maggi Savin-Baden and I (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009) asked several PhD students and academics who write: ‘And what about getting stuck, do you ever get stuck?’ Oh yes, yeah absolutely. Yeah even when I’ve felt more confident latterly, I’ve still had to sit there because all of a sudden I’ll get absolutely overwhelmed with ‘what am I saying again, you know I’ve lost it again?’ and it’s that, trying to keep, keep a hold of it you know, what it is I’m trying to say. (Participant J) Well it’s headache material you know (being stuck), it’s head in hands sort of thinking ... I never think oh I’m going to throw it all in, it’s never that is

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just, you know, how can I move this forward, how can I, how can I ... yeah try and make sense of it, I guess I’ve, perhaps I’ve had to leave it and go away and pick up a book, I have been led to some very good references and I think they helped me come out of stuckness, I’ve read something. (Participant J) J expresses her anxiety at stuck moments that occur even when she is confident in her writing. She shows that she loses confidence when she can’t express herself, when what she is trying to write doesn’t make sense to her, and though she doesn’t stop writing, she needs to find strategies to move on. The feeling is professional – she isn’t going to stop the work, she just needs to find out how to do it better, to write in a way that properly represents the quality of her thoughts and her work. It is also emotional and physical – ‘headache material’ she calls it. J has several strategies here: assuring herself she won’t give it up but will persevere, stopping writing and moving away from it for a while, and turning to the reading for breakthroughs and ideas. Graham Badley (2008) cites an example used by Ely et al. of a writer who was concerned about possible failure: ‘Suddenly I felt like I didn’t know anything. All my confidence withered. I became hyper-critical. For every sentence I wrote, I’d think of all the reasons someone would find fault with what I said … I would be a failure (Ely et al., 1997, p. 12). Badley comments on the ‘internal self censor’, and notes Murray’s point about being stuck because of how large the project seems to be, so the writer is caught up in the sheer enormity of having to work the whole writing project out in advance. This is a stage that can help to scaffold the writing but it is not absolutely essential (see Murray, 2002, p. 163). I would suggest that it might be better to sketch the project out broadly and start writing the parts you feel you can write, so that you see progress, rather than being stuck in planning minutiae. Badley has some suggestions for becoming unstuck, which I believe are useful starting points: • • • • • • • •

realise that producing acceptable writing demands much rewriting realise that no one process works for everybody just do it, just get something, anything, on paper write about questions, uncertainties, or contradictions in our data or sources look and re-look at what we have to reveal relevance and get writing write self-reflective memos to critique our own work write analytic memos on what we already have from various vantage points jump start our writing with an anecdote

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write a poem write a scene for a play that would dramatise what we are studying start with a critical incident (Badley, 2008, adapted from Ely et al., 1997, pp. 12–56)

What can help to prevent or to manage writing blocks? A range of activities and practices

There could be a variety of things blocking you, and different blocks at different times, but it is important to develop some initial good habits to help you unblock as and when this happens. Remembering what has worked for you or others in the past, then putting that into practice, can help you see the blocks coming and so avoid or manage them, and overcome them when they are there. Some of the strategies I and others have found useful are divided into planning and structuring, knowing what works for you and others, and building up a repertoire of effective practice to move you on in your writing, using some of the actual blocking or sticking processes as steps forward. This is research and experience based. Some of it derives from the research Maggi Savin Baden and I completed for publication in 2009, some for the research I completed in 2012 (Wisker, 2013a), some for a paper I presented at the EARLI (European Association for Research on Learning and Instruction) conference in 2013 on returning repeatedly to writing the literature review (Wisker, 2013b). I mention the references to give an idea of the ongoing research into writing blocks and breakthroughs. Much of the good advice, however, comes directly from colleagues, reading, and participants in writing workshops. Some of it comes from soul searching – about what works for you. You can learn from all of these sources and from reflecting on the practice of the famous (famous writers often blog about their writing practices; Google the names of some writers you admire and see what they say about their writing and about overcoming blocks). You can also learn from more local colleagues, and from your own previous practice. We shall now look at planning, attitude, strategies, overcoming your inner saboteur, appreciating the developmental creative moments as things come into view, reading to write, writing to write, busy work, mimicry and developing a voice, managing the writing energy, multi-tasking to release creativity, and keeping going.

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Planning to write – time and place

It is important to identify and then find the right time and place in which you can write and to manage these so that you plan to write and can follow that plan.

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Activity Consider the following questions: • • • •

Where do you write? When do you write? Find a time that suits you and ensure you do write then – plan it, secure it, defend it. What would your ideal writing place be like?

Find places in which you can write and set them up – a quiet study, flowers, music, waiting at airports and so on.

One of my colleagues, Gilly Smith, at the University of Brighton, works with writers to think about the best place to write in – a dream place. I also ask them questions about good places and managing their time. I prefer to write in a place that is comfortable, with a view, with space for my books and with flowers and music. The flowers and the view not only provide a relaxing ambiance but also give me something else to look at for inspiration when I am not able to write, and just need to let my thoughts stray creatively. The music often helps me to re-energise when I’ve ‘run down’, so that I can use the rhythms of the music to engage my thought processes and keep myself going, or rev myself up again. Sometimes I need silence and sometimes loud music, folk or rock. You need to consider what circumstances work for you, then set them up. If there are too many distractions you might find yourself focusing on them; if there are none, only a wall to face, or a set of bars on a window, as I once had to endure in another country, you might find you feel too hemmed in to carry on. My ideal place also includes access to a fridge with cheese and fruit, preferably there is a garden to wander off into, or the seafront to walk along when I get stuck, seeking inspiration. It is also possible for me to write really well if I remove myself from familiar surroundings and just focus on the task. These are planned times and spaces in which to actually write. However, one of my students said he did his best thinking walking from his room to the library. Don’t underestimate ‘dead time’ – the time spent on buses, trains, in waiting rooms, walking, cooking, ironing – you might not actually be writing, but if you set yourself an issue, a thought, a problem, you could work it all through in these relatively dead and inhospitable places. You could use dead time to let your mind roam or to tackle a complex problem, work out a way of phrasing something, deal with a single issue to do with structure, and so on. Some of these thoughts are expanded below. Breaking the rhythms of the

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familiar routine and of the familiar places might be just what you need to make good use of those snatches of time or those strange places. Once, unable to write, blocked, in my favourite writing place, I drove 120 miles to my least favourite writing place, near my work. During the drive I thought through what was blocking me. I used the second location as an escape and found on arrival that I could write, and did so. Such drastic action doesn’t always work, of course, but you might surprise yourself. Find what works for you. You need to be realistic. Don’t ever only give yourself half an hour to write something unless you have only a short task to complete – one of Rowena Murray’s ‘snack’ tasks. Don’t set yourself up to fail by deciding you will do a large piece of writing in the hour when your kids aren’t at home, but at that time you also have to prepare food and clean the kitchen. Don’t make that writing moment so precious that it becomes impossible to write in it. De-stress it. And don’t punish yourself if you can’t write in it – it was always unrealistic anyway.

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Dealing with your inner saboteur

One colleague (2013) acknowledged that she set up what others have called an ‘inner saboteur’ and others in writing sessions have recognised such an imaginary enemy, and defined when it appears. Some acknowledged that they had so many negative thoughts about the quality of the work, about being able to tackle so much in the time available, setting the bar too high, believing that they could be published in the top journal straight away, and that they felt resentment about the time taken to do the writing. These negative voices in your head can stall, stagnate and paralyse the work, but they are very common. The colleague says she suffered from: poor advice early on set the bar unnecessarily high regarding the scholarly journal to pitch my writing to, which meant I was perpetually engaged in a cycle of self-doubt about my ability to reach the standard required. It was never good enough. Deadlines that were set for completion of first, second, third articles were unrealistic so the cycle of failure continued to expand and overwhelm. The internal factors that impacted on my motivation to progress with my writing were an unforeseen personal reaction to the concept of having to write. (Wisker, 2013c)

Ways through Research and the writing sessions have helped to identify many blocks, but they have also enabled people to identify what works for them, to enable them to write, and to keep writing. These ‘ways through’ are explored below.

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Writing to write Sometimes being stuck comes from having too many ideas – the writing is all over the place, inchoate. One research participant, K, said: I think, well, that doesn’t make sense and you know I might need to do some editing and so then it gets tricky and you might have to get yourself into a ‘loop’ where you can’t see how you are going to get out of this, you know you maybe need to write your way out of it or whatever, so that is to do with getting stuck I suppose. (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009) Sometimes you just need to write yourself out of the mess and keep writing, get into the rhythm, and keep rephrasing from the confusing to the clear. It will get clearer. Then return and cut out any repetition and hone the language.

Busy work This is where you spend a lot of time collecting things, organising and ordering your papers, photocopying, data gathering and labelling, making plans. You are immensely busy. The time goes quickly. You haven’t written anything except as a plan. For me it reminds me of the revision plans I did at school. These are substitutes for conceptual, focused ideas and completion. However, they are also useful if you are aware of them and can use them, and can also then force yourself into some small steps of action leading to writing progress. Being busy provides a sense of satisfaction – enjoy it. Ensure the busy activities are alongside the writing activities, then they can provide necessary stages and momentum.

Reading to write It is possible to read so much that you become overwhelmed and cannot find your way through the literature to see the patterns and arguments emerging, or that it seems so brilliantly expressed that it silences you. Reading too much is also sometimes a substitute for writing your own work (a way of procrastinating). However, it is also a way through writing blocks. Sometimes reading something you are familiar with that is inspirational and clearly expressed gives you the focus and enthusiasm to return to your own work. Sometimes reading back into a complex set of ideas, arguments and theorising by someone else whose work you admire enables you to re-think, see things anew, get new ideas, confirm established ideas, and open up new ways of thinking and/or expression. Reading in the literature you are using often expands your thinking out of a stuck place. Sometimes reading in other areas, such as popular fiction or the newspapers, can also give you inspiration and ideas, perhaps serendipitously, as ideas come from unrelated things and areas. And sometimes it just gives you time off and then you can return to your

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writing. You can use reading to underpin writing. What follows is getting on with the writing, ‘writing through’ and finishing.

Mimicry Mimicry involves forms of expression initially lacking the writer’s understanding or ownership. This is a term used by the postcolonial critic, Homi Bhabha, to talk about people under colonisation who have learned the language and ways of the colonisers and, initially at least, mimic these in order to fit in. For writers, this represents moments where we take the ideas and the phrases, the technical terms and the theorising, from the range of things we have heard and read, and try to make something of them for ourselves. At its worst, it becomes a patched up piece of plagiarism with none of our own ideas or expression in there. Clearly, this is not good writing – it won’t convey your thoughts, and it won’t help you to develop your thoughts either. It often appears in journal articles as a half page of references with scant comment on the sources and no attempt to link them into an argument, and in large chunks of regurgitated and undigested jargon as might be expected in the discipline – undigested because it seems to be stuck there to try to convince about authority, when there is only lack of understanding and ownership of what’s being said. Mimicry disempowers the mimic. However, it is also a stage in learning to write. It is a stage we need to move through (for all the reasons I have just discussed) but it can help us to learn to phrase things, to manage the complex language of the discipline. The clue is to get inside, unpick and decipher the ways in which the discipline argues, the journal articles are composed, and the language is being used when it makes sense. Understand the terms and the argument phrases, then use them. It is like taking first steps or practising early swimming strokes: the intent is to find your own understanding and your own voice, using the shapes and the words that help you to do so, rather than remain merely as a mimic without understanding. Reading your way into the language and the shaping of expression in journal articles in your field will enable you to see what forms of expression are needed and what words are commonly used to express certain arguments and difficult ideas. Do not become overwhelmed by this and do not confuse jargon-ridden complexity with good writing. Helen Sword’s work on writing in the disciplines and writing well in academic contexts is helpful in this respect. Take the models of discipline language and those of argument and expression, and learn to use the models and the words to make your own points with your work. This, then, is far away from plagiarism. One of my respondents, A, a teacher of literature and writing, said of critics denigrating stages of mimicry: A: All these people are seeing mimicry in a very negative pejorative sense … whereas I think mimicry is an important part of the learning process. I am intrigued by where they are talking about very early studies that

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students who only grasp things at a very fundamental level get a very dumbed down knowledge, might then get stuck in that place because what that knowledge gives them is false certainty of where they are. Interviewer: They are using the language of the knowledge but they haven’t owned it. A: Maybe part of the purpose of what we are doing as teachers is to let them chew on that bit of false knowledge for a while but give them a way of getting past it and beyond it. (Author’s own 2013 writing research) So, chewing on the knowledge and its expression then moving beyond it is important. It can help you to become unstuck, to see how others express their ideas, use the shape, the discipline-oriented words, then move on.

Multitasking to release creativity During the course of our research on writing blocks and breaking them, Maggi Savin-Baden and I found several participants who recognised that they do not get out of the block through tightly focusing on the work, instead by planning to do something else, which releases the focus and the energy from this stuck place, this stuck piece of writing. Strangely, perhaps, the freely flowing mind then starts to sort out problems and come up with ideas. The space enabled by going for a walk, preparing vegetables for dinner, sitting still and thinking, watching a murder mystery on the TV, all let other elements of the brain get going, and these other bits of the brain are stimulated by whatever else you were doing, or just operated to one side of it. Multitasking genuinely released writing solutions, and creativity. One participant, K, said: It’s not necessarily a conscious thing that I go for a walk, although I think sometimes it is actually, occasionally it is, to go for a walk actually, I used to sometimes find, well anything that actually isn’t writing that shifts it … Cooking, listening to a play on the radio, even going out with some people, having a glass of wine … but anything that is relaxing, rejuvenating, um, can move it … that kind of image I was having is that it’s like looking at a kaleidoscope you know and things go out of focus and suddenly they come back in again … and you can see the pattern. There is a feeling of excitement if the writing’s good because, and I want people to read it, I think this will be something that people want to read... and feeling particularly that you have been creative perhaps, so there is a difference between, you know, if you have to write a formal report that is just a compliance with something, it might be OK but dull. (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009) These are a range of strategies that could look as though they are preventing writing – mimicry, busy work, multitasking and doing something else, and so

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on, but are actually positives if employed consciously. Would they work for you? Do they work for you? Now you can start to identify the kinds of strategies that are employed if and when ‘stuckness’ occurs again, and what new strategies are being developed.

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Managing the writing energy

One participant in our research (Wisker and Savin Baden, 2009) said ‘I only have so much writing energy, and if it’s expended on bureaucratic documents, then it’s gone.’ This was the main finding from that research for me and has changed the way I prioritise what I do, when I am in control of what I do. If I have to write complex political emails, I choose to do so in the early part of the day, because that is when I have my writing energy, when I can create, and express myself best. But I would rather write academic essays or write creatively then, and so it is important that I stay away from the email and from the draining dialogue that often interrupts and prevents me, when I am trying to write complex, creative, conceptual or critical work. Managing my writing energy when I can means that I will get something useful and valuable written, rather than just feeling drained by responding to the rhythms of others. It is not always possible. But I try.

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Thinking and expressing conceptual thoughts and the right words. Ontological insecurity, stuck moments and the ‘conceptual threshold’

Writing sometimes gets stuck not because you have not managed the planning, but because the thinking is not yet clearly in place. When discussing stuck moments, some of the respondents in the research talked about something I have also experienced – a sense of being almost able to glimpse a thought, an interpretation that felt in some way cleverer than you, and a sense that there was something approaching you, but you had not quite grasped it. This kind of stuckness is not an issue of procrastination, it’s an issue of pushing your thinking and understanding until it is clearer, then finding the words to articulate that thought, to give it the benefit of its cleverness. I explored earlier the research about threshold concepts (essential concepts that help you to understand how knowledge is constructed in different disciplines; see Meyer and Land, 2003) and conceptual threshold crossings (moments when you make a learning leap and see things more clearly, critically, creatively and conceptually) (Kiley and Wisker, 2008; Wisker and Robinson, 2008). Building on this and identifying similar learning leaps in writing processes, Maggi Savin-Baden and I carried out some research (2009) to generate new knowledge, and provide theory, understanding and research and experienceinformed models to underpin support given for writing for academic purposes,

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and for publication. The work we did uses concepts of meta-learning built on meta-cognition (Flavell, 1979), which means being aware of your own learning and of how you learn in practice. We used these to build on the understanding of ‘stuckness’, and then used theories of conceptual threshold crossing to identify the ‘pre-liminal’ state – that of stuckness – before having a breakthrough in understanding and expression, and being able to write it down in a way that satisfies you. The ‘liminal’ state we also identified was one of moving through the stuck place, and a ‘post-liminal’ state was when the writing was taking form and expression. We did not find any disciplinary difference in the study we undertook and so we believe that our findings could be generalisable across disciplines, organisations and professions, and could ultimately be of benefit to anyone who needs to write. We interpreted the experience of being stuck and sensing that there must be something more complex to understand, and clear ways to express it, as one of pre-liminality. It involved moving towards the experience and the words to articulate that experience, seeing this as a valuable moment just before it all fell into place, after which you could refine the expression and really make what you are saying clear, be able to represent the quality of your thinking and of your findings and understanding. A stuck moment of this sort is a preliminary one before crossing a conceptual threshold, making a ‘learning leap’, moving on with your thinking and with your articulation of it, a moment of pause before clarity and then the concretising of your ideas and findings into words which do it justice. We noted stuck moments and the process of moving on, as a vision of a possible movement through a portal, leading to conceptual threshold crossing and the creative learning leap into focused, formed writing. Jot down ideas as they emerge, think about them, read to reinforce them, refine the wording, and get the argument and ideas, the evidence and the importance of what you have to say down in concrete form.

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Valuing pre-liminality

Many writers I have spoken to talked about different processes that help them in a pre-liminal phase, the moment before they form the right and ultimately the final words to express their thoughts and their work. They mentioned activities such as reflecting, busy work and mimicry. This phase was a stage that manifests itself in different ways for different people. For example, J’s notion of writing as a journey: I think it [the writing journey] is about accepting that you will go through different phases of feeling confident and you know if I was setting out on my journey again I think I’d probably have to do it in a similar way really you know I was influenced by the writing of others and how things ... you know that it was academic enough.

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Movement through a portal

Some argued that often, even if they were unsure or stuck, they had a vision, a sense of where they were going. For newer academic writers this was often spoken of in terms of a journey, and somewhere to reach or stand along the way, as J describes: I do see that I’ve been climbing, you know, a mountain and I’ve got past base camp and I have got to some of the other earlier camps up the hill and I do ... that confidence has grown and I do actually feel so different than I did at the start so … and I can understand that as being … overcoming something difficult, moving onto the next bit of difficulty you know, so I do see, understand and believe in that sense of working at different thresholds, yeah exciting, trying to get to that peak!

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Keeping going – perseverance

As with so much to do with learning and success, perseverance is important in writing and overcoming writing blocks. With planning, sensitivity, openness and receptivity to change and to improving, and perseverance, the writing can be better formed, clearer, more convincing and more readable, and ultimately successful. We asked questions: So, when you are stuck, what does it feel like? I’m not sure ... you see in one sense I want to say hitting a blank wall but in another sense it isn’t because it, it’s only a very momentary experience, when I’m thinking ‘oh where am I going with this, what’s happening’ because I just keep going and doing something until it makes sense. (J) All the ideas explored here are enabled by persistence – keep going, keep reflecting and refining, until you feel it is as good as you can make it now, maybe not perfect, but your best so far. This means that when you eventually finish and hand in the writing, email it through the journal system etc., rather than picking away at it for years and never sending it in, or rather sending it off too early when the ideas are still a little confused and not expressed as well as you can. One participant recognised the importance of persistence when she said: So how did you get from ‘there’ to ‘here’? through persistence, I think, through – and the guidance of other people, people telling me that it is, you know, it’s trying to make sense, I need to make sense of what’s being written, what’s out there and reading things that I like, I like how that’s been written, so I guess drawing on the writing

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styles of others has influenced me but I think that it is just a gradual journey of starting to realise where your voice is in your own writing. (J)

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Using the jottings

Insights that can lead to writing often arise when you are thinking, reading or just doing other things. Many writers I have worked with or interviewed acknowledge that they get inspiration at all times of the day or night, find perfect phrases when they least expect them, but can’t remember any of these afterwards unless they write them down immediately. Keeping a notebook beside your bed and with you at all times is helpful in this respect (provided you don’t lose it). Some people write things on loose-leaf memo pads and then collate them. Capture it, store it safely, collate it then turn it into something. Don’t leave those scraps hanging about. Use them and recognise this as an essential part of your writing activity. Notes on things you read, and on data when initially produced, are also all-important – don’t miss any opportunity to capture a comment or a thought. Each is valuable. Each can jolt your writing into action the next time you feel blocked, and can also provide you with the content and the critical thinking to take your writing to a more intellectual, cognitive area. If your writing blocks are caused by being overwhelmed with so much to do and feeling a lack of inspiration, the jottings give you a start, unlock some problems, give you some of the words you need, and make you feel you are continuing with the work and don’t have so much distance to make up when you have had to take a break. One participant described scribbling new ideas in order to untangle the ‘inchoateness’: I might collect ideas wherever I am, I will scribble things down, so even in the middle of the night in the dark I’ll scribble things down or if I’m travelling and I don’t have a laptop I’ll scribble things down so I will collect those but those would normally be phrases or short thoughts that I would then translate into something on the laptop. (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009)

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Re-drafting

While it is really useful to read already published works, successful PhDs and masters dissertations, examples of excellent writing, it is also important to realise that except for the very few whose writing springs on to the page fully formed, most good writers work very hard at re-drafting, refining, critically appraising, sharing and then finally tinkering with and perfecting their writing. Finding ways in which this can work for you is important. Re-drafting might seem tedious if you have had a brainstorm and produced some excellent

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thoughts on paper, but it helps to focus, refine, organise and structure your work and ensure that you really are making your argument, your reflections and evidencing as clear as you can. Our respondent, J, termed this experience a reflective process: So that just instantly sprung to mind and also I just commented this morning on how frustrated I get with my writing when I seem to spend hours just when I look back at what I have done in maybe two hours of work, it’s been focused on one paragraph that I can’t let go of and … it’s not necessarily just getting the sentence structure right, it is just the amount of thinking that has to go into that paragraph and I think re-drafting is such a challenging thing to do, you know getting it out of my system’s one thing, the sort of head dumping is one thing but then the re-drafting of that is such a time consuming process. (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009) And sometimes the need to redraft comes from having received negative feedback. This feedback can be damaging, but it can also be helpful if you can analyse it, turn it into realistic things to do, and get on with the writing. It is peer review; it can help you improve. Rowena Murray (2005) has a helpful typology of comments from tutors who provide feedback both at the conceptual, critical level and that of presentation, and the mechanics, such as punctuation. She lists comments about argument, clarity and requests to ‘develop’, ‘discuss’, ‘distinguish’ and ‘expand’, which are among the sometimes vague and sometimes more explicit feedback comments.

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How can understanding different kinds of feedback aid your writing?

Analyse what is being said. The feedback might comment that the elements of your writing are not linked – the argument to the theories, and the theories and arguments to the evidence – that it seems patched together. Then you need to write it through until these elements run together smoothly and logically. One of the respondents, K, put it this way about being stuck after negative feedback: I felt very stuck about six years in, it took seven years [her PhD] and I got … yeah, I did do quite a lot of writing and some of it was frustrating because it didn’t seem to be saying anything and my supervisor, who gave me quite a lot of critical feedback, seemed to say, well, it’s ‘lumpy’, it’s ‘jerky’ – there is no ‘meat’ here, and I began to think ‘am I up to this?’, you know, so there was quite a lot of that around and … there are times that I got stuck. (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009)

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Similar comments also come later, from reviewers of essays or books submitted for publication. Learning to deal with them is all part of the process of continuous improvement – annoying and difficult though it might seem. Tackle it systematically. Re-drafting is challenging but it can be done systematically so that you can see progress and then be reassured that your writing really is closer to saying what you want it to and therefore more acceptable for publication.

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Some steps in re-drafting

The whole picture Consider a piece you are currently writing. Step back from it and remind yourself: what is the main idea here? The main aims? The main argument? The main finding I want to present? Why does it matter that people read it? What will they gain from reading it? This helps you to see the whole picture and to focus on foregrounding the main concern, the main argument, findings, and reason for reading it, so it can then open out and explore certain elements, in an organised way, having caught the attention with a succinct, focused and clear main aim and claim. As you step back you can also see the whole structure. What are the gaps? Which bits have you not fully formed? Which are entirely absent?

Spot the missing links and clarify Spot the missing links in an argument, missing connections between literature and your claim about what it says and how your work fits into it, links between the theories and themes in the data, links in a smooth argument running throughout that has space to acknowledge doubts and further work limitations and boundaries. Clarify the connections and make the links.

Hot spots Once you are sure the shape is in place and the elements smoothly linked together, and there is an argument and a story with evidence, you can focus on the ‘hot spots’ of the writing. You can decide which bits could really benefit from being more eloquent and succinct, or being rephrased to make your point or your claim stand out. At this point, work that has presented a whole range of ideas, readings and findings needs to foreground the main ideas and arguments, and let the others back it up, lead from it and set up a contrast that will then be dealt with.

Writing clearly In this redrafting you will also need to ensure that all your sentences are clear, do not trail off, or become confusing because of their length. Cutting, honing, using shorter sentences with active verbs and a clear subject – these are all-

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important at the redrafting stage. You might have been stuck because you could not see what else to do to it, but still were not totally satisfied. This standing back, structuring, tidying, clarifying and emphasising will help you make the most of your writing. At this stage in my own work I find sentences that are round the wrong way, ‘in our writing getting it clearer is very important because of the readers, so we need to re-write’ turns into ‘Thinking of the readers is very important, and so ensuring that the writing is clear and readable becomes one of the tasks we engage with when re-writing.’ I have emphasised that readers as the most important concern, and the flow of improved writing is seen as benefiting them. This could be more elegant, of course, and more precise: ‘the main intent of the writing is to engage readers, so ensuring that the writing is clear for that readership is essential at this stage of re-writing’. This might be improved even more, and there are many formal versions available. I also look for examples of my use of grammar and syntax that sound rather distant. For example: A. Trying to write in this way he found difficult. B. Becoming an academic was always the intention of the PhD students. I would change these to more active verbs and more obviously foregrounded subjects: A1. He always found it difficult to try to write in this way. B1. The PhD students always intended to become academics. The A1 and B1 versions are more to the point, more focused and easier to read. In redrafting, you are not cutting out all the discipline-specific essential words, you are getting rid of the weeds and the rubbish, honing it so you can see the ideas, arguments, findings and newness in the context of previous work. You know the work really well so you might be unaware of the sources, of the confusing bits, the gaps, the dull bits, the bits that don’t flow. A new opportunity to re-read and an opportunity to share will give you the chance of a second version of your work. Then you build on it with the right words, in the right order.

Share it Next you need to try it out on a critical friend or family member, and see where they feel it needs to be reorganised to make its points more clearly, and where you could use a different phrase or word to emphasise or clarify your points. When you can no longer see your draft clearly yourself, giving it to someone else to read, then discussing it, usually helps you improve it. Those who publish have other people reading their work en route to publication, even if they rarely mention this to anyone else.

