Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media (Research to the Point) 0197749941, 9780197749944

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Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media

Research to the Point Series Evaluation and Action Research: An Integrated Framework to Promote Data Literacy and Ethical Practices Linnea L. Rademaker and Elena Y. Polush Participatory Action Research: Ethics and Decolonization Caroline Lenette Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson

Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media Sandra L. Faulkner AND

Joshua D. Atkinson

Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America. © Oxford University Press 2024 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data Names: Faulkner, Sandra L., editor. | Atkinson, Joshua D., editor. Title: Qualitative methods in communication and media / Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson. Description: New York, NY : Oxford University Press, [2024] | Series: Research to the point | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023033999 (print) | LCCN 2023034000 (ebook) | ISBN 9780197749944 (paperback) | ISBN 9780190944056 (hardback) | ISBN 9780190944070 (epub) | ISBN 9780190944087 Subjects: LCSH: Qualitative research—​Methodology. | Communication—​Research. | Mass media—​Research. Classification: LCC H62 .Q3485 2024 (print) | LCC H62 (ebook) | DDC 300.72/1—​dc23/eng/20230807 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023033999 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023034000] DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.001.0001 Paperback printed by Marquis Book Printing, Canada Hardback printed by Bridgeport National Bindery, Inc., United States of America

Contents

Preface  About the Authors 

vii xiii

1.

Thinking Like a Qualitative Researcher 

2.

Designing a Qualitative Study 

22

3.

Doing Qualitative Analysis and Interpretation 

59

4.

Doing Qualitative Media Analysis (Part 1) 

87

5.

Doing Qualitative Media Analysis (Part 2) 

115

6.

Writing and Presenting Qualitative Research 

131

7.

Evaluating Qualitative Research 

161



Epilogue: Being a Qualitative Researcher 

184

Appendix: Glossary of Key Terms  References  Index 

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Preface

What Is Qualitative Research? When first embarking on the project of writing this book, we (or at least Josh) was touched with a bit of dread. What is qualitative research? This may sound like a problematic question coming from someone who is supposedly an expert in qualitative research. However, please bear with us a moment as we lay out this little bit of dread. The definition of what is, and what is not, qualitative research is often situated in one of two ways: in opposition to quantitative methods, or as a complex confluence of a multitude of methods spanning several paradigmatic approaches. The problem with the first is that it emphasizes what qualitative research is not, while the second stands as a nebulous “blob” that has ill-​defined boundaries or categories. This is not to say that these two views of qualitative research are not without merit. When it comes to the oppositional view of a qualitative/​quantitative binary, many scholars have described the two poles as complementary of one another (e.g., Kvale, 1996; Strauss & Corbin, 1997). Indeed, the history of qualitative research is very much intertwined with positivist and postpositivist research methods dating back to the early 1900s (e.g., Denzin & Lincoln, 2005; Lincoln & Denzin, 2007). The complex confluence vision, conversely, has allowed for the building of bridges and crossing of boundaries so that scholars from different disciplines and paradigmatic approaches to the study of communication and media could come together in new ways. As Yvonna Lincoln and Norman Denzin (2005) note, “The old categories have fallen away with the rise of conjugated and complex new perspectives” (p. 1115). For the purposes of our book, then, we were faced with that initial question posed above: What is qualitative research? For the most part, we try to avoid the qualitative/​quantitative oppositional binary presented in many works, as we feel the enterprise of qualitative research has developed over the past several decades to the point where it stands on its own. This is a view that is currently taken by many qualitative scholars today (e.g., Corbin & Strauss, 2015). However, we also find it difficult to take the complex confluence approach

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as it has been articulated in the past, as such a nebulous vision of qualitative research can include almost anything. For instance, many similar books on this subject often include forms of social criticism that involve intuitive interpretation more so than the observation of empirical materials. As Michael Butterworth explains in the scholar spotlight in Chapter 5, such forms of criticism are better understood as an attitude, rather than a method. In this way, critique and other forms of textual analysis are a combination of attitude, or worldview, with the practice of argumentation. It is issues such as these—​what belongs within the confluence of methods, and what does not—​that caused that initial dread about approaching this topic. This is not to say that we do not address such forms of critique and textual analysis within this book. Rather, we have chosen to focus primarily on those processes and actions that are necessary for the collection and analysis of empirical data. For this reason, we have chosen to approach the subject of qualitative research within this book as a complex confluence of methods for empirical observation of meanings and materials situated within particular sites or texts, which cuts across multiple paradigmatic approaches to the study of communication and media. The Netflix series Squid Game should help to illustrate this particular point. The series explored a dystopian future in which many people were so destitute that they would volunteer to take part in violent versions of children’s games to make money; the games were ultimately for the enjoyment of masked elites who watched from afar. Many journalists and scholars wrote how Squid Game stood as a critique of late-​stage capitalist society; indeed, the series creator, Hwang Dong-​hyuk, has stated that he intended such a critique (Aleem, 2021). Later, the conservative commentator Ben Shapiro rebutted this view on his streaming program, offering his own view that Squid Game was actually an ill-​informed communist vision of modern capitalism (Nolan, 2021). Who is right? Well, the matter of who is right and who is wrong is an issue of argumentation. Essentially, both sides have approached the text with their particular attitudes, and then engaged in an argument so as to persuade audiences about their vision of the series. These arguments are more about society than the text itself. Instead, we would rather focus on forms of qualitative methods that address the materials within the text. Nowhere in the series are there overt arguments about capitalism or communism. However, there is a lot of violence within the text. The forms of qualitative research that we engage with in this book are those that would be used to collect data in the text, and not so much those used for social critique or commentary. In this way, then, the book would inform the kind of content analysis that would examine violence in the series, or representations of gender. What the series says about late-​stage capitalism or communist thought is more associated with the application of a critical attitude, and the formation of argument. The definition that we use for qualitative research comes directly from our own experiences and research. Sandra’s research has focused on stigmatized identities in close relationships, and she has recently begun studying inclusive pedagogy and critical interpersonal and family communication using participatory methods. The qualitative methods she has used include (auto)ethnography, interviewing, focus groups, content analysis, participatory action research, poetic inquiry, creative nonfiction, and personal narrative to study motherhood, LGBTQ+​identity, sexual harassment, inclusive classroom practices, conversations

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about race and gender in close relationships, intergenerational dialogue, non-​elite women runners, and older women’s relationships across the lifecourse. Sandra uses her personal experience as autoethnographic data to present poetic and personal narratives that critique White middle-​class motherhood, power differences that contribute to sexual harassment, and the intersections and negotiations of multiple dominant and nondominant identities. The data from her interviews, focus groups, and content analyses has revealed effective means of dialogue about race and gender in close relationships, how LGBTQ+​persons negotiate multiple and stigmatized identities, the importance of close relationships across the lifecourse, how intergenerational dialogue inside and outside the interpersonal classroom breaks down stereotypes, and welcoming and inclusive classroom practices. As you can see, Sandra takes a humanistic approach to qualitative methods. That is, her experiences, evaluations, and interpretation as a researcher mold and shape the research process. There is not a neat predetermined end goal that she works toward in any given project. Josh’s research has focused on the role of alternative media in activist organizations and networks, as well as the rising interconnection between alternative media and mainstream politics in the United States. Over the years, he has utilized interviews and qualitative content analysis in his research endeavors. In terms of the first, he has conducted interviews with a variety of activists and alternative media producers. The interviews with the activists helped to illustrate the ways in which alternative media texts are utilized within activist organizations to construct different forms of resistance to power structures in society. The qualitative content analysis has often supplemented these interviews by providing detailed information about the content of the alternative media that those activists were using or consuming. What is more, the interviews with numerous alternative media producers have helped to illustrate the interconnections between activist audiences and those producers in their efforts to create such content. These qualitative projects were the basis of four books, and numerous journal articles dating back to 2004.

Book Features We feel that this book will prove invaluable to students and scholars of communication and media. We crafted this book to be a useful guide to the study and practice of qualitative research methods. At the beginning of each chapter, we provide learning objectives to focus your reading, as well as a list of key terms that we define in the appendix. We give numerous examples of qualitative research—​such as research questions, interview guides, research designs, transcription, positionality statements, IRB applications, codebooks, writing examples, and application of qualitative criteria—​that should paint a nuanced picture of qualitative research. There are researcher spotlights featuring innovative qualitative researchers who discuss qualitative writing, recruitment and interviewing with difficult-​to-​reach populations, ethnography, activism and public scholarship, qualitative audience analysis, and rhetorical criticism. At the end of every chapter, you will find discussion questions, research and writing practice exercises, and suggested resources. The discussion questions are meant to be springboards for discussion. As you will see, there are not right and wrong answers to

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the discussion questions; we invite you to think through the material we provide and apply that thinking. The research and writing questions are intended to have you try out these methods by doing. Simply reading a methods book is not the best way to learn how to do qualitative research, because practicing by doing is key. Thus, we offer you opportunities to practice with low-​stakes exercises. Chapter 1: Thinking Like a Qualitative Researcher introduces you to qualitative methods and important considerations such as reflexivity, research ethics, and positionality. We begin with the strengths of qualitative methods to show why researchers may decide that a qualitative approach is appropriate and beneficial for their research goals. We discuss the difference between method and methodology, which is vital for designing coherent research projects. The goal of this chapter is to have you thinking like a qualitative researcher after you engage with the material, excited for what follows. In Chapter 2: Designing a Qualitative Study, we walk you through some of the most common methods for qualitative research in communication and media, including ethnography, grounded theory, interviews, and arts-​based research, including poetic portraiture and visual methods. We discuss sampling in qualitative work, including the importance of selecting appropriate texts and participants to participate in research. You should understand the role of the institutional review board in helping to ensure that your research meets ethical standards. By the end of the chapter, we want you to be able to design a qualitative study and describe what makes for a good qualitative interview. In Chapter 3: Doing Qualitative Analysis and Interpretation, we provide step-​by-​step guidelines for coding and thematic analysis that should have you ready to code your own work and justify the coding decisions you make. We discuss how to do different types of interview transcription and the special considerations a researcher needs to work through. This chapter discusses the differences between a code, category, and theme, something that we find can be confusing to beginning qualitative researchers. Chapter 4: Doing Qualitative Media Analysis (Part 1) offers you detailed examples of how to do qualitative content coding and differentiate this from textual analysis. We discuss different influences in mass media production and ways that audiences have been conceptualized in media research. After reading this chapter, you should be able to list the different levels of multilevel analysis as well as forms of interactivity that count as feedback. The goal is for you to be able to design a qualitative media study. We continue our discussion of qualitative media analysis in Chapter 5: Doing Qualitative Media Analysis (Part 2). This chapter focuses on the difference between mass communication and mass self-​communication by introducing a contemporary model of qualitative analysis. We explain the rhizomatic metaphor used in new media networks, the idea that new, alternative forms of media create intersections between different parts of society that would otherwise be disconnected; such intersections are diffused and develop organically. We also discuss different approaches to studying online networks and have you consider how you can work collaboratively with others in qualitative research. We think you will find the focus on writing qualitative research in Chapter 6: Writing and Presenting Qualitative Research to be useful. We devote an entire chapter to writing and representation given its importance in qualitative research, which is not typical in most

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methods books. We ask you to think about your writing process, create a writing practice, and focus on form, function, style, and audience in your writing. In addition, we offer you ways to use arts-​based research presentation in your work. We end this book with Chapter 7: Evaluating Qualitative Research, in which we discuss the importance of evaluating qualitative research, as well as different ideas for what counts as quality research. We discuss criteria such as usefulness and saturation and potential criteria for evaluating arts-​based research. In addition, we offer a discussion of the terms rigor and vigor applied to qualitative research and the disagreements over these terms. We present four frameworks that can be used to assess research ethics in a project. After reading this chapter (and book), we want you to be able to articulate what qualitative criteria are most important to you.