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You might also print your work off in different fonts and on different coloured paper. See it in print rather than just on the screen, re-draft by hand, then copy on to your computer. Seeing it afresh and ensuring clarity are the main aims here. One of our participants, S, comments: I think it has to be, everything that I write taps into a huge amount of past experience and past reading, I can’t ... the way that I coalesce it is original but I am drawing on all sorts of other earlier experiences and reading all the time, I couldn’t disassociate myself from that. (S in Wisker and SavinBaden, 2009) Another participant, J, looks at the development, the importance of moving from ‘patched identities’, the chunking and patching together of the words of others, linked by your own, moving on into your own voice in ways that encourage the development of a writer’s voice: I’ve realised it’s about my voice and I know that sounds so, you know...of course it’s about my voice but I think I’ve relied more on having to speak through the literature and present my writing in a way that was academic enough and actually my most enjoyable time of writing is now just going with my thinking and my thoughts. (J, in Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009)

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More reflections on writing

Writer identity is constantly under development and on the move. Never stable, it can be a troublesome process. For some academics, writing and becoming a writer is a constant source of disjunction; they always feel stuck, finding it difficult to know what to put on the blank white page. For others, thoughts are always jumbled. However, for some, success in moving beyond the stuck place provides a repertoire of ways through for future stuck moments and gives confidence that fuels movement. Writers often move on by using critical friends, reading further, listening to other writing, and stepping back and seeing the pattern.

You are your first reader One of the main readers is you. Can you express your ideas and arguments clearly to yourself? Can you make the notes you take and the data you collect clear and engaged with the research question, so you can turn these into analytical comments as time goes on? Can you focus carefully on getting exactly the right words and phrases to comment on what you have found and what it means, and how it contributes to your knowledge and understanding of the field? Can you write clearly and straightforwardly, using everyday language, the language of the subject area and the language of argument, where appropriate?

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Writing reflectively

You will also find it useful to write reflectively, keeping a note of decisions made, problems faced, thoughts about what you are discovering, and about your research journey more generally. This kind of reflection is useful for considered thought, and for writing and discussing, both about choices made and interpretations and findings. Reflective writing helps you to become aware of your thinking processes, and to be more critical and articulate. Reflective writing is also good for the process of keeping up the momentum, especially if your work is stuck, confusing or slowing down. Reflect on what you are doing and learning, what is clear, what is confusing and what to do next. Reflect during and after activities, asking yourself of each problem, question, activity or finding: • • •

What does it mean? What does it contribute to my argument? What should I do next?

An example of my own reflective writing I was rather stuck and bored with my writing for a couple of days – there seemed too much to do so I decided to focus on one piece at a time. I have just been correcting a chapter for two hours. I think it reads more clearly because: I moved the text around to make it more logical and to develop ideas; I decided it did not need to sound as intellectual and complicated as a published journal article so I toned some of the language down and concentrated on being clear; now it is more finished I can move on! Good!

Discussion I expressed feelings, summed up a problem, stated what I did, analysed it and reflected on how effective it was and why I thought it was effective, and then congratulated myself a bit. This piece of reflective writing was descriptive, personal, analytical and reflective, and producing it was actually helpful to my own writing processes. I can look back on it later when I get bored or stuck again, and can ensure I am never complacent about writing, even when I produce something that is finished and acceptable. Did thinking about these help you to: • • •

Clarify your own reading? Clarify your ideas? Take stock of your writing processes and practices, problems and successful strategies?

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Can you use what you have just written to move forward in your own writing and, if so, how? • •

Draw up a brief ‘to do’ plan. Write it out soon

Writing down ideas and arguments often helps to crystallise them – so don’t leave all your writing-up until the end of the research – and do not worry if your first attempts at writing are messy, unclear and inelegant. The key is to write, reflect, work it out on paper and then polish it up later so that it really expresses clearly what you want to say.

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Seizing the moment, and working hard on the writing

Occasionally (this is rare), all the words I need to express myself come to me clearly, elegantly and in the right order and I rush to write them down. Sometimes this happens just before I go to sleep and if I don’t write them down I can’t sleep. Sometimes it happens while I am driving, in a meeting or reading something else. The safe thing to do is to stop, take a note and return to it later. This also happens to me with solutions to problems, whether the language is clear or not. My advice is to capture it, store it, and work on it later. However, the occurrence of this super-elegant expression is so rare that it is worth mentioning. Usually, ideas come in messy forms and I clarify what I want to say by starting to write, even just notes or bullets, or the odd poorly expressed phrase with most of the wrong words. Then I write it out, however inelegant, imprecise and lumpy the wording, then look back over it very carefully and try to make what I say clearer, and expressed more elegantly and appropriately, better punctuated and spelt, with references to the work of others whose ideas and arguments have underpinned my own.

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Make writing a habit you enjoy

One of the ways of making writing a habit that you enjoy, even if it is quite hard work, occasionally frustrating, and ultimately rewarding, is to get into the habit of writing in different ways, regularly. If you do this, when you hit a block, you can remember the different ways you became unblocked and try each of these out. Start in the middle. Pick something you have to write. Start writing in the middle of a paragraph, a chapter, an argument. Just begin where you feel comfortable to write. Then step back, look at what you have written and produce a brief diagram of where it could all fit in your own piece of writing, as

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a paragraph or a few sentences or a chapter, so you can add it when you have written other parts. This is a way of working that is like a patchwork, adding one piece at a time. Remember to tell yourself it is only a draft and it can be improved! Write fast as it comes to you and then return to edit for conceptual level – ideas, theories and themes as well as concepts, expression – does it say what you want it to? Clarify your expression, deal with grammar and punctuation, and unclear words and expressions. You could also loosen up, trying ‘free writing’ and ‘splurge’. ‘Free-writing’ (Elbow, 1973) loosens up your thought processes and creativity. This involves writing for five minutes without stopping, on any topic. Once you have been freed up you can turn to other writing. ‘Splurge’ expects you to write on and around the topic fast (and inaccurately). Then you go back over it and form it, find the right words, turn the sentences the right way round. You could also try: • • • • •

•

•

Brainstorming initial ideas without having to express them perfectly. Get out of a writer’s block by doing some writing – the physical act. Work through psychological, intellectual or emotional responses by writing about them reflectively and evaluatively. Open up ideas by writing them down and then trying to get the words right. Put the ideas and expressions circulating in your head down on paper so that you can move on to other thoughts and return to these later to express them more clearly. Gain confidence by writing – producing an amount of text to be edited later by articulating ideas and arguments in your head, however (initially) poorly. Avoid using halting, formalised phrases and getting tied up in them, thus saying nothing.

Visualise Using diagrams and visualisation is another way of starting to write freely. You could try expressing contradictions through writing about several aspects of an issue, first separating, then linking them. Visualising complex or contradictory ideas can help to build up elements of an argument, underpinned and informed by primary sources, theorists and critics. As with free writing, visualisation helps to express the kinds of complications and paradoxes inherent in research. I use a visual image to define the research area chosen from the whole potential field of study – defining this as ‘your slice of the cake’, where the whole field is the whole cake. This visualisation adds some elaboration, imagination and development to the original idea. Sometimes visualising can really show contradictions, the rich variety of ideas, and the gaps you need to fill in an area of study.

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Research can be seen as a journey and the writing as a building in a visualisation (to help you think about your own writing). Consider the well mapped but actually quite meandering research journey and the final, neatly built building with the themes, theories and arguments running throughout the whole, and the neat transitions from chapter to chapter, paragraph to paragraph. This could also help you to think about translating the research, which is about discovery, challenge, dedicated work, note-taking and detailing, into a careful piece of writing that is well planned and coherent, with themes and theories and an argument running through it, claims backed by evidence and evidence forming the basis of claims and all the parts in their logical place in the whole. You can also visualise using mind mapping tools which let you explore ideas in a visual shape, a map of your thoughts and findings and questions, which then helps not only to shape what you are thinking and writing, but also to show weak areas that need further work.

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Other kinds of writing to break blocks

Generative writing You could try generative writing, which involves: • •

Writing for five minutes without stopping; then Going back and re-shaping what you have written.

Reflect back on the writing, using it as a prompt for discussion and future writing. Take a different coloured pen, annotate your work, correct it, cut it into bullet points, expand some elements, remove repetition, and clarify some elements. The computer can help you to do this painlessly, but you might prefer to do your writing on the computer, printing it off and working on it manually, then transferring to the computer again. Find a variety of practices that work for you and use them as you need to.

Binge and snack writing Rowena Murray’s ‘binge’ and ‘snack’ writing (Murray, 2002) recognises that sometimes we don’t have very long to write but can produce something quick, focused and useful in a small ‘snack’, to be followed later by long hours of writing – or a ‘binge’. Write when you can, what you can, and ensure you take time later to shape, cut, edit and make it flow well, and say what you need it to say. Readers can help you edit, so try your writing out on ‘critical friends’ whose judgement you trust and who can advise on whether it does your research justice and is clear enough. Choose people whose views you trust, not your rivals, and ask for some explicit comments and advice, not a summative ‘that’s

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great’ comment. Understanding their feedback aids writing, and so does providing feedback to others on their writing.

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Conclusion – quick ways to get beyond a block in your writing

We have considered a range of reasons for being blocked in your writing, the importance of unblocking the writing for your thoughts, articulation and readership. There are many established and new ways of freeing any writing blocks, and so I shall sum up and suggest a few, below, and then let one of the research participants have the last word. When you are stuck: • • • • • •

Go for a walk. Do something else – for example, cook a meal, go out, listen to music, watch a film. Calm your thoughts. Write down a ‘to do’ list. Take your mind off the writing or let a particular issue accompany you. Keep a notebook by you to capture thoughts, note phrases and ideas, generate writing ideas, solve specific problems, link with other things you have done and as reminders so that you don’t begin to obsess.

Finally, please consider: • •

What writing block breakers have been/could be useful to you, and why? When could you use them?

Being stuck and then finding your way out of various blocks is quite normal. Let one of our research participants have the final word: Paranoid? Let me think? Higher Education? Paranoid? Umm. At times it’s paranoid. I think it self-combusts. I think it can be cannibalistic. I think there are times when the systems turn in on themselves and destroy people pointlessly, and most things freeze at that point including writing. Except that at some of those points, [and] I have had those points – I tend to write creatively … Because I kind of write myself out of a hole. (Wisker and Savin-Baden, 2009)

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Further reading

Elbow, P. (1973) Writing Without Teachers (Oxford: Oxford University Press).

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Meyer, J. H. F. and Land, R. (eds) (2003) Overcoming Barriers to Student Understanding: Threshold Concepts and Troublesome Knowledge (London/ New York: Routledge). Murray, R. (2002) How to Write a Thesis (Buckingham: Open University Press). Murray, R. (2005) Writing for Academic Journals (Maidenhead: Open University Press). Wisker, G. (2013c) The Proceedings of the 4th Biennial NAIRTL Threshold Concepts Conference (published 13 February 2014). Available at: www.nairtl.ie. Wisker, G. and Savin-Baden, M. (2009) ‘Priceless Conceptual Thresholds: Beyond the “Stuck Place” in Writing’, London Review of Education, 7(3): 235–47.

13 Writing creatively and reflectively to support your academic writing for publication

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • • • • •

Creative activities and creative writing to explore the self and deal with issues Storytelling: the positive ending Creativity as an alternative response Mixing creative writing with visualisation, images, and the creative processes Writing reflectively – to support your academic writing for publication Reflective learning logs Example of a reflective log: mine while writing this book Using anecdotes Personal engagement Celebrating your writing Conclusion

This chapter looks at the use of different forms of writing to support your thinking, conceptualising and maintaining writing momentum. Both reflective writing and writing creatively release your thoughts, release some of your critical thinking and enable you to write and think ahead, while also dealing with issues that could be either troubling or stimulating you. There is much work reported in the literature on the writing process which indicates that learning happens, and we understand what we are thinking and finding out, through the actual process of writing (Murray, 1973; Berlin, 1982). Writing itself is a process that encourages the development of thought, creative ideas, expression, problem-solving and the shaping and structuring that enable the articulation of these stages of thinking and acting. Creative writing and reflective writing help the thinking, problem-solving and expression 233

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processes more than others. They will help you to see ideas and responses taking shape, and enable you to reflect on your writing, and shape it, and find you can think more clearly and in a more complex way through the writing process itself. These kinds of writing feed directly into the more formal academic writing processes and products. The first section of this chapter explores creativity in academic life briefly and more generally and then considers using creative practice in your writing, whatever kind of writing that might be. The second section looks at reflective writing used by professional practitioners to explore their experiences, then to theorise and conceptualise them. It also accompanies the research and writing process, either as a log or writer’s journey, possibly a chapter in a thesis, an introductory element in a journal article, and sometimes in the form of a personal blog. Blogging for publication is explored in Chapter 16. The blog journals and blogs discussed here are for your own reflective writing. Writing is a creative act, whether you are documenting processes, providing an explanation and defence for the methodology and methods you used in an experiment, a piece of qualitative data gathering, or a documentary research piece. It is also creative when you are stitching together the theories, methods, context, design, analysis and interpretation, arguments, and your understanding about why this piece of work is worth reading, what it has enabled you to understand, and what meaning it has created so that others can understand more fully and clearly. Research and writing construct knowledge and they also create communication of that process and the outputs, what it contributes and what it is worth. Of course, much writing for academic publication does not resemble creative writing and many of us don’t actually feel we are creative, since ‘creative’ has become such an extraordinarily loaded word, where some are deemed to have been born with the ability to be creative and others learn some strategies of it. Also, many of us feel being creative is not only alien to us, but problematic if we are being systematic and scientific about our questioning and design, our analysis, and the statements we make about the decisions and value of our work. Creativity, with a big ‘C’, is often seen as something you either have or do not have and which, as Sternberg (2006) argues, reveals itself spontaneously. However, creative thought comes from the unconscious and we all can enjoy it: ‘anyone who is imagining how things could be other than they are will be thinking creatively’ (Carruthers, 2002, p. 226). It causes us to link previously disconnected ideas and events, to imagine beyond complacencies into risks, and beyond problems into solutions. Theorists of creativity suggest it involves producing something novel that is appropriate, fits the bill (Amabile, 1996; Csikszentmihalyi, 1996) and can also be elegant and well crafted. It appears differently in different disciplines, so that scientists might value the best fit of a solution to an identified problem, and artists could well value originality and

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the ways in which an idea, metaphor or some form of representation captures and expresses something. The ability to express yourself is related to expressing the self, feelings, findings, enthusiasms and understandings. McVey (2008, p. 290) relates finding out about yourself to writing: ‘achieving competence in even as restricted a genre as academic writing can mean that students begin to find their own voice on the page’. While, in a report to the Royal Literary Fund, Ahmad and McMahon (2006, p. 3) indicate that ‘competent academic writing releases creative thinking’. McVey echoes Norman Jackson’s (2006) statement that ‘perhaps you cannot have teaching excellence without creativity’, by arguing that ‘nor can students present excellent written work without creativity’ (McVey, 2008, p. 290). McVey and others advocate the teaching of writing, and so I suggest the teaching of writing that uses creative processes to help articulate ideas and complex arguments. You are being creative when you research and when you write – this is ‘small “c” creativity’. Using strategies to identify, release and then nurture the personally and disciplinary different versions of creativity is a useful way to generate energy. It should help you to write the overall vision of the shape, intent and achievement and infuse a sense of ownership of the value of your work. Some practices can release your natural creativity, whether that involves creating something new, theorising or seeing categories and patterns of interpretation through visualisation, or constructing patterns of expression in your language. Creative release strategies can help with this extra dimension to your work. Enjoying the creativity of writing about your work also makes much of the tedious, laborious and meticulous aspect of it less of a chore. Necessary it might be, boring it might feel, but when you realise that hard work enables the creative elements to come out and be expressed more clearly and richly, and help the contribution to be realised, it is worth it. You are both engaging the creativity and capturing it through articulation. We all remember the old adage about creativity being more perspiration than inspiration. This is true of using creative impulses and strategies to enable your ideas and your writing, ensuring that your work is articulated appropriately and that the creativity shines through.

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Creative activities and creative writing to explore the self and deal with issues

Creative activities and creative writing open up creative thinking processes. One activity which can be helpful to writing is storytelling. In storytelling we enable the development of a shape covering the past, present and future, and our fears, hopes and intentions. It is possible through storytelling to help yourself out of a stuck place in writing, and to envisage a future moment of completion, then step back, structure and build towards that, in focused, calculated and practical steps.

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Storytelling can identify steps in a professional practice experience and help to build up what needs to happen with planning – what was planned and why, what happened, what it meant, and reflections and interpretations: through words, word friezes, images and diagrams, some chosen because they suggest a feeling or sum up a judgement or interpretation, some created because they show relationships, ideas, findings, and developments in context. Digital storytelling is, for example, used in medical practice. John Sandars and Christopher Murray at Leeds University Medical School ran a project in which students created a digital story using photos, film clips, animation and so on of their first patient visit experience, leading to assessment of reflective practice through digital stories (Sandars et al., 2008). What does storytelling enable? Whether digital, oral, written or in any mixed format it offers the power of fiction, the pull and shaping of narrative, whether for reflective exploration, fantasising or shaping lives and understanding through recall or imaginative representation. Professional storytelling enables us to imagine, reflect, shape and project forward, so we can both handle issues and complete something of which we have some ownership. It also enables us to reverse negative feelings of a lack of self-worth and the negative stories of failure and demoralisation, and to tell realistic stories of more realisable goals and behaviours. In this way it can help you to tell positive stories of your writing journey, your PhD, and then move yourself on with your writing. Storytelling releases creative response and reflection and helps to shape it. It is also a major structuring device. For a scientific piece, the theory is brief, terse, informative and contextual, and details step-taking and findings, importance and impact, and meaning. In the social sciences, if your work is leaning towards ethnographic, culturally inflected, you might well be deeply involved in what you are writing about and also need to immerse the reader in the text to enable them to appreciate its specificity. In this case, storytelling strategies enable not only sense-making but also an awareness of the influences on the choice of what is said, the instruction and operation of the research, its interpretation, findings and the impact of these. You realise that your readership will want to know who you are, the context about which you speak, the issues and your responses to them, and why and what happened, and to what effect – then your mode of interpretation on this.

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Storytelling: the positive ending

Personal narrative, self-reflection and engagement can lead into academic writing. Some other forms of writing are affected by and even formed from storytelling. Indeed, the research story we tell in a piece that details the development of research from a context and a need, through the defence of choices, the underlying literature, and ideas and theories, and then through the emerging ideas, concepts and information from the data analysis, is all rich story-

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telling. Storytelling can also be used to help release tensions and shape thoughts and experiences into a manageable narrative. In our research into well-being and emotional resilience among doctoral students (Morris and Wisker, 2011), we found that several students had told themselves a story ending to their research efforts in which, post viva, they were told they had failed. This aligns with work carried out by David Wilkinson, an educational developer and trainer who also works with PhD students: You’ve spent three years researching and writing this thesis – you edited and edited and your supervisors felt it was good enough to be submitted. You handed it in. On the day of the viva your supervisor approaches you and says that the examiners have decided the quality is so poor that they are not even going to consider examining it. You have failed. (Wilkinson, in email communication to author, December 2011) The turning round of this story is the creative act which can enable working towards a more positive conclusion. In this example, then, telling a negative story and turning it round into a positive one can channel the thinking processes and help to move the student towards planning and creating a more positive ending. This is my (positive) version of the story: You’ve spent three years researching and writing this thesis – you edited and edited and your supervisors felt it was good enough to be submitted. You handed it in. On the day of the viva, the examiners began by saying how pleased they were to have been able to have the chance to read your work. They asked you what interested you, why did you undertake this piece of work? And at that point you realised your enthusiasm, and how you have a right to write about this because of your experience, and briefly enough you told that story – the first intrigue, the fascination, the awareness that other work had been done but not this – and then the journey to refining, focusing and researching, finding out, dealing with difficulties and writing good writing. Later in the viva they ask you what you feel is the major contribution to knowledge that your work represents. You are at ease because now you have answered a lot of specific focused questions about why you chose your methodology, what your theories helped you understand and engage with and what you have found out. Now you are lucid and fluent and fully aware of what your work contributes, why it is important, how it differs from and adds to other work, how others can use it and what else you would like to do in the future. The examiners now start talking about future writing, about publishing and about post doc work, about conferences, and you know the whole viva has turned into something collegial, a dialogue between equals. After a brief period when they

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deliberate and you and your supervisor get a coffee, you return – congratulations Doctor! What follows are just a few modifications and a small amount of time refining your work, and then graduation and the other publications arising from the thesis. This positive story should help focus energy and confidence.

Activity: Reflection and taking stock This is a positive story. If you are doing a dissertation or thesis, or submitting an article to be published: (a) Briefly tell yourself a version of the story that leads to rejection. (b) Now tell yourself the positive story about being celebrated for the quality of your work, and recognising your achievement.

Now let us bridge the gap between these negative and positive stories so that you can plan your way forward to make the positive one real. Ask yourself the following questions: 1 2 3 4 5 6

What must I do to clarify the issues about why and how I have carried out my research? Can I find the problematic parts that might cause the examiner or reviewer to ask awkward questions, and be ready with the responses? What do I really feel it has contributed to meaning? How will I cope with the agenda, long or short, of corrections and modifications? What time will I need to put aside to do them? How can I make sure my supervisors and critical friends are there to support me? Whatever I need to do this – what time will I find, and how will I celebrate when it is truly finished?

If you read your work carefully, you will be able to find much of what might need doing, though there will always be surprises. If you can start to plan beyond an examination or viva for the necessary corrections, and beyond submitting an article to possible revisions, you will have already moved beyond any unpleasant surprise and into a positive story in which you see the positive end in sight. What you are also doing here is facing up to stressful situations by reflecting on and constraining them, articulating them through a story. Then you are planning ahead beyond the stressful situation and constructing a positive story for which you can go on to construct steps, realistic steps, to its achievement.

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This reflective and creative activity helps you in the actual writing process as well as in the process of managing stress, and overcoming fears of the unknown by articulating and facing them.

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Creativity as an alternative response

When I am deeply involved in writing complex, serious reports, journal articles and the editing part of book writing, I find that there is another part of me that has to release a creative response, perhaps, to that activity but more likely to other things, and so I can express the emotions and the imaginative feelings and responses in a structured piece of creative writing. One of the opportunities creative writing offers us is that of taking another perspective. Fiction often enables the expression of a world view, a point of view we might not have considered ourselves, be that cultural, gendered, classorientated or in relation to attitude caused by learning, background and context. The changing of perspective enables us to see that there are other sides, other aspects and conceptual interpretations of most issues. This may be in the academic sense, the choice of what is researched and written about, the choice of expression, and who decides what is published and read, why, where and from what point of view, so that every stage of the writing and the reading process, activities and pressures is affected. This includes my point of view, the context, experience and values. Using the techniques of creative writing to imagine other scenarios often enables us to think our way out of an impasse – to see the worst case in front of us and plan for it to be avoided or curtailed: •

• • • •

Enabling us to see forward to what will happen to our work in the future if certain other things also happen – or not; see alternatives and see alternative uses of whatever we might be discussing as our practice or a situation we are working with. Enabling us to use a wider variety of expressive language because different people, from difference contexts, will express themselves differently. Using poetry, drama and fiction. Offloading some of the stresses into a small piece of succinct poetry. Writing a short piece about telling that unpleasant supervisor or that thickskinned reviewer what you think about their judgement.

In addition to my professional writing, I also produce short pieces of poetry and fiction. You don’t have to do this, but I find that it helps in my work. As soon as I focus fully on a piece of professional writing, the left side of my brain insists on expressing my thoughts about where I am, how I feel, people who have hurt me personally and professionally, things I would like to happen, connections between the inner thinking and the outer writing self and the professional practice or social self. Recently, at a particularly unpleasant time in my professional

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life, I went to South Africa to a conference and was able to stay at a friend’s house for a couple of days. I was initially silent, both professionally and personally, and then able to express some of the moving forward in my personal and creative responses to the place and the ambience, through writing creatively (helped by friendship, and nature: whale and dolphin spotting). I then moved back into a more confident self that could write academically. My journey was pain and silence, anger and frustration, through the friendship and fabulous location – on to creative spurts – and then an equilibrium that enabled me to write professionally again. Do not underestimate the importance of where, when and with whom you are working and writing, nor the opportunity a context offers to enable creative moments, whether they are directing, feeding into your writing, or offloading, and then enabling you to refocus. Some are therapeutic, some release a pent up psychological energy, some are producing products that are good in themselves and some products that let you get on and back to the professional academic writing. Other people paint at this point, or cook – I mainly just write differently – and the creative element frees up connections, inspirations and emotional energy.

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Mixing creative writing with visualisation, images and the creative processes

Visualisation can help us at any stage in the writing process. I use two visual images to explore the relationships between research and writing – the first is useful as you start to decide what you will work on for your research and writing (your research question or the main focus of the next article/book) and helps to narrow the focus from the vast areas on which you could be writing. Figure 13.1 portrays the whole cake – all the areas you might work on, all the questions, all the things you have been reading, the whole field on which you are focusing. Your area or slice need to be well defined, and so do the boundaries to your work, an explanation of what your writing is neither covering nor focusing on. You may want to develop your own visualisations, and I hope you also find these helpful. With visualising, the clue is to see the shape of what you are to discuss, the linked and discrete elements – whether theories and evidence – or perhaps three or four categories of response to data. Visualisation helps by structuring, releasing, offloading, through getting the thoughts out of your system and on to the page, then helping you form a concrete version of your thoughts, arguments, plans and gaps. By settling on a problem or a plan, an ideal, or a set of arguments and then moving on to related actions to fill them out in the writing, we can both externalise and express to enable us to plan and move forward – for example, to produce the evidence, categorise the relevant items in themes – and discuss these in relation to the theories.

Writing creatively and reflectively

FIGURE 13.1 VISUALISATION –

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Your slice of cake Boundaries

If you feel intimidated by drawing you can use images cut out of magazines. One exercise Prof. Dawn Hillier used with women’s groups required people to identify three cards/pictures that reflected their sense of where they had been, what they were going through and where they wanted to be – professionally. This externalising of achievements and issues, setbacks, transitional places, and future ideals, fears and plans enabled them to identify the characteristics of the success and tensions, and to plan forward, building on the items they analysed and which emerged from the visualisation. It is not always straightforward, but, for example, three pictures are chosen – the first a road with hedges, the second a series of castles and a locked door, and the third showing open roads, and an aeroplane above the clouds. You would be visualising what you know about and what you have externalised before in previous journeys, current blocks, and then hopes for future development. The choice and the identification aim to help you to determine the means you could use to work against the false starts and problems, and how to tackle these. You tackle the negative emotional energies in a visualisation, which would not be present in the same form in a piece of writing, and you work out and visualise, and then plan how to overcome and channel these for forward movement. The problemsolving tool from a ‘fishbone analysis’ (see Figure 2.1 on page 21) has been useful to me in this respect, especially when once stuck, paralysed, in my writing of a book, when I knew I did not have the time to do it. Sharing the visualisation of a fishbone analysis of problems, people and process – both problematic and beneficial – allows us to exorcise the problems and then

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produce planned lists of ways to move on. The act of visualising expressed the blocked channel and enabled me to focus actions and emotions on forwardlooking planning and action. Emotions became unblocked, and the visual metaphor enabled me to consider routes to success, the problems en route, and how to deal with them (some of which might just be to ignore them – I’m not so idealistic that I think every problem can be solved).