Audience This book will find a welcome audience for those who are affiliated with any of the numerous professional organizations in the field: Association for Education in Journalism & Media Communication, International Association for Media & Communication Research, International Communication Association, National Communication Association, and the four regional communication organizations. We have chosen examples that come from journals published through these different organizations. What is more, we have also recruited renowned individuals within these organizations for the different scholar spotlights found throughout the book. Their contributions to this volume provide an added dimension to the different topics and methods that we address throughout. We would like to offer a very special thank you to the following scholars who aided us with their invaluable contributions: • Dr. Michael Butterworth (Director of the Center for Sports Communication & Media at University of Texas, Austin) • Dr. Nico Carpentier (Extraordinary Professor at Charles University, Prague) • Dr. Jennifer Rauch (Professor and Chair of the Department of Journalism & Media Studies at Linfield University, Oregon) • Dr. Pamela J. Lannutti (Professor and Director of the Center for Human Sexuality Studies at Widener University) • Dr. Robin M. Boylorn (Professor of Interpersonal and Intercultural Communication at the University of Alabama) • Dr. Devika Chawla (Professor in the School of Communication Studies at Ohio University)

About the Authors

Sandra L. Faulkner is professor in the School of Media and Communication at Bowling Green State University, where she writes, teaches, and researches about close relationships. Faulkner’s interests include qualitative methodology, poetic inquiry, inclusive pedagogy, and critical perspectives on interpersonal and family communication. She often uses poetry, creative nonfiction, and autoethnography to explore her own negotiation of identity as a parent, partner, and professor. Her book, Poetic Inquiry: Craft, Method, & Practice (Routledge), won an Honorable Mention in the 2021 ICQI Book Award. She received the 2013 Knower Outstanding Article Award from the National Communication Association, the 2016 Norman K. Denzin Qualitative Research Award, the 2020 Trujillo and Goodall “It’s a Way of Life Award” in Narrative Ethnography, and the 2022 Legacy Award from the National Communication Association Ethnography Division. https://​bgsu.acade​mia.edu/​ San​draF​aulk​ner; https://​www.san​draf​aulk​ner.onl​ine/​ Joshua D. Atkinson is a professor in the School of Media & Communication at Bowling Green State University. His past research primarily focused on the role of alternative media in Western activism and politics and the ways in which activists utilized alternative media to construct contexts for communicative resistance. Over the years, he has interviewed numerous activists and alternative media producers affiliated with a variety of different causes: anti-​war, Tea Party, indigenous rights, and more. His work has also utilized qualitative content analysis to demonstrate themes in different alternative media utilized in activist organizations. In addition, Dr. Atkinson’s research has also explored communicative practices utilized by activists in efforts to reclaim lost spaces and places. More recently, his research has demonstrated the increasing role that alternative and activist media have on mainstream political communication in the United States. Dr. Atkinson has published in journals such as Critical Studies in Media Communication, Communication, Culture & Critique, Digital Journalism, and Javnost-​The Public. He has also published books such as Journey into Social Activism: Qualitative Approaches and Alternative Spaces/​Transformative Places. In 2004, he was the co-​winner of the Norman K. Denzin Award for Qualitative Research.

1

Thinking Like a Qualitative Researcher You need to be interested in people’s stories if you want to do qualitative research. Researchers use their lenses, or points of view, to interpret qualitative data.

Key Terms empirical, epistemology, ethics, method, methodology, ontology, paradigm, paradigmatic, positionality, qualitative research, reflexive research practice, reflexivity

Learning Outcomes After reading and engaging with the material in this chapter, you should be able to: • Define qualitative research. • Describe the strengths of qualitative research. • Identify your positionality as a qualitative researcher. • Recognize how reflexivity is a vital part of qualitative research. • Sketch ideas for a qualitative research project. • Differentiate between method and methodology.

Qualitative Research Is . . . Strengths of Qualitative Research Core Issues in Qualitative Research The Qualitative Researcher Reflexivity, Positionality, and Subjectivity

Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media. Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.003.0001

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Showing Reflexivity Box 1.1: Author Spotlight with Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson Ethics Feminist and Relational Ethics Selecting a Research Topic and Focus Method and Methodology Box 1.2: Methodologies Conclusion Discussion Questions Research and Writing Practice Suggested Resources

Qualitative Research Is . . . We always tell students: “You need to be interested in people’s stories if you want to do qualitative research.” You can’t fake that part. This is how Sandra became curious about qualitative research methods; she has always been intrigued by people and their lives. It was in graduate school during a qualitative research methods class that she realized her interest in people’s stories was best approached using qualitative research. Qualitative research can be defined as a complex confluence of methods for empirical observation of meanings and materials situated within particular sites or texts, which cuts across multiple paradigmatic approaches to the study of communication and media. We begin with this definition of qualitative research as it is foundational to our approach to and teaching of qualitative methods. Let’s break down this working definition of qualitative research into its essential components. Empirical refers to the construction of knowledge through observation or experience. This is what we can observe and document using our five senses. For instance, what can I notice about conflict when observing colleagues during a work meeting? What would I hear, see, feel, taste, and be able to touch while observing? Qualitative researchers are interested in individual’s and group’s perspectives in the contexts in which they live and the meaning of texts and materials created by humans. This means focusing on an individual’s perceptions of phenomena of interest, including texts and material objects in our world, using research methods like interviews, ethnography, and qualitative content analysis. For example, we could study how context, situation, and life circumstances influence older women’s relationships across the life course. We could interview them about their life stories and examine their social media posts and communication with family and friends. Researchers approach their study from particular positions or paradigms, which are worldviews, methods, models, or patterns for doing research, such as the interpretivist paradigm. This is a “foundational perspective carrying a set of assumptions that guides the research process” (Leavy, 2017a, p. 11). A paradigmatic approach refers to the paradigm or framework you use to conduct your research and includes your epistemology and ontology. Epistemology is our beliefs about how we come to know information and what counts as knowledge. It includes how we think about our roles as researchers and the relationship

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that researchers have with research participants, as we will discuss further in this chapter. Ontology is a belief system about the nature of the world. “Our ontological belief system informs both our sense of the social world and, correspondingly, what we can learn about it and how we can do so” (Leavy, 2017a, p. 12). In this chapter, we introduce you to the study of qualitative research in communication and media by considering what it means to think like a qualitative researcher. We discuss the particularities, strengths, and core issues in qualitative research, including the ethics of qualitative research, as well as the importance of reflective research practice. We end by differentiating between method and methodology—​that is, the difference between the specific methods a qualitative researcher uses and the theoretical and epistemological assumptions (i.e., what counts as knowledge) that researchers make in the way they approach qualitative research.

Strengths of Qualitative Research Qualitative research is an inclusive term that represents a divergent enterprise with many interpretations and perspectives. Likewise, the field of media and communication comprises a wide range of research focused on humanistic and scientific ways of understanding human communication in diverse contexts ranging from the intrapersonal and interpersonal to mediated and mass communication. Qualitative research changes with emergent understandings just like the field of media and communication is changing with the recognition of material and discursive practices (Manning & Kunkel, 2014). For example, Sandra has seen how interpersonal communication research has moved from studying relationships using analytical variables such as age, gender, and ethnicity to critically examining how power influences relationships and our experiences in them; how communication constitutes identities, relationships, and culture; and explicitly including the bodies and identities of marginalized others in interpersonal and family communication research and pedagogy (Manning, 2022). Though there are differences in how qualitative media and communication researchers do inquiry—​from treating qualitative inquiry as a kind of data to considering qualitative research as epistemological foundation—​and while no one accepted, linear, and standardized approach exists, there are some commonalities that cut across qualitative research traditions. The strengths of qualitative research can be seen in these common qualities. We consider qualitative research to be: • Flexible • Nuanced • Reflexive • Iterative • Descriptive • Interpretive • Critical • Relational • Positioned

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• Particular • Field-​focused, Naturalistic • Emergent • Theoretical Qualitative research represents divergent multiple perspectives and evolving historical moments that change the focus and concerns of researchers (see Lincoln, 2003). For instance, with the postmodern and poststructural turns in qualitative research, researchers have focused more attention on issues of subjectivity, the relationship between the researcher and research participants, and how language is political (Brooks, 2010). Qualitative research is responsive to our emerging understandings and insights. This demonstrates the flexible and nuanced nature of qualitative research, which is a strength. Qualitative research is fluid and process-​oriented and refuses simple or essential answers, making it appropriate for complicated problems and issues. It is good for presenting everyday ways of life in everyday language by focusing on participants’ perspectives. In general, qualitative inquiry focuses on descriptive questions about the “what,” “how,” or “why” of a phenomenon rather than questions about “how many” or “how much” (Britten, 2011). Qualitative research is interested in the particulars of human experience. Qualitative inquiry requires researchers to learn to think conceptually, abstractly, metaphorically, symbolically, and phenomenologically (Saldaña, 2015). Qualitative research is focused on interaction in the natural world and privileges participants’ voices, perceptions, and perspectives. Qualitative researchers “embrace the subjectivity of human experience” (Braithwaite et al., 2014, p. 492). Qualitative research depends on how researchers use their lens on the world to interpret, focus, filter, and view knowledge. Qualitative research is a relational practice; researchers’ relationships with research participants and themselves are an important part of the research process (Ellis, 2007). It is critical and focused on social justice (Faulkner 2018a; Suter, 2018). Qualitative research is art and science (Faulkner, 2020; Manning & Kunkel, 2014). Qualitative research is theoretical; researchers develop theory through the inductive research process (Morse et al., 2002). As such, qualitative research is iterative, meaning that researchers work back and forth between data, analysis, and interpretation. For all of these reasons, qualitative research is good for understanding people’s perceptions and experiences of human communication and how environment and material conditions influence these experiences. “Qualitative research is appropriate when the subject matter to be investigated is ill defined or not well understood; complex; sensitive; concerned with processes; requires an understanding of detail; or requires new ideas or creativity” (Britten, 2011, p. 385). In interpersonal communication research, qualitative methods are well suited to the study of close relationships—​the forms they take, the ways that individuals and families and romantic partners and friends “perceive, understand, experience, enact, and negotiate their relational worlds” (Braithwaite et al., 2014, p. 492). For example, how do social media posts shape someone’s experiences of their friendships (Orben & Dunbar, 2017)? What are the relational consequences of bullying for LGBTQ students in school (Goodboy & Martin, 2018)? In intercultural communication, scholars

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may focus on how the performance of identities contributes to an understanding of intersectional identity and challenges the way we study identity, interactions among members of cultural groups, the relationship between communication and culture, and ethics and politics in intercultural communication (e.g., Calafell, 2020). For example, how do Asian Americans communicate about racially discriminatory messages (Jun, 2012)? What does it mean to be an ally, and what tactics do allies use to interrupt stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination against others (DeTurk, 2011)? In media contexts, qualitative methods are useful for exploring conceptualizations of media, audience, reception, and feedback/​interactivity, as well as the structures, functions, and influences of media (Atkinson, 2017). For example, what role does alternative media play within activist networks (Atkinson, 2008, 2010; Atkinson & Dougherty, 2006)? In health communication, qualitative methods are well suited to exploring patients’ experiences of treatment programs and communication with healthcare providers, communication problems and public health, narrative medicine, how our interactions with others influence our health, and how everyday contexts influence our health communication (Britten, 2011). For example, how do mediated communication and our close relationships influence our personal health behaviors (e.g., Magsamen-​Conrad et al., 2020)? What would you observe in conversations about reproductive health between mothers and daughters? In organizational communication, researchers may focus on individuals’ experiences and socialization within organizations including nonprofits and nongovernmental organizations, relationships between employees, organizations as cultures, conceptualizations of organizations, organizational power and control, identities and work/​life balance, and organizational roles and metaphors. For example, how did mothers find life/​work balance during the COVID-​19 pandemic (Lyttelton et al., 2022)?

Core Issues in Qualitative Research We want to draw your attention to a few core issues in qualitative research now, so that you can consider your positions as you work your way through this book. First, the evaluation of qualitative research is not a neutral enterprise. Some say the quality of work depends on the researcher, and others argue that the research design or criteria is the hallmark of quality. Still others argue that criteria limit innovative qualitative research. It is a good idea to consider what you find to be important in terms of quality and outcomes and what values (axiology) you will engage in your work. Given that there is no single way to assess the quality of qualitative research because of its diversity, you need to think about what is most important to you—​for instance, the outcome of the research, your research process, the usefulness of the work, commitments to participants and communities, how your work furthers thinking in a particular area, fulfilling requirements to meet graduation, and so forth. We are suggesting that you be transparent with your goals, commitments, and constraints when you engage in qualitative research. Another core issue in qualitative work is the question of rigor versus vigor. Some qualitative researchers do not like using the term rigor or rigorous to describe qualitative research and methods because they see it as a concept that should only be applied to quantitative research. The idea of rigor means that researchers are systematic in their approach

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to research; they have enough participants or texts in their sample, their methodology matches their methods (see section below), and they follow an iterative process between sampling, data collection, and analysis. Vigor refers to how you approach your work; this means that you care about quality work but choose to focus on the aesthetic, political, and ethical features as a mark of quality. By the time you get to our detailed discussion of this debate in Chapter 7, we know that you will have formed an opinion. A third core issue that we highlight is conducting ethical research and the roles of values in research (i.e., axiology). In this book, we discuss the importance of ethics throughout the research process, from conceptualizing a project all the way to presenting the work: • How you think of the role of values in your work and the ethical guidelines you follow matter. • Whether you are an ethical researcher matters. • How you design your research matters (see Chapter 2). • The manner in which you present your research matters. • The kind of relationship you have with research participants matters. • What a community thinks is ethical matters. Our ethical communities emerge from scholarly conversations and the organizations we work and live in. We discuss relational ethics below, ethics and institutional review boards in Chapter 2, ethical presentation of research in Chapter 6, and ethical frameworks for evaluating qualitative research in Chapter 7. We could argue that paying attention to ethical concerns in your research practices leads to rigorous research (Davies & Dodd, 2002). Your research will be evaluated as good or bad and right or wrong based on ethics. Now that we have highlighted some important issues in qualitative work, we want to emphasize that we often tell students that the only prerequisite for becoming a qualitative researcher is having an interest in people’s stories. This focus on you as a qualitative researcher is important given the prominence of the researcher in the qualitative research process.

The Qualitative Researcher Reflexivity, Positionality, and Subjectivity Researchers use their lenses, or points of view, to interpret qualitative data.

Researchers interpret their research materials through their own lenses to construct meaning; their values, attitudes, perceptions, and experiences influence what and how they see, their approach to research, and their methodological commitments (see Chapter 3). As a researcher, you are the one who is making meaning and interpreting phenomena; you are a critical part of the qualitative research process. Because researchers use their lenses to make meaning, you must engage in reflexive research practice, which is an explicit

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acknowledgment of how you as a researcher influence the research process. It is an active engagement with reflexivity. Another way to think of reflexivity is to consider it a standpoint. Standpoint theory is the recognition that knowledge is not universal or neutral, and it includes bodily knowledge (Collins, 1986; Harding, 2004). Our knowledge, including bodily knowledge, or how we come to know things through our corporeal being, is lived and constructed through gender, sexuality, and other social positionings. For example, Sandra identifies as a feminist ethnographer. This is a lens that influences her approach to research; she actively works to acknowledge how being feminist, White, cisgendered, mostly able-​bodied, bisexual, middle-​class, partnered, a parent, and middle-​aged may influence her research and the research process. Standpoints from marginalized groups are especially valuable as they exist counter to dominant understandings. “What we assume to be a neutral or universal perspective is often the standpoint of dominant groups and is reflected in the dominant discourse that limits or excludes those lived perspectives not affirmed within the dominant culture” (Faulkner, 2018c, p. 92). Acknowledging your standpoint is part of reflexivity. Reflexivity is a key concept in qualitative methodologies, including feminist, ethnographic, and poststructural research, and many consider it to be the “heartbeat of qualitative research” (Lindlof & Taylor, 2011, p. 72). However, reflexivity is performed and understood in various ways, making it difficult to define. Indeed, attempts at defining the term can be contentious because of the diverse understandings of reflexivity in qualitative methodology. “This diversity has created a sense of openness for doing ethnographic research . . . in turn, this openness has rendered reflexivity a contested intellectual phenomenon that is often characterized by contrasting and differing perspectives” (Berry & Clair, 2011, p. 95). Nevertheless, we give you a few conceptualizations here, with the caveat that reflexivity and how researchers engage with it in their work will depend on their methodological concerns. Reflexivity refers to researchers’ awareness and acknowledgment of their contributions to the construction of meaning throughout the research process and the impossibility of remaining outside of their subject matter (Faulkner et al., 2016). It challenges the idea that knowledge production is independent of the researcher and that knowledge is an objective enterprise (Berger, 2015). By being reflexive, researchers are acknowledging how their values, beliefs, knowledge, and biases influence their work, which is their positionality. Some aspects of positionality are determined by culture, such as gender, race, and nationality, whereas other aspects are more fluid, subjective, and contextual, like one’s politics, life history, and personal experiences. For example, in a manuscript on using poetic inquiry as critical interpersonal and family communication, Sandra acknowledged how her positionality influenced the mother poetry she created: The pieces show places of privilege—​leisure time to craft because of job security, having good health insurance, the money to send a child to daycare, and being read as (mostly) a good mother because of being highly educated, White, and partnered. They also show my wrestling with insipid parenting advice and expectations that to be a good (White/​middle class) mother I should spend 110% of my energy and time to turn my child into a baby Einstein. (Faulkner, 2023)

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This makes reflexivity important for researchers to understand and consider in their work. Being reflexive means being aware of and acknowledging the researcher’s contribution to the construction of meanings throughout the research process (Calafell, 2013). This process requires researchers “to be attentive to and conscious of the cultural, political, social, linguistic, and ideological origins of one’s perspective and voice, as well as the perspectives and voices of those one interviews and those whom one reports” (Patton, 2002, p. 65). It is important to analyze the effect that our situatedness has on the subjects we study, the questions we ask, as well as the data we collect and interpret (Berger, 2015). Reflexivity is thus essential for facilitating understanding of both phenomena under study and the research process itself (Watt, 2007). “Reflexivity addresses how power comes to bear on the research process and how we reflect on our own position within the research endeavor” (Leavy & Harris, 2019, p. 103). Researchers should attend to issues of power and positionality, and there are different ways to do this in a project, from keeping a reflexivity journal to crafting positionality statements to interrogating the research and researcher. Like many other researchers, we encourage you to be reflexive throughout the research process. Doing so contributes to your credibility as a researcher and speaks to ethical research practice (see Chapters 3 and 7).

Showing Reflexivity Researchers’ engagement with reflexivity can be viewed along a continuum from simply stating positionality, such as being middle-​class and cisgender, to an active interrogation of positionality with the intent of challenging and disrupting power relations. Positionality statements can be included in your research outcomes. For instance, the Interpersonal Communication Division of the National Communication Association provided some helpful guidelines for creating a positionality statement: Creating a positionality statement is difficult work. It invites reflection about who the researcher is in relation to the research. Positionality statements offer a reflection and acknowledgement that authors’ experiences and biases influence their research, including research questions, theoretical framing, design and methodology, analyses, and interpretation. Rather than presenting identities, a positionality statement offers an introspective opportunity for scholars to interrogate and report how their vantage point (personal and/​or social identity, sum of experiences, interests, biases) imbues the research process. It’s important to note that scholars are not mandated to disclose every aspect of their vantage point; you do not have to disclose embodied identities. Rather, you can address issues of training and paradigmatic bias, for example. Statements should be a 3-​5 sentence paragraph and included in the manuscript’s method section. (Interpersonal Communication, 2021) You will need to consider what is important to include in the statement based on the purpose of the study, the audience, and how your positions intersect with the research. We give you three examples of position statements in published work.

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In a study on childbearing decisions and face negotiations, Moore (2017) discusses how their childfree status influenced their analysis: I further reflected upon my positionality as a voluntarily childless woman throughout the research process, and how my own mind and body of a qualitative researcher literally serve as research instruments—​absorbing, sifting through, and interpreting the world through observation, participation, and interviewing. I became particularly sensitive to how my own (lack of) childbearing desire might inform what I found most compelling to represent in research findings, most notably how participants largely did not disavow their previous childless by choice identities. A researcher from a different subject position would likely hone in on a different facet of power in the negotiations of childbearing face. Through these iterative processes of analysis and validation emerged the transformation of pronatalist face threats into subversive facework. (Moore, 2017, p. 266) Suter (2018) describes how their commitment to feminist and critical research influenced their subjective positioning in family communication research and the importance of questioning the status quo and using research as social justice praxis: Notably, my research background, commitments, and identity as a scholar riddle the CIFC [Critical Interpersonal and Family Communication] framework. I draw upon my empirical focus on culture and non-​normative relational and familial forms. The CIFC framework also reflects my feminist orientation toward research. Traces of these commitments are evident in my stance toward the neutrality/​subjectivity of research and the role(s) of researcher, researched, and research. I tend to distance myself from objective views of the research project, favoring more subjective views and ideas of researcher and researched as mutually influential. I tend to take a praxis orientation toward research. At the end of the day, I see the role of research as a means to critically examine the status quo and ideally enact social-​justice-​ oriented change to improve the lives and contextual surroundings of individuals, relationships, and families. (p. 126) In a collaborative autoethnography on sexual assault and harassment in the academy, Faulkner and Adams (2021) use positionality statements at the end of their piece to show how their gender, race, feminist identity, and position as full tenured professors inside the academy influenced their embodied understanding: #YouToo. You conclude these notes thinking about the privilege of being an able-​ bodied, cisgender, White, male in academic contexts. Rarely have you worried about maneuvering the harassment and assault in these contexts and you think about what has not happened to you: No one has asked you to make coffee, forced their dick inside of you, or only made eye contact with your breasts. Students and administrators have rarely commented on your appearance; you haven’t

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worried about how your appearance affects promotion, tenure, and professional advancement; and you have been silent when observing harassment and assault occur at conferences. You also think about the privilege of pursuing others and feeling desired, of being both pleased and pleasured. You think about how your experiences in the academy as a White woman have been shaped by sexual harassment and assault. The times you noticed in the moment, and the times you only later recognized how your experiences were saturated with sexist and racist practices. You hope that another unmasking and retelling of personal experience will help with detoxification. (pp. 272–​273) What you may notice in the statements above is how research commitments, personal identities, and professional and personal positions are explicitly stated and the influence of those on the research and research process. The process of reflection exists at the intersection of research practice and writing (Adams & Holman Jones, 2011). Keeping a reflexivity journal, where researchers can take a critical look inward and write about how they recognize, examine, and understand their own social background and assumptions and how these intervene in the research process, is a good way to engage in reflection and is a part of a reflective research practice. As you begin a project, you may ask yourself the following about your research standpoint: • What biases do I bring to and/​or impose onto my research? • How do my biases affect the types of questions I ask in my research? • How do my biases influence my research style? You will also want to keep reflecting on your understanding, questions, and biases throughout the research process. These reflections may also include poetry and visual art. Reflexivity journals and positionality statements are not the only way to engage in reflective research practice. Researchers can engage intentionally with relational meanings as they develop and shift in changing contexts. For instance, we can adapt Keith Berry’s (2013) reflexivity as spinning metaphor; we acknowledge that we can’t go back to a space the same as when we arrived because we are always arriving with an altered sense of identity. The consideration of a spinning reflexivity demonstrates the interactive and dynamic process of negotiating our sense of selves with others and sheds light on the statement “Researchers use their lenses, or points of view, to interpret qualitative data.” This active engagement with positionality means asking yourself about how your interactions with research participants, your interaction with research material, and the process of research influence your sense of self and your sense of self in relation to your work. And this position may change with every research process, as you will not be the same person. However reflexivity is represented and engaged, researchers should be cognizant of the reflexive process and ensure that their own voice does not neglect that of the researched (Fox & Allana, 2014). In this spirit of reflexivity, in Box 1.1 Sandra and Josh offer their reflections on what brought them to qualitative work, their positionality as qualitative researchers, and methods they use most often.