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Writing reflectively – to support your academic writing for publication

This section considers the role of reflection in professional practice, academic life and in your writing – what is reflective writing and why carry it out? And using reflection and reflective writing to enhance your own writing style, time management, completion and effectiveness. There are several kinds and stages of reflection: • • • •

Reflecting – planning and identifying Reflection in action Reflection on action Evaluation and re-planning

Reflection enables us to focus on and learn from what we are doing, have done and intend to do. It helps us to put things in perspective and see the storyline, the development, the issues, and the challenges and achievements. Without reflection, our work, life and writing would be a constantly moving frieze, a repetitive round, or at a standstill, stagnating. Reflecting on our own professional lives helps us to draw from what is happening, the good and bad points, achievements, challenges and ways forward – taking stock, planning, re-planning, evaluating, recognising patterns and establishing or breaking them. All this comes from reflection. Not everyone writes when they reflect, but for many of us it is exactly the activity that enables us to shape in an articulated way what is happening to us, what it means, what we have gained and how to move forward. Too much reflection probably leads to inaction – or to repetition and stagnation. Many of us involved in professional practice use reflection on a daily basis to explore and analyse, shape the experiences we have in our work, and then to articulate, conceptualise, problematise and make decisions based on reflective thinking. Such reflection can be accompanied by writing both to free the thoughts, then to move into planning and decision-making about analysis and understanding, and about action and resolution. Professional reflective writing is explored first. The next kind of reflective writing grows from this, but is more of a personal learning journey, where we shall look at the keeping of learning logs and narrative diaries, the usefulness

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of having a space to explore worries and ideas, issues, problems and breakthroughs, and to learn to express our thoughts about these before forming them into something more theorised and conceptual. Or, instead of doing that, these logs can accompany a PhD thesis, as part of it or kept personal, and sometimes that takes the form of personal learning journey blogs. Some of the work conducted with the Doctoral Learning Journeys research asked 30 PhD students to keep learning logs or diaries, and these were explored, revealing their development. They also said how useful it was for themselves to develop that writing habit – we shall look at some of what we have found from these logs too. David Boud indicates some of the variety: ‘Journal writing can be viewed through many different lenses: as a form of self-expression, a record of events, or a form of therapy’ (2001, p. 9). Jenny Moon expands on this. In her discussion of using journals in learning through reflection, Moon identifies many purposes of writing journals in addition to those already mentioned, for example: To deepen the quality of learning, in the form of critical thinking or developing a questioning attitude To enable learners to understand their own learning process To increase active involvement in learning and personal ownership of learning To enhance professional practice or the professional self in practice To enhance the personal valuing of the self towards self-empowerment To enhance creativity by making better use of intuitive understanding To free-up writing and the representation of learning To provide an alternative “voice” for those not good at expressing themselves To foster reflective and creative interaction in a group (Moon, 1999a, pp. 188–94) Essentially, reflection takes raw experience and helps in turning it into learning. Donald Schön’s work on the reflective practitioner (1983, 1987) brought reflection to a wider audience. He worked with professionals, from health practitioners to musicians. As Boud et al. (1985) noted, ‘reflection is used for those intellectual and affective activities in which individuals engage to explore their experiences in order to lead to new understandings and appreciations’ (p. 19). Reflection enables the processing and learning from experience so that you can build forward, move on at another level, or move away, having realised you have learned enough: In learning terms, the journal is both the place where the events and experiences are recorded and the forum by which they are processed and

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re-formed. This working with events is intended as a way to make sense of the experiences that result, recognize the learning that results, and build a foundation for new experiences that will provoke new learning. (Boud et al., 1985, p. 11) To improve professional practice, reflection is regularly employed, and Boud looks at learning from experience, the reflection on that experience and learning, noting how some courses actually inhibit such reflection, even if they expect the keeping of learning journals. In your reflective writing, you might find it useful to consider how professional practitioners use reflection to learn from professional experience, and how Boud et al. expand this to consider learning from a variety of formal and informal experiential learning examples. The special edition: Promoting Journal Writing in Adult Education, in New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education (Summer 2001) has a wealth of examples in different disciplinary contexts. Boud et al. talk of reflection in anticipation of events to make the most of them, focusing on the learner, the context and learning skills and strategies, followed by reflection in the midst of action, which involves noticing, intervening and reflection in action, which enables interpretation. The last is reflection after events once the pressure of acting has dissipated where, returning to experience, attending to feelings and re-evaluation of experience are significant elements, where you link new information to what has already been established and consider it again. These elements of reflection can take place alone or with others. For some, the keeping of reflective learning journals is an isolated activity but for others such journals can be part of the assessment process. In the same volume, the ways in which reflective journals can give women a voice otherwise lost is explored by Peterson and Jones, who argue that: Journals play an important role in women’s lives by helping them regain their voice. Journals have enabled women to reflect on the past, present, and future and have helped them envision new or expanded possibilities. As such, journals can enhance the learning experience. Adult education relies on practitioners and students who can engage in dreaming, visioning, and reflection. Creating room for journal writing becomes an important component of any adult education program. (Peterson and Jones, 2001, p. 59). While in some sense they are aware of the history of women’s journal writing, they also advocate the transfer of this special way of enabling our voices (I would argue both men’s and women’s voices) to be heard and our thoughts given some shape through keeping a journal in a learning context. They emphasise trust as part of the relationship where keeping journals is used on

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courses and in assessment. Peter Jarvis (2001) looks at keeping journals in higher education courses, referencing Morrison (1996), who notes that, since 1990, the University of Durham has required students to keep their own learning journals throughout the whole of their academic programme at the university. This enables a unique form of engagement with and expression of feelings of self, and of response to learning experiences, all of which bring these out through writing, help you to work them through by sharing that writing, and then raising the learning to visibility and often new conceptual levels, as well as recognising the emotional elements involved, and exploring emotions and feelings. Particularly useful in research, the learning journal helps us to consider our directions and work out the issues, problems, challenges and delights that the research uncovers. It not only acts as a way of planning what we are doing but also a way of ensuring that we have a proper record of decisions made, so that when we need to defend, for example, our methodology, we can indicate how we did consider and even try other approaches, and can remember why and how they did not work, and why we made the decisions we did. It prevents learning from experience from being lost, it nudges learning from experience and from research. Jarvis talks about using reflective journaling in research; the researcher is an interpreter and the reflective journal a means of recording and analysing data – it is both research and lived experience (Van Manen, 1990, p. 85). And it is the recognition that there is a human being in there learning, researching, planning, dealing with things that go wrong and things that go right and growing – that the journaling captures. It is also important to enable you to write why you did what you did and what it meant to you, and then to reflect on your feelings about this, so the whole person is involved in the experience, research and professional experience with which you are dealing. It needs thinking, and the experience needs to be understood through expression, since there is a process closely linking self with the cognitive elements and the articulation, in reflective writing, whether in the form of journal keeping or other ways of nudging that writing.

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Reflective learning logs

One way of engaging with reflective writing to support your thinking, learning, and further work is to get into the habit of writing a log. You can decide to write something each day about what you have been doing, learning and what you are planning, or you could plan to write weekly – the choice is yours. The idea is to get into a regular habit of reflecting on your work. In my writing, I make a note of what I have done each day, what has been a problem, what I am pleased with, what I’ve learned and what I have to do next. If I get stuck on a particular situation or piece of writing, I will go to the log and write it through. As Peter Elbow (1973) and Rowena Murray and

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others note, the act of writing releases you from being stuck and helps to clarify issues and ways forward. You might find you need to write freely about the issue or you can bullet point it, then note solutions or ideas next to the bullets (Murray, 2005). The kinds and types of engagement with reflective writing can encompass from just one to any number of the stages listed below: • • • • •

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Reflection before action Plan Reflection in action Reflection after action Plan/re-plan

Example of a reflective log: mine while writing this book

1 Reflection before action Must get more written today. I have less than a week to do this and I know that I won’t be able to manage all the shapes and finessing and then filling in the gaps once I’m doing the other work. Plan Check chapters for overlaps. Write in gaps. Need to go over each chapter looking for overlaps and finding gaps. Cut duplication.

2 Reflection in action What I’ve found is that there are some chapters which have only a few paragraphs in them and clearly need to be cut or expanded. What’s in the others that could be moved here? Or is it that their emptiness is because actually they’re not important enough to write about? I’ve said some things twice – are they the same approach? Check and move if not in the right place – am I avoiding some bits of this because I don’t think it is right for the book? Would have to spend too long finding out about it, or have I already said it?

3 Reflection after action I managed to explore something about writing in English as a second language using the research – this is clear but it’s quite sensitive and political so just giving instructions is not the way forward. It is not moving ahead fast enough – taking lunch out was good but now I’m behind.

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Re-plan – return to the plan Must go through each chapter and put in the references and the activities. Need to make sure they’re approximately similar lengths. Next action – finish the half chapter on reflective writing … find some professional practice reflection and the research examples. I need to leave some space for articulating problems, seeing them coming, then for working them out, and reflecting back over what was achieved, how I felt about it, and what I need to do next. With this planned writing process I can be thoughtful, planned, respond emotionally and conceptually and feel I have moved on, if only because I took stock and re-planned. This actually helped me to identify, clarify, pinpoint developments and problems, and ways forward. Then, of course, I had to act on it...

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Using anecdote

Reflection using anecdote is a way I share things that have happened to me, and to those I know, to enable the learning of others. It can appear in passing, but actually is carefully planned, when I am explaining something, and it can appear in the form of case studies, which have been selectively managed in order to tell a particular story. This kind of writing is a mix of the reflective and the creative and its intention is to stimulate.

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Personal engagement

To change the writer and the reader and participants in terms of: • • • • • •

The The The The The The

emotional intellectual institutional personal professional creative, problem-solving selves

This mix in a developmental written anecdote of the creative and the reflective I hope gets into a mix of personal, emotional engagement – and professional engagement because the writing taps those areas. If you want to write using these means I suggest you: • •

Think of a case you want to illustrate – such as supporting others in their writing and considering cases of struggle and success. Write reflectively and engagingly using anecdote as a format. This is more than self-indulgent whimsy – the aim is to engage the thinking as well as the feeling elements of your reader.

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Celebrating your writing

I’m personally not very good at doing this publicly, but I expect that’s an individual choice. When something does get published, find those people who have helped you on your journey, your critical friend and your colleagues who are supportive, rather than those who might see any kind of publication as self-indulgence or a pastime equivalent to growing sprouts (I like doing that too but it’s actually less successful in my case and I haven’t found any kind of gardening practice to get them to look like sprouts) or attending essential meetings (I do that too), because your writing will have taken acres and acres of personal time, a lot of angst, and a great deal of developmental energy and emotional engagement. Only you really know that, so congratulate yourself. Visualise this – you unwrap the padded envelope and are not sure what is inside – and it’s your article in a journal; it looks real, looks shorter and not at all problematic, and fits in well. It seems to be authoritative, you’re interested, the voice is fresh and engaging and the evidence well established and maintained, the argument seems well founded and well presented. In short, you read it as if it is by someone else and you find it good – and it looks good – and it really is there in that journal. It will go online and many people will search for it deliberately or serendipitously and read it – a bit of it, or all of it – some will use it, and some will be so surprised and stimulated that they will write about it, and even quote you. How do you celebrate? That warm feeling of success I have just described is part of the celebration. I walk on the seafront with the dog or round the park/garden and sit and feel pleased. I confess I usually have a glass of wine and some chocolate at this point, after all it really isn’t every day that something which has taken blood, sweat and tears lands in your hands and seems like a publication – a bit of indulgence isn’t out of order. In the past I’d leave it at that, but now I’ll tell a few people – and with a most recent, particularly painful, long-haul piece of publishing, I told pretty much everyone – so astonished was I that it had actually ended up published, looking like an ordinary publication and read well. So I marketed it a bit and sent the image and my sense of exhilaration at its achievement round a few professional friends. One of them might read it, someone might recommend it – I do want it to be read after all. So, congratulate yourself, tell others they can congratulate you so that the news can be spread and read, and they may be encouraged to write more too. Take a moment off to enjoy the success. For now.

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Activities You’ve just sent in your journal article – tell yourself a positive story about the next few months until it is accepted after revisions. Story – be creative. Tell yourself a story about seeing it in print. Make sure it is lively, informational, emotional, dramatic (all or some of these) and that you know to whom you would tell it. Responses – be reflective. Reflect on what you have learned in writing your article. • • • • • •

What was the actual process like, what went right and what less well? What were the challenges? What were the main breakthroughs? How do you feel now, emotionally? In terms of your academic identity? In terms of your sense of knowing what you know and that other people can appreciate what you have contributed to knowledge?

This must feel good!

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Conclusion

We have considered using creativity to release your writing energies and help to structure and produce your work, arguing that creativity in writing helps you to imagine and engage with problems, and create and construct ways out of these problems, to innovate and express that innovation. The act of engaging with the writing process enables some of the identification of problems, and the expression helped to form ideas and plans to move forward, and these ideas and plans can then be structured, expressed and actioned. Using creativity, your writing harnesses thoughts and helps to construct thoughts and arguments through the act of expression. Similarly, using habits of reflection and reflective writing enable you to see your strengths and identify, unpack, scrutinise and build on any issues, and then plan and move on. Both creative and reflective forms of writing can free up the energies to write for academic publication, and both can feed elements of the writing into such academic writing, so that in part of your writing you engage with creative thinking and expression, not just to break writing blocks, but also thinking blocks, to carry the ideas, and in parts of your writing you reflect and understand what is happening, what has been achieved, and what should be done next.

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Further reading

Amabile, T. M. (1996) Creativity in Context (Boulder, CO: Westview Press). Boud, D. (2001) ‘Using Journal Writing to Enhance Reflective Practice’, New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education 90, Special Issue: Promoting Journal Writing in Adult Education, Summer, pp. 9, 11. Boud, D., Keogh, R. and Walker, D. (1985) ‘Promoting Reflection in Learning: A Model’, in D. Boud, R. Keogh and D. Walker (eds), Reflection: Turning Experience into Learning (East Brunswick, NJ: Nichols). Carruthers, P. (2002) ‘Human Creativity’, British Journal of the Philosophy of Science, 53, 225–49. Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1996) Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention (New York: HarperCollins). Jackson, N. (2006) ‘Creativity in Higher Education: What’s the Problem?’, Educational Developments, 7(1), 1–4. Jarvis, P. (2001) ‘Journal Writing in Higher Education’, New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education, 90, Special Issue: Promoting Journal Writing in Adult Education, Summer. Moon, J. (1999b) Learning Journals: A Handbook for Academics, Students and Professional Development (London: Kogan Page). Morris, C. and Wisker, G. (2011) ‘Troublesome Encounters: Strategies for Managing the Wellbeing of Masters and Doctoral Education Students during Their Learning Processes’, HEA ESCalate subject centre report. Available at: http://escalate.ac.uk/6828. Peterson, E. A. and Jones, A. M. (2001) ‘Women, Journal Writing, and the Reflective Process’, New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education, 90, Special Issue: Promoting Journal Writing in Adult Education, Summer, p. 59. Schön, D. A. (1983) The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action (New York: Basic Books). Schön, D. A. (1987) Educating the Reflective Practitioner (San Francisco: JosseyBass). Van Manen, M. (1990) Researching Lived Experience (Albany, NY: SUNY Press), p. 85.

Part 4 Learning from Feedback, and Playing a Full Part in the World of Writing

14 Responding to feedback

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • •

The journey to feedback Research on feedback Engaging with, dealing with and moving on from reviewers’ and publishers’ feedback If English is not your first language – and thinking aloud Example of writing, response and re-writing – processes of writing and re-writing (working on one of my pieces) Conclusion

Dealing with feedback on your writing is an essential part of the learning and writing dialogue. However, we often need the hide of a rhino to learn from and deal with it, so it can actually drive appropriate improvement in your writing. Being a referee and reviewer (and giving the feedback) will be explored as a part of academic service in Chapter 18. Don’t think of feedback as suggesting your work is wrong, rather as suggesting it needs improvement and can be improved. There are usually several layers to feedback. The fairly cosmetic: correcting faults of information or expression. The substantial: correcting/expanding/contracting/at a conceptual, theoretical or argument level. There might well be cosmetic factual errors to be corrected, which your feedback will indicate, and also corrections to make overall, beyond these few factual errors. If in the end you decide not to re-send it to that editor, don’t junk the writing, re-focus it for another outlet. It will be a better piece from having worked with the feedback.

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The journey to feedback

You spend hours, days and weeks on the journal article or thesis chapter. You 253

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work night and day, evenings and weekends, you ponder over every word, struggle through the overall coherence and edit, edit, edit, neaten it, check all the typos and references, send it off and then you get the feedback. Research and anecdote involved in work on blocks and emotional resilience in doctoral students and their writing indicates that often they tell themselves a story so full of negatives that it is indeed hard to move on. In this story they see the end of their doctoral journey after the viva, and the examiners open the door and tell them they have failed. That’s it. No recourse, no reasons, it’s awful, the whole thesis, the six years of work, is a waste of time and space and a bit of an insult to everyone’s intelligence (see Chapter 13). I have this nightmare too, about writing a book, which causes the same kind of responses: it’s an insult, how dare I write this? There’s nothing to say about it because to start would mean taking for ever to get through these problems; would I like to consider giving up, it’s clearly never going to be published? Well, actually, the book story has happened twice so far, and yet those two books, 15 years apart, have been published and look quite normal. They don’t reveal the struggles that I experienced in re-writing to make them acceptable.

Tell yourself a different story and move on Dealing with our own negative stories about the quality of our writing and the negative feedback or no feedback can be so damaging that we might just stop writing. Sometimes it is better to park a piece of writing if it is producing only negative feedback, but sometimes it is better to grapple with the problems, get on with the changes and resist inappropriate suggestions.

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Research on feedback

Research on giving feedback and dealing with it tends to look at undergraduate writing and to avoid consideration of the students’ feelings and responses; rather, it considers reasons for and modes of feedback. Reviewing and refereeing are examples of feedback, and as writers we will be used to dealing with feedback on academic essays and other forms of writing in the past. Feedback aids ‘the development and enhancement of learning’ (Mutch, 2003, p. 36), helps us to correct mistakes and also to write (Flower and Hayes, 1981). Nicol (2010) suggests that feedback on students’ writing skills (in addition to the content) can enhance their writing development. It is important in learning more generally, and aids metacognition, understanding about our learning (Flavell, 1979), because it helps us to realise and understand what we do and do not yet know, can and cannot yet do. It can do that if we interact with it, rather than merely looking at a mark or a comment as if it were a final statement about the value of our work. With writing, this is particularly important, because while factual errors or errors of understanding can be corrected,

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writing is a process, and seeing how others respond to our writing is part of the dialogue with those others. It feeds into the improvement of our written work. Writing that conveys our understanding, knowledge and argument effectively is a skill we are constantly developing and improving. While feedback has been widely researched, response to feedback on academic articles, books and chapters is still under-researched. Reviewers’ comments on your work are like written feedback on students’ drafts, because they are intended to be developmental and formative. While some research questions the effectiveness of feedback on drafts (Hillocks, 1982; Sommers, 1982; Truscott, 1996), others consider it can have positive effects (Hyland, 1990; Hedgcock and Lefkowitz, 1994; Ferris, 1995, 1997; Goldstein, 2005). Hyland and Hyland (2006), among others, comment on ways in which feedback can focus writers on their expression, form and meaning so they revise their work and subsequently present an improved piece. I suspect that some of the usefulness lies in the accessibility of the comments, their tone, and the ways in which we process them as writers.

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Engaging with, dealing with and moving on from reviewers’ and publishers’ feedback –

At whatever stage, feedback on your writing is meant to enable learning and improvement. It is a natural part of the development process and part of that learning dialogue or conversation with your readership (editors, reviewers, referees and supervisors). So, writers really do want to hear what these readers have to say and to work with it. To enable this, feedback needs to be articulate, clear and given in a supportive way that enables learning rather than shutting the writer down. Some reviewers and supervisors give only summative feedback, pointing out what has been achieved, what is right and wrong, but it would be useful if they also gave developmental feedback or ‘feed-forward’ (Race, 2010) from which to learn. Some give only negative feedback as if it were a competition which they must win. Some feedback you are unable to understand because you don’t really understand each other’s communications, language, stance, work or view. Each of these responses could be inadvertently upsetting, damaging and even halting your writing. You might need to consider how you can give feedback that can be learned from rather than just corrects or shuts down a writer. And you will also need to learn from whatever feedback you are given, even if it seems harsh, hostile or somewhat damaging.

Dealing with feedback Good feedback will respond to your writing at the meta (overall, whole picture, structural perhaps), mesa (in the middle – some general and also some focused

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comments on for instance your tone or research approach) and micro levels (level of word by word). You will need to deal with it at all those levels and check for appropriateness, identify what you need to do and what you don’t. Not all of the feedback is helpful, of course: some of it will be opinion, and some perhaps a misreading of your work. You can mention this politely in your response, then deal with the writing as if it were no longer your own but that of someone else, with which you have no emotional engagement – be dispassionate and surgical. If there is no feedback, only rejection, ask for feedback so that you can learn from it. If the feedback is entirely summative – ‘this won’t work’, ‘wrong’, ‘can’t accept it’ – ask for suggestions about how it might be developed further, seek models and explanations, and guidance on the individual comments. If it is insulting, ‘I can’t see how this author feels they have the right to ... there is nothing new in here and it is poorly expressed and badly referenced’, then see if there’s anything in the feedback from which you can learn, and separate the insults from the useful elements. Separate the elements of the feedback and deal with each at the meta, mesa and then micro level. Meta level At the overall, meta level, does it have something to say? Have you grappled with theory and are you working conceptually? Does your work contribute to meaning as well as to knowledge? If not, can you now go back into the reading and the theories and see if there is more to deal with, that they’re more complex, can you explain them and use them more clearly? Can you indicate how your work does make a sound contribution to knowledge and meaning, and how it uses theories and concepts to do so, both early on and at appropriate points throughout the literature review, as you discuss and interact with your data, in the conclusions as well as in the abstract? Is this clear enough? Negative criticism might enable you to see that you do have something important to say but that it could be said more clearly, underpinned with a fuller use of the theory, or linked to ongoing arguments that the reviewer might not know about. Defend yourself but don’t waste all your time doing so – improve the piece. Mesa level How well articulated is your piece of writing? Have you used the theories throughout to underpin your question, research methodology and methods, data analysis and interpretations, discussion, the argument, the conclusions and the abstract? Have you linked the chapters of your thesis or your book together by indicating in the introduction how they construct a variety of views, develop and argue, offer a linear progression, deal with competing versions (whatever is the case of the structure of this piece of work)? Have you ensured that at the end of each section of a journal article or dissertation, each chapter

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of a thesis or book, you sum it up, indicating how the argument and idea have progressed, what they have contributed, and what is going to develop? Have you stood back and seen the pattern and shape of your work, and identified the elements that need clarification, expansion, cutting, less evidence, more evidence, and an explanation of a method or theory? Can you link the arguments which indicate why you have developed first one, then another section? Micro level Go through the writing with a fine-tooth comb. Ensure at the level of copyediting that there are NO typos at all; that all your references in the text match those in the references section and are the right ones; that your expression is clear; and you have used appropriate words and not repeated certain words and phrases for lack of imagination (or laziness). Use a thesaurus to give you alternative words, see what words others use who are working in your field and whether those expressions would better suit your argument and expression. Be accurate in expression, do not repeat except to reinforce, and indicate you are aware that you are doing this. Also, do not leave gaps in arguments or in links between evidence and claims. Vijay Kumar and Elke Stracke report on their own research into their supervisor–supervisee feedback (Kumar and Stracke, 2010). Vijay’s comments about receiving positive feedback celebrating his successful writing expression indicate that he recognised that he had been received into a community of practice of researchers and academics, though he was ‘devastated’ (ibid., p. 27) by overt negative criticism when his ability to conceptualise and discriminate was questioned. However, he also reports that finding inconsistencies between supervisor and examiner reports on his writing was a real learning process. Much of this response is about realising that feedback is actually partly about interpretation, rather than the identification of a fixed value. Vijay mentions ‘revision as a process of discovery’ (ibid., p. 28) and appreciates the opportunity to upgrade his knowledge and expression where examiner responses seemed not to have understood what he was saying. He reworked drafts for a readership without his contextual knowledge, set new goals and maintained ‘cognitive planning; and engagement with the revision‘ (ibid., p. 28). The ‘reflective responders’ (Hyland and Hyland, 2001, p. 188), who nurture without destroying ideas and expression, are the givers of feedback from whom writers, including PhD students, can really learn. It is a developmental process rather than one of shutting down, or of undercutting confidence and motivation. In this context I would also advocate a feedback ‘sandwich’ (Hyland and Hyland, 2001) of (i) positive comments, (ii) directive, constructive comments correcting misunderstandings, and (iii) more positive comments. Suggestions for improvement can be heard when nested in a positive ‘sandwich’. When you become a reviewer, that could be a useful tip to help support newer writers.

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Responding to reviewers Let us be generous. As with PhD examiners, most book or journal reviewers really want to see your writing improve for the readership, to make a clear argument and represent a good piece of research that is well thought through and articulated with clarity. So, if they are genuinely working to support and help to develop good writing as a contribution to research conversations, the responses they provide will be carefully considered and will need your careful consideration in response. With the increased competition for publishing, and the increasing professionalisation of all aspects of academic service work supporting publication, reviewers are working to ensure that the critical peer dialogue helps you learn to express your ideas and research appropriately for a specific journal, or other publications, during the ongoing debate in which your article is contextualised. When you re-write and re-edit, and when you write your response to the referees or reviewers, you will need to take into account the time they have spent, and the mesa, meta and micro levels at which they have commented on your work.

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If English is not your first language; and thinking aloud

Research into the learning of students for whom English is their second, third or even fourth language indicates the usefulness of thinking aloud as a response to feedback and as a way of thinking forward into the language that will provide the new writing. There is a wealth of literature focusing on ways that students process feedback through thinking aloud. TAM, the Think Aloud Method, offers some insights into thought processes and writers’ revision and composing processes (Raimes, 1985; Cumming, 1990; Roca de Larios et al., 2006.) It is useful to consider work on students and feedback when dealing with written and oral feedback on your own writing, and to use thinking aloud, developing drafts, and processing the responses from reviewers and/or supervisors, both cognitively and emotionally, then translating them into better written work. Thinking aloud offers an opportunity to articulate ideas and practise expressions. It also allows you to get out into the open, through speaking rather than on paper, your feelings of annoyance, confusion and dismay at the attack, and other challenging, undermining and confusing feelings. Think through, construct your emotional and intellectual responses (some of what they say might well be true and useful), talk them out, and then through writing them down, start to get on with dealing with the feedback. Talk through each element and make notes or speak about what each bit means and about how to deal with it. Separate the cosmetic changes (your typos) from the conceptual and coherence changes needed. There are likely to be comments suggesting both slight changes of clarity, fact and expression, and more substantial comments concerning overall clarity of ideas, coherence of the piece, evidence

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and claims, interpretation, theorised interpretation of the meaning of the data, argument and assertions about the contribution to knowledge. Try not to remain stuck on each item and confused about the progress you are making on improving your piece. If you can make an audio recording of yourself as you are thinking aloud and tackling the expression, you can then work with the clarity that begins to emerge and so prevent yourself from freezing up at the feedback. You can also share the suggestions and your response to them with a critical friend, who can help you to decipher what seems to be needed, and then ask you questions about how you will change expression, structure, interpretation and claims, or whatever needs work doing to it.