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BOX 1.1  Author Spotlight with Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson Q: What brought you to qualitative research? Josh: Members of the faculty—​particularly the media folks—​at University of Missouri advised me to make qualitative methods central to my research because my research was focused primarily on questions about how people use media (and subsequently make meaning with media), and less on the impacts or effects of media. Ultimately, the questions that I was asking (and still ask) led me to these methods. Sandra: In my dissertation work, I was interested in how women talk about sex and sexuality in their close relationships. It became clear that qualitative methods were the best way to approach the topic, even though I was in a department dominated by quantitative researchers and quantitative approaches to interpersonal communication research. I needed to hear women’s stories and dive deeply into the topic in a way that qualitative work allowed. I had to seek out mentors in other departments who understood qualitative methods. I took a qualitative method course in the nursing department, and that course changed my career. This is not hyperbole! I learned that my approach to social research and the questions I was most interested in asking were qualitative (and critical) in nature. I ended up doing a postdoc after one year as an assistant professor and spent that time immersed more fully in qualitative work, specifically narrative and poetic inquiry. Q: What qualitative methods have you used most and why? Sandra: Most often, I use interviews including focus groups and ethnography, though ethnography and specifically feminist ethnography is a methodology that presents a range of qualitative methods. Within this paradigm, I use interviews, poetic inquiry, and personal writing as ethnographic methods for the study of relational processes related to identities in close relationships. I have always been interested in people’s stories, so interviewing is a way to gather and sit with those stories. Josh: Interviews and qualitative content analysis. The interviews help me to address questions of audience use. This is important as I can gain insight from participants about the media that they rely on for political information, and how they access those media. Such interviewing can also provide insight into the ways that they make sense of the information that reaches them. Subsequently, qualitative content analysis has been invaluable to me as I look at those media discussed by audiences; I am able to uncover latent themes that exist within content. Q: How do qualitative methods suit you as a researcher? Josh: I’m not sure that they do any more. I increasingly find that some qualitative researchers are taking an anti-​methodological approach, or one that calls for the tearing down of all old structures (including method structures). I find that there has developed a strong trend in communication research to “do as you please”

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or “the old rules no longer apply,” to which I strongly disagree. In this way, I feel increasingly isolated. Sandra: I find Josh’s answer interesting in that my move to more arts-​based research, in particular poetic inquiry, has suited me and the questions I have been moved to ask in my work as a researcher studying close relationships. I find the use of poetry as/​in/​for research is flexible and methodological, structured and unstructured; this approach has allowed me to be creative and systematic and helped me to think qualitatively. In that process, I used my training in qualitative methodology at the same time I discarded some of the ideas (e.g., neutrality) and methods that didn’t work anymore.   The researchers who have called for an end to methods, or more precisely, the call to recognize post-​qualitative work, such as Elizabeth Adams St. Pierre, appeals to me in that they ask us to question taken for granted assumptions embedded in qualitative methodology, especially the conventional humanist qualitative methodology in most textbooks. I have found that arts-​based research methodology allows me as a researcher-​artist to rethink my ontological commitments. And, of course, you shouldn’t throw out methods without an understanding of them so that you know the assumptions that you are critiquing. Q: What have you learned about yourself as a researcher using qualitative methods? Josh: I value structure and organization, which is increasingly out of fashion. Sandra: I also value structure and organization, but my ideas of what this means have expanded with my embrace of critical and arts-​based methodology. I look for the logic in the form I am working in. For example, if I am using poetic forms as representation in a project, I ask how the form is working to create understanding. I ask if the aesthetics of the form make sense. I ask what the form makes me feel.   What I have learned about myself is that I don’t like others telling me what is possible. I need to connect with my research and participants, and I am always “on” as an ethnographer. It is definitely a way of life.

Ethics We just discussed the importance of reflexivity in qualitative research. Equally as important, ethics is a prominent topic in our research methods classroom. We tell students that ethical considerations are something that occur throughout the research process, from conceptualization to presentation and publication; these considerations are not just part of the institutional review board (IRB) application (see Chapter 2 for discussion of ethics in the IRB process and Chapter 7 for a discussion of ethics and evaluating research). Ethics is a multifaceted concept referring to how you engage in the right and wrong of research given your personal principles, shaped by culture, upbringing, socialization, and adherence

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to regulations and laws. Being reflexive, as we discussed above, is part of ethical research practice. Furthermore, many qualitative researchers adopt feminist and relational ethics as important practice.

Feminist and Relational Ethics “Feminist research requires us to balance embodied standpoints, commitments to social justice, and respect for the dignity of all those affected by our research practice” (Leavy & Harris, 2019, p. 95). As a researcher, you need to consider how you will position yourself in relation to those you research with, participants, the community in which you are doing research, and the research topic. Ellis (2007) suggests taking a relational approach in our research, which requires us to think of the relationship we have with participants and the research topic. Relational ethics “recognizes and values mutual respect, dignity, and connectedness between the researcher and research, and between researchers and the communities in which they live and work” (p. 4). It means using our hearts and our minds, remembering the interpersonal bonds we have with others, building trust and rapport with our participants, and being responsible for the consequences of our research. Selecting a research topic is part of your ethical considerations.

Selecting a Research Topic and Focus Sandra was once asked in an academic job interview why she studied what she studied. This seemingly innocuous question got her thinking about her interest in sexuality and identity in close relationships and how she ended up as someone who researches communication and identities from a critical interpersonal and family communication perspective using narrative, poetic, and ethnographic methods (see Box 1.1). Sadly, we do not have any magical formula for helping you select topics to research. However, you may ask yourself what topics in media and communication you are interested in and why: Why are you drawn to certain topics? Why do you want to study them in particular ways? It may be that you study things that you want to understand better, or perhaps you want to study issues that make you angry or are personal. Maybe an opportunity to study something presents itself by invitation or through funding. There may be approaches to studying that suit your worldview and sensemaking. You do need to deal with ethical questions such as your personal vulnerability: Are you capable of doing the research? Emotionally capable? Will your personal investment in the topic impact the research, and how? Researching sensitive topics necessitates asking these ethical questions. You may find that you are not emotionally ready for a particular topic or focus. Maybe now is not the time to study conflict in sibling relationships or how sexual violence shapes college students’ experiences at the university. Leavy and Harris (2019) also suggest that researchers consider the significance and value of a research project and whether it aligns with your value system (axiology) and if it will address a social need, promote new learning, or advocate for social change. Now that we have discussed some basic premises of qualitative research in media and communication, we move on to discuss the common conflation of method and methodology in order to clarify the relationship between the two. Understanding the difference is important for choosing a research focus and method (see Chapter 2).

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Method and Methodology Many students and scholars incorrectly conflate the concepts of method and methodology, to the detriment of their work. We consider method to be the specific procedures or techniques that researchers use in a study, while methodology is the theoretical and epistemological assumptions (i.e., nature of knowledge) researchers make in their approach to qualitative research. Methodology stands as the integration of epistemology with method. The concept of methodology also proves to be integral to axiology, or the role of values in research (Anderson, 1996). It is not unusual to see the methods that the researchers used in a study under the subheading of “methodology.” One of the best ways to illustrate this particular conflation would be comments that Josh received from a reviewer on his book concerning qualitative approaches to the study of activism. In one chapter of the book, Josh provided an overview of the different qualitative methods that are typically used to conduct humanistic research of social activism: interviews, focus groups, ethnography, and textual analysis. One reviewer, however, noted that Josh needed to include feminist ethnography, and in fact should dedicate an entire chapter to this particular “method.” However, feminist ethnography is not a method, but rather a method (ethnography) guided by a particular epistemological foundation (feminism). Methodology emerges from the influence of epistemology (i.e., beliefs about how we come to know/​what counts as knowledge) on a particular method, which influences the choices concerning how the method is utilized. Joey Sprague (2005), speaking of the relationship between feminism and method, addresses this relationship in the following way: A method . . . is a technique for gathering and analyzing information. We can gather information by listening, watching, and examining documents; we organize our observations by counting instances of preconceived categories and/​or by looking for unanticipated patterns. Researchers’ choice of how to use these methods constitute their methodology. For example, one can pose questions, collect evidence, and analyze data in different ways. Each methodology is founded on either explicit or, more often, unexamined assumptions about what knowledge is and how knowing is best accomplished. (p. 5) Method, then, refers to specific techniques one uses to gather and analyze research material, and methodology is the convergence of epistemology and method. It informs how researchers engage with participants, the questions that they ask, or the structure of their instruments. A researcher’s positionality is part of their methodology. There are numerous epistemological foundations that influence research and methods. Guba and Lincoln (2005) write of five primary foundations (positivism, postpositivism, critical theories, constructivism, and participatory epistemology), and we address eight (cultural studies, dialectics, feminism, hermeneutics, heuristics, phenomenology, positivism/​ postpositivism, and postmodernism) in this section (see Atkinson, 2017). A good starting point for the discussion of such foundations is the dichotomy of objectivist and interpretivist utilized by Griffin et al. (2019). In their work, objectivist scholarship is grounded in

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determinism and seeks to predict future events. Conversely, interpretivist scholarship, which is qualitative in nature, seeks to understand the co-​construction of meaning. Such research is often grounded in values, in which researchers try to illustrate oppressive practices and reform society for the better. Both foundations are umbrellas under which a wide variety of epistemological foundations are positioned. Within the sphere of objectivism are the epistemologies of positivism and postpositivism. Both of these positions embrace notions of determinism and focus on cause-​and-​effect relationships in order to predict future events. The key difference between these two positions is that scholars who adhere to the former believe that all communicative phenomena and human behavior are reducible to operational definitions that can be measured. Conversely, adherents to postpositivism acknowledge that there are intersubjective meaning structures that cannot easily be measured. What is more, postpositivists acknowledge that significant cultural differences can often make measurements inconsistent or render them useless. Research within these epistemologies often focuses on the interactions and relationships between variables. In this way, then, most research conducted within this objectivist realm relies heavily on experimental design and surveys from a quantitative perspective. However, many postpositivists will turn to qualitative methods to gain descriptive insight concerning communication, meaning, or behavior. Under the umbrella of interpretivism, there are several—​ often debated or debatable—​epistemologies. Interpretivism represents epistemologies that qualitative researchers often endorse. This overarching position emerges in large part from the work of Charles Berger and Peter Luckman (1966), which illustrated the so-​called social construction of reality. The tenets of social constructionism rely on the convergence of experience, perception, and human interaction to bridge subjectivity and allow for the co-​construction of meaning structures. Some scholars, like Couldry and Hepp (2017), have worked to expand Berger and Luckman’s original work. In the case of Couldry and Hepp, mediated communication increasingly plays an important role in the social construction of reality; medium and interactivity have changed (or even removed) distance and time as obstacles for the co-​construction of reality. In truth, the different epistemological positions under the umbrella of interpretivism have been subject to revision over the years, and often overlap, converge, or collapse into one another. Nevertheless, we will try to differentiate between some of these here to illustrate the breadth of positions available to students and researchers. Some of the most prominent epistemologies that would fit within interpretivism include phenomenology, hermeneutics, and cultural studies and feminism. The epistemology of phenomenology is based on the notion that lived experiences are integral to the construction of perceptions about reality. In order to fully understand people’s perspectives and perceptions, it is important to first understand their experiences in everyday life. This focus requires that researchers place emphasis on experiences in interview or focus group questions, or in their ethnographic observations. For instance, Sara DeTurk (2011) conducted research concerning the formation of allied identities. Specifically, she looked to activist experiences that gave rise to such identity formation. DeTurk asked participants about how they came to become an ally to minority communities, as well as their

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experiences as an ally. These questions led to discussion concerning the goals for their allied work: 1. What does it mean for you to be an ally? 2. What do you do as an ally (specific behaviors to support others)? 3. How did you become an ally? (How did your views/​attitudes/​beliefs/​feelings/​relationships/​behavior/​communication change? Were there particular experiences, relationships, or things you heard/​saw that shifted your consciousness about racism/​sexism/​ etc.?) 4. How is your experience or identity as an ally supported and/​or challenged (by others individuals, groups, institutions, media, your social/​cultural environment, or society in general)? (p. 588) As an epistemology, hermeneutics focuses on interpretation. There are two pathways to interpretations: interpretation of texts and examination of participants’ interpretations. Many rhetorical scholars are engaged in interpretation when they conduct their work of criticism; essentially, most contemporary rhetorical criticism involves interpretations of texts for academic audiences. For instance, Josh conducted research with a group of graduate students to explore the role of popular culture stories in politically oriented, activist-​produced alternative media texts. Through this textual analysis, they interpreted these popular culture stories as a bridge that allowed ideologies and meanings from those alternative media titles to connect to topics that are traditionally seen as non-​political (Atkinson et al., 2017). Another pathway of hermeneutics, however, involves the examination of participants’ observations through qualitative methods. Essentially, the researcher focuses on the ways in which people interpret meanings from mediated texts or discourse around them. A good example of such research would be focus groups conducted by Jennifer Rauch (2007) with audiences of alternative media. In that research, Rauch sought to understand how such audiences distinguished between alternative and mainstream media. She first had participants watch segments from ABC Nightly News with Peter Jennings and then asked them whether it was alternative or mainstream media. Once all had described it as mainstream, she then asked them to explain what would make something alternative. Through their responses, she was able to identify the participants’ interpretive strategies, through which they categorized and made sense of different forms of media. Cultural studies and feminism stand as a confluence of critical media studies (e.g., Hall, 1980), Marxist critique (e.g., Gramsci, 1971), Frankfurt School critique (e.g., Horkheimer & Adorno, 1972), and different forms of feminist critique (e.g., liberal feminism, radical feminism). The essence of these epistemologies is the powerful influences that media have on ideology and culture. For the most part the emphasis is on power enacted through meaning structures or discursive formations conveyed through television programs, films, and now, interactive media platforms. Essentially, meaning structures, like patriarchy, emphasize certain aspects or individuals within a culture, while hiding and silencing others. As with hermeneutics, there are multiple pathways for such explorations of power. One way is the interpretation of texts, like the one noted by Atkinson et al. (2017)