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Example of writing, response and rewriting – processes of writing and re-writing (working on one of my pieces)

Stages of response to a novel, and then to the reviewers on my essay on that novel. Fascination – intrigue – I was fascinated with time travel fiction. Teaching – talking – I gave both an adult education class on Daphne du Maurier’s The House on the Strand, in Cornwall, and a literary session for other adults in Cambridge. Research – I did a great deal of reading and research and had to understand the novel and short story I was going to focus on (close background), much more of du Maurier’s work (with which I was already familiar, and created background), other time-travel novels and films (criticism). Then I read and researched as much criticism on these as I could find and the interpretations the critics offered into the fascination with and playing out of time-travel narratives (theories). I also read theories about the fantastic and its attraction to readers and, because time travel is science fiction, read scientific treatises on time as folded, not just linear. Notes – I took notes on all of the texts I read: primary – the bits of du Maurier; and secondary – the theorists on time, science, fantasy and their delights, and any critics on time-travel texts and on du Maurier. By now I had a complete and scattered mess of photocopies, online articles, masses of notes, marked up texts and about 25,000 words. The article was going to be about 5,000 words; some of them would be in here somewhere. I splurged many overall views, structured the article into an introduction dealing with time-travel narratives and their fascination, scientific theories, and problems with time-travel fantasy. I also used extracts from the critics, theorists and the texts themselves to develop the argument, and to illustrate the evidence (in literature, your evidence is from the texts, while in social science it would be quotations from interviews, statistics from surveys and so on).

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By now the article had some sense of structure in my mind but the expression was occasionally lucid, occasionally lumbering, occasionally repetitive and sometimes just dreadfully unclear. Alas, these bits, though organised, seemed to be scattered all over the place, so I needed to re-visit the structure. I needed to ensure that the language expressed what I wanted it to in terms of theorised argument, which develops as a story and is underpinned by informing theories, presented with a sense of ownership. The elements of the text needed to illustrate and take the argument further – to drive it. There was a quote pointlessly sitting there, so unless I could include it in this particular argument, however interesting it was, it had to go, and I had to find a couple of others in the books; at that point I wished I had kept better track of them. Then I left it. I came back to it day after day, night after night, and rewrote it from start to finish, focusing in depth on the bits that really didn’t tell the story, didn’t make the case, were out of place – appearing late on in the essay when they needed to be at the beginning to present the case about fantasy and the scientific underpinning – and the role of these texts, so that the rest of the argument could flow from these major points. When I started writing, I had not been aware that these were the main points. The major conceptual discovery emerged during the reading and the writing. In the main, it came into view as insight in the reading and thinking, then had to be worked on heavily, to express it clearly in the writing process. By the time I had rewritten it repeatedly, and stood back and done other things, I needed to go through it again thoroughly to ensure the repetition had gone, some words were substituted for others to ensure clarity, the references were appropriately in place in the correct format for the publication in which I intended it to appear, and were consistent between the text and the reference section. Gaps between words and punctuation had to be checked, plus the layout in terms of paragraphing, line spacing and font, all of which is part of checking against the actual journal in which this might appear. Then I realised – at last – that I was satisfied with it. It was ready to go to someone else, but I knew that when they returned it they would have suggestions to make and I’d have to rewrite it again. I must maintain my momentum so that I can do that, but for now, though, I need to ‘get rid of it’. The referee comments came in several months later. After I responded to the referees I also responded to further suggestions from the editor. All of this really helped to shape the piece. .

Response to referees Perhaps because it is sensitive and difficult to respond to referees, I like to try to structure my work and reply to their comments in a formal manner. This makes

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it explicit to the them that I have taken everything they suggested really seriously and worked on my essay to improve it accordingly. I also need to show them this quickly and clearly, so that they won’t feel they need to re-read in such fine detail that they find a whole lot of other problems. Though, if such problems do exist, (i) I need to see and correct them; and (ii) the referees might well do this in any case. Some referees can truly only accept the essay that they would have written, rather than the one you have submitted. Some are even more obsessional than I am about trying to get the essay perfect. Some can never let go; and some just hate the way you write. For the most part, however, they really are trying to help you to write your piece as well as it can be written to get this message over. It is good to remember that when struggling with revisions. Below are two referees’ comments on an essay – followed by my notes to myself, and then the response to the referees. I send them back either in a chart like this, or as a prose piece which indicates what they said, and what I did. I also leave myself space to query, or to explain why I have not done something to the text. Table 14.1 shows the comments from one referee, my thoughts on these, and the subsequent changes I made. The middle box shows my plans and feelings, but I don’t share that with the referee. I send back a version with the referee’s suggested changes plus the final set of boxes indicating what I have done. I sent a covering letter with this grid, explaining what I had done in response to the (actually three sets of) reviewers; a version with the track changes embedded (so it could be seen that I had responded and where); and a clean copy with no tracking. All this was sent to the editor though mostly my work goes into systems which use the mechanics of manuscript central and Scholarone, so normally I would upload it to ScholarOne. Finally it was accepted. In my role as an editor, I have seen people include everything from a grid of their engagement to a single sentence, yet when the essay is returned there is little or no evidence of any changes. This is not a developmental exercise for them and is insulting to the time the reviewers have spent supporting the improvement of the writing. I find responding quite coolly and in a managed fashion most helpful with the revising process. Even cutting the comments up into grids helps. I can deal first with more cosmetic issues and then go on to the more complex and substantial ones. These concern organisation, clarity of expression, and fundamental readability (sometimes they are even more substantial and require you to go back to theory, or re-write a major argument). My article is now being published. It was worth the effort of re-writing and I really do feel grateful to the reviewers. Actually today, as I revise this book, it arrived in the post.

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TABLE 14.1 REFEREE 1

Referee comments

COMMENTS AND MY RESPONSES

My feelings and responses

What I say I have done

I believe the essay Great! I feel like getting to be publishable in on with this - this is its current form with heartening! helpful minor formal edits. The subject matter of the essay is original and compelling.

Thank you for the time taken over my essay. I I appreciate the close reading and comments and am glad that on the whole you find it interesting and worth publishing. See below for notes on the improvments made in the light of your comments.

…ensure that paragraphs are of sufficient length and that side information is presented in footnotes. I suggest some examples below.

Paragraphing now more consistent, see pp. 7, 9 for examples. I have included comments on x, xx and xx in footnotes. I left comments on iv in the text on p. 10 because it seemed an important part of the main argument.

As a suggestion only, the author may want to check out xxx on a similar topic.

I'll have a look - if I can mention it I will, if it really affects the theory, argument and is essential I'll find a way of bringing it in; if it looks like it will take me on another journey entirely, I will say so.

Thank you for alerting me to xxx, p. 6, line 5. I have included a reference to this work as it extends my argument on… I have not engaged more fully with the points about xxxx in the piece because I feel this would detract from the focus of this essay but I would hope to work on it in the future.

It needs a more thorough proofreading. I found the following typos but there may be more.

This is a really helpful reviewer, they've done half the work for me. I'll correct and search for more.

Typos now fully corrected, thank you.

Responding to feedback

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Conclusion

This chapter has looked at working with feedback and with reviewer responses so that your writing is in a state of improvement, and has more of a chance of being published the second time around following the feedback suggestions, and next time because you have learned some general things about how you write and what you might be able to improve.

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Further reading

Carless, D. (2006) ‘Differing Perceptions in the Feedback Process’, Assessment & Evaluation in Higher Education, 31(2), 219–33. Ferris, D. R. (1997) ‘The Influence of Teacher Commentary on Student Revision’, TESOL Quarterly, 31(2), 315–39. Flavell, J. H. (1979) ‘Metacognition and Cognitive Monitoring: A New Area of Cognitive-Developmental Inquiry’, American Psychologist, 34, 906–11. Hyland, K. (1990) ‘Providing Productive Feedback’, ELT Journal, 44(4), 279–85. Hyland, K. and Hyland, F. (2001) ‘Sugaring the Pill: Praise and Criticism in Written Feedback’, Journal of Second Language Writing, 10, 185–212. Hyland, K. and Hyland, F. (2006) Feedback in Second Language Writing: Contexts and Issues (Cambridge University Press). Mellan, V. and Stracke, E. (2007) ‘An Analysis of Written Feedback on a PhD Thesis’, Teaching in Higher Education, 12(4), August, 461–70. Murray, R. (2002) How to Write a Thesis (Buckingham: Open University Press), p. 78. Mutch, A. (2003) ‘Exploring the Practice of Feedback to Students’, Active Learning in Higher Education, 4(1), 24–38. Nicol, D. (2010) ‘From Monologue to Dialogue: Improving Written Feedback Processes in Mass Higher Education’, Assessment & Evaluation in Higher Education, 35(5), 501–17. Race, P. (2010) Making Learning Happen, 2nd edn (London: Sage). Stracke, E. and Kumar, V. (2010) ‘Feedback and Self Regulated Learning: Insights from Supervisors and PhD Examiners’ Reports’, Reflective Practice, 11(1), 27, 28; online January 29, 2010.

15 Turning your conference presentation or paper into a publication

In this chapter we consider: • • • • •

Developing conference presentations with a view to publication right from the start Forms of conference presentations and papers – and writing them What are the similarities and differences between a conference presentation and a publishable paper? A few ways forward Conclusion

There is nothing like a pile of old conference papers to remind you of the need to write, complete, finish and publish. Some of your best, most up to date and speculative work appears first in your conference presentations or papers, but many of us leave them half finished, and forget, or never prioritise the time to write them up into publishable papers. You have a duty to yourself as well as to your future readers, to get this work out, published and read, or it could be lost, stolen or overlooked. And the work took a long time to produce! Conference presentations and papers are often used for leading-edge work in progress, for the ideas, innovations, research and discoveries on which you have been working most recently. They could represent the latest element of an ongoing piece of work in which you have been involved. Some conference presentations or papers are very formal and delivered quickly alongside the work of several others, and other papers and presentations you might deliver as an interactive workshop. In different ways, they are all opportunities to try out speculative thoughts and involve those who come to your workshop session, or seminar, as a sounding board for the usefulness of your ideas and arguments. Your papers and presentations have already had some peer review, at least for the sense and authority of your work, before you consider writing them up for publication. 264

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Conference papers often contain your most recent and sometimes most speculative work, which can be shared with others and benefit from their comments. However, some conference presentations and papers never see the light of day (or the darkness of print) even though they have taken months of hard work to develop, both in terms of the underpinning research, and the organising and wording for presentation. It is important to ensure that they are published or the presentation or paper on which you have spent so many hours of hard work will only reach the limited audience of those who attended your presentation. There are differences, of course, between the possibly quite sketchy presentation that invites responses, and the already fairly finished paper, which needs the edginess and conceptualisation arising from dialoguing with peers, and a final polishing for publication. But these are both ripe for writing and publishing, and are often excellent shortcuts to a journal article.

Activity: Reflection Ask yourself: • • •

•

Why do you want to turn your conference paper into a publication? How many successful conference presentations do you have hanging around – reminding you that they should be published? What are the similarities and differences between conference papers or presentations, precedings, proceedings and journal articles for publication? What work do you think you need to do to turn your conference paper or presentation into a publication?

Some colleagues have responded as follows: • • •

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To get the work out there and make a difference. Because I have interesting things to say which others will find useful in their own work. To improve the developing work into something readable to be shared with a wider audience.

Developing conference presentations with a view to publication right from the start

Choosing the work and the publication outlet for the paper are your first concerns. Consider offering conference presentations and papers that represent the cutting edge of your work, are clearly in a dialogue with other work in

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the field, and could be acceptable in several journals you have researched, once they are polished up. This is a good start, because you will already have an end beyond the conference in mind and be considering appropriate expression, content, argument, theorising and ways of using the audience engagement to enhance your work. Time management is also very important. There is more slippage with a conference paper. Deciding what to present and where to send it for publication afterwards will ensure that you construct a timeline for yourself in which writing the paper for the conference and presenting it, are followed naturally by revision and then submission. Decide on the area of your work that you want to present at this conference, carefully considering the themes, interests, who might be there, what elements of your work are nearly complete enough to be presented, what spin you can give your work to interest an audience and to engage in the dialogue in the field, and which slot suits your work best at this point. Plan all this. While doing so, research an appropriate journal in which to publish your work (look at Chapter 3 on journal articles), selecting two or three that seem possible, and work towards one of these initially. Abstracts are usually invited for anything between six months and a year before a conference. They are often necessarily quite speculative, and several I have refereed indicated that the research data had not yet been analysed. Don’t offer to do a conference paper if you know that your data can’t be gathered, analysed and turned into a paper in the time available, or you will be left with a very sketchy piece, an early work in progress or you might have to change the title completely at the last minute (irritating for those people who signed up for your paper and got something quite different).

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Forms of conference presentations and papers – and writing them

There are two main kinds of conference paper for presentation, and each can be turned into a publishable form. These are the workshop presentation paper and the formal academic paper – though you might feel your work lies somewhere in between. Mine usually does, since I hardly ever prepare a full paper in advance of a conference, preferring to rely on a well-honed PowerPoint presentation with lots of notes – this can be a little scary, so it is not always advised.) What you produce for the conference will depend on your allocated slot – a paper, workshop, symposium, round table or poster. What you write up will most probably look like a straightforward journal article in your discipline, though there are other forms you might find possible, particularly for trade papers and internal use. We are going to look at the two main forms of conference paper presentation: the workshop which invites inputs from the audience; and the formal paper; and consider how to turn each into a fairly conventional journal article.

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Presentations can be in forms which are at extreme ends of a continuum. At one end is the spoken word with evidence and illustrations in handouts and PowerPoint presentations. This is more acceptable to some audiences than is the densely written paper read out at high speed with no discussion. However, some disciplines and some audiences seem to favour three or four dense papers in a row with discussion at the end.

Audience This is important. If this is a specialist audience, then you can take various short cuts with basic explanations of the terms and the field; however, if it is a general audience you will need to clarify more before moving into your specific contribution. If you produce the paper in advance and then read it aloud, you could lose some of your audience because of the density and the different quality of written to spoken language – so it might be preferable to write it then turn it into a PowerPoint presentation with handouts and extracts of small amounts of data, statistics, results or quotations – whatever is appropriate in your discipline. One of the complaints about PowerPoint presentations when they were first used was that presenters were seduced by the time it took and the fun (or complex task) it was to produce good enough slides, so they used their time improving the presentation of material rather than the material itself, and in the worst cases, actually read out the bullet points showing on the screen. Audiences tend to find this boring so should be resorted to only in the very last stages of lack of recall or high nervousness (when it can be a useful prop). They will still be bored by it, but you won’t be entirely silent or mumbling. Producing conference papers and presentations, sharing them with others and then turning the papers into publications is a challenge, both intellectual – in relation to the theorising, the conceptual level of the work, and practical in relation to the efforts of structuring, finessing, finalising the wording, turning the vague into the clearly evidenced, producing a final acceptable piece that enters the dialogue in the community and can further your career – raising your profile, and influencing others. Publication of your paper provides a sense of at least temporary closure. The work is now in the public domain and ready for responses and dialogue. Publication is not the end of your work, however, and in deciding what to present, to publish and where to publish we also need to think of impact and effect, the usefulness and lasting qualities of our work. So, as you read on and decide what to work up into a presentation and a paper please also consider how we can ensure it is useful; and the ways that it can effect change. This will depend on the quality of your work, and also where it is published.

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What are the similarities and differences between a conference presentation and a publishable paper?

These days, the process of getting a conference presentation or paper accepted is long and thorough. You are probably overtly explicit in your conference presentation about your aims, focus, choices, contribution and what you would like your audience to take away. You choose elements of your work for public exposure and engagement, honing this work into a manageably sized paper or more interactive workshop oriented presentation for the conference slot available, and ensuring that it is convincing in terms of entering the dialogue with others in the field, using the language of the discipline appropriately. You engage with enough theory and offer something new to the use of that theory in your own work, establishing what is new in your own work. You are convincing about the methodology and methods, and the data and findings from that data, the importance of the development or the research findings to the field, and to other people’s work in the field. Abstracts for conferences can take a very long time to produce and make you think clearly about what manageable and stand alone piece of your work to share, when to share it, how much of it to share right now, and what you would like your audience to do with what they hear and engage with – that is, do you want them to think? Respond? Interact? Do you want them to answer some questions? Try something out? As you choose what to offer for the conference, all of this has to be part of your choice, as does your awareness of whether you will decide to work on your conference presentation later for publication in a journal or in conference proceedings. The process of acceptance of your abstract resembles that of journal articles, involving peer reviews, grading, scaling and suggestions for improvements so a very tight, well-expressed focus is essential, and a speedy response to the reviewers’ suggested improvements to the abstract or mini paper submitted for the conference enables you to move this early work further towards something that can be published, as well as ensuring it is more acceptable for the conference and a better advertisement in the published programme for those choosing which sessions to attend. Your conference abstract (usually) has to be peer reviewed, to present interesting, up-to-date work, information, arguments, ideas, evidence and/or processes and practices. The paper, whether formal with minimal or no powerpoints or handouts, or something which accompanies the powerpoints and handouts and encourages engagement, should be written with the audience in mind – its level, discipline, breadth and possibility for interaction. The paper itself has to be written in a language that can be understood when spoken, which means avoiding excessive lists of long words, ‘fog’ (see

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Chapter 11), and ensuring you repeat important points, since the listener cannot go back and re-read, and they have to be able to follow the argument. If you write a formal paper or a presentation you will need to repeat the main points, reminding of the structure to the whole argument and the few main issues the audience need to take away with them. This is an oral form of delivery even if it is in the form of a written paper. Turning both the more formal paper and the presentation with accompanying text into a written paper for publication is a different issue. It will need to be built up logically, be less repetitive than a spoken or read picee, and avoid making any claims that cannot be substantiated by careful reference to the literature and the data. You can, to some extent, get away with being flamboyant and exercising your personality in a presentation, whilst the force of your thoughts, arguments and findings need to be made through the control of language and structure in the written, published piece.

Some differences Conference presentations are often: • • • • • • • • • • • •

Condensed Audience-focused Punchy Bullet-pointed Accompanied by pictures, sounds Accompanied by activities to enable interaction Able to showcase small elements of the data Able to get away with making bold claims and avoiding neat referencing Dependent on the presentational qualities of the presenter Over very quickly Well supported with handouts Often used for work in progress to test out ideas

If your conference paper is of the more formal kind, it will more easily turn into a publication while, if it is more interactive, it could engage others who will contribute ideas which can then help revise the work and so feed into a publication. Published papers are: • • • • • •

Well organised, coherent, well argued No claims without evidence/no evidence without claims Robust, rigorous, reliable/valid Research based Adding something new Well referenced

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Aware of the audience and readership For re-reading over time Good title and abstract-to-be picked up Well packaged Current

You might have to totally reconfigure your conference presentation for the journal outlet. So in choosing what to present as a paper or presentation, consider this advice from the start: be clear about the area(s) covered; your favourite subject might not be topical/interesting to others. Can you give a favourite subject a topical spin? Or can you find something (else) topical and interesting you are working on that will suit the conference and publication afterwards? Your conference paper will need some alteration and refining in order to be published, so choose something to present that is substantial enough to be developed. Some of the ways forward in turning sketchy and developing work or speculative and developmental presentations and material into rigorous and well expressed papers which are of good quality, organised and publishable are discussed in full in Chapter 3, which deals with writing a journal article. I will concentrate here only on the changes needed to turn conference papers into publications, and refer you back to Chapter 3 for information on the full process. Some of the issues with conference presentations and papers, and suggested ways of dealing with these to turn them into publications, are shown in Table 15.1. These comments are political, tongue in cheek at times, but actually reflect the realities of the delivery of conference papers and presentations, and ways of ensuring that they are translated, transformed into publishable papers which are well structured, make a case and contribute to knowledge and discussion in the field.

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A few ways forward

You can: • • •

Start from scratch – begin again with the paper and ignore the conference paper presentation. Expand, neaten and clarify an existing paper – see suggestions above. Work from the handouts and develop expanded and more theorised text to link them. Place the handouts in front of you with the notes – cut them up, expand, illustrate, neaten.

Things to do

Convey the enthusiasm of the piece through your tone in the paper, develop the powerpoint bullets into more complex, theorised text, cut many of them out if they just repeat, cut out the elements that were just there as prompts or exclamations, e.g. 'What do you think?... 'Talk to your neighbours in groups of three … this won't work!!'

Can the pictures etc. be inserted into a publishable text? (1) the paper's graphics won't be suitable. They merely make your words more effective in the moment but (2) illustrations could be useful. If the journal allows these they could be expensive, so check and aim to describe really important pictures if absolutely necessary and not just for illustration.

Your presentation is little more than a series of power-points with short captions, and little content, but it went down so well! It has underpinning theory but you cut that back to a couple of references. It has a lot of rhetorical questions and calls for the audience to discuss.

You used lively power-points with graphics, pictures, images, sounds, YouTube extracts.

continued

Only essential pictures and images, diagrams or graphics are in the text – they convey the data, and the argument. They might be there as illustrations of activities if the work was very visual and it is essential to see it - e.g. a new form of MRI scanner in process, students with disabilities making artworks in a creative setting.

Is this what will introduce a theorised piece in the logical shape of a journal article now? Have you retained the enthusiasm of the piece but added theory, conceptual work, have you cut out all but one or two necessary bullet points, have you turned your rhetorical questions into more complex prompts for thinking so that this can work for you – becomes some of the practices explored here/research findings discussed here, might be considered to be useful in other contexts.

Checking: questions

ISSUES WITH CONFERENCE PRESENTATIONS AND PAPERS AND SUGGESTED WAYS OF TURNING THEM INTO PUBLICATIONS

Conference paper/presentation

TABLE 15.1 SOME

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Things to do

Diagrams and data charts might be usable in an essay but you will not use those big charts here either - select the absolutely essential small extracts of data analysis which prove the point you are making; i.e. determine the point clearly from the data and link the two in discussion, no data chunk larger than 1.5 inches, no quotation or extract larger than 1.5 inches unless you are an ethnographer and want the readers to read large chunks of the process and story. If larger quotes are essential put them in an appendix but try not do to this, you can't give a reader data without it being analysed, theorised, discussed and turned into findings.

Any claims and arguments have to be underpinned in the literature, part of the dialogue with the literature, and evidenced in the data turned into findings.

Conference paper/presentation

You gave out large amounts of data and pinpointed some short extracts to look at (this was a bit of a mistake as they floundered through the huge charts but they did like looking at the small extracts for discussion). Some of the data you asked the audience to consider but you didn't necessarily draw any findings from it.

You made some grand claims where they were not really underpinned by theory or literature. This seemed to go down well, though some people questioned you and you were able to engage with most of the questions.

TABLE 15.1 CONTINUED

All claims are founded in the literature, theorised, links between claims based on findings are theorised and related back to the key literature and theories so the whole runs together smoothly.

In this essay there are only essential diagrams, data charts and extracts which are carefully embedded in the argument, theorised and part of the story. They are well captioned. If essential, there's an appendix - not more than one or two and only if the journal allows them (rare - it means adding more pages for the journal). All the data is selected, analysed, theorised and turned into convincing findings in the flow of the story (what you did, how this field developed) and argument (what your findings show, and why this matters).

Checking: questions

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In brief, explain what the literature you are basing your work in argues, and how you focus and take forward the area of work and develop some of that literature while disputing and disagreeing with other parts of it, and why and what your work will contribute to the literature and theory dialogues. Do this at the start in the introduction/literature review and in short at the end of the conclusions. Ensure you refer to the literature when you analyse the data and produce findings so that it is theorised and your new discoveries are part of the discussion in the field.

You have command of the discourse in the field and ensure that you do not fog up the written piece with unnecessarily long multi-syllable words in between the necessary language of the field, since this could confuse your readers. You ensure the overall article establishes its case simply and straightforwardly, uses necessary language where it is important to be accurate, more straightforward language to

You included several sets of references, none of which you fully explored but which showed you had done the reading. Some of these don't have dates, and some just give a sense that you have a grasp of the field. If you are reading a paper out you could slim these down and only emphasise one or two, or if you are presenting, you might just put the names on the power-point and move on to your own work.

You have command of the discourse in the field. In your paper sometimes this command of the discourse is very technical and complex but the audience can follow it. It's possible (but you are reading really quickly so you are not sure) that it is very heavy and there are extremely long words throughout so that your determination to get it read in the ten

Clearly written, accessible language, discourse of the subject used with skill and not fogged up by pretentious words that don't add to the sense. Key terms are clear throughout, established at the start in the abstract and introduction, hang the argument together, data analysis and findings, emphasise key points and finally reappear when emphasising the continued

All your references are properly explored but not to the point of overwhelming your new work, and arguments and developments in the field. These are shown in the literature, discussed and agreed with and your own work situated and shown to be moving elements of it forward (whether the context, topic, theory or the methodology literature). It is clearly used to underpin the discussion of the findings and the claims for a significant contribution to the field both factual and conceptual, argued in the conclusions. There are no extraneous references and you have not left out the major thinkers and researchers in the field. The entries in the reference section match those in the text and are correct.

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make an argument, and is tested on colleagues for clarity, flow, argument and logic.

No one is watching you until you submit. Don't be nervous. Manage the time, the sections and focus.

minutes allotted means that you neither emphasise argument nor select key phrases and pause for the listeners to make sense of it (I hope not, that's bad practice).

You were nervous/over confident/did not manage the time well and left chunks out or stopped short.

Do the research and define the arguments clearly. Develop a tone of confidence in your writing that is built on knowing what you are saying, what you have to contribute and how your work fits in with the ongoing discussion in the field. Plan the written piece so that you stick to the journal length and have manageable sized parts for the introduction, literature review, methodology and methods, data and discussion and conclusion, whatever the format your subject area expects. Don't put too much in, don't make claims

Things to do

Conference paper/presentation

TABLE 15.1 CONTINUED

A well planned and well managed piece – of acceptable length, not overcrowded with ideas. Main ideas stand out, are established in the field and developed throughout, backed up and underpinned by evidence and theorising, and there is a suggestion of future work - but it is not all included so it avoids being like a huge feast with no menu or way through it.

conceptual, and factual, findings and the contribution to knowledge. The whole is well written and neither accidentally nor deliberately over-erudite, pompous, truncated or just confusing.

Checking: questions

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Some people engaged with the activities or responded with interesting questions, some people seemed to have been in a different session – their comments were all about their own interests and not really about your paper.

You have gathered their ideas into your argument and where appropriate and possible, included their names – if they gave you new ideas or new information, so they are a part of the referencing. Your work on discussions or ideas is developed but given indirectly. Ask contributors if you can use these ideas- don't steal. The conference questions and comments are valuable early peer reviews. Ignore the ones that are clearly just someone else's fixation or political attack, or include them in order to find a way to refute them.

without evidence or put in evidence without claims, and don't try to tell everyone everything you have found and done. Make a clear case: this is about focus, not excess overload. Cohesive, uses peer developed responses from presentations in an appropriately referenced manner, does not have to engage with every single possible support or frustration, remains focused and well-organised in terms of situating this new knowledge. Contribution in the field and arguing with confidence.