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above. Many critical cultural scholars engage in textual analysis that give rise to interpretations of texts grounded in particular critical theories, like hegemonic masculinity, illustrating problematic or oppressive meaning structures. In addition, researchers can look at rituals or meaning structures utilized in everyday communicative practices that reinforce dominant, oppressive power structures. For instance, research by Dougherty (2001) utilized focus groups to examine the ways in which employees reinforce or resist notions of sexual harassment in a corporate organization. In that particular case, she started the focus groups by asking participants to reflect on their own experiences with sexual harassment within the organization (either examples that they experienced, or heard about): 1. Discuss each of your stories about sexual harassment. What would you do if you were the victim in this story? 2. What is your definition of sexual harassment? 3. What is the biggest problem with sexual harassment in organizations today? In this organization? 4. Describe your greatest fear related to sexual harassment. What do you think are men’s/​ women’s greatest fears related to sexual harassment? 5. Why does sexual harassment occur? 6. Why do some men sexually harass women? 7. How can people effectively respond to sexual harassment? 8. Describe an ideal sexual harassment policy. In this way, then, Dougherty used her focus group questions to illustrate perceptions and experiences with oppressive practices within an organizational setting. All of this is important for students and scholars, as epistemology flows into research questions, which shapes methods for data collection (see Chapter 2). Numerous research projects have been derailed because the methods don’t match the focus of the epistemological foundations. For these reasons, students and scholars must develop a firm understanding of their particular foundation. This is not to say that any person is bound now and forever to a single epistemology. Indeed, those who operate under the broad label of interpretivism often move between the narrower foundations underneath that umbrella. For instance, much of Josh’s research has been founded on hermeneutics, looking into the ways in which activists read, interpret, and utilize alternative media content in their protests and political outreach. However, other projects have been grounded in phenomenology, when Josh looked to activists’ experiences in the construction of political or resistance identities. What is of utmost importance in these examples was that Josh understood the main focus of his particular grounding for each project; this, in turn, influenced what he sought through interviews or focus groups (Box 1.2). Without a firm understanding of the grounding for a particular project, one may very well ask research questions that address interpretations—​but then formulate interview questions that focus on experiences. (Research questions guide a study, as the researcher seeks to answer them through the research process). Such problems create findings that don’t address the research questions and leave a research project without any direction.

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BOX 1.2  Methodologies Cultural Studies (e.g., Marxism, feminism) Focus: The role of power in the intersubjectivity of power. Research: Critique of texts, or examination of individuals’ experiences of oppressive practices. Hermeneutics Focus: The role of texts in the construction of ideologies or meaning structures in society. Research: Interpretation of texts, or examination of frameworks adopted by people to understand texts and phenomena around them. Phenomenology Focus: The role of experiences in the construction of perceptions. Research: Engagement with people to uncover interactions and experiences that have shaped their understanding about topics and issues in the world. Positivism and Post-​Positivism Focus: Reality is constituted by a material world in which all things can be operationalized and defined. Research: Search for rules/​laws or cause-​and-​effect relationships in communication.

Josh offers the following two examples from his own research in order to illustrate these important issues of epistemology and method. The first is a project that he conducted with a group of graduate students at Bowling Green State University concerning the role of alternative media in mainstream political parties. In this research, they explored ways in which key leaders within the county-​level Democratic and Republican parties used alternative media content in their political work; this was important, as the experiences of integrating such media also proved important to their perceptions of mainstream politics (Atkinson et al., 2022). The study was grounded in phenomenology, which focuses on the role of experiences in the construction of perception. Essentially, they started from an assumption that participants’ experiences with alternative media were crucial to perceptions of the world around them. They then asked a guiding research question that explored particular experiences: Do leaders in local-​level political parties use alternative media? If so, how do they make use of those media? In order to answer these questions, they constructed the following interview guide that asked pointed questions about participants’ experiences in their respective parties, as well as their experiences and interests in alternative media. 1. Could you please explain your role in the party? How long have you been involved? How did you come to be involved in the party? 2. Would you consider the ABC Nightly News to be alternative media? Why or why not? 3. If ABC Nightly News would not constitute alternative media, then what do you think would be forms of alternative media? Could you please name some titles? 4. What are some forms of alternative media that you read or use on a regular basis?

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5. Do you ever incorporate ideas from alternative media into your political work? How? Could you provide some examples? 6. Do you ever share any alternative media content in your role within the party? If so, could you provide some examples? 7. If you do share alternative media content within the party, how do you believe other members of the party make use of that content? 8. Do you ever take part in the production of alternative media? Could you please discuss any production in which you take part? 9. Demographics: What is your age? What is your ethnicity? What is your gender? What is your highest level of education attainment? How long have you lived in Wood County? All of the questions, except for 2, 3, and 9, address the participants’ experiences in politics and with alternative media. Questions 2 and 3 were asked as introductory questions to allow the participants to conceptualize the concept of alternative media, so that the participants and researchers were all talking about the same things. This is similar to the work of Rauch (2007) described previously, in which she asked participants whether ABC Nightly News was alternative media. The final question addressed demographic issues. Overall, the epistemology shaped the research questions, which, in turn, shaped the interview guide presented to the political leaders. In another research example, Josh and a group of graduate students explored undergraduate students’ sensemaking in regard to political ads. They were interested in the ways in which undergraduates differentiated—​or conflated—​political ads produced by different kinds of organizations (Atkinson et al., 2020). Given that the focus was on sensemaking and interpretation, the project was grounded in hermeneutics. They started with the assumption that people utilize frameworks to understand or make sense of texts. In this case, they formulated a very simple research question: How do student audiences make sense of different “political” ads? Students were asked to watch a series of advertisements: political campaign ads by one Democrat and one Republican, advocacy ads produced by groups like Greenpeace and Amnesty International, and public service announcements about issues like bullying and smoking. After watching the different ads, the students were asked to create a categorization system to sort them out. After they had done this work, the researchers guided them through the following interview schedule: 1. Please present your categories to the group. Be sure to explain the characteristics that define each category. a. If you used “political” as a category, what characteristics do you think makes an ad “political”? From your perspective, what does “political” look like? 2. After listening to the other group members present their categories, would you modify your own categories? How? Why? 3. What do you think about political ads in general? 4. What did you learn from watching these ads? 5. Do you think that these are effective ads? Why? 6. What stood out to you in these ads? 7. What did you like about these ads? Why?

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8. What did you dislike about these ads? Why? 9. How do you think that other people will react to these ads? Explain. 10. Describe the people who produced these different ads. What are they like? 11. What else would you like to convey to us about these ads? In this case, the action of sorting the advertisements into categories helped to illustrate the interpretive frameworks used by the undergraduate students. The first question asked the students to present these frameworks to others and explain the rationale for any categories that might be political in nature. The second question allowed them to modify their categories based on insights provided by other students. The remaining questions helped the researchers to better understand how those frameworks were developed, as well as the meanings that they constructed for particular ads. Overall, the assumptions from the hermeneutic epistemological tradition shaped the guiding research question, which influenced the construction of the focus groups and interview schedule that facilitated the discussion with (and among) the student participants.

Conclusion Ultimately, methodology stands as the integration of epistemology with method, and it is integral to the development of any research project—​whether that project be objectivist or interpretivist, positivist or phenomenological. In order to design a good research study, students and scholars alike must have a strong understanding about their grounding and positionality. Sadly, we often see projects initiated that lack such a grounding. In those cases, the emergent research questions do not address a proper focus, or the research design does not allow for data collection that adequately addresses those questions. The discussion of epistemology in this chapter is cursory, just a survey of the different foundations that are out there. We suggest you consult sources like James Anderson’s (1996) Communication Theory: Epistemological Foundations to gain greater insight concerning the different foundations that you may occupy in your research endeavors. Such insight is particularly important for those students and scholars engaged in interpretivist enterprises, as those positions are often in flux and even debatable. Indeed, foundations like hermeneutics and phenomenology often overlap, as experiences often play a role in interpretations—​and vice versa. Now that you can distinguish the difference between method and methodology, describe the strengths and characteristics of qualitative research in media and communication, and understand the importance of reflexivity and positionality, you are ready to consider specific methods for your research that we discuss in the next chapter. In short, you are thinking like a qualitative researcher.

Discussion Questions 1. What are some strengths of qualitative research? What kinds of topics lend themselves to a qualitative approach? Of the qualities of qualitative research discussed in this chapter, which are the most appealing to you as a researcher and why?

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2. Are there some research topics we should never study? If not, then how do we consider ethics when proposing a research topic? How do ethics play a role before, during, and after a research study? 3. What is reflexivity? What conceptualization works best for you and why? How is reflexivity important for qualitative work, and your work in particular? How will you incorporate your understanding of reflexivity into your work? 4. Discuss the differences between method and methodology. How does your epistemological stance influence your choice of method? Your methodological preferences?

Research and Writing Practice 1. Write a positionality statement for a research article or report that you have completed or intend to complete. How are your biases, values, ethics, and methodological commitments positioned? 2. Keep a reflexivity journal for a project that you want to do and/​or are starting. Begin the journal by answering the following questions: • How do your characteristics matter in your research? (For instance, consider gender, sexuality, race, class, patience, and ability to handle ambiguity.) • How do your characteristics and topic matter interact? (For instance, what if you are doing research on sexual harassment and identify as feminist?) • How do your answers to the questions above influence you as an interviewer? (For instance, being a feminist interviewing sexual harassers may mean that it is difficult to “bracket” feelings of hostility toward an participant.) In this journal, you will want to answer these questions again after interactions with participants. You will want to write in the journal during fieldwork activities. You will also want to write about your impressions of participants and research participants, your own feelings about your research, and emerging ideas about your research, yourself as a researcher, and your feelings about the research process. The idea of the journal is for you to document your evolving sense of reflexivity as it relates to you as a researcher, your research, and how reflexivity is included and excluded in the research process. If you are a student, you can answer the following questions after every class reading and activity: • What was the most difficult part of this reading/​exercise? • What did I learn about myself as a researcher after this reading/​exercise? • What did I learn about research after this reading/​exercise? For more detailed information, refer to Faulkner et al. (2016).

Suggested Resources • Anderson, J. A. (1996). Communication theory: Epistemological foundations. Guilford Press. • Atkinson, J. (2017). Journey into social activism: Qualitative approaches. Fordham University Press. • Shepherd, G. J., St. John, J., & Striphas, T. (2006). Communication as . . . perspectives on theory. Sage.

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Designing a Qualitative Study Qualitative work is iterative; constructing, refining, and meaning making are a continual process.

Key Terms arts-​based research, convenience sampling, conversational interviews, criterion sampling, double loop analysis, ethnography, grounded theory, informed consent, rapport, snowball sampling, stratified random sampling, theoretical sampling

Learning Outcomes After reading and engaging with the material in this chapter, you should be able to: • List ethical considerations when designing a qualitative research study. • Describe qualitative sampling. • Demonstrate how qualitative research is iterative. • Design an arts-​based research study. • Design a study using grounded theory. • Design an ethnographic study. • Explain what makes a good qualitative interview.

Research Ethics and the Institutional Review Board Box 2.1: Informed Consent for “Women who Run” Sampling Simple Sampling Strategies Complex Sampling Strategies Interviews

Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media. Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.003.0002

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Interview Design Box 2.2: Participant Recruitment and Interviewing with Dr. Pamela J. Lannutti Types of Interviews Box 2.3: LGBTQ Jewish Identity Interview Protocol Interviewer Characteristics, Behavior, and Rapport Building Preparing to Interview Ethnography Forms of Ethnography Box 2.4: Ethnography, Activism, and Public Scholarship with Dr. Robin M. Boylorn Autoethnography Fieldwork and Participant Observation Grounded Theory Arts-​Based Research Poetic Portraiture Visual ABR Methods Uses of ABR Conclusion Discussion Questions Research and Writing Practice Suggested Resources In this chapter, we continue the conversation about method and methodology from the previous chapter by focusing on the specific methods that researchers can use in their research. That is, we talk about designing qualitative research projects. This is the part in the research process when researchers decide on the nuts and bolts of their project, including a specific research focus, how to do the research project, whether to use human participants, securing institutional research board (IRB) approval, how to sample, and what method or methods to use. We discuss navigating the IRB process, sampling, and the most common methods in qualitative research in media and communication—​interviewing, ethnography, grounded theory, and arts-​based methods including poetic portraiture and visual methods. We discuss qualitative content analysis in Chapter 4 and media analysis in Chapter 5. As we emphasized in the previous chapter, though there are some commonalities that cut across qualitative research, there is not one “accepted, linear, standardized approach” (Trent & Cho, 2020, p. 2). What we can assert with some certainty is that qualitative research is iterative, open-​ended, structured, and flexible. This means that you do not know what you will find, discover, and/​or create at the beginning of the qualitative research process, and you will move back and forth between design, data collection, and analysis as you move through your work.