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If you want a rather illusory sense of having developed a lot of your paper already, look at the PowerPoint slides, look on the left at the panel, focus on the text rather than the picture version, select all and copy it over into a Word document. You will suddenly see you have something that is about 1,000 words or more in extent, has clear divisions of topics, headings, points made and so on (as they had to be laid out in that way for the PowerPoint presentation) and now you can turn this into a structure for your essay, and start to change the text to fill in, cut, clarify, annotate and so on. This might stop you having a block when you look at the previous work, believing you need to start from scratch. Or it might actually only flow in the order of a spoken piece and so it could be better to start from scratch to develop a fully theorised, logical, written paper. If it is a long paper already and you read it out with the odd PowerPoint slide to illustrate, you will need to tidy it up, cut any unsubstantiated claims (if there were any), re-write and submit it.

Protocols If the paper appears in the conference precedings or proceedings you might not be able to publish it anywhere else as, strictly speaking, it has now been published. If the published papers are only available to those who came to the conference rather than to a broader audience, this could be a waste of your work. If you can produce a short version for the precedings or proceedings and then turn it into a longer paper in which you credit its first draft appearance fully and appropriately, this could be a way of getting your work out fast to the conference-goers and more slowly in a better managed, formal form in a journal article. You will need to ensure that you are not using identical work throughout, and that you properly reference its first appearance. Do check that this is possible, because if it isn’t you will be self-plagiarising, which is very bad indeed. As an example of extended abstracts and elaborations, the Adelaide-based Quality Postgraduate Research conference, which is biennial, asks for an abstract, and after the conference an extended piece of some 1,000-3,000 words, which is then permanently available on their website. This means it is a publication and others can access it without charge. The conference references it, and you get your work out fast. To develop it into a larger piece it would be necessary to reopen it, and change it substantially, increase and deepen it from 1000 to at least 5,000 words, and reference the original.

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Activity When you are producing both a conference presentation and a paper, you need to be very focused on two timelines to enable both to be written by their due date(s). Think of a piece of work you would like to present as a conference paper or presentation and later turn into a publication. Plan and produce a timetable for this work along the following lines. (The months in parentheses are those in which you do the work.) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

10 11 12

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Find the conference (the December conference of X Society) (Chosen in January). Choose the topic to present (January). Choose at least one, preferably three, journal outlets (or the conference precedings or proceedings) (January). Write the abstract and submit it (February). Await feedback, continue research and writing (April). Finesse abstract and resubmit following referee advice (May). Prepare data and start the writing of the conference presentation or paper (May–July). Write the conference presentation or paper (August–October). Construct PowerPoint and anything else you need for the presentation such as a poster, handouts, case studies, activities, YouTube piece and so on while neatening and finessing the presentation or paper (October–late November). Present (December). Gather responses (December). Take it all home, rewrite and work on the paper using some of the interesting comments people made about the presentation to enhance and deepen your work (January–March). Keep editing and re-editing (January–March). Try it out through a critical friend and finesse again (April). Approach a journal and submit (May/June). Await referees’ responses (September). Finesse and rewrite at least once (October–November). Re-submit (November). Await editors’ and copy-editors’ responses and finalise (December–January). Celebrate!

As you can see, this is not a speedy job! However, you will probably also have other things to do along the way – other research, domestic responsibilities, the day job … so factoring in this project is important or it won’t get done at all. But don’t forget it – it needs to be written and published, and read.

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Activity: Your time plan 1

2

Think of a paper/presentation you want to write for an upcoming conference. Give yourself six months to prepare it. Time the stages and be realistic. Think of a conference paper or presentation you have given already that you would like to turn into a published paper. Plan the timescale and be realistic. Start from now.

Picking an appropriate topic on which to write and publish •

• •

•

•

•

•

•

Which conference paper should be published and why? Select a conference presentation or paper that is exciting, current and doable. To decide, you need to take into account what the market is seeking, current debates, and how exciting it is. Decide where you might choose to publish your paper, and what outlets are available. Is it doable in the time available, or is there far too much extra research to be done before it would be credible? Is it interesting to others? Does it matter? Are you credible as its author? What research have you already done, and is there more research to do? Are you clear about the theories underpinning the work, or do you need to read and understand more to develop a theoretical depth to the work (it might have been in the conference presentation but if it was only a PowerPoint presentation rather than a paper it might not). Plan turning your research into a publication: from defining the question, reading, theorising, writing as you go, methodology and methods, and the research in action analysis and interpretation. Structure the time and the work to be done, and when. Reflect on the process: is there any re-planning necessary? How thoroughly does your conference presentation represent the quality of your work? What else needs to be done to it? If you have done all this for the presentation, do you need to do more, cut some of it back, represent it more clearly, choose different elements to emphasise, and if so, why? Re-plan the work and writing now, ranging from the ideas and the currency to the organisation of the order of the piece. Structure the main issues, themes and topics, and ask yourself if there is any refocusing needed. Identify the main references, the excerpts you will use as evidence, and the elements you need to add or cut. You also need to plan the time to do it! When will you write it?

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•

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Some of the considerations start the moment you actually offer the conference paper, so you might need to go back another step to develop a conference presentation that leads naturally into a paper. Get on with it! Once you have decided on at least one conference paper, ensure you have another waiting to be worked on subsequently.

Activity

Activity 1 Now consider: •

• •

•

• •

Which elements of your work could you usefully develop now to become a conference paper or presentation? And which could you usefully develop beyond the conference to publication? What would you need to do to your current or planned conference paper in order to carry out the writing? How can you make the best of sharing information, skills, peer support and networking – editing, refereeing during the construction and writing of the paper? What can you do to engage the audience and find out how to improve the paper for publication? If you are going to publish a version of it in the precedings or proceedings – how will you change it to become a paper? And how will you ensure the two are not identical but reference each other? Where might you send it when written up as a publication? What are your reasons for this choice? Do you have other choices in case this one does not work?

Activity 2 Take a conference paper or presentation and look back at the grid and list of thoughts and processes, and at the questions above. •

•

Draw up a list of what you need to do to it to turn it into a publication. Consider the suggestions about audience, engagement with the literature, theorising, tone, data, evidence and claims, cohesiveness, story and argument and contribution to knowledge, which are essentials in the developing of a journal article. You are in effect peer reviewing your own work and turning it into something else.

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Draw up a list of what needs doing. Annotate the piece you have already. Start to plan what to write, expand, cut or rephrase first. Give yourself a deadline for doing this and congratulate yourself when you meet it – it could involve much more work, and certainly better phrasing and finessing, but you are actually making fuller use of all the earlier hard work and this way people will be able to read it!

Managing your time realistically Time management is very important in this writing – as it always is (see Chapter 12).

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Conclusion

We have been looking at developing conference papers and presentations with a view to publication, and at how to turn the conference format into one suitable for publication. You will also find it useful to look at the chapter on journal articles (Chapter 3) and the more general thoughts about audience, tone and disciplinary writing in Chapter 11). You might find it useful to look at the chapter on developing presentations and publications in Wisker (2001, 2007) and its partner chapter in Wisker (2005, 2012), since these both go into more detail about the conference part of the work.

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Further reading

Centre for Learning and Teaching (CLT) website podcasts: http://oasis-forlearning.net/file/view/262/publishing-journal-articles; and http://oasisfor-learning.net/file/view/264/publishing-from-your-phd. Wisker, G. (2001) The Postgraduate Research Handbook: Succeed with Your MA, MPhil, EdD and PhD (2nd edn 2007) (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan), pp. 89, 213. Wisker, G. (2005) The Good Supervisor (2nd edn 2011) (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan).

16 Writing for online outlets and publications

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • • • •

The politics and processes of writing for online outlets Reaching large audiences quickly – accessibility and form Publishing e-books One example of publishing online Other forms of online publication: blogging Other ideas A reflective blog Conclusion

This chapter looks at the parts of our work we might want to publish online, and why and how we might go about it. Even writing about this makes me feel something of a charlatan. The whole issue of the politics and available processes for writing and publishing online have changed and developed so much since I started writing this book that anything I say here is bound to be out of date very quickly. Also I am not a specialist in e-learning and blended learning. However, this might creep up on you, as it has on me. I do seem to be called on to try and write for online publication through my discipline of English, and contributed to the e-Gothicist blog at the University of Edge Hill in Lancashire in 2013, and a women’s online book club entry for the Contemporary Women’s Writing Association, with the blog based on a Leeds Metropolitan University website and the CWWA website (www.the-cwwa.org) and now (last week) I have just written two blogs for the doctoral special interest group. The choices of online publishing and the varieties and ways of contributing to it have grown immensely since I have been writing this book, so you too will need to update what I suggest should you decide to engage with writing and publishing online. You might decide to write informatively for a website, your own or your univer281

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sity’s (or someone else’s), write a blog, write an article which is only published in an online journal or in conference proceedings, write for a journal which makes your work available first online, publish an e-book, or have your hard copy book turned into e-book, kindle or similar format so that your work is more available to more people in more places.

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The politics and processes of writing for online outlets

There is an interesting snobbery around writing for online publications, and an even bigger one about blogging. Really, it’s your choice – that’s the first message – and there are several different ways of writing and publishing online and of blogging, so you might find it useful to visit examples of each and decide where, if at all, you might wish to place your writing. The snobbery is related to what ‘counts’ in research assessment exercises, to peer reviewing and to accessibility without gatekeeping. However, rapid access, control over your own work, international accessibility and that your work can remain available, rather than disappearing very quickly, while we move on and around, are all very sound reasons to consider publishing online. The choice to publish in electronic form sometimes is actually not our own, as many books are now going into e-format in the recognition that this reaches a very wide and immediate readership. Without papers and journal articles being available online, my own research would be severely limited. The work we do, research and writing, is varied, and using and producing online research sources and resources is a useful, accessible, increasingly popular contemporary form. I spent years, on and off, in an archive looking at papers. It was delightfully authentic (I was able to touch them all) and cold (to preserve the papers), and I had to fly there. The work in that archive does not as yet seem to be available online, so I had no other choice if I wanted to use it for my research and subsequently my publishing. Being able to get hold of most of what I want to read online now is really helpful. Latterly, attached to the e-Gothicist development run by Dr Ben Brabon at Edge Hill (HEA small grant), another colleague, Linda Friday, undertook research online into the sites of coffins in Dracula by Bram Stoker, discovering one site just steps away from the Jack the Ripper Whitechapel murders area and so associated with a dangerous area of nineteenth-century London known for its high levels of immigrants, racism and violence. Her work uncovered details about the area, lending authenticity to issues of location or space in Gothic history. I recently updated an essay I wrote on Fijian women poets, using online archives of historical data. However, the work of the women poets themselves was not available. Someone else had decided what was worth putting online. The archiving of poetry online is subject to copyright issues, review, and selection and access issues. To access

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the up to date Fijian poetry, I would still have to visit an archive or a bookshop, probably in Fiji. Amazing amounts and kinds of what we choose to read is available online for our research, feeding into our writing. However, selectivity and accessibility are still issues to be dealt with. When we research online for journal articles, we get a sense of having immediate access to everything in the world. However, this, too, is a myth, as much of it is not available at all, being hidden behind a library firewall and the subscription that university libraries do or don’t pay for access to the journals. Because library access is in bundles of titles, universities are more likely to pay for access to the work produced by the major publishing houses such as Taylor & Francis, Sage and so on. Some journals seem harder to access through university libraries. Someone else is still selecting for us, and this time it seems it is not the whims of those who decide to archive only what they feel is important, but those who have monopolies over the publications, those big multinational publishing companies, so when we go online looking for the journal we want, if it is there at all (depending on the publisher) we find just tantalising abstracts and then have to buy the article or the journal to proceed.

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Reaching large audiences quickly – accessibility and form

This is an aspect of access you will have to consider in all publishing made available online. Writing for an online publication is an issue of availability, access and status. If a book you produce is available electronically, and so can be (paid for and) downloaded across the world without the need for shipment costs it can reach a larger readership, quickly. I published an essay on Buffy the Vampire Slayer many years ago online. It is still accessible with a click, and is searched for and read by people in distant countries on a regular basis – probably by accident. I’m very pleased that I agreed for it to go online rather than appear in a print version. I know it has been read by more people, it has not died; it is alive and kicking – like Buffy herself. But now, if you publish online, unless you are a media person whose work is related to such publishing, you will find that there are questions about citation, impact factors, peer reviewing and so on. All the issues that are important for print publications are just as important for scholarly online work. My Buffy piece was scholarly, it was read blind by two peers, and they asked for corrections before the journal took it. Not everything online has been rigorously reflected on, changed, edited, reviewed and re-written, and not everything has that scholarly robustness we depend on in print texts. If it is a journal article or a book that has been scholarly in that respect, I can’t see why it would not have the same status as a print version. If the online journal is in the citation index –

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and eventually it will be if it is not yet so – then the online publication should be worth as much in the academic world as a print version would be. More of your work can gain more exposure if you publish in journals which are made available online. I also co-edit two online journals/magazines – not really e-zines as they are not at all popularist, though one is about dark fantasy and horror and the other publishes poetry. The dark fantasy journal has an editorial board with at least three full professors on it, several editors of other journals, and successful creative writers too. Publishing online means that we can produce high-quality artwork to accompany the text. People read the journal – there is a hit counter so we can tell how many people have looked at the site. And they’ll read selectively (when did you last read a hard-copy poetry magazine or a scholarly journal end to end?). All editions are always available on the site, so you can browse back through someone’s work without having to crawl under the dining-room table to reach the box in the corner to find them. The issues discussed so far have been selectivity, power, accessibility, cost, quality in terms of peer review, and longevity. In discussing publishing in ebooks, as in journals that make their content freely available online, over time, the issue of remaining ‘in print’ is a powerful one. Historically, you would have had to go to the physical library building and searched the shelves and archives. It is appropriate now not just for popular media work (for example, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer), but for the most scholarly work in the great and famous journals, that they should be available either without charge, or through a library online subscription, over time. Most journals of large publishing houses offer the opportunity for all essays to be published in I-First before they appear in the hard-copy version of the journal. With I-First, your article appears online, accessible through the library or via individual subscription, often up to two years before it is published in the hard-copy version – depending on the lead time for the journal. In terms of the UK Research Excellence Framework, it can be cited at that I-First stage because it has been published. It is not strictly an online publication, it is merely online first before it is available in hard copy and it has been through the peer review and editing process. What cannot be determined from the online publication is the edition it will be in, so to reference it an author would have to indicate the date they downloaded it, unless the piece has already been visibly assigned to a future issue. However, this is changing and in some instances what goes online is an exact, paginated replica of the final article and journal.

Access Because of the issues of access to publications from large, nationally funded projects, varieties of ‘open access’ have been developed. The argument is that,

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since nationally ‘we’ have paid for the research, it should be readily available and can be so through the Gold open access system. I first became aware of this in 2012 when a discussion arose around the journal I have edited for 15 years, Innovations in Education and Teaching International, published by Taylor & Francis, which is part of the Routledge Group. The selling point of Gold open access is its accessibility – everyone can immediately read your essay. Since it will otherwise be hidden behind a library firewall and subscription, this is obviously good news. However, the problem is, who pays? – nothing much is really free. The answer is that either the author pays or, preferably, the funders of the project factor in this cost (I have been quoted US$2,500 for an article) – to get the work published. The research group, for example, are paid to do the work, and they then pay to publish it, so we can all read it. This sounds fair enough until you think about what is publishable under these constraints. Only large, funded projects in probably the medical sciences could possibly factor this amount into getting an article published reporting their results. Independent authors could not afford to pay this. Small institutions that can barely make ends meet and have only small funded projects could not factor this in, since much publication money for research is around £3,000 and does not even cover the time or space to work, let alone an essay being published. This is more, rather than less,, exclusive and could be accused of being just a way to make more money out of the labours of authors. Also, because many of the humanities or arts projects and some social science projects are unfunded, effectively, open access would not be available to these projects as it might not be to small institutions or individuals. There are other categories of open access. Many publishing houses now allow you to make up to 50 electronic copies available to those you kow would find the work useful, some make everything immediately available free to all, some after 18 months. Under Green open access you have the right to make your work freely available after a certain period of time, through attaching it to your website or sending it to a discussion list. The version you are allowed to share might not be quite the published version, but the one before final copyediting, which makes it more difficult to cite, since no one is certain what the final version would have in it, or what the page numbers are. I am sure some of these blips will be ironed out if there’s money changing hands, but it still calls into question the word ‘open’ and the rights of authors to their own work.

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Publishing e-books

If you are happy with the idea of an e-journal article and a blog as a new form of publishing single inputs or regular commentary, you might find it easy to make the transition to e-books. With the advent of the Kindle and Kobo e-readers and the Apple iPad, it is now possible to download a huge number of books on to our devices and read

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while on the go, avoiding the heavy weight of a hard copy or paperback book and with the possibility of packing hundreds of books on to the device. Not everyone wants or likes to read online, and the physical texture and feel of a book is something many of us would prefer not to give up. Not all of the books you might want are online and accessible via Amazon or the publishers’ websites, and there are many second-hand versions of the text you want, for example through Abebooks, or other sellers via Amazon. This is not related to publishing an e-book; it is merely accessing ordinary books via online ordering. Downloading an ordinary book to your device turns it into an e-book, but this is only possible if they were originally produced in, or have been converted to, an electronic format, and not all books are available in this way. Why would any publisher take a gamble on your first novel, or your rather specialised piece of academic publishing? Many now won’t take that gamble for a hardback book (costing as much as £99, for example – thus a library-only purchase), so many of our specialist texts which could be useful to other specialists, and many of our creative texts, go unpublished. This is where e-books can come in. Like me, you probably have your work in electronic format already (Word) but might not yet have been published in an e-book. There is a wealth of advice online concerning publishing your own work in e-book format. A colleague of mine, Mark Leslie Lefebvre, Director of Self Publishing and Author Relations at Kobo, e-publishes a newsletter exploring his own dark fantasy and horror writing and advice on publishing e-books as well as conventional publishing: I have embraced eBooks and reading digital, and yet continue to purchase and read print books, I have embraced self-publishing, but continue to support and value traditional publishing. I believe that there’s room for traditional publishing and self-publishing. (December 2012 newsletter, Mark Leslie) He talks about how to publish online and market yourself, and about publishing e-books and Kobo in a podcast available at: http://www.thecreativepenn. com/2012/ 11/25/ ebook-publishing-kobo-mark-lefebvre/. One of the interesting things about the self publishing of e-books and printon-demand books, is the generosity with which those involved share the secrets of e-book publishing in free podcasts, downloads and e-books about how to do it. Of course, by engaging with their websites and information we might be more likely to look at what they are writing and eventually pay for it because one of the clues to self-publishing is self-marketing, something that not all publishers in conventional publishing actually do that well. Joanna Penn talks about being feted ten years ago for her novel, seeing large numbers of it in the bookstore window, then, when she asked to have a photo sent of her

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book in the window, it had gone, and been replaced. A lively student focused series of short books on great writers, to which I contributed were very poorly marketed. One of them (on Sylvia Plath) is regularly reprinted, and was even translated into Spanish. I know someone takes copies form it yearly. Ihope it is useful, no one has seen the book for years! Now the copyright has been returned, I believe I might be able to reissue my own book as an e-book. With an e-book it is up to you to write it well, check it, get it supported and peer critiqued by colleagues/friends, have it professionally copy-edited and proofread so that it looks good, and have a professional cover design. What those who publish e-books do is to produce some of their works in paperback or hardback form first, to establish a name, then go on to publish in e-book form. Someone who has read or seen their work will pick up the others in eformat, or vice versa. After the e-book producers have published several titles, they can use any favourable comments about one of them to help sell the next; their name will be known; and their titles can be seen on a virtual bookshelf. It is up to online authors of e-books to market their own work offline by word of mouth, advertising postcards, and all available means. The books will also appear online for sale, appearing in the usual online marketing manner, in lists offered as suggestions to readers in relation to their previous choices of books, and accessible through the author’s name or the title. For self-publishers there are a number of ways of getting your e-book out in the world, and publishing direct with Amazon as a Kindle title or to put on an iPad or other device is one way of doing this. You can request to be paid in the currency of your choice and online. The books that sell the best on e-readers are fiction – romance/erotica, thrillers, mysteries and sci-fi. Kindle also specialises in making the classics available, usually free. But there’s also been an upsurge in short reads, or long-form articles – for example, a long journalism piece. Make a link from your own website if you have one. With this direct publishing you can make price changes quickly with no significant wait. Among others, Joanna Penn offers information and books on how to publish online and how to market and sell your books: [email protected], http://www.TheCreativePenn.com http://www.twitter.com/thecreativepenn, http://www.facebook.com/TheCreativePenn http://www.thecreativepenn.com/2013/01/15/how-to-publish-a-book-101/ Joanna Penn will also email you a download, a newsletter and a free Author 2.0 Blueprint, which is a book on e publishing.

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One example of publishing online

Lorna Fergusson talks on The Creative Penn website (see http://www.the creativepenn.com/2013/07/25/7-lessons-learned-from-self-publishing-abook-that-was-previously-traditionally-published/) (accessed July 2013) about

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her own experiences of publishing and marketing her work. She notes how very brief the moment of glory is with hard-copy publishing, as you move from the big buildup of marketing promises and form-filling, to being feted, then the book is suddenly gone. If you decide to retrieve your rights, which should revert to you if a book is no longer in print, but you will have to claim them to be able to e-publish. She argues that no book need die: with the ‘long tail’ of e-commerce, the ease of downloading books, the convenience of print on demand, her novel can enjoy a second life. This is the kind of flexibility of access and supply that none of us could even have dreamed of just a few years ago). However a high level of professionalism is needed to e-publish from the copy-editing to the professional cover, taking responsibility for your own work and maintaining it in the public eye. The text must be properly formatted for both the e-book and paperback versions. In publishing e-books in this way, rather than relying on mainstream publishers to dual publish paper and e versions, you are now actually an independent publisher, answerable to your readership for the quality of your work. As an aside, we now have the ability to open up a book and move it on. Currently online there is an option to open up great classics (Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights and so on) and introduce erotic material. I am sure the Brontës and Austen would have been surprised by this, but it does testify to the ways in which books can be ‘mashed up’ with your own book (no doubt problematic in terms of copyright). For your own work, you own the rights, you can update and change when things change. While this might not be important with fiction, it certainly is with academic work: ‘words are not set in stone any more’ (Fergusson, as above, accessed July 2013). Digital publication means that your text can be more like a palimpsest: even after publication you can un-publish, erase and adapt as you wish before republishing. Fergusson suggests joining the Alliance of Independent Authors, and using A. Luke Publishing E-Books for Dummies (2012); the Alliance of Independent Authors’ title by B. Galley, Choosing a Self-Publishing Service 2013; David Gaughran’s Let’s Get Digital (2011); and Let’s Get Visible (2013); and Joanna Penn’s How to Market a Book (2013a). There will always be more to learn about getting the work out in a good format, marketing it and improving it. The pressure is to market and sell: Sometimes you need to step back. The constant sense that you should be selling can weigh heavy, so it’s important to know when to back off from social media, when to be silent, when to let the well fill – because after all, you do have other books to write, don’t you! (Penn, 2013a) E-publishing can be managed by the mainstream publishers, or you can self-

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publish, usually fiction and self-help titles. Writing for academic publication might be limited in these formats.

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Other forms of online publication: blogging

Blogging takes several forms. Mainly I think of it as a contribution as a regular post compiling information sources and comments on contemporary or ongoing issues, and it can be well researched, as well as a way of managing a mass of information into an accessible format. Another form of blog is more like a diary or reflective piece about writing and life, and many authors now have these kinds of blogs where we read about their progress and reviews. Two of the writers whose work I follow, Nalo Hopkinson, a Canadian/ Trinidadian/Jamaican speculative fiction writer (http://nalohopkinson.com/), and Neil Gaiman, a fantasy writer (http://journal.neilgaiman.com/), blog regularly. For Neil it has become something he cannot escape and he talks of initial ‘dinosaur’ blogging (that is, basic – and now out of date) and the situation now, where 1.2 million people read his blog who would be ’pissed off’ (his words) if he stopped. In his blog we find his day-to-day activities, responses to development, and developing works. We can find out what he is reading, and about upcoming publications and projects, many of which are online, such as the ‘calendar of tales’ project, which invites artists and fans to illustrate tales that he podcasts, then the illustrations go online. This conveys the sense of immediate interaction and co-construction of the artistic work. In these days of immediacy of access, some of this actually resembles the ways in which Charles Dickens would respond to those who read instalments of his work in the newspaper Household Words in nineteenth-century Britain. Those interactive fans were vociferous if Dickens was about to kill off a favourite character in the serialised version of the novel. He wrote many of his works, if not all of them, in parts, and probably had not finished the next instalment when he went to press with the most recent, so the readership really could have had an effect on the actual writing. The immediacy can be intrusive, but it encourages communication, interaction in a place between academic and fan response. I don’t blog publicly – but I keep a daily log on my PC in which I can reflect, offload and talk myself through and out of things – more like a diary. I have been keeping a more formal log about writing this book to see whether that would help me to identify my directions, responses, plans, blocks and ways through. I shared this with one person, Liz Harrison, with whom I discussed the early development of the book. Some blogs seem to be unedited, uncensored explosions of thoughts, therapeutic for the writer maybe. Many others are well-researched and scholarly, carefully written to enable development, and added to systematically and regularly. The same attention is paid to the scholarly blog posts in terms of fact checking and re-writing, referencing and evidencing, as would be the case with

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an academic hard-copy publication that commented on an issue. An online blogger can take advantage of the multimedia opportunities of the internet and the ability to alter and update. They can collect ideas and information, post links to other things to read, include pictures and links to videos and podcasts, and can also ask for interactivity to enable readers to make comments and add their own links. Sometimes the flexibility of a website encourages a variety of comments, interactions and links, so that headlines and sidelines are included with the main text to guide readers to particular elements of the text and hypertext to mark up connections and links, and highlighted areas. You can read more deeply by following the linked text or stay with the version of text in the main body of the page in front of you. For a writer, this offers many opportunities to engage readers. There are some useful tips on blogging and writing online produced by bloggers themselves, who are aware of the short-lived but tightly-focused, openly accessible, absolutely accurate nature of what they write. The Times Higher Education has a comment on blogging; see ‘By the Blog: Academics Tread Carefully’ (Corbyn, 2008). Setting a blog up is not difficult. Choosing the URL (uniform resource locator – that is, web address), the template/colour scheme that would suit your writing and the top of the page title take longer than registering and trying it out with some sample text (in private mode). In WordPress I can write something, keep it in draft form and work on it before posting. Or never really get it out of draft. It is best to put links in your text, maybe references, once you have cut and pasted it out of Word and are tidying up the post in the blog itself.

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Other ideas Before you write a blog, read other people’s – what do the top ten literary blogs write about? What types of people are they written by? Many would veer away from posting non-peer-reviewed academic work It may be safer for students/academics to carry out reviews/analyses in blogs rather than put in their own material. Creative writing in your own blog: one strategy is to write a few pieces and link to where your other work is in online magazines. Registering with Twitter and linking to Twitter from your blog (WordPress can do this – you have to put in your Twitter name and password to get it to do this...) is a way of drawing people to your work as you create it. It just needs careful wording of each blog post title to draw attention to it (see Corbyn, 2008).

This advice about blogging can be most useful if we want to construct academic blogs that live in the virtual learning environment, or a Facebook page set

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up for a course. To keep students involved we could ask them to write individually or in groups, for interest, respond to classes and reading for assessment – or both. A blog I produced for the e-Gothicist project at Edge Hill University required short specialist text and image products of 1,000 words, which gave a critical approach, some selected text and images, some links to further criticism and to the author’s website, and some historical and cultural research, properly linked. It was about post-colonial gothic and Nalo Hopkinson’s story (2000) ‘Greedy Choke Puppy’, concerning a vampire-like creature, a soucouyant, who stole the blood of children to remain young. The myth on which it is based is linked, as are the pictures online, and the blog can take both links to other critical works and my own critical text comments as well as elements of the story. In the past I might have given this to my students as a handout. It is online instead, so they can always access it. The hyperlinks are the ways in which they might actively engage with more resources and research. Students and colleagues can be asked to produce joint blogs, which enable the co-construction of knowledge, and the research is evidenced in the use of the material and the hyperlinks. Blogs which deal with developing issues need to be kept up to date and maintained regularly or they go out of use and people stop visiting the site. There is a compulsion in there: the need to be heard, linked with the belief that there are readers following your work. This is true for Neil Gaiman, but might be less so for someone who is blogging on an obscure topic. Advice on blogging from a second academic who writes in the Northwest History blog, a specialist area, follows: Northwest History blog SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 2011 Advice for Academic Bloggers Posted by Larry Cebula My mission statement covers some of this ground. Here is my advice: 1.

2.

3.

Decide what your blog is about, and stick to it. This blog covers the history of the Pacific Northwest, digital history and resources, and sometimes teaching. Your topic does not have to be a straight jacket [sic] (perhaps 10% of my posts are outside of my usual topics), but keeping a tight focus helps you build an audience and reputation. Don’t make it about you. Blogging about your academic work is fine, but if you find yourself posting pictures of your cats, it is time to retire from academic blogging. Don’t make it about politics. It is so tempting to become political – what the hell is wrong with Eric Cantor [US Republican Party member] anyway?! And political posts will get you an audience

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4.

5.

6.

7.

8. 9. 10.

more quickly than anything else you could do. But the political quickly drives out the historical, and soon you are running a miniature version of the Daily Kos [online US political news source]. When you have an idea for a post, go ahead and start it. Save it as a draft and come back later. The ‘Blog This’ browser button helps you get a fast start to a new post. Not every post needs to be an essay in miniature. Sometimes sharing a video or a new online resource requires only a few words of introduction. Blog posts should be pithy. Share what you are working on. The other day I posted a brief letter from William F. Cody that I had just transcribed, along with a video clip I found online. Don’t expect comments. According to Google Analytics, I have a readership. 35,000 people visited Northwest History last year (either that or 1 person 35,000 times – same thing right?). Most of these people came here on purpose – my leading referrals are from Facebook and Twitter and other history blogs. But I don’t get 100 comments a year. Try to keep a semi-regular posting schedule. My Google calendar nudges me to post something twice a week. It is OK to stop. A blog is not a lifelong obligation. With a blog, as in life, when you run out of things to say you should stop talking. I don’t have any insights into promoting your blog beyond the usual advice – comment on related blogs, put the URL in your email signature, and sign up with a service that automatically publishes your new posts to Facebook and Twitter (I use Networked Blogs).

Have fun! When blogging begins to feel like a chore, your days are numbered (See No. 9). (Cebula, 2011) My inability to keep my own blog going (on this book) was a cautionary tale in itself. However, it started off well as really quite reflective writing, and so initially did stimulate me to overcome my sense of hubris at writing about writing, and enable a sense of sharing with Liz, who I felt was there for me. It was a blog shared with one, and now shared with you, but a more reflective than a critical blog, and certainly not an erudite information piece about an area of work on which I have expertise. The doctoral writing blog offers examples of the latter. (http://doctoralwriting.wordpress.com/).

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A reflective blog

My own reflective blog, as sent to Liz about the writing of this book.

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BOX 16.1 MY

OWN REFLECTIVE BLOG ABOUT THE WRITING OF THIS BOOK

I'm about to start writing a book about getting published - how on earth can I be quite so confident and assertive and articulate? For a start, I find the whole business of writing and getting published a nightmare, a jungle filled with stress and sources and dogged hard work and a non-stop wrangle with words. Tuesday When this works well it's very exhilarating, a sudden rush of ideas and the language to go with them means I get a first go at a set of thoughts down on paper (or rather the PC). This splurge works better when I've already structured the shape of the chapter so I can inhabit different sections with a rush. But it is also bit of a con too, since this is not scholarly writing, it's not academic writing, it's me speaking on to the page – it's perhaps the accessible voice that will need to be added to by the scholarly reasoning and the referencing, the proof and back up, and the conceptual enlightenment, which takes much longer. Sometimes that is OK, as I know the books for which I can use developed examples, ideas and references, and sometimes it takes ages, as I don't really know what I'm looking for and might not find it – to back up and underpin what I'm saying - to take it forward. So there are several forms of writing going on. Two are quite intuitive, reflective, personal - one anxious and doubtful and the other exhilarated and confident to a point. The other set of voices are those where I'm using my expertise and feeling confident I can find the scholarly back up, and where I feel I have no right to be doing this at all, since I'm no expert and I know there are people out there who won't like the way I'm doing it, the things I suggest or my turn of phrase. So there is an inner and an outer doubter and an inner and an outer strength. One of the voices is me teaching – maybe that's a fifth voice it makes suggestions and changes pace and tone, and it backs them up with a mix of examples and reading. I wonder whether expressing this is useful to others? Do we all have this range of voices and approaches - confidence and lack of it? Boxing Day I decided I'd run at each chapter and start with a flow so that I feel I'm on route with it and not stuck. I know the next stage is splicing in references, but text to develop, change, re-phrase – my own and others' – properly referenced! And simultaneously I seek the reading that can help make the splurge more scholarly. I definitely want to avoid the crises of confidence … and not to be glib or simplistic in examples, to refer to several disciplines convincingly. Re-writing constantly means changing the rest of the piece until I've read it through over and over – neaten up the edges, get the typos and dates sorted and get rid of it.

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If you decide to blog, follow the advice from the academics above. Find a topic on which you are an expert and maintain an insightful, well-researched commentary on elements of it. The very immediate and public presence of a blog causes us to feel compelled to write in a mix of the accessible and the erudite, and to make the erudite (the topic and our research) accessible to a variety of readers. The e-Gothicist blog I produced was erudite enough, but a single entry, not a regular one over time. The blog about my writing processes served the purpose of making me aware of how I write, procrastinate, worry about quality, and need to share it with someone else. I would need to know it was being read and used. But I don’t know that about my written published pieces, and consideration of the online pieces has made me more aware of how little we know of what use our writing for publication is. Online we get responses, and we can often even see a hit counter.

Activity Consider the following questions: • •

• • •

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Do you have any plans to publish online? Which of your current writing projects could also be published/only be published/best be published in an online informative blog which encourages interaction and responses, and lasts over time? What could be best published in an e-book or in an online journal, and why? What would you definitely never publish in e-form, and why not? Could you turn some of your hard-copy work into different online formats for the access and use of students and colleagues, and if so what, and how? Where will you do this?

Conclusion

E-publishing and publishing online in a variety of formats might seem difficult, and could be lacking in peer review. It could, however, also be the way to ensure that more people read your work and find it useful. Decide what is useful for readers, students (and what can be returned through research assessment exercises; for example, the UK Research Excellence Framework). Offshoots of academic work in an e-format could be useful for both. Consider setting up academic blogs, writing short, sharp and useful updated work online to make it accessible, and publishing for a small or large readership in both hard and e-copy with mainstream publishers. The choices are yours.

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Further reading

Cebula, L. (2011) ‘Advice for Academic Bloggers’, Northwest History Blog, 6 November. Available at: http://northwesthistory.blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/ advice-for-academic-bloggers.html. Corbyn, Z. (2008) ‘By the Blog: Academics Tread Carefully’, Times Higher Education, 8 October. Available at: http://www.timeshighereducation.co. uk/403827.article. Galley, B. (2013) Choosing a Self-Publishing Service 2013 (Alliance of Independent Authors). Available at: http://selfpublishingadvice.org/blog/ choosing-a-self-publishing-service-2013/. Gaughran, D. (2013) Let’s Get Visible. Available at: http://davidgaughran.word press.com/lets-get-digital/. Leslie, M. (2012) Podcast available at: http://www.thecreativepenn. com/2012/11/25/ebook-publishing-kobo-mark-lefebvre/?utm_source= Mark+Leslie+News&utm_campaign=c89ad91294-Oct_2012_Monthly_ Newsletter&utm_medium=email. Penn, J. (2013a) How to Market a Book. Available at: http://www.the creativepenn.com/howtomarketabook/. Penn, J. (2013b) How to Publish a Book. Available at: http://www.the creativepenn.com/2013/01/15/how-to-publish-a-book-101/.

17 Edited books and new editions

In this chapter we consider: • • • •

Writing for edited books The good editor Writing new editions Conclusion

Earlier (see Chapter 4), we looked at proposing and writing a monograph, your own book, for a mainstream publisher. There are other ways to get published in books, and you might also want to edit a book. This chapter concerns writing for edited books, editing a collection of essays or chapters yourself, selfpublishing and writing new editions of books.

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Writing for edited books

Writing for edited books resembles any other group or team activity. It depends on the commitment, skills, community spirit and variety of talent within the group. It also depends on tight planning and time-keeping, and a sense of overall coherence which will ensure that the work ultimately is even in terms of interests and the quality of the writing and length, and varied so that there are a number of pieces that readers can pick up and choose to read, or will want to read straight through. Because this is a team game, I hope you will find equally helpful the comments below concerning editing a book or being edited as a co-author of a contributed book. We look in this chapter at both contributing to edited books and editing them yourself.

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Activity • • • • • •

Consider the following questions: Why would you want to be published in an edited collection? How would you gain acceptance into an edited collection of papers? How can you fit in with an edited collection and still retain your individual voice? Would you want to edit a collection of essays? How would you go about these?

Being a contributor How do we hear about contributing to books? Sometimes they develop from conferences, from discussions over coffee, and sometimes through email discussions between people who have been working together for a long time. Some are serendipitous, while others are planned with long-term rigour. They all have to be well organised, clearly focused and be completed on time to an even, good quality. Remember, with a contributed book, not all readers will want to read every essay – but each essay has to be to a high standard and there needs to be an overlap of themes so that the book as a whole is coherent in the contribution it makes, rather than a hotchpotch of bits and bobs of essays. If you would like to contribute to an edited book, and/or if you are asked to contribute to an edited book, find out what the book aims to do, what it is for, how it fits into the market, what the rationale behind it is. Look at the proposal and questions above and keep them all in mind when talking to the editors. You also need to see the whole book outline and to discuss where your work will fit into the overall scheme of the book. Too much overlap between essays could bore readers, and worse still mean that at some point maybe one of the essays could be dropped – and it might be yours, which would be a real waste of time (but nothing is wasted, of course: you will be able to send it somewhere else after some further work). Get a sense of the clear scope, aims and intended audience, the list of essays being commissioned (that does not mean paying for; it means inviting contributions in the form of essays) and what the timeline and process of communicating between you is likely to be. If the editors have contacted you, ask if you can be put in touch with other contributors so that you can support each other psychologically over time, and perhaps keep each other motivated. If you are involved in the same book, it is a safe space for peer support and to review each other’s work in progress, which is developmental and helpful. When you meet other contributors at conferences, job interview panels, for validations and other academic activities, you

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immediately have something in common to talk about, and since the spread of contributors to a book is often from the most established to the newest in the field, this can be very useful. They will read your work and you theirs. You can then trust each other’s productivity and quality of work.

Being an editor Once you have had your work published a few times, in journals, in-house publications or books, you might feel it is time to suggest that you edit a collection. Decide on something topical, which fits a publisher’s series, and for which you feel you could find a good range of contributors, all of whom are likely to produce sound pieces of work, and meet deadlines. If you have an idea for a collection that is topical and should attract the interest of readers, you will need to approach a publisher with your idea and persuade them that the book is worth producing. This is the same process as writing a book in the form of a monograph but will rely also on the names and backgrounds of some of the people you hope to contribute to the book, and an outline of the chapters/essays you intend to commission and negotiate with them. It is a good idea to have some well-known names in the field in mind for your book, and to have contacted and gained their agreement, at least notionally, before approaching a publisher. It is also useful for development, if you can agree to work with and invite younger or newer scholars to take part. It can be a very helpful experience, being part of a good edited collection and this gives newcomers ways into book publishing, working with others, working to deadlines, and to set formats, and, should you use the process, working with peer critical review. Think about the characteristics of a good editor of a collection as you consider how you would work with an edited collection with you as editor, compared to one of which you are a contributor.

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The good editor

The good editor of a collection will approach you and/or receive your suggestions with politeness and interest, discuss the shape of the volume, the series into which it fits, if it does, the process, other contributors, the timescale and the ways in which you will all work together. The good editor will keep in touch without overly hassling you about your entry, aware that academic writers tend to have to teach, assess, attend meetings, research and do a myriad other work-related things as well as to write and so are often not available to fire ahead flat out with the chapter they have agreed to write. The good editor will always remember those contributors who agreed to produce chapters and then never stayed in touch and produced nothing, or those who occasionally got back in touch to be reminded about the schedule and even the title of their chapter, but still didn’t produce anything, or those

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who did all of that and kept everyone else waiting around like the last person on a coach trip does, away beyond nightfall and then finally when you had almost given up hope entirely – finally sent in their essay (which needed a lot of work) and was somewhat annoyed when the editor said: ‘(i) We can’t take it – it’s too late; {ii) it needs a lot of work; and (iii) ….’ Good collection editors are people and time managers as well as managers of the theorised and structured whole of the edited collection.

A good collection This will have a clear rationale and audience, and a set of themes based on underpinning theories so that a reader can follow several lines of related thought through the collection. The editor will keep in touch with all the contributors and the publisher so that re-negotiations, if needed, can be more straightforward. They will have timely points at which to contact and suggest that draft texts should be ready, and they will be willing to read some of that draft text to ensure that you are on the right lines in your writing. In short, they act rather like a good supervisor and colleague in this process. As a contributor, you must be ready to stick to deadlines and share drafts when requested, be grateful for the peer feedback you receive, and work on it. The editor is trying to gather a balanced collection; this is not the place for extremely unusual forms of writing unless that is what was sought and agreed at the outset.

Timelines and practice for an edited collection – editor’s work • • • •

•

• •

Develop an idea, possibly when talking to others and reading round in the field. Approach a publisher with the broad idea. At the same time, approach potential contributors. Start to make a formal plan of the range of topics and contributors, and to get them to agree to a timetable – approximately one year from contract is usually manageable. Produce the book proposal with a short paragraph from each contributor about their essay, and a short biog from each contributor to establish both their credentials and their credibility in the field. Make sure that the contributions are of a similar length, are well phrased and look as though they will fit with the book. Send the book proposal and contributor information to the publishers with an overall rationale and outline (see the example of a book proposal in Chapter 4).

At this stage, publishers sometimes say they need more American contributors (as they have American distributors and sales) or more international contributors, or

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some with different areas of interest. They also often point out repetition in the contributors’ essay focus, and some gaps they feel should be addressed. You might need to identify other contributors at this point, and ask for outlines and biogs and so on, and then re-write the proposal. You might also have to renegotiate with those who have sent in essay outlines if there are overlaps, shortcomings, gaps, and further need for clarity. Negotiate an agreed timetable for first drafts, for exchange of essays for peer review (if that’s part of your process), and for completion. One facility to enable a shared activity and purpose and the exchange of work in progress between the edited collection team is to put all the essays in Dropbox (a free online service that enables the sharing of documents, photographs and so on) so that you can see each others’ work and make comments. While this might slow progress unless you are strict regarding the time spent on it, it can also help to support development, as contributors can see how others write and respond to comments, and then themselves produce and respond to comments. At this point, you might need some rules of engagement. There is to be no backbiting or open criticism, unless it is supportive. If there are problems with quality, you as editor need to deal with these privately, in correspondence with the contributor. Following comments from reviewers and the publisher, the editor handles some of the advice about corrections and then nudges the re-writing and resubmission. You will need to read the whole thing through when it is finally collected together and probably write a scholarly introduction that reflects the purpose of the book, the underlying themes, the rich scope of the different essays, and the high quality and variety of the authors. You will probably also need a revised biog from each author to collect together at the end of the book. Once this is all done and you are happy with the collection, you send the final draft to the publishers. At this point it goes to external readers and returns for corrections and improvements arising from the comments from the readers. Everyone re-writes, you co-ordinate the work, and then produce a final, final draft and send it to the publishers indicating all the improvements that have been made. Some of the issues in this process relate to time and some to people management. Following all these stages of comments you need time to deal with changes along the way as individuals need to send their essays back and forth, and when finally completed they need to come back to you to collate. And you need time to return the changes that the publishers had requested. Once the book has been submitted, you need more time as the work is not yet done. You need time to return copy-edited changes – which usually come in very fast and have to be turned round almost overnight but could be quite substantial. You need to send the copy-editing queries to the authors of the essays and ask them to do their own checking, at the same time as you do.

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Then their essays come back with changes and their comments. You are at this point probably asking your contributors to correct a PDF and online, and you are then correcting that PDF yourself if necessary. Go through these changes very carefully to see if the authors have followed copy-editing suggestions, and fully dealt with comments and copy-editing queries at the final stage. Yours is a double-checking role – that is, when the authors feel they have finished, you go through it all carefully to ensure that they have. Now you send in the final, final, final version of the book with all the copyedited changes and await the actual typeset book. If it has been set very quickly and by someone who is not a very good typesetter, there could be a whole range of new errors to deal with. If the setting has been carried out meticulously, there will be few. Sometimes these are slips or changes for sense, which you agree to or which are amended if they don’t make sense. From ideas to final, final, final text could take as little as six months (very quick), or perhaps 18 months, or it could take several years. The process can be held up by contributors not responding, queries about the focus, about the quality, needing to lose some essays and re-commissioning others that need writing from scratch, problems at the publishers because of personnel leaving or new directions in what is being published, contributors not responding quickly enough at every stage of the process and so on. As editors we do not want to add to the problems, so establishing a clear timetable, reminding contributors at appropriate stages, being absolutely honest if you need to lose words or whole essays, and always being firmly supportive, like a good supervisor or manager, will get the edited book out and on time.

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Writing new editions

Second editions often revive sales. If your book sells well, whether an edited collection or a monograph, and the publishers believe it will continue to maintain sales if it is updated, they might ask you to write a second edition. This is flattering, and seems straightforward. After all, the book sold well, so what will you want to change? They would not ask for a second edition if they wanted you to leave the book exactly as it was in the first edition. A second edition attracts new sales, even from the people who bought the first edition. It might look easy. However, it also involves a lot of work. If you published a book in 2005, the chances are you wrote a lot of it in late 2003 or early 2004. It is now 2014 – that’s more than ten years since you began writing. There will have been a lot of good journal articles and other books during that time which you need to read and respond to. In your own work, your professional practice, thoughts, ideas and argu-

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ments will have moved on. Opening up the first edition, you will be struck by some of it being timeless but most of it needing to be updated, changed and improved, and some of it even needing to be cut entirely. You look at it and marvel that you wrote so much and expressed it so clearly, and worry that you will not be able to do that a second time. Plan the changes, revisit and re-construct your original planning grids, add outline of new sections or chapters and suggest to yourself what to cut. You open up each chapter and start to re-write them, perhaps even changing the shape, certainly updating the examples, the books and articles and events to which you refer, and possibly amending even your own views and arguments about the issues you are discussing. This new edition must be sufficiently different for a reader to believe it is worth paying the extra money for, but it must be sufficiently similar so that it enhances the first edition, adding new ideas, new knowledge, being newly useful, but not utterly different. Look at each chapter, make a note of what you feel you need to do to it, take note of what the publishers and readers have suggested needs to be added, cut, enhanced, explained or clarified. You have a chance now to correct any clumsy phrasing and to cut out the diagram you never understood the first time. You have a chance to put in some really useful new ideas that you have developed over the past ten years, and explain and update them clearly. Perhaps you might add a glossary, or maybe you should cut an outdated section. The second edition is a chance to enhance and update, to clarify and improve. It requires careful management or the book can end up being twice as long, and therefore over-priced. You must also make sure you are using the same voice throughout and have not suddenly changed tone or address (from we to you, from ‘it happens’ to ‘we make it happen’… and so on). Try not to repeat, try to retain the best of the old and add excellent new work so that it is now coherent, complete and well expressed. Then check it out with a trusted critical friend, and then revise and send it to the publisher, who will also check it against the original first edition and the comments from the reviewers who suggested changes for the second edition. When it returns, make the necessary changes. Second editions often revive sales.

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Conclusion

We have looked at continuing with the writing journey through both an edited collection and the development of a second edition. Once you have started publishing, you need to think about such developments in your own career, and in supporting the careers of others. Appearing in an edited collec-

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tion could be your very first publication and one day, when you edit one yourself, it is a good opportunity to support the work of other, newer writers. When you have been writing for many years, a second edition is a good way to revive a still crucial and interesting area of your work, and to get back into the public eye. I have found both editing collections and producing second editions hard work but very interesting and rewarding.

18 You are not alone – developing and working with writing groups, communities and critical friends

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • •

Setting up and taking part in writing groups Examples of writing groups Giving, receiving and working on productive feedback from your peers Working with critical friends now and over time Stage 1: Developing and writing Conclusion

Writing for any kind of publication means you are not alone. You are engaging with a readership, a community who want to read what you have to say. It is also perhaps less well known that many writers are supported by, share with and are moved on by writing with any one of a range of writerly communities. These writer communities might mutually support each other’s writing; for example, through a writing course or group, or work critically and supportively with the developing writing, even if only at the level of enthusiastic noises at the right moments. When we write we are reaching out to others to share what we have to say, and inviting them into a dialogue with our thoughts, questions, explorations and discoveries. No one is really a new writer, since we have been writing academically for a long time, even if we haven’t been published professionally, and we have already written with, used and interpreted the work of others in professional practice, in teaching, and in unpublished academic essays. If we are focused on writing and publication for work and professional purposes, it is possible to forget in the scramble to get the writing out there, chalked up, listed and ticked off, that there is a readership to be considered. This is also true of 304

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people who write creatively – getting it out there, published and in a list can be an overwhelming need. Let us not criticise this, though – after all, the aim of this book is to encourage and enable you to get published. However, you do need to think about the communities around you, providing supportive criticism and from whom you take inspiration, and who are probably the second readers of your work, since you are your own first reader. These communities, your readers, may also often be your co-writers and your critical friends. If we think about the small court groups in the Renaissance who circulated poems, mainly sonnets, among themselves, divulging secrets of the heart and exploring thoughts about political situations hidden in religious, personal or descriptive language; if we think about how a painting school, or an artroom works, where people bounce and riff off each other’s ideas and work, and recognise that, rather than stealing, they are working together on projects that acknowledge each other; and if we think about truly cooperative efforts – the drama production that asks everyone to pitch in to make it work, the collected essays for which everyone needs to write to the theme and get the work in on time, for example – we are beginning to approach the ideas and practices of communities of writing.

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Setting up and taking part in writing groups

A writing group can be formal or informal, local or at a distance, set up for a specific purpose to bring out a publication, or to maintain the writing momentum of a group over time. It might be serendipitous or even difficult to form a group, or a group might be deliberately set up as part of a way of supporting MA or PhD students, creative writing students, or co-authors in a book, to share writing and criticise each other’s work. Built on a communities of practice model in many ways (Lave and Wenger, 1991), a writing group is a social enterprise which starts by developing its own shared ways of expression, engagement, support and co-production, its own language and values. If we use the Lave and Wenger communities of practice model, we recognise ways of forming and maintaining groups, and that, in addition to this development of shared values and discourse, there is also the issue of different forms of participation. I think of it as a series of concentric circles where you might well be the core, leading a publication or organising the meetings, or you might be on the outskirts, wondering if you have a right to be taking part, what you might offer, wondering whether a writing group is something you can benefit from or believe in. Or you might be popping in and out of this ongoing group because you write intermittently and seek support only sporadically. As with online learning, some of us are lurkers, but at some point we might well move into the centre to lead activities. Groups have a need for a variety of skills, so if your skill is in organising and maintaining groups, think of offering that; if it is contacts, you could offer networking. If your skill is co-writing, think of offering

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that, or perhaps you are good at editing and critiquing. Don’t feel the pressure to offer all the time, do recognise the need for yourself and others to step out of organising and get some writing done, but you should find that whatever you put in you will get at least as much out. Rowena Murray (2005) aligns writing groups with other micro-cultures that support academics, such as research groups. She emphasises how important they are for ensuring you make the time to write, and outlines reasons for such groups to support: • • • • •

Making time for writing Getting feedback on writing Discussing writing practices Developing productive practices Sharing information about journals, editors and reviewers (Murray, 2005, p. 171)

We focus first on groups, which will probably meet on site at the workplace, or in someone’s home or some other suitable place. I also explore writing retreats – see below. If you decide to set up a writing group, decide whether you need to meet regularly, can conduct much of your interaction online, or would like to work in a mixture of these. You need to think about how big the group can be, when and how it will attract initial members and then refresh itself with new members. If you are going to meet regularly, find a mutually agreeable time and place to meet, somewhere you can actually write, share, discuss and not be overheard by others who are not in the group. Issues of equality are important here, so it is not advisable to meet in a pub if you are going to be a multicultural group, some of whom would not enter a pub. It is not a good idea to meet somewhere that is potentially difficult, even dangerous to get to, as this would be a problem for members without cars, and you need to be able to meet at a time that suits all of the members, so 4–6 pm is no good for those with school age children, and 6–8 pm is often difficult too, but at least is a time when a babysitter, partner or neighbour might look after children for the writer member. Agree on appropriately spaced-out times to meet, such as once a month on a Tuesday evening for two hours. This regular pattern gives a rhythm to the writing, sharing and critiquing of each other’s work and so helps to establish writing to deadlines. It also helps you to manage your time. Those who feel unproductive in their writing tend to claim that time is their biggest problem, so it might seem a little ironic to say that one thing a writing group does (which takes time to organise, attend, maintain, and use to write) is to ensure that you carve out the time for some writing. Try to find somewhere you can write, relax, think, come together to talk and share writing, and

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have long enough together to become immersed in it. If you don’t make time for writing, and for the group members who can support you and are interested in what you write, how you write, and in helping you to do your best, you will certainly find it more difficult to get that writing done. Murray discusses the difficulties of legitimising this time. Until you realise your writer identity, and others recognise you for it, and its demands, you might define what you are doing as meetings. You will probably find that those not in the group could be envious and you might feel you are being totally self-indulgent. All this fades into the background once you’re published, of course. This is no more self-indulgent than taking time with a student’s learning is self-indulgent. It is essential to get your work out and shared with others. It is part of your role. You are also supporting others (if you need to find an altruistic excuse). You could say that the writing group is taking away valuable writing time, but it is rather like a duck gliding across the water. You will be seen to be sharing writing tips and papers together, and underneath you are also writing, paddling furiously in different parts of the week and the weekend to get that writing done. Murray advises that groups meet regularly, and that some writing is done each time. It is also important to have some loose rules, so that everyone shares, supports and engages. Be wary of those who merely take from and do not give to the group process. However, we all write at a different pace, so even someone who seems to be lurking in some parts of the processes could well suddenly emerge as really helpful with co-editing and peer reviewing, and that could then spur them into more of their own writing. A group celebrates successes, maintains momentum and interest in each other’s work, and offers support to anyone whose work overload or writing block threatens their output and who (probably temporarily) feels a little like an imposter. Elbow (1973, p. 77) writes about members of a group producing advice concerning changes to make in each other’s writing. This is a sensitive area, and must be based in trust. Effective groups build regular interactions between members, reading and sharing with others, so that you hear and imagine what they have to say about your work – over time – and a supportive dialogue emerges. The mutuality of a writing group is very important. We might not be skilled at giving or listening to feedback and will need to develop those skills. No one should be interested only to grab feedback. They also need to offer it to others, and listen to what is being said and work on it. These skills are transferable to course and curriculum development groups, and to working groups more generally. When focused on your writing, you develop specific trust in others’ responses and learn from them. Hearing the responses of peers begins to direct your structuring and your arguments better. You are learning to engage with your readership in a dialogue: all essential parts of the writing experience.