Research Ethics and the Institutional Review Board Researchers who will involve human participants in their research need to get their research approved by the IRB at their institution. The IRB consists of members of the local research

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community who are sometimes appointed or elected and who are tasked with evaluating the ethics of research proposals. The purpose of the IRB is to evaluate the potential harm to research participants and weigh this against the research benefits to participants and society at large. The IRB will make suggestions for how to adhere to ethical guidelines. In Chapters 1 and 7, we discuss how ethics represents a relative and evolutionary system of norms created by agreement among a community of scholars. If researchers are doing work at other institutions with ethical review boards, such as hospitals and prisons, they will often need to get approval from them in addition to their home IRB. To begin, there are four situational factors that researchers should consider in their work. The first is the method of collecting, analyzing, and reporting data. You will want to consider participants’ comfort and issues of anonymity and confidentiality. Another factor is the goal of the research and weighing potential harm against benefits. The third factor concerns reflexivity—​what are the motives of the researcher and reasons for conducting the research? Finally, researchers need to consider the impacts of the research on participants and the researchers as well as the larger scholarly and social communities. Researchers will submit information about the study’s goals, purpose, and research questions; the study personnel; the participant characteristics; and the study design (including all interview protocols, sampling, a consent form, and recruitment materials) to the IRB (see examples below in the sampling section). Before you submit your project materials, you should consider the ethical responsibilities of researchers. Researchers need to monitor the rights and welfare of participants throughout the research process, must not force participants to do anything against their will or invade their privacy, must minimize any harm, and must respect participants’ autonomy (Traianou, 2015). One responsibility is ensuring the integrity of the research, which refers to adhering to the standards and rules of research. This means that all members of a research team must be qualified and trained in research ethics. Another responsibility is minimizing harm; the first right of research participants is the right of personal safety and minimization of harm, even in the presentation of the research. Of course, it is sometimes difficult to predict and define participant harm. For example, Carolyn Ellis (2007) described how her ethnographic work in a fishing village created unintended harm when participants did not see her as a researcher but as a friend. Ellis wrestled with making her status as a researcher salient in every interaction and ultimately found her loyalties were to academia and writing “an interesting and informative dissertation” (p. 10). The disclosure of private sexual practices and hidden lives of the Fisher Folk seemed to serve the larger good; however, Ellis discovered that the blunt writing made it easy for participants to recognize themselves. Harm can be personal (e.g., being humiliated or embarrassed), psychological (e.g., losing self-​esteem, emotional anguish, loss of face), material (e.g., property damage), or social (e.g., losing trust in others, harassment, being outed). Personal risk could include being embarrassed or humiliated if others in the community discovered you were part of a research study. For instance, if you were involved in a study on understanding those who commit sexual harassment, you could be humiliated and lose face. Other instances of personal risk could include things such as harassment or being outed. Think of being in a study on LGBTQ Jewish identity and being closeted because you work in a conservative school district. It could be difficult for you if anyone

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in the community found out you were lesbian. You could also face potential harassment. Thus, it is the IRB’s and the researcher’s responsibility to ensure that the procedures in a study, including how data will be handled and how the research will be presented, protect a participant’s privacy and minimize any harm. You can imagine that some research projects could be risky for the researcher as well. For example, if a researcher wanted to interview gun owners in their homes about the Second Amendment, we could see how there may be risks to the researcher as well as to the participants. Gun laws are a contentious issue in the US with different ideas about how to contend with gun violence. There can be personal safety issues when researching this topic. For example, a few years ago, Sandra signed a petition against concealed carry laws on her campus. The names of the supporters were sent to a pro-​gun group, and she received several harassing emails. Participants should be informed of all the research procedures and potential risks, harm, and benefits of the research. This means voluntary participation and informed consent, which entails informing participants of any reasonable and foreseeable risks or discomforts before the study begins and reminding them that participation is completely voluntary. Researchers are obligated to give participants adequate information about a study so they can decide whether or not to participate; this information includes the study’s purpose, the nature of the research procedure, and the risks and benefits. It is difficult to inform participants of all of the risks in a study, because some may be unknown. However, if stress or potential harm is possible, measures should be taken to assess harm after the study, and if the harm is long-​lasting, a researcher has an obligation to follow up (e.g., counseling). The goal is to balance risks and benefits; minimal risk is that which is not greater than one would encounter in everyday life. Research participants should not feel pressured and should be given ample time to decide whether to participate. Research ethics is recursive; a researcher imagines the possibilities of harm and risks and how to safeguard participants even if they consent to participate in the research. Privacy is another ethical concern. Some sensitive topics, like abortion or bereavement, may be viewed as too sensitive, the context of a public or private setting can matter (e.g., online discussion boards), and cultural ideas about ways of knowing and what is considered private can conflict (Traianou, 2015). Ethnographers may need to remind participants that they are researchers and be careful about recording. Participants need to know if their information will be confidential or anonymous. Anonymity is when a researcher cannot pair a given response with a given respondent, and confidentiality is when a researcher is able to identify a given person’s responses but agrees not to do so publicly. Anonymity implies confidentiality, but the reverse is not true. And as Traianou (2015) points out, anonymity is a matter of degree, as identities of participants “will be more or less difficult to recognize by different audiences” (p. 65). There are ways that researchers can make information confidential—​using pseudonyms, destroying lists of participants when no longer needed, fictionalizing details, and using amalgams of individual participants. Box 2.1 shows a consent form for a study Sandra conducted on women and running (Faulkner, 2018c). Notice that it contains information about risks, benefits, privacy, study purpose, and the voluntary nature of the research.

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BOX 2.1  Informed Consent for “Women who Run” Introduction: My name is Sandra Faulkner, and I am an associate professor of Communication at Bowling Green State University. I am interested in learning more about women who run, as I am a runner myself. Purpose: I am interested in women’s embodied experiences with running: how they run, how running fits into the context of their lives and relationships, how they enact or challenge cultural scripts of women’s activities and normative running bodies, and what running means for their lives and identities. There is no monetary benefit to participants. Procedure: This study consists of conversational interviews. In preparation, I ask you select a photo, either of yourself or something that characterizes your experiences with running, to help guide our conversation. Interviews can be conducted in-​person or via phone, Skype, Google Hangout, email or chat services. I anticipate the interview conversations will take no more than 60–​90 minutes each. Interviews conducted via chat or email may take a bit longer due to the wait time between question and answer. Voluntary nature: Your participation is completely voluntary. You are free to withdraw at any time. You may decide to skip questions or discontinue participation at any time without penalty. Deciding to participate or not will not impact any relationship you may have with BGSU. Confidentiality protection: I will use a pseudonym when referring to you in the research write-​up. Interviews will be taped to insure I quote you accurately. The tapes are strictly for this purpose and will not be shared. Your contact information and all interview documents including recorded files and transcripts will be stored in a password-​protected file on my personal computer. I will remove any identifying information from the data before using it in the write-​up. When you indicate consent electronically I will print the consent, attach it to a physical copy of this consent form and file it in a locked cabinet. All hard copies of interview notes and physical tapes of interviews will also be stored in this locked cabinet. I am the only person who will have access to these documents. I will keep the information for two years at which time it will be destroyed. Risks: The risk of participation is no greater than that experienced in daily life. I will be asking questions regarding your opinion about issues that may feel very personal to you. These may include questions about body image and experiences with significant others around running. If at any time you feel uncomfortable with a question you may decline to answer. As stated in a previous paragraph, your participation is entirely voluntary and you may leave the study at any time. Contact information: You may contact me with questions about the research or your participation in the research by phone at 419-​xxx-​xxxx or email at xxx@xxx. You

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may also contact the Chair, Human Subjects Review Board at 419-​xxx-​xxxx or xxx@ xxx, if you have any questions about your rights as a participant in this research. Thank you for your time! ​ I am at least 18 years old and have been informed of the purposes, procedures, risks and benefits of this study. I have had the opportunity to have all of my questions answered and I have been informed that my participation is completely voluntary. I agree to participate in this research. If the interview is being conducted in person, please sign below. If the interview is being conducted online, please indicate your understanding of this document and your consent to participate in an email before the interview questions begin. ​ Participant Signature Investigator Signature

Sampling Many qualitative projects—​both those that explore texts and those that focus on human subjects—​require the researcher to draw a sample for study. In quantitative research, which typically relies on surveys or experiments, the goal of sampling is to generalize any findings to the larger national or global populations (e.g., Adelson et al., 2019); such sampling is often referred to as probability or representative sampling. Sampling in qualitative research, however, does not entail the same representation to create generalizations; rather, it typically allows researchers to explore patterns of meaning making (e.g., Schreier, 2012) and the contexts of human meaning making (e.g., Miles & Huberman, 1994). In addition to contexts and meanings, qualitative sampling can be used to construct new theories or build on existing theories (Corbin & Strauss, 2015). Essentially, a sample drawn in qualitative research projects permits the examination of a population or text as thoroughly as possible, while eliminating the possibility for bias or randomness to dictate the findings. Sampling strategies can significantly shape the data that is gained through qualitative methods like interviews or qualitative content analysis, and thus the descriptions of communities or development of theory. Take, for instance, Josh’s work concerning social activist organizations. He has noted that there are two primary ways to examine such sites of activism: a focused approach and a cross-​sectional approach (Atkinson, 2017). These are essentially two different ways of drawing a sample of activists in order to learn about meaning making in organizations. The first mode of sampling allows for a careful examination of activities and rituals (even media) within a single organization; the sample of activists would come, then, from one single organization. Conversely, the second approach entails drawing participants from multiple organizations across a wide array of different activist organizations. In the second

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approach to drawing a sample, the activists would have little, if any, connection to one another, nor would they exhibit many of the same forms of meaning making or rituals. For the most part, these two approaches will influence any information gleaned through the methods utilized, which in turn will shape any concepts or theory that emerge from a research project. Within this book, we have grouped different strategies for sampling into two primary categories: simple and complex.

Simple Sampling Strategies The simple strategies for drawing participant samples are typically utilized in research projects that explore context or search for patterns in meaning making. These are easy and efficient methods to recruit people for interviews or focus groups, or to select texts for analysis, that will most likely help the researcher to answer guiding research questions. The simple sampling strategies that are most prevalent in qualitative research are convenience sampling, snowball sampling, and criterion sampling. The first of these, convenience sampling, involves recruiting participants who are readily available to the researcher. This is by all means the fastest and easiest method of sampling, although many scholars claim that it is not a particularly strong sampling strategy (e.g., Lindlof & Taylor, 2019). Nevertheless, given that most researchers work on or near college campuses, it proves to be exceedingly expedient to reach out to undergraduate students who are taking courses and asking them to volunteer to take part in a research project. Of course, with some studies, students may be the population of interest, such as in Sandra’s research on inclusive and welcoming teaching practices in the college classroom (Faulkner et al., 2020). A good example of such a project was one that Josh conducted with a group of graduate students at Bowling Green State University. In that project, they conducted focus groups that involved participants watching a series of different kinds of political ads (e.g., campaign ads, activist ads). After watching the ads, the participants were asked to discuss them together and with the researchers (Atkinson et al., 2020). In this particular case, they chose to conduct convenience sampling, as it was easy to gain access to participants through the communication courses taught at BGSU. In order to recruit these participants, they prepared the following script approved by the IRB that Josh read to the students in those courses: Greetings, My name is Joshua Atkinson, and I am an associate professor in the School of Media & Communication here at BGSU. My research focus over the years has examined the role of alternative media in contemporary activism. Recently, I have started to investigate the ways in which alternative and activist media are used to influence mainstream political communication. I am conducting a study in which students will be asked to watch a series of political advertisements and discuss them in a focus group. During the focus group portion of the study, students will be asked about their opinions and observations of the different ads. Overall, this process will take roughly two hours to complete. If you are interested in taking part in the study, you may be eligible for extra credit points in this class.