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Examples of writing groups

Power, trust, community building, equality, sharing, honesty and respect are all important in the building and maintenance of writing groups aimed at academic publication. It is also useful to have deadlines, both external – the book, the PhD, the conference – and internal to the group – the next day’s, or next month’s, meeting. I have been involved with a number of academic writing groups that have formed the basis of my ongoing research into successful practices.

PhD group On a large international part-time PhD programme from which more than 250 graduated, the central team helped to sustain some of the writing of the different cohorts by setting up informal working communities and groups. These groups supported each other through every step of the PhD as well as acting as second readers and critical friends during the course of the writing (Wisker et al., 2007). This writing support grew from the broader community and group support. When successful group members graduated, some of them continued to support the writing of the rest of the group, or the community as a whole, based in their own reflections on successful writing practices.

Writing retreats Writing retreats, in which I have taken part in South Africa, have built writing groups on the retreat model. The one I shall discuss was organised by Brenda Liebowitz and took place near Stellenbosch. It enabled a kind of community and engagement, and the assurance of productivity. Following funded research projects, a group of academics developed papers for publication and went on a three-day guided retreat, which aimed at enabling them to move towards completion ready for publication in a book. On the retreats of which I have taken part as a facilitator, particularly this one, I have been impressed by the willingness to share and comment on each other’s developing work, as well as the equal willingness to take part in a less equal experience of guidance from a facilitator, in a group, and one-to-one. These are groups where there is a more traditional set of power relationships between facilitator, editor and the colleagues taking part in the book production. The benefit of this is that when the group do come together they brainstorm the intent, theories and shape of the whole, and where their work will fit in, and swap findings and theories. The level at which each of the group members engages is enhanced in this project, through hearing the theorising and work of others. They share work in progress, and the tutors read this work and arrange individual tutorials to consider questions authors might find useful in such a retreat:

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What is concerning you? What have you achieved that you are pleased with so far? What are you going to do next? What have you learned from sharing this with other members of the group?

During two- or three-day retreats there are developmental sharing experiences about, for example, the writing of good abstracts, and joint learning agreements specifically about the book itself. There are quiet moments of writing alone and moments of sitting and sharing, or taking it in turn to reflect on each other’s writing, and make positive, constructive suggestions. On some retreats I am just a facilitator, but in this case I was also a contributor, so I played two kinds of roles: community member and facilitator, read the work of everyone else and encouraged mutual commentary and support. Following this writing retreat the book was published, and we participants all feel we own it.

4 Guineas writing group Writing groups can be totally self-supporting and self-managed. One such group grew out of mature postgraduates supporting each other’s PhDs. The English writing group ‘4 Guineas’, based originally at Anglia Ruskin University in Cambridge, grew out of a supervisory group for PhD students, which had been loosely developed by the English Department. They all had literary studies in common, were all undertaking PhDs, and needed the psychological and critical support of others. The group was originally held fairly formally in the University rooms. Heads of department came and went, PhDs were completed and so were books, and PhDs, books and journal articles are still being written. In a Christmas card received recently, Val and Marion tell me they’ve published another article in a journal together. Some are co-writing, like Val and Marion; some are writing individually; everyone is supporting everyone else’s writing, through similar topics, lead-taking, sharing, critiquing, reading each other’s work, listening to it, commenting on it, making suggestions, reading it during the writing and commenting, and reading it after publication and commenting. They provide essential psychological support through the darker days of writing, publishing and life in general, and re-energise each other once a publication has taken every last ounce of thought and hard work out of a member. I once supervised a couple of members of the group, and contributed to the more formal sessions, but now I lurk, reading things, sending out the odd suggestion. Historically, this includes the empowering suggestion that they did not need to feel confined to or constrained by a university location once they’d got their PhDs and when another formal PhD group was being built. Instead, they could write, meet together and join others for as long as they wanted. It was theirs. I also give the odd bit of advice about where to send things, how to

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recover from specific negative feedback, re-honing a piece for another outlet, sizing and splitting work so that it does get published, goes beyond what they want to say, and ensures that it fits the demands of the publication outlet and the editor.

PaperHeaDs group This is a group of professional academics, all women, who work and study in Durban, South Africa. I first met them in the late 1990s, when they were at different stages in their own writing development, all undertaking PhDs. At least two are now professors. Over time, PaperHeaDs worked together during all stages of their work, each producing an individual PhD. One of them, Dr Liz Harrison, has this book dedicated to her. Liz, as well as being part of the group, also studied it, and that study – reflective, insightful and theorised – is a testimony to their work, and informed her own PhD and book. I was an onlooker, impressed by the members’ generosity at working together and supporting each other over time – a long time – until nearly everyone had achieved their PhD. Though they were an established group, they were not closed and allowed and nurtured new members, one of whom gained her PhD in 2013. They are all still in touch. Losing Liz (she died in 2013) was a shock and a loss to the whole group and to a much wider international community of writers and PhD scholars and academics, not least because by then she and they had spread the formula and the success story round the world as a model through her own book.

Some comments on PaperHeaDs and the community of writing Writing groups aimed at joint publication of a book often have formal leaders, who support the development and then perhaps edit the book. Writing groups that stay together over a long period often also have a leader who is more of an events manager, keeping the group going by advertising times and places of meetings. Unusually, PaperHeaDs lent itself to a deliberate equality in the context of the PhD writing and supervision processes, and yet benefited from having a chronicler and reflective researcher in Liz. In her writing about being part of PaperHeaDs as well as researching their experiences and her own, Liz discussed the process of being a kind of enabler, unofficial supporter and commentator, as part of her own development, which was also part of others’ development in the group. She notes that in conversations it felt like a moment of breakthrough when she realised she wasn’t speaking for or about people, but enabling them through her own process to speak about theirs. She theorised this in terms of identity. Our email exchange containing this discussion took place in August 2010, as I began to think about this book. An email from Liz including part of her abstract captures aims of her first draft of the PhD, which sheds light on how individuals acting as both enabler and member can work with others in a dynamic writing group, one aimed at academic writing, and academic identity development:

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This study will investigate the growth and development of the PaperHeaDs group identity and the development of the academic discourse of its members. Insights from the study may inform the development of structures to replicate the non-authoritative (non-supervisory) elements vital to the development of identity, in this case a post-graduate academic identity. The intention of the research is also to determine whether a lifespan stage theory of identity development, can be applied in the concentrated time-frame of doctoral studies. (Harrison, 2006) The intention was to explore the developing academic identities of those undertaking the PhD who were in the group and supporting each other. Not wanting to take the credit for the work of others, Liz needed to work out how she could share their words when interviewing and turning this into case studies, and how they could jointly own this process which, through its very undertaking, was enabling people to reflect, share, articulate and build together. The moment she realised that what she was telling was a story about PaperHeaDs and its development, through and for them, rather than owning the whole story and speaking for people, she felt she had made a breakthrough in her thinking. Trusting yourself, letting the process ‘snowball’, as they all wrote separately, and supporting each other, then realising her role and right to write all emerge in the next quotation: I can’t tell you how much PaperHeaDs is working for me, in profound ways. A remarkable conversation with C about her take on how I reacted – which perhaps we’ll share (C?) for example. Then yesterday, I had the chance to do a five-minute processing with S about what happened emotionally at the B during the ethics discussion. How I was desperately trying to duck and dive the responsibility and the necessity of putting myself centre stage in telling the PaperHeaDs story and how you all in different ways wouldn’t let me go there… And finally our conclusion that maybe what it’s all about is ‘doing it’. (Harrison, 2006) Liz acknowledges there was more than one story to be told. These profound moments, I think, perhaps more than others, will be generated in sharing the development of a writing group, or in co-writing, because they use a range of identity theories and feminist practices to enable articulation, development and co-commenting when the research is presented.

Bespoke groups Having an aim and a deadline can help bespoke groups to get on with the writing. As with the example of the retreat (above) constructed to produce a

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book out of linked funded projects, many writing groups are put together for a specific end, rather than as a longer-term ongoing community. Most groups writing together will be doing so in the context of short- or long-term projects. Groups run in South Africa, Australia, New Zealand and Ireland, with which I have had some contact (have run or contributed to), have operated as one-offs to bring together a disparate group of people who want to write and develop a peer support and sharing system during the two or three days they are together. These tend to have timetables that include development, individual work and critical friend work. Some are creative writing weekends. In the morning, there would usually be facilitator-led writing activities scheduled, then the afternoon would be for individual tutor support and the actual writing. The usually remote and lovely location is filled with people writing or reading. Writers leave elements of their work on tables with comment sheets for others to read and make peer responses, so they have more readers than they might have with the piece of creative writing or the journal article, and these readers comment in order to (a) reflect on what they have read; and (b) suggest improvements; it is a mutually supportive, positively critical group.

Activity Writing groups need a mix of talents and skills. You might like to think about what you have to offer and what you will need from others – have a look at the list below and identify your skill or need: • • • • • • • • • • •

Planning. Networking and social skills. Knowing who to contact and where to go for different materials, ideas, skills. Administration of a group to ensure everyone is in touch, meets and has an agenda. Ideas generation. Good grasp of the role of theory and can theorise your own and others’ work. Being able to write succinctly. Being able to write to a deadline. Being able to respond clearly in critiquing the work of others. Seeing the whole picture of a piece of writing and advising on expressing the main aims, argument and findings. Fine-tuning the expression.

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Fine-tuning the punctuation, sentence construction and grammar. Supporting others in writing crises. Respect for different skills and needs. Patience. Good humour. Other skills/needs?

If you work out what you have to offer, what you need and what you want to develop you will begin to realise the benefits of working in a group with others who are also writing, and both what you can give and what you can get from that working community.

Tips Regular writing groups are explored by Rowena Murray in her book Writing for Academic Journals (2005), where she suggests establishing regular meeting times for writing groups, and finding colleagues with whom you can write. These ideas are developed further by Graham Badley from Anglia Ruskin University, who used to run a writing group, providing a location, advice and support.

Some ideas, rules and regulations based on ideas from Graham Badley • •

• •

•

You have a right to write and you can write together and support each other whenever, if ever and wherever you want to. Someone needs to take the role of organiser, at least for a while until it can be rotated. This is so that the group does meet regularly enough and have some protocols and regulations about sharing, promoting and critiquing. Anyone who is only in it for theft won’t last long. Everyone needs to offer some support and critique as well as take from the group. Meeting regularly means developing a rhythm of expectation, support sharing, moving on beyond specific writing tasks to the next task, and the maintenance of momentum. Work towards a specific shared task; support and enable; nurture, critique and help; celebrate and move on from each other’s successes; and offer supportive comments in difficult times. Help edit. Bring in stimulus to maintain momentum. Reposition and celebrate the different roles over different times. (Badley, 2007 unpublished)

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Giving, receiving and working on feedback with your peers

Feedback is a constructive exchange in a writing group. We offer it to each other and learn from providing it as well as receiving and responding to it. You can offer and maintain structured support. This is partly about generating and hearing ideas, reading, writing prompt tasks, critiquing without either demolishing or vacuously celebrating. Structured, well-expressed and focused feedback on and support for each other’s work is like producing a good review. You learn from producing it, giving it, receiving it and working from what you can to improve. The giver feels useful and recognised, and working out what to say to support development enables the giver to think about another person’s practices, and about the shape of their own writing. They can transfer this to their own work. It’s not unlike the work the referee or reviewer does for a journal, or the reader for a publisher dealing with others’ books. You are learning the craft by getting involved in these stages. When you have dried up yourself for while, learning and maintaining this craft can nudge you off on your next piece of writing, knowing there is a critical friend and/or a community there for you. Respond to, nurture and then hone and celebrate; it can keep you going.

Co-writing with others In the sciences, co-writing is very common and is increasingly so in the social sciences. Such common co-writing is often based in large funded projects where the PhD student, researcher or other colleague is tasked with leading on the writing, and others add their own elements, with one person ensuring the whole is clearly focused and appropriately written for the publication outlet. Co-writing isn’t theft, it is sharing – enhancing, supporting and developmental. But you do need to be careful with whom you co-write. If you have lived in a family or shared a flat/house with friends, you will know who those are who never do the washing up, and who use your milk from the fridge. Such people might not make the best co-writers. Co-writers share both ideas development and the work. Often, there are political stances taken, and arguments about ownership and who goes first in the list of authors and so on.

Advice Advice is straightforward, while the writing is less so. •

•

Work together to determine and stick to planned writing activities. Develop a plan of the research and writing tasks to be shared. Develop a timeline and stick to it, mutually agreeing any changes. Share the construction, writing, reading and rewriting, the editing, and dealing with revisions – every stage of writing for publication, in fact.

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Support each other through a slowing down in momentum and doubts, both emotionally and with critical, constructive, vital feedback and suggestions. Respect each other’s writing habits. Find polite and constructive ways to deal with elements of each other’s writing that don’t seem to fit, go off at a tangent, need clarifying, structuring, engaging with the literature, the data, the argument and so on. At every stage of the writing process and at every point in the writing product, co-writers have the right to comment, help to re-shape, and to re-write. Don’t go silent on each other, and don’t give one another too much of the work to do. Do take responsibility for both parts of the work and the whole piece, so that the final writing and editing and the re-writing post-review comments are shared.

Writing with Margaret and Maggi I co-write with four other women, and will discuss my writing with two of them here. The first time Margaret and I co-wrote was easy. We structured a piece during writing time ‘stolen’ from a conference, then sent each other parts of the work, gradually built it up and edited it together, and it was published. When in the same location (near a beach in Australia), we enjoyed passing our laptops between each other and refining each other’s work. We also enjoyed sending each other bits of writing over a weekend where one would structure and leave highlighted gaps with instructions and questions for the other, then the other, across the world, would wake up, find half the task done and get on with the rest of it, then send it back. While we write, we also check with each other whether we really are using the terms in the same way, that the ideas and the shape are agreed, or have they deviated too much? We have done this a few times now. Our most recent published piece of work, however, was a Sisyphean task that needed two total rewrites. We were not able to lay aside two days somewhere to co-write it, though we developed it together in a shared space, sent it backwards and forwards and met for several hours to co-rewrite following the first round of reviewer comments. Working on the review responses, we took it in turns to take responsibility for the first re-write each time, and then send it back to the other person for an edit and honing. In a sense, the reviewer is like a third writer – so many suggestions were made to which we needed to respond. It became a very demanding experience – and though I don’t think it has put us off, it will be a while before we start the next essay. Perhaps it is more difficult to deal with re-writing when you can’t actually sit together to discuss it but are relying on email for sharing and understanding. When writing with someone else, ideally:

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Work with someone you get on with and trust to co-write. Decide on something you both want to write. Set aside time to brainstorm. Commit to discussion about elements of the work, over email. Set aside time to write separately and together.

If you have to write at a distance, try the weekend programme as detailed below. A and B are the two writers working together. • • • • •

• • • •

• • •

• •

• • • •

•

A Lays out tentative structure. B Agrees and changes some elements to make it more logical and bring out main points. A Starts the outline of the argument. B Alters some of the words and clarifies, draws up a grid of the prospective sections and adds the bits for which they want to take responsibility. A Agrees this and adds a few thoughts on the bits of the grid they’re responsible for, suggests they can add something in one of two grid spaces and comments that they know next to nothing of the spaces they seem to have been given. B Starts writing in grid space – e.g. the methodology section. A Starts e.g. the literature review and deals with two of the four themes. B Picks up the other two themes and starts on their part of the lit review. A Explains the bits they did of the methodology and reads up a bit on e.g. action research or grounded theory, whichever is bothering both parties or that one of them doesn’t know enough about. B Ploughs through some of the data and starts to talk about themes emerging. A Checks other themes, refines one and adds a couple more. Both go back to the data and see if these really are the themes, what data has produced them, and what data they can extract to vehicle the themes when they start writing about them and the data. A Starts to write through the themes, posts them in a grid, indicates some quotations to fit each theme, starts to label them. B Posts other material in the grids and under the themes, sorts out some details and typos, asks A if she/he knows whether material for theme 4 can be found. Both search. B Finds material for theme 4 and adds it. A Offers a quote that illustrates it too. Both re-read the theory again to see how it can enlighten and clarify, and deepen the themes that emerged based on the questioning, which derives initially from the theory. A Focuses on the theory of X and ensures that it is taken appropriately through the literature review and into the themes.

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B Focuses on the theory of Y in relation to X and carries out the same job – if more than two theories, this happens more than once. Both read the data discussion, theorised section and offer clarification and elaboration. B Starts the conclusions – factual conclusions. A Reads this and adds some of the conceptual conclusions, having read through the whole thing a couple of times. Both read it carefully and make changes – A: first in red, then passes to B, who makes changes to the text in blue. Both read and pass the text between them a couple more times until it is cut back, finessed, within the word limit, and makes a strong case. By now the text has no typos, looks good, missing references are added or dates clarified. Ready to go. A Uploads it one morning to ScholarOne. Both wait. After some revisions (shared), the one who uploaded it will hear first that it is successful and both whoop over the email – they may even phone or Skype each other – and each passes on the information to different colleagues, who will look out for publication. There is a network to which A and B belong (International Doctoral Education Network), and they are told, more people offer congratulations and ask to read it when it is published. When it is published, A and B send potential readers the link. The larger community celebrates with them – they feel good about this and know it would have taken at least twice as long without those shared moments of cognitive development, the overcoming of frustration, the testing out of ideas, the finessing and phrasing, the bright ideas, and the slog, and the benefit of an on-the-spot peer review that comes from working with a colleague.

As I noted above, I write with four different people. I have co-written with others, but these four are long-term collaborators. Which name goes first as author usually depends on for whom the piece is the most useful – for a research exercise, for a CV, for promotion and so on. But no one takes all the credit.

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Working with critical friends now and over time

Box 18.1 shows an example of how work might be divided up at the beginning and then after an early draft has been produced. We have co-written articles, but have not yet completed a book together.

• •

Work on changes from comments and start next chapter

Work on changes from comments and start next chapter

This carries on for a few chapters

This carries on for a few chapters

Cross over and Check changes, Keep swapping read and swap next chapter and working on comment on each and respond comments other's work

Read, research, draft

Read, research, draft

STAGES OF WRITING WITH COLLEAGUES

Meet to judge the overlaps, gaps and any new work in the area we need to keep in touch with

Keep in touch by email over developments, problems, blocks, things we have read, and to exchange developing chapters. We have a draft!

Brainstorm ideas and divide up the areas we each feel we (i) have specialisms in, so can do fast; (ii) agree to research and develop

Get going on first chapter, ch. 4

Maggi

Both

Get going on first chapter, ch. 2

Gina

BOX 18.1 EARLY

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Go through 1st half of the book checking for duplication, gaps, errors, clarifying style

Go through 2nd half of the book checking for duplication, gaps, errors, clarifying style

Swap comments and discuss implications for next stage

Gina

Maggi

Both

Swap, read and comment

Make any needed Re-scrutinise and agreed research findings changes to add richer comments – add

Make any needed Do additional and agreed reading to update changes it – add

Check for typos

Check for references' accuracy

Send to publisher with cover notes

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Conclusion

We have looked at the supportive processes of working with ongoing writing groups, and with co-writers. In each case, it is important to be honest, share the tasks and plan and support each other. Some of the issues that might emerge include ownership of the writing, and, if you are co-writing, the distribution of tasks and final attributions. When working in writing communities, it is important to spend time on peer reviewing each other’s work and supporting its development. You will learn from each other. The presence of someone else who is interested in your work, understanding the blocks and developments, and cares about its development is extraordinarily developmental, rich and productive. It mimics and understudies the development of a readership of your own as your writing gains an audience.

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Further reading

Badley, G. (2007) Teachers as Academic Writers: The Use of Writing Groups, Anglia Ruskin University (unpublished). Elbow, P. (1973) Writing Without Teachers (Oxford University Press), p. 77. Harrison, L. (2006) ‘The Meaning of PaperHeaDs’, Extracts from email exchange July 2011, referring to journal entries on 9 February 2006. Lave, J. and Wenger, E. (1991) Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation (Cambridge University Press). Murray, R. (2005) Writing for Academic Journals (Maidenhead: Open University Press), p. 171. Wisker, G., Robinson, G. and Shacham, M. (2007) ‘Postgraduate Research Success: Communities of Practice Involving Cohorts, Guardian Supervisors and Online Communities’, Innovations in Education and Teaching, 44(3), 301–20.

19 Conclusion: the politics and impact of writing for academic publication

In this chapter we consider: • • • • • •

Why bother with politics and impact? Choosing between and balancing quantity and/or quality, prestige and/or usefulness Working with citations and impact analyses Finding out about impact The academic service of writing: writing referee and reviewer comments and reports Conclusion

Throughout this book we have looked at the processes of writing, supporting them, finishing a piece of work and getting it published. This chapter concludes the book by looking at the politics of publishing. Writing and publishing are actually an academic service. If we don’t review, referee, read, comment and use each other’s work, then none of it gets out into the world, gets read or gets used. All of these practices support the development and exchange of ideas, interpretation and knowledge. As well as concluding the book, this chapter is a cross between celebrating community of exchange, development and support, and a hard-nosed look at the politics of writing, what and when you choose to write or must write, and how to ensure your work reaches other people and can be seen to do so, through impact, esteem and action. If your work does not appear in any impact case study for research it won’t be visible in terms of such an exercise. However, it still might be very useful and read by people who are stimulated by it, act on it and share it with their students.

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Why bother with politics and impact?

Carrying out research, practising our expertise, professional work and teaching are all important and remain so whether we publish and continue to do so or not. However, when we write for academic purposes and academic publication, we are choosing to share our work, to communicate it with others, rather than to keep it to ourselves, shut in our desk drawer. The corollary of the act of sharing is that we want to know our work has been read and appreciated by others, and that it has affected and influenced their own practice and writing. If we research, we should also publish so that others can benefit from our discoveries and interpretations of those discoveries. If we have developed successful, effective, professional and other practices, we also have a duty to publish to share them with others. I always feel that recognising the duty and the importance of what others could do with our work helps to provide those with whom I have worked on academic writing courses with a reason and some of the confidence to get going and write for publication. You have both a right and a duty to get your work out there.

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Choosing between and balancing quantity and/or quality, prestige and/or usefulness

Not everything you find out needs to be published formally in public spaces for it to be useful in influencing and supporting the work of others. Much of what we do can be communicated by teaching and training, through discussions on professional online lists, through networking at conferences and conversations with colleagues and students. Much of what we develop can be most effectively turned into practical materials rather than offered up for academic publication with all the rigour of expression, peer review, competition and censorship that can entail. And much of what we develop for these useful purposes would have to be rewritten substantially to gain academic publication and an audience, though it is no less valuable for that. We might choose to use the practically useful student handbooks and course books, internal documents, teaching and lecture notes to turn into the bases for publications to share their usefulness further, or we might not. If we choose to do so, it is most helpful to have already practised, tried and tested the materials because we can speak from experience, with confidence. We shall, however, have to package and present our work quite differently for a readership, especially an academic readership of our peers, so we need to be prepared to recognise the work we have done, that the confidence is there, we have a voice and a right to share this. Academic presentation is essential. Academic careers can be made and maintained or upset by the visible ability to establish and maintain a publications record. Some of the questions we might want to ask about citations, impact and the effect of our work include:

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How do you know you have made an impact? What can you do to improve your effect on your readership, the uptake of your ideas, and the recognition for your writing?

The systems for finding out about effect and impact are diverse and range from the formal to the idiosyncratic. At one end of the public sharing of response is the serendipitous response to your work by colleagues, at conferences, through email, and from complete strangers who suddenly contact you to ask you to explain something, or offer an unsolicited review of your book on Amazon. I carried out a small test: I recalled the first time anyone said they ever found anything I wrote useful (it was during a coffee break at a national meeting). This was a Staff and Educational Development Association (SEDA) book, an A4 sized, professional-practice-based and oriented scholarly work someone doing a job like mine had used many times with their colleagues – I was astonished and pleased. At the other end of the spectrum is a little book I had enjoyed writing, which was also designed to be useful, and then it received an Amazon review from a US college undergraduate who ridiculed and insulted me, saying I apparently didn’t know the difference between sarcasm and irony, and needed to check my typos. That’s public, out there on the website. I am sure ‘M’, the student, has moved on to have a go at other books. In fact, I can see she was/is a frequent commentator, always either dismissive or gushing. She’s entitled to her opinion and it was completely unfiltered, but the damage has been done. There is a coda to this story. I recently received a small cheque for sales of the book – there are still some sales – and they have increased. I looked the book up. The unpleasant review has gone and there is a favourable one in its place. Interesting. These are both serendipitous responses, one personal, one professional, but what of citations in other scholarly, discipline-based journals? The evidence we have from citations and from direct comments are that our colleagues are using our work to help them to build their own ideas and arguments, and to inform their own practice. One of the respondents in a small piece of research I conducted with reviewers and editors in 2013 sees the whole process of getting our work published as an essential rite of passage: To an outsider the ‘ritual’ that characterises academic publishing must appear rather strange and for the newcomer it probably presents a ‘threshold’ that needs to be successfully negotiated if one is going to participate fully in the community of practice. It is a threshold for acceptance. (Participant A, Wisker 2013a)

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Working with citations and impact analyses

Knowledge is created, constructed and shared in a dialogue. Writing contributes to that dialogue by enabling a wider audience to gain access to research, professional and other practice, and reflections and interpretations, so others can benefit from your work and experience, engage with, learn from, comment on, build on, and move on from it. It is a local, national and international networking and exchange process where, without the written contributions, there would only be individuals and small groups discussing and sharing locally (or silence). The advent of the internet has made the international dimension of sharing, building, exchanging, developing, contradicting and discussing more immediate and real. It might take minutes for your work to be responded to on a blog, months in a journal, and in historical terms, it could have taken years, decades even, when we were only working with print media, and books available through a library. Some international movements, such as formalism and structuralism at the start of the twentieth century in the Frankfurt School, (1920s) began in one country or continent and had an effect in another years later (picked up, reinterpreted and used in the 1980s in the USA and UK). As writers now, we need to use the networks we have locally, nationally and internationally, build on these by commenting on others’ work, by marketing our own, and by staying in touch through the internet, using websites, as well as major publications. Publications are now supported by immediate marketing, and, for some, roadshows and launches.