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If you would be interested in taking part in the study and focus groups, your participation would be greatly appreciated. Your participation will be voluntary as you may withdraw at any time without prejudice and you may refuse to answer any questions. If you withdraw after the beginning of the study, you will still receive your extra credit points. In addition, your name will not be included in any published materials, thus retaining your confidentiality. If you are interested, feel free to contact me via email, or telephone at xxx-​xxx-​xxxx. Thank you very much. One other simple strategy available to researchers is snowball sampling. This form of sampling entails reaching out to potential participants and asking them to take part in the research. Such prospective participants might then be asked to pass along a recruitment message to others whom they feel would be good participants for the project (Kogan et al., 2011; Lindlof & Taylor, 2019). Conversely, this method for sampling could be utilized by interviewing an initial group of participants—​in many ways, this would start as a convenience sample readily available to the researcher. After each interview, however, the researcher may ask the participants if they know of other people who would be willing to take part in the project. An example of the former was provided by DeTurk (2011) in her research concerning allies to minority or underprivileged communities. In that research, she sent out a recruitment email to listservs that were utilized by different activist organizations; the prospective participants were urged to send the message along to others whom they felt might have insights that would be valuable to the project: Seeking Allies for a Research Project Ally—​a person who has relative social power or privilege in society who takes a stand against injustice directed at people who do not (e.g., male feminists, white people working against racism, or Christians working to stop hate crimes against Muslims or Jews). Sara DeTurk, Assistant Professor of Communication, is conducting research on how people come to be allies to others in the face of oppression on the basis of race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, religion, nationality, age, dis/​abilities, or economic class. If you consider yourself to be an ally and are willing to discuss your experiences in a one-​hour interview, please contact Dr. DeTurk at xxx-​xxxx or [via email]. (p. 588) The last of the simple strategies that we discuss in this chapter is criterion sampling, which is sometimes referred to as purposive sampling (Neuman, 2007). This process involves seeking participants who fit particular conditions that will aid in addressing the guiding research questions. Essentially, the research calls for interviews with specific participants or examination of a specific set of texts. For the most part, the DeTurk research noted above relied not only on snowball sampling but purposive criterion sampling as well. It was not enough that she looked to a convenient group of undergraduate students to recruit for the interviews. How many convenient undergraduates would stand as the allies that she sought? Some might. But those who were not allies could not be interviewed,

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as any information gleaned from them would not help to address the guiding research questions and goals. Similarly, Josh engaged in a research project with a group of graduate students in which they sought to examine the use of alternative media by leaders in the county-​level Democratic and Republican parties near them (Atkinson et al., 2022). In this case, interviewing convenient samples of students would afford nothing. In addition, interviewing rank-​and-​file Democrats or Republicans would only provide a partial picture of these issues. Instead, their research demanded a very specific group of participants: individuals in the county parties who sat on the executive boards, managed campaigns, or held elected office. For these reasons, then, they emailed the following message to these very specific individuals who met this guiding criterion: Greetings, My name is Joshua Atkinson, and I am an associate professor in the School of Media & Communication at BGSU. My research has focused for years on the role of alternative media in social activism. In recent years, however, I have noticed that alternative media may also play important roles in modern mainstream political communication. Specifically, I am interested in the use of alternative media—​or production of alternative media—​by figures that are prominently or active in the two main political parties at the local level. In this research project, I am looking to conduct one to two hour interviews with people who have been involved in leadership roles in local level Democratic or Republican parties over the years. The length of the interviews will largely be determined by how much you have to say concerning the topic. The interviews will focus on your use of media, as well as your production of any media. The interviews will also examine your roles in your respective political parties, and how you might have used alternative media in those roles. If you would be interested in taking part in a face-​to-​face interview, your participation would be greatly appreciated. Your participation will be voluntary as you may withdraw at any time without prejudice and you may refuse to answer any questions. In addition, your name will not be included in any published materials, thus retaining your confidentiality. If you are interested, feel free to contact me via email, or telephone at xxx-​xxx-​xxxx. Thank you very much.

Complex Sampling Strategies The complex sampling strategies are often necessary to draw pools of prospective participants or texts from large, diverse populations. In these cases, such sampling strategies become necessary so that the researcher does not unintentionally overlook small groups, minority voices, or less frequently published or circulated texts that might be hidden within a larger population. The important complex strategies that we cover here are stratified random sampling and theoretical sampling. Stratified random sampling (e.g., Altheide & Schneider, 2013), sometimes referred to as maximum variation sampling (e.g., Lindlof & Taylor, 2019), involves the generation of

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random samples within predetermined categories, or “strata.” This complex strategy is more often associated with qualitative media analysis rather than the interviews and focus groups that are used to explore specific communities. (This form of sampling is also covered in Chapter 4 on qualitative media analysis.) To conduct this form of sampling, the researcher must identify and develop the different categories that are to be sampled within a particular population. As noted above, this is important so as to gain insight into all aspects of the population. Pure random sampling may lead the researcher to overlook certain groups or texts that exist within the population, which could lead to skewed or incomplete findings. These categorical strata will dictate which underlying elements in a population must be drawn into a pool, as well as how many. In an example that we discuss in Chapter 4, Josh worked with a group of graduate students to explore the potential connections between alternative media content and mainstream political discourse. In that project, they examined different forms of conservative alternative media circulated prior to Republican debates in 2015 and 2016 (Atkinson et al., 2019). They had identified three key alternative media texts for analysis: Rush Limbaugh radio broadcasts, the Tea Party Express newsletter, and RedState.com. However, these three titles were circulated at different rates each week: Limbaugh broadcast his show every weekday; the Tea Party Express content was sent out on a listserv a few times a week; and RedState posted as many as 15 or 20 articles each day. For this reason, they decided to analyze every issue of the Tea Party Express, as well as 12 random articles or segments from RedState and the Rush Limbaugh broadcasts for each week. In this way, they were able to capture enough of the content from each source to adequately analyze each, as well as make comparisons across them. Theoretical sampling is associated with grounded theory data analysis and the development of theory from qualitative research methods (e.g., Corbin & Strauss, 2015; Glaser & Strauss, 1967). This form of sampling can be accompanied by the concept of double loop analysis (Altheide & Schneider, 2013). In reference to the first, the researcher should recruit participants through one of the simpler means of sampling, such as convenience or criterion sampling. The purpose here, however, is to actively conduct the research (e.g., interviews, content analysis) as more and more samples are drawn. This allows the researchers to build categories as they recruit or select new texts for analysis. The goal of such a sampling method is to reach a point of “theoretical saturation” (e.g., Corbin & Strauss, 2015; Lindlof & Taylor, 2019), in which no new categories may develop and the researcher finds only repetitive information in the new or incoming data (see Chapter 7 for a full discussion of saturation). The sample size is determined by your research purpose and “the complexity, range and distribution of experiences or views of interest” (Francisa et al., 2010, p. 1230). The notion of double loop analysis, developed by Altheide and Schneider (2013), can also accompany theoretical sampling. In this process the researcher pauses after collecting some initial data and then reflects back on the research questions, research instrument, and emergent categories. At this point, the researcher may make some adjustments to any of these things, and then continue with the theoretical sampling and data collection. Later, the researcher can again pause and reflect on all of these things, especially as the categories become more developed. Essentially, the development of categories through theoretical sampling leads to reflection and revision, which helps to better refine the category development

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through the sampling and data collection. It should be noted that this double loop analysis in theoretical sampling is better suited for content and textual analysis, as such constant revisions to the research questions and instrument would not require amendments of documents through the IRB.

Interviews The method that many people think of when considering qualitative research is the interview. We use the research interview when we want to discover, understand, and query individuals’ perspectives on a phenomenon of interest. In an interview, a researcher asks participants questions face to face, over the telephone, or via chat service (e.g., Skype, Zoom) or online through instant messaging or email; typically records the answers through writing, audio, and/​or visual means; and transcribes the interview for later analysis (see Chapter 3). Interviews are often the sole method researchers use in qualitative research such as narrative, life, and oral history projects, and they constitute a key part of other qualitative methods such as ethnography and grounded theory to collect and analyze individual perceptions and attitudes. For example, ethnographers usually do interviews as part of their field research. We interview people to ask about their perspectives or experiences, since we cannot directly observe their thoughts. We interview to find out what is in and on someone else’s mind. We interview to listen to someone’s story.

Interview Design Qualitative interviews require researchers to plan and prepare for the interviews by developing expertise in their topic so they can ask informed questions (Dumay, 2011). Interview design is the plan researchers develop for conducting interviews. Decisions about interviewing depend on a researcher’s goals, preferences, and ethical considerations. Researchers select participants to interview based on sampling issues discussed previously. A good interview participant is one who has experienced the phenomenon of interest, can articulate their experiences, and is willing to discuss their experiences with researchers. As an interviewer, you decide on the type of interview you will do, who you will interview, how and where you will interview, and what your goals for an interview will be. You need to consider sampling issues as discussed previously. For example: • Are you interested in understanding behaviors, perceptions, or experiences? You may decide to use in-​depth interviews. • Is your goal to co-​construct knowledge? Focus groups or co-​constructed interviews may be appropriate. • Are you working with children or older populations? The use of photovoice or vignettes may be warranted. Photovoice is a community-​based participatory action research (PAR) method that is good for recruiting hard-​to-​reach populations; participants use cameras to take photos of their environment and circumstances based on prompts from the researcher. It is a popular method in health communication research as a method to help improve community health (Leavy, 2017a).

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Deciding on the interview mode—​face to face or via technology—​depends on your sample, research project, and access. Consider the following advantages and disadvantages of different means of interviewing (Irvine, 2011; Opdenakker, 2006): Face to face • Advantages: Good for connecting with participants, reading social cues; no time delay between questions and answers; spontaneity • Disadvantages: More time and cost; interviewer effects can be strong; longer transcription time Phone interviews • Advantages: Wide geographical access; good for difficult/​sensitive topics, access to hard-​to-​reach populations; cost-​effective; access to closed sites (e.g., prisons, religious communities); access to dangerous or politically sensitive sites (e.g., war zones); spontaneity • Disadvantages: Fewer social cues; transcription time Online interviews via video conference • Advantages: Transcription generated by program; wide geographical access; cost-​ effective; spontaneity • Disadvantages: Need reliable internet access Instant message or email interviews • Advantages: Wide geographical access; extended access; ready-​made transcription; hard-​to-​reach populations; potentially more self-​disclosure; can be anonymous; fewer distractions; cost • Disadvantages: Time lag; lack of spontaneity; need reliable internet access; absence of social cues; more time for in-​depth interview; harder to build rapport The interview mode is always contingent on who you wish to interview. Working with children, older adults, or hard-​to-​reach populations and doing interviews about sensitive topics such as sexual assault will influence how and where you will recruit participants. Some interview methods and types of interviews may work better for particular populations. Pamela Lannutti, who has been researching same-​sex marriage and relational processes with hard-​to-​reach populations for years, discusses her recruitment strategies and interview processes in Box 2.2.

Types of Interviews Once you have decided who you want to interview and how, you need to consider what kind of interview you need to do—​conversational, co-​constructed, focus group, in-​depth, or narrative. In a highly structured, standardized, open-​ended interview, you have a list of questions that you ask every participant so that you can make explicit comparisons between participants. In a general interview guide approach, you have topics and main questions to ask, but the exact wording may change during an interview. In a conversational interview, you have no preset questions or interview direction. The questions that a researcher develops for use are called an interview guide, interview schedule, or interview protocol.

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BOX 2.2  Participant Recruitment and Interviewing with Dr. Pamela J. Lannutti SLF: You began surveying individuals and couples before same-​sex marriage was legal in Massachusetts and, once same-​sex marriage was legal, continued to study, using interviews and surveys, how legalization, experiences with social networks and support, and stigmatization influenced couples’ perceptions of social networks, support and relationship satisfaction. How did you recruit participants? PJL: I rely heavily on snowball sampling methods for these studies. I keep a long list of national and local LGBTQ+​organizations (including social sport, support, and political organizations) and when a study is beginning, I contact those organizations and ask if they will distribute a call for participation to their members. I also post information about the study to the websites and social media pages of LGBTQ+​organizations. When a participant completes the study, I ask them if they will distribute the call for participants to people they know who meet the participant criteria. This cycle of asking a participant to identify other participants continues until I have enough participants for the study. SLF: What challenges did you face given you were interested in hard-​ to-​ reach populations? PJL: Recruiting participants is always a challenge and something I have to work hard at for each study. I generally find that I have an easier time recruiting for surveys than interviews, and that is likely because of the increased time and logistical planning it takes to participate in an interview than a survey. It can also be difficult to talk to someone you don’t know about your relationship experiences when you are part of a minority group that is often stigmatized as LGBTQ+​ people are, so committing to an interview can be challenging for participants. For this reason, I am sure to identify myself as lesbian to potential participants and to make sure that participants understand how their data will be protected. Although I have largely been successful in reaching LGBTQ+​populations for my research, I’ve sometimes been unable to complete a study because of recruitment problems. This has happened when my recruitment criteria were narrow (such as trying to recruit bisexual men who were married to another man). Another challenge I’ve found is that my samples are often not as racially diverse as I would like. To address this, I’ve sought out LGBTQ+​organizations that serve racially diverse or racially underrepresented populations to add to my initial recruitment list. SLF: What are some of the strengths of your recruitment approach? PJL: I find that my participants have generally been motivated to have their experiences better understood, so they are willing to not only participate in the study but to spread the word about the study to others. Because of the snowball

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sampling method, I’ve been able to recruit national samples within the LGBTQ+​ community without spending money on recruitment. SLF: What are some of the strengths of your interview approach? PJL: Because my participants are often located in regions far from me, I’ve had to find ways to interview using technology. Much of my work on same-​sex marriage was completed before online video calls were freely and easily available, so I relied on chat-​based, instant messaging (IM) interviews. Although I was worried that it would be difficult to build a rapport with a participant using IM interviewing, I found that it was possible. SLF: How did these projects influence your conceptualization of sampling and interview methods? PJL: I was completing projects related to same-​sex marriage while court cases and laws across the country expanding or limiting LGBTQ+​people’s access to legal marriage were changing. In some ways, the projects were like a roller coaster . . . sometimes I was collecting data from with people who had new access to marriage, and sometimes I was collecting data with people whose marriage rights were being threatened or limited. At the same time, I was trying to figure out the best way to reach and interview LGBTQ+​people across the country, which is something I had never done before these studies. The same-​sex marriage projects taught me a great deal about how to use a snowball sampling method and how to incorporate online technology into my interviewing. I also learned how to interview two people (both members of a couple) simultaneously, which is something I had not done before these projects. Before these projects, my experiences with interview methods had been limited, so these projects were excellent learning experiences for me that helped expand my experience and expertise with interview methods.

Biography Pamela J. Lannutti (Ph.D., The University of Georgia) is Professor and Director of the Center for Human Sexuality Studies at Widener University. She is a social scientist who studies communication in personal relationships, with an emphasis on the relationships of LGBTQ+​people. She has been studying communication in personal relationships for over 20 years, and her work has appeared in communication and interdisciplinary journals including Human Communication Research, Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, and Personal Relationships. Her research has been recognized with various awards, including the Randy Majors Memorial Award for Distinguished GLBTQ Communication Scholarship. She has extensive academic editorial experience, including editing Communication Quarterly, the flagship journal of the Eastern Communication Association, and is active in the International Association for Relationship Research, the National Communication Association, and the Eastern Communication Association.

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Selected References Lannutti, P. J. (2011). Examining communication about marriage amendments: Same-​sex couples and their extended social networks. Journal of Social Issues, 67, 264–​281. doi:10.1111/​j.1540-​4560.2011.01697.x Lannutti, P. J. (2011). Security, recognition, and misgivings: Exploring older same-​ sex couples’ experiences of legally recognized same-​sex marriage. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 28, 64–​82. doi:0.1177/​0265407510386136 Lannutti, P. J. (2013). Same-​sex marriage and privacy management: Examining couples’ communication with family members. Journal of Family Communication, 13, 60–​75. doi:10.1080/​15267431.2012.742088 Lannutti, P. J. (2014). Experiencing same-​sex marriage: Individuals, couples, and social networks. Peter Lang Publishing. Lannutti, P. J. (2018). Committed, unmarried same-​ sex couples and their social networks in the U.S.: Relationships and discursive strategies. Journal of Homosexuality, 65, 1232–​1248. doi:10.1080/​ 00918369.2017.1411690 Lannutti, P. J. (2018). GLBTQ people who decided to marry after the 2016 U.S. election: Reasons for and meanings of marriage. Journal of GLBT Family Studies, 14, 85–​100. doi:10.1080/​1550428X.2017.1420846

Conversational interviews are often indistinguishable from a casual conversation and are most often used in the context of ethnographic fieldwork. They provide the greatest freedom to the interviewer as they are not structured. Researchers use the conversational interview when they do not know all they need to cover and want to allow space for insight to emerge. There will be talking points, but the interview is most akin to a natural conversation as points are touched on when appropriate in the moment. A participant will rarely view the interview as such given the similarity to a casual conversation. Focus group interviews originated in market research and have developed into a method where a moderator interviews a small group of people (six to 10) at the same time. “It is characterized by a nondirective style of interviewing, where the primary concern is to encourage a variety of viewpoints on the topic in focus for the group” (Brinkmann & Kvale, 2009, p. 175). Researchers interested in group dynamics and norms may choose to do focus group interviews. They are also a good choice when studying a new field, evaluating different research sites or populations, getting interpretations of results from previous studies, getting feedback from participants, evaluating social programs, and getting data about complex behavior (Patton, 2002). Faulkner et al. (2020) used focus groups with university students from marginalized populations in a participatory action project focused on inclusive and welcoming classroom behavior. Sandra moderated six focus groups of four to 11 students focusing on students’ experiences of welcoming and inclusive practices; the interaction between students was vital to understanding their perceptions and different viewpoints of instructor characteristics and behaviors. In-​depth interviews represent a subset of interviewing techniques characterized by the collection of highly detailed and rich information, flexible interview protocols, and open-​ ended questions (Rubin & Rubin, 2012). They are appropriate for studying invisible processes, personal and sensitive issues, as well as “morally ambiguous choices people have made” (Rubin & Rubin, 2012, p. 4). For example, Sandra used narrative in-​depth interviews to explore LGBTQ Jewish American identity (Faulkner & Hecht, 2011). Box 2.3 gives an example of a flexible guided interview protocol and the questions she asked. The types of questions, interview length, and interview style depend on the research purpose, making

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BOX 2.3  LGBTQ Jewish Identity Interview Protocol I. How does someone come to know about you? What label or labels best describe who you are (most comfortable with)? A) How do you express your Jewish identity? B) When were you first aware of being Jewish? Is there a significant incident that made you aware of being Jewish? C) How do you express your gay (lesbian, bisexual) identity? D) When were you first aware of being gay?  Is there a significant incident that made you aware of being gay (lesbian, bisexual)? II. Feelings: A) Are you out? To whom? When did you come out? How do you come out? B) How did being Jewish influence the coming out process? C) How do you feel about parenting and being Jewish? D) Where you ever embarrassed about being gay (lesbian, bisexual)? a. Tell me some incidents in which you concealed being gay (lesbian, bisexual). b. Have you ever felt pride in being gay (lesbian, bisexual)? c. Were you ever embarrassed about being Jewish? Tell me about that. d. Tell me some incidents in which you concealed being Jewish. e. Have you ever felt pride in being Jewish? Tell me about a particular incident when you felt this way. III. Are you currently involved in a romantic relationship? How would you describe this relationship? A) How does being Jewish fit into (influence) your relationship? B) How does being gay (lesbian, bisexual) fit into (influence) your relationship? C)  Have you ever experienced conflict in a romantic relationship because of being gay or Jewish? Tell me about that. IV. Who are your close friends? How many of them are Jewish? Gay? V. Have you ever experienced conflict in these friendships because of being gay or Jewish? Tell me about that. A)  How does being gay (lesbian, bisexual) fit into (influence) your other relationships? B) How does being Jewish fit into (influence) your other relationships? VI. What can you tell me about the importance of being gay (lesbian, bisexual)? Of being Jewish? A) Is one identity more important than the other? Why? a. Tell me a story/​situation when being Jewish was relevant to who you are. (Does your gender identity influence Jewish practices? How?)

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b. Tell me a story/​situation when being gay (lesbian, bisexual) was relevant to who you are. B) How would you describe the Jewish community? How do you see yourself fitting in? a. Are you involved in any Jewish Organizations? If yes, please describe. C) How would you describe the Gay community? How do you see yourself fitting in? a. Are you involved in any Gay Organizations? If yes, please describe.

in-​depth interviewing an adaptable method. In-​depth interviews range in form from the use of highly structured and semi-​structured interview guides with preset and follow-​up questions about a specific topic to informal and conversational interviews used for clarification and filling in missing information. In-​depth interviews are beneficial for obtaining individual perspectives that are not easily accessible in other forms of qualitative research, such as observations and textual analysis. However, they also require a high degree of rapport building with participants and can involve much time, money, and emotional labor (Lindlof & Taylor, 2019; Rubin & Rubin, 2012). Co-​constructed interviews are another form of in-​depth interviews and may be used when a researcher wants to minimize the asymmetrical power in a typical interview. The roles of interviewer and participant are blurred; participants in the interview share discursive authority and expertise, and the ethical consequences of the interview, research presentation, relationships, and motivations are constantly negotiated. “Co-​constructed interviewing is an intimate, relational, and flexible method of in-​depth, conversational interviewing that focuses on facilitating and examining the collaborative meaning-​making processes of telling and listening” (Patti & Ellis, 2017, p. 1). This is a type of conversational interview where the researcher thinks of the participant as a partner in conversation and dialogue is centralized. The heart of the interview is the insight that comes from talking across differences and perspectives. “Ideally, co-​constructed interviews bring new conversations, voices, and perspectives to the doing of research” (Patti & Ellis, 2017, p. 1). Researchers also can use in-​depth interviewing as a means for collecting narratives. A narrative interview is a type of in-​depth interview aimed at getting participants’ stories; the interviewer takes narrative seriously by “directing our attention to that process of embodiment, to what narrators accomplish as they tell their stories, and how that accomplishment is culturally shaped” (Chase, 2003, p. 274). This approach assumes that humans tell and listen to stories as a common form of expression. A life-​history or life-​ story interview is an example; researchers ask about the essence of a person’s life. In life stories, the participant discusses some life experience that is of deep and abiding interest to them. It is through the process of telling their story and constructing a narrative that human beings make sense of their own world and their place in the world (McAdams, 1993). Chase (2003) suggests that an interviewer should compare smoothly narrated

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places in a story with gaps and submerged stories by attending to what is culturally problematic about the story that may produce silences, gaps, disruptions, or contradictions in the narrative.

Interviewer Characteristics, Behavior, and Rapport Building Interviewing is an important skill and technique in qualitative research; the quality of the interview mostly depends on the interviewer. However, Rubin and Rubin (2012) argue that qualitative interviewing is more than a skill set; it is a philosophy and approach to learning. A researcher begins with the assumption that people have perspectives that are meaningful and knowable and can be made explicit. An interviewer should demonstrate genuine caring about others’ perspectives and be interested in their stories. One way to show this concern is to spend time building rapport with participants. Rapport is more than a set of instrumental skills; it is a sense of harmony and affinity that is accomplished throughout an interview. It is a sense of connection between an interviewer and participant and involves creating an atmosphere of respect and curiosity. Geertz (1973) calls it “that mysterious necessity of fieldwork” (p. 416). You can think of rapport at the content and meaning level, as what is said and what it means and the relationship that is built between the interviewer and the participant. According to Janice Morse (1998), “It takes a lot of donuts to get good data” (p. 147). While seemingly tongue in cheek, this advice speaks to the importance of building rapport with participants and considering your ethical stance as a researcher, understanding that there exists a reciprocal relationship between you as a researcher and your co-​participants: Bringing donuts to a research setting provides an important message: I understand that I am causing you inconvenience with my presence. I interrupt; I distract. Please let me put it right. I cannot conduct my research without your assistance. Without you, I will have no data, no findings, no results. (Morse, p. 148) Building rapport often means building a conversational relationship with participants (Rubin & Rubin, 2012). Oakley (2003) urges us to critique the masculine model of interviewing as a pseudo-​conversation where we build rapport but maintain a scientific demeanor. Instead, we should consider the interview and building rapport as a reciprocal process. The best way to find out about others in an interview is when the relationship between the interviewer and participant is non-​hierarchical. You should invest your personal identity into the relationship and, in some cases, think about friendship as an interview method, as Tillmann-​Healy (2003) advocates. You may not become friends with all participants, but approaching an interview situation like you would approach a conversation with a friend entails mutual respect, concern, and interest—​all characteristics of a good interviewer. During an interview, refrain from judging what participants say (Patton, 2002). You can think of your role as that of a student; show the participant that they have something to teach you about their experiences and feelings. Consider the interview as more

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of a dialogue than an exchange of questions and answers (though this is easier with less structured interviews). Use good conversational skills and show genuine interest in the participant. Demonstrate affinity and involvement verbally and nonverbally through the use of immediate behaviors such as head nodding, open body posture, and verbal affirmation of listening. However, there are key differences that make the interview unlike an everyday conversation. You guide the “conversation” as an interviewer, and there is a distinct purpose and structure to the conversation. You consciously pay attention to content and process. For rapport building, you will want to balance the interaction with the interview purpose. Some researchers suggest that an interviewer shouldn’t state their opinions because that would bias the interview and contaminate the data, though others suggest that this depersonalizes participants in the research process (Oakley