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Finding out about impact

Impact is a measure of a journal in terms of how many times overall an edition of that journal (perhaps one year’s worth, though usually two years’ worth, of articles) has been cited by others. These are the closed, formal, managed systems of EBSCO (Elton B. Stephens Co.), web of knowledge (formerly ISI web of knowledge), managed by Thomson Reuters and Scopus, where you will discover precise details of exactly when and where your work has been cited, and how often. It also indicates what the rankings of those journals are in terms of their impact value, in comparison with others in the discipline. The impact factor relates to the journal for that year, not your particular article. The impact factor of a journal is decided by measuring the average number of citations for the articles in the journal (all issues) that year for a journal in any disciplinary group. It is an important measure of the access to your article and actually also the ways in which any research exercise will rate the journal in which you have published. At the time of writing, bibliometrics, such as the impact factor of a journal, are recognised as not the only (or the major) measure of the importance of the research or even

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the readership, and the effect achieved by an article or book. In the UK the decision has been made not to use impact factors in such a measurement directly for the REF (Research Excellence Framework) 2014, which was preceded by the RAE (Research Assessment Exercise) and will be followed by the REF 2020. None the less, even with the broader reading of what the impact of research means, because it relates to the standing of a journal, to its reputation, publications are to some extent being measured in this way; that is, in some relation to their location in a particular international or local journal where internationally rated research is what gains a REF entry, often a 2* and above in a scale from unclassified to 4*. There are now similar exercises in other countries to measure the value, uptake and usefulness of research. There are also different lists around the world that reflect the impact and value of a journal. The South African version of the impact factor is a different list from that in the UK. Writing in a journal that appears in, for example, South African as well as the UK international lists as advertised on the web of science and knowledge (webofknowledge.com) means that your work will be considered important more widely, across the globe, and for the journal it means that South African authors will seek to write for it as well as UK and other authors. Authors deliberately target journals with a high impact factor so that their work is widely read and funding bodies can rate their work in relation to the journal. Of course, much of this is spurious at best, since some editions are tarnished by a few articles that no one cites and your work might be tainted by that or by a drop in the overall journal impact factor for that year as a result of poorly cited or not cited articles (while your own work is, of course, of the same high standard whether other articles are cited or not). Citation is entirely related to your article, however. Writing a literature survey or synthesis will attract a large number of citations, as will making a direct challenge to an established viewpoint, as people will need to cite you before they agree or disagree. Writing for a journal that has suddenly increased to six or eight issues a year, from four or three, will mean that more articles can be cited, so the impact factor will be enhanced, therefore your article in this journal will be seen to be in a journal with a higher impact factor than one that has only a couple of issues a year. You can decide for yourself about the politics of placing your work in the context of these telling considerations, none of which are actually related to the quality of either your research or your own article. This is a political decision.

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Activity It is useful to see how citations and impact factors can be seen in relation to the work of authors and researchers who influence your own work. This small piece of research will help you see influence and therefore to see more clearly the journey of a piece of published research (in so far as that journey relates to more publications and citations). It can also give you some idea of the journey of your own published research, since others will look you up, follow your publications, and look back at what you have cited and who has cited you, to get a sense of activity in the field. •

•

•

•

•

Look on the web of science at and the web of knowledge at webofknowledge.com (you need an email address and password and to sign in first from your institution). Search for a known author (surname first) and then narrow your search to his/her work with what you know of the field in which he or she publishes (in case there are several people with similar names). You can see the author’s name beside each of his/her articles in different journals and can look over to the right-hand side of the webpage, identify the particular journal in which an article appears, and open up the section on its impact factor in a different page. The web will give you the impact factor for the edition of the journal in that year, and you can trawl back and see what the journal’s impact factor was in other years. If you look up those well-known authors in your field on the web of science or of knowledge, you can see the citation number next to their article. This represents how many people have cited this work in their work. There is a citation map, which broadly shows who they have cited and who has cited them. You can explore the field using this map.

Now answer these questions: 1. What have you learned about where and how authors’ works are cited? What have you learned about self-citation and how it is expressed? 2. What have you learned about the changing impact factors of a journal over time? 3. Can you track back through who has been cited and who cites a work to find other useful articles and further work, in their citations? 4. Is this any help to you in your own work? And if so how and what?

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Using this activity in relation to your own work Once you have published an article you can carry out this activity in relation to your own work. Look yourself up on the web of knowledge (webof knowledge.com), surname then initial. Narrow down to what you know you have published rather than everything by anyone with your surname and initial. On the right-hand side of the page, again, you can follow who cited you, what they have written and who else they have cited. This gives you a sense of who is writing in the field, who uses whose work, which journals are accessed by many people on a normal, natural basis for updates in the field, and so probably where to target for your next article if you want to spread your work around between journals as well as gaining recognition, being read and then eventually being cited. This also indicates how often anything you have written has been cited by you.

Dodgy deeds? Self-citation to build up citation numbers is not a good thing, because it suggests it is having an influence, when it is only you citing your own work. However, some self-citation is essential if you are building up a body of your own work and referring to previous work in doing so. Some unscrupulous journals raise their impact factor (average number of citations per article per edition for the year) by encouraging widespread citation of other articles in the journal. On the one hand, this is fine, as to write for a journal you are likely to be partly in the dialogue in its pages and so citing it, but if you are told you need to cite the journal more or to cite the editor’s work, just be suspicious of impact factor rigging. A journal that publishes a big literature review establishing developments in a field will have a large number of citations as it is the easiest way to get to the literature, so others will use it. This really is not a true indication of the reach and worth of the journal, but instead of the usefulness of that one literature review.

How to read your citations The first time you look up your own article, which came out last year, and you see that no one has cited you, do not despair. For the article to come out, be read, be cited and then the article in which it is cited to be published is a long journey in terms of time. Many people might have benefited from that conference presentation and many more have read what you wrote, but for them to actually cite you and for their work to be published, you are looking at 18 months as a minimum. The impacts of our work are not measurable merely in terms of citations and impact factors – these are going to give you a relatively small sense of how many people have used your work and found it helpful in furthering their ideas. In the web of science and the web of knowledge, for example, there are few

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books, and many journals are absent, including e-journals. If these have used your work, it might have reached thousands of readers who have thought and acted differently because of what you have written, and yet none of this is recorded here. Those involved with the REF, do take note. It is in fact very hard to truly trace if your work is being used, and where, and you might well have to both market your writing yourself so it reaches people who could use it, and look through the work of others to see if they are using your work. Always being open to sharing your work (duly referenced and with publisher permissions should it actually be reused) is important. As far as possible, market it to get it through to people and make sure that it is cited, used, referenced and acknowledged appropriately, and that no one plagiarises it or infringes copyright.

Access Putting your work into www.academia.edu is one way of making it widely accessible. Attaching it to your own or other websites (for example, your work website) is another way to enable those who want to read it to do so, and working with various forms of open access will make the accessibility greater. ‘Gold’ open access is good, but it is very expensive for the author, and probably limited to those who have large funded projects and can afford to pay anything up to US$2,500 per article to enable it to be read by anyone (see Chapter 3). The shift of payment and access has taken place – publishing and paying to publish is now with us – while real open access is still there and largely in the hands of the libraries. You don’t own your own words, but you do want to share them. It is an interesting minefield. Delivering at conferences is important because that will enable people to make the most of your work before it gets into print. Producing versions of your work in blogs will also make it accessible.

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The academic service of writing: writing referee and reviewer comments and reports

Much of what is done in relation to academic writing is actually an academic service to universities and the broader academic community, because it enables research and professional practice to be shared, disseminated and used. However, it is rarely recognised internally, in a workload model, so if we carry out this academic service of editing, reviewing and publishing, we do it for the love of the subject and the sector, the students and our colleagues, and because we like writing and believe our work should be shared. There is a tension there. Managing it and supporting others’ work and mentioning your own can help the work we do be recognised appropriately. Celebrating your colleagues and students when they publish, and using and sharing their work outside the university, is part of this community building.

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I edit an international education journal. I became involved with this through SEDA, (the Staff and Educational Development Association) in which I played a very minor part at first. My first involvement was discussing something I had read in the journal’s predecessor, IETT, then responding with some humility but also a degree of excitement over being asked for my professional opinion on the essay of an expert with whose work I was marginally familiar – I was asked to review a journal article in development, to advise about its readiness for publication or need for modification. I read and re-read the text carefully, summing up in an overview and an interpretation, and indicating what needed to be improved, clarified, deepened or backed up by evidence (all the usual elements of reviewing a journal article). I made some suggestions, marked the typos and suggested some references that might help to enhance the work. The following is the process involved in reviewing an article: •

Read it carefully, consider the clarity of each section: the abstract introduction; literature review, methodology and methods; data presentation, analysis and interpretation; discussion and conclusions; and referencing.

These are the standard parts of a journal article, and when reviewing we look at each of these as well as at the conceptual depth of the work, asking: •

•

Is it doing more than merely recording and reporting? Is it analysing, interpreting and relating to theory underpinned by a conceptual framework of ideas? Does it genuinely contribute to ongoing dialogues and debates, so that it relates to work previously published, and engages with it rather than just listing it? And does it show how it has made that contribution, pursuing and evidencing the newness of what it has to offer, whether findings, ideas and interpretations, context, or other elements of originality? Is it innovative enough to be published? Is it contextualised enough? Is it clear?

This is not just a marking exercise looking for errors and how the piece measures up to requirements, it is also a developmental experiment. It enables us to see how someone else’s mind works, and how they articulate their arguments, reading and findings, thus learning from the reviewing and refereeing process invaluable information about another’s thinking and writing processes. Also, we really want to see how we can help this piece be published. After all, it will have taken a long time to research, write, edit and submit for publication, so it deserves much more than a casual response of two or three dismissive comments along the lines of: ‘this seems fine to me’, or ‘how dare this idiot write like this?’. So we use all our skills to engage in a dialogue with equals to provide enough focused feedback to enable them to engage with and help to improve

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the piece in readiness for publication in this journal (and if not there, then somewhere else, eventually). We read the work carefully, and equally carefully consider the wording of the feedback, identifying what can be said and how it can be said, in an acceptable and clear manner, to develop the work. Good reviewers do this rather than just letting off steam in an arrogant explosion (some reviewers seem to have to do this, so as an editor I don’t ask them to review again). We learn from reviewing. We learn about the kind of feedback we can give ourselves as we develop our own work, and we learn about the parts of articles or books that can be a problem in terms of articulation, expression and connectedness. This learning should transfer both into our reviewing and refereeing and into our own writing, as we embark on another piece or return to one on which we have ground to a halt. Hyland (2012) has some interesting things to say about writing for scholarly publication, particularly for second-language authors, and Furnham (2013) comments on the variation in pleasant supportive comments and the more destructive reviewer comments. If you accept all the reviewing opportunities offered to you, you might end up only reviewing and not do any writing yourself. But if you refuse all that is offered you are not only effectively placing yourself outside ongoing academic dialogues, but you are failing to enable others (and yourself) to develop writing skills and get published. Reviewing is worth the effort, and when you have done it, it’s also worth stepping back and deciding what you have learned from the work you have done that you can transfer into your own writing processes. Recently I carried out some research into the perceived experiences of refereeing and editing (Wisker, 2013a). This was for a special edition of Innovations in Education and Teaching International, the journal I have now been editing for SEDA for about fifteen years. I asked questions about reasons for refereeing and the ways that people went about it, addressing my questions to referees and editors who work with higher education research and practice oriented journals. Reviewers said they see the process of reviewing as one of academic collegiality and mentorship, which enables others to develop their writing skills. For their own benefit and that of their PhD students, they noted the importance of keeping up to date, seeing what is happening in the field and being able to contribute to the academic conversation in their discipline by helping to refine, focus and improve the work they review. Refereeing also ensures a form of gatekeeping for the quality of the journal and the discipline. They noted the amount of time taken and the lack of any internal or external recognition for the task of reviewing, but were aware of how much the reading the work of others contributed to improving their own writing, since they learned about expression, structure, argument, use of evidence in making a claim, and ways of engaging with ongoing discussions in the field. They could also see what to avoid: work that merely states rather than argues from a theorised evidence

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base; work that lists reading but does not engage with it; work which has either no methodology and methods, or unconvincing ones, which puts at risk what they claim to find. They could see where a writer had repeated him/herself, or made unsubstantiated claims, and where expressions confused rather than clarified the argument. These experiences are insider views of nearlypublished, nearly-acceptable work, and can enable reviewers (ourselves) to take what we learn into improving our own work for publication. Unpaid and unsung, it is still a privilege to be a reviewer, and is often the first step towards being published in the journal yourself. Respondents say they would be willing to re-review a piece of work, but not extensively, and believe that the editor’s role in final decisions is important as they have the consistency of the journal under scrutiny. One respondent says: My role is twofold. I am responsible to the journal for ensuring their standards are maintained and that only work of a particular quality gets through, but also to the author for guiding them in the process of writing for a particular kind of outlet and helping them represent their work as well as they can. (Respondent B) This respondent goes on to discuss the process and intended outcomes of their work in refereeing, where they ensure that they provide developmental feedback even if the article ultimately is not published in that journal, and that they consider its fit with the journal as an important issue in their responses: In carrying out a review I ask myself two sets of questions: (a) Does it make sense? Is there a clear argument I can follow? Does the evidence address the issue being considered? Does the conclusion flow from the evidence analysed? (b) Assuming that the first set of questions have [sic] been answered positively and I think that there is a reasonable chance that the author can fix any flaws identified, will the paper then meet the standards of this particular journal? Does it fit this journal and will it be seen as a reasonable paper alongside others published there? (Respondent B)

Mentoring the writing of others Part of the reviewing and refereeing process is actually a version of mentoring the writing of others. When we are first building our writing careers we want to be invited as referees, as it is a measure of recognition of our own work, it can help us be known in the field, and our work will be familiar to editors when we submit it: we are in the conversation. When you have been refereeing for several years, however, the balance shifts and the true reason for refereeing appears – it is really about mentoring the writing of others so that they can be helped in finessing and tightening up their work. Much of the refereeing I do

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now is about suggesting that colleagues really clarify what their main aims and contributions are early in the piece, select which texts to reference and give the reader an idea of what they have contributed to the discussion that is going to emerge, rather than being a dead list. They then mainly follow a standard shape in the article, and I will look for that shape as something to convey the argument, to help express it, and make suggestions on deviations or the need to shut them down. The whole issue is about getting interesting work up there at the start, so the reader can see what they are going to be reading and become interested. Some articles are so complex at the start, so stuffed with different arguments, that it is hard for a reader to work their way through the achievements, arguments and back-up evidence among the heap of information and data. As a referee trying to enable the piece to shine, to be explicit and to make a case, I suggest ways of structuring, expressing, cutting back, expanding and finessing to enable this. I am much better at advising on other people’s work than I ever am managing my own, which is always a struggle. This is, then, a form of anonymous mentoring of the writing of complete strangers, but I believe it is a necessary peer activity in the sector, and we learn so much from it in terms of our own writing that it is worth doing. This is not the case if all you are ever sent is utterly peripheral to your own work and always badly written, so in that case you are only a gatekeeper. You need to ensure that you make suggestions that cause you to think about structure, aim, argument, evidence, claim and contribution. If it really is not going to work, say so, to enable the quality of the work in the field, and in that journal, to be maintained. Mentoring the writing of others does not always take place through the vehicle of referring. As peers, we are going to be sent work by others with whom we have worked, by graduate students who hope we can be helpful in assisting them in finessing their work, by colleagues who would benefit from our comments as experts, or readers who are not yet experts in terms of their article or their book. I have always accepted and embraced these opportunities. You are able to see how others conceptualise an issue, organise a proposal, believe they can move from one disparate area of thought to another, try to cram too much into a short piece, and make massive claims about not very much. When you find a really good example you can learn about how the writers conceptualise, clarify, argue, evidence, explain and make claims that are important. We learn from the weaker pieces and make useful comments to advise them, and we can learn a lot from the stronger pieces, which feed directly into our own work. But we can always add something to make them even stronger – nothing is perfect.

Co-editing and editing Much of what we can do for each other as writers is to mentor each other’s work in a community (see Chapter 18) or through the refereeing process. As we

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step through refereeing to co-editing, we can help each other to produce more finished work which really says what it should in the best way possible. It is quite scary when you begin this process because you feel you have no right to work on someone else’s text, but actually you will find that you always have something to say which can clarify what they are attempting to argue. Be careful, though, and think about what they are saying that is important in their work, and the message they want to convey, by working with them to get that across even more clearly, succinctly and elegantly than they are doing already. Look for gaps in arguments, repetition and unintentional dislocations. A high level of editing, from single words to overall shape, to theorising, coherence and focus, goes on throughout. I think it is ultimately about engaging a sensitive reader, someone who would like the best of the piece, its essence, to speak clearly. That is a co-editor’s or an editor’s role, to enable the best to be drawn out of the work. The best learning from this is to look back at the editing someone else has contributed in this way to your own work and consider what have they done, and whether it is explicit and useful. What if they just changed what I said and I can’t see why? I once had a major short review utterly changed by my tutor. It was a piece I read as a feminist. He changed it by starting with ‘The poor man….’ He really didn’t do my views and readings justice, and he interposed his own. There is no point in doing this, however well-intentioned. Let what the authors say shine through, and just help them with that.

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Conclusion

This is the conclusion to the chapter but also to the book, and so we have been concerned with the rewviewing of our work, the politics of publishing and ways of finding out about and affecting what we know about its impact and citation. We have looked at what is seen as the public face of acceptability and acceptance of your writing. We have also looked behind that face somewhat to the kinds of political decisions about where to write, and what, so that you can be cited, and can see some of the examples of others’ use of your work, which is important to you and your academic career. We have also looked at writing, refereeing and editing, considering ways in which working with others’ writing can teach us about improvements to our own, and support others in getting published. You are a writer, and I wish you luck in your publishing career.

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Further reading

Furnham, A. (2013) ‘Take the Rough with the Smooth’, Times Higher Education, May 23. Available at: http://www.timesheighereducation.co.uk/adrianfurnham-on-peer-reviws-swings-and-roundabouts/2004101.article.

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Hyland, K. (2012) ‘Welcome to the Machine: Thoughts on Writing for Scholarly Publication’, Journal of Second Language Teaching and Research, 1, 58–66. Wisker, G. (2013a) ‘Articulate – Academic Writing, Refereeing, Editing and Publishing Our Work in Learning, Teaching and Educational Development’, Innovations in Education and Teaching International, Special issue, SEDA @ 20, 50(4), November, 344–55.

Websites thomsonreuters.com/web-of-science. webofknowledge.com.

References

Ahmad, R. and McMahon, K. (2006) ‘The Benefits of Good Writing’, in S. Davies, D. Swinburne and G. Williams (eds), Writing Matters (London: Royal Literary Fund), pp. 1–6. Aitchison, C. (2009) ‘Writing Groups for Doctoral Education’, Studies in Higher Education, 34(8), 905–16. Amabile, T. M. (1996) Creativity in Context (Boulder, CO: Westview Press). Annett, S. (2013) ‘New Media Beyond Neo-Imperialism, Betty Boop and Sita Sings the Blues’, Journal of Post-colonial Writing, 49(5), 565–81. Badley, G. (2007) Teachers as Academic Writers: The Use of Writing Groups, Anglia Ruskin University. Available at: http://www.slideshare.net/ CELTStudyHub/usingwritinggroups. Badley, G. (2008) ‘Write a Lot Better’, from handout at workshop. Barton, D. and Hamilton, M. (1998) Local Literacies: Reading and Writing in One Community (London: Routledge). Bazerman, C. (1988) Shaping Written Knowledge: The Genre and Activity of the Experimental Article in Science (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press). Beason, L. (1993) ‘Feedback and Revision in Writing across the Curriculum Classes’, Research in the Teaching of English, 27, 395–422. Berlin, J. A. (1982) ‘Contemporary Composition: The Major Pedagogical Theories’, College English, 44(8), 765–77. Bhaba, H. (1994) The Location of Culture (London/New York: Routledge). Bhatia, V. K. (1993) Analysing Genre (London/New York: Longman). Blaxter, L., Hughes, C. and Tight, M. (1998) The Academic Career Handbook (Buckingham: Open University Press), p. 146. Boice, R. (1987) ‘A Program for Facilitating Scholarly Writing’, Higher Education Research and Development, 6, 9–20. Boice, R. (1990) Professors as Writers: A Self-Help Guide to Productive Writing (Stillwater, OK: New Forums). Boud, D. (2001) ‘Using Journal Writing to Enhance Reflective Practice’, New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education, 90, Special Issue: Promoting Journal Writing in Adult Education, Summer, 9, 11. Boud, D. and Walker, D. (1990) ‘Making the Most of Experience’, Studies in Continuing Education, 12, 61–80.

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Index

A abstract 42, 46–7, 12, 133–40, 195–7, 199–200, 266, 268 academic English 75–9 academic journals 31–44 academic identities 189–92 academic writing 12–14, 44–51, 76, 79–80, 88–90 acknowledgements 146–7 analysis 53, 105–6, 125–6, 128–30 anecdote 247 approaches 195–202 argument 31, 33–4, 36, 39–40, 44–5, 48–51, 58–9, 63, 76, 80–8, 95–7, 100–4, 106–7, 115–17, 121–8, 152–5, 157–8, 191–4, 223–5, 256–7 articulation 187–8 assessment 120–5 audience 267, 283–4 authority 155, 191–5, 217 B bibliography 40–2 binge writing 17, 230–1 blocks 24–5, 207–9, 211–13, 215–17, 219–21, 230–1 blogging 282, 289–94 reflective blog 292–3 breakthroughs 87, 211–13, 220, 310–11 C career 267, 322, 331 CARS approach 42–4 case study 120–2

celebrating 248, 328 citations 321–8 co-editing 332–3 co-writing 314–19 communities 304–13 concept 106, 108, 256 conceptual threshold crossing 87, 114, 219–21 conclusion 51, 108–9, 136–7, 140–7 conference 51, 64, 70–1, 148–9 presentations 264–7, 268–76 confidence 82–3, 188–9 confidentiality 50, 129, 178 constructivist 115, 127 creative response 201–2, 239–42 creative writing 235–6, 239–42 creativity 218–19, 235–6, 239–42 critical friends 225–6, 317–9 critical thinking 80–2, 199–200 critique 180, 199–200, 313 D data 105–7, 125–8 analysis 105–6, 128–30 structuring 106–7 debate 27, 34, 42, 51, 81–6, 103–4 development 163–6 dialogue 113–22, 168–72, 188–9, 265–8, 329–30 discipline 37–40, 187–99, 201–2, 217–20, 267–8 discourse 137–9, 195 349

350

Index

discussion 40–5, 47–8, 50, 80–7, 118–24 dissertation 100–1, 102, 109–11 duty 322 E e-books 285–7 e-publishing 287–90 edited books 296–8 editing 332–3 editor 51–4, 298–301 electronic 282–90 ethics 42, 50, 129, 170 F feedback 223–4, 253–8, 314 finesse 53–4, 163–4, 170, 192, 277, 317 fishbone diagram 19–21 flexibility 158 fog index 202–3 free writing 26, 153, 229 G generative writing 230 Google 51, 98, 118, 213, 292 Google Scholar 36, 118 guilt 18 H humanities 40–1, 45, 50, 102, 138–9, 143–4, 195–9 I identity 189–92, 210–11, 226 impact 321–6 inspiration 214, 216, 222 institutional dimension 14–15 support 88 international 52, 76–7, 79, 89, 324–5 introduction 40–1, 44–5, 47–8, 63, 65, 102, 195–7, 199–201 J journal articles 31, 39–49, 85–6, 100–1, 109–11

abstract 46–7 key words 46 methodology and methods 49 organisation 40 structure 40–2, 97–8 title 45–6 journals, 34–40 publishing conventions 37–40, 195 journey 35, 48, 53, 69, 97, 156 K key words

46

L language 102–3, 191–3, 199–200, 202, 217–18, 226–7, 258–9, 268–9 learning dimension 14–15 literary study 198, 200–1 literature review 48, 103–4, 113–25 location 23–4, 215, 312 M managing the writing energy 8, 67, 219 marketing 70, 134, 147–9, 286–8, 324 market research 61, 64 masters 96–7, 99, 141 mentoring 331–2 methodology 49, 97, 104–5, 113–15, 125–8 methods 49, 104–5, 113–15, 125–8 mimicry 86–8, 217–19 Morrison, Toni 9 motivation 13, 15 N new edition 301–2 note-taking 19 jotting 222 nudge 24, 26–7

Index

O online 281–4, 286–92 open access 54, 284–5, 328 P personal dimension 14, 17 PhD 168–83 plagiarism 78–81, 81, 83, 85–6, 115, 217 planning 19–20, 25–6, 30, 53, 59, 71–2, 96–7, 151–2, 163–5, 209–10, 213–15, 242 grid 163, 165 politics 9, 15, 282–3, 321–2 practitioners 243–4 presentation 174, 179, 181, 264–80 procrastination 10, 18 proposals 63, 65–9 psychosocial 13 publisher 60–5, 69–71, 148–9, 255, 286–8, 298–302 Q qualitative 115, 125, 199–200, 234 quantitative 104, 115, 125, 199 R reader 3–5, 20, 22, 26, 38–40, 43, 46, 48–50, 54, 59–61, 63, 101–5, 127–9, 132–4, 136–9, 145, 148–9, 155, 171–2, 226 re-drafting 222–5 REF (Research Excellence Framework) 13, 284, 325 referees 54, 260–2, 328–31 references 40–2, 140, 146–7, 162–4, 257 reflection 227, 242–7 reflective learning log 245–7 reflective writing 227–8, 242–6, 292–3 reliability 49 researcher 76, 79, 102–5, 127, 168–9, 193–4, 205, 245 reviewers 33–4, 177, 256–8, 261, 328–31

rewriting

351

259–60

S science 105, 126, 137–8, 142, 172, 202–5 snack writing 17, 230 social sciences 35, 105, 139–40, 144, 152, 195–7, 200, 314 South Africa 11, 13, 35–6, 308, 310, 325 splurge 229, 259, 293 story 157–8 storyboard 157–8 storytelling 235–8 structure 26, 30, 40–2, 44, 97–8, 151–61 chunks 159 egg boxes 159 journey 156 magical mystery tour 160 octopus 159 recipe 159–60 spaghetti junction 160 student 79–80, 89–90, 120–2, 144–5, 169–70, 173–4, 177–80, 196–7, 199–200, 235–7, 254–8, 291 style 192–5 stylish 88, 158, 191 supervisor 77–8, 170, 173–4, 177–80, 196–7 support 14–17, 88–90, 173–4, 177–9, 180, 242–5, 304–15 T theoretical perspectives 48, 102, 119 theorists 48, 85, 99, 103–4, 106, 113–16, 121–4 thesis 97–9, 100–1, 109–11, 133–4, 140–1, 156–7, 160–1, 163–4, 169–75, 177–80, 237–8 thinking aloud 258–9 threshold concepts 199–200, 219

352

Index

time management 16, 22, 53, 71–2, 209–10 topical 27–9, 60, 270, 298 topics 27, 60 trade paper 36–7, 266 Turnitin 85 V validity 49, 147 vampire 88, 197, 291 visualisation 229–30, 240–2 voice 77–8, 102, 187–95, 226, 244 W web of knowledge 324, 327 well-being 237

35–6, 179,

writing 12–20, 22–7, 28–30, 33–4, 44–5, 53–5, 59–60, 71–3, 77–8, 80–2, 102–4, 109, 128–30, 146–8, 161–3, 203–5, 216, 224–8, 230, 235–6, 240, 242–5, 259–60, 266–7, 282–3, 296, 301–2 book 57–65, 69–73, 148–9, 163–5, 308–9 writing communities/groups 304–13 writing habits 228–9 writing identities 6, 189–92, 210–11 writing practices 12, 16–18, 19–20, 22–4, 213–16, 218–19, 230–1 writing retreats 23, 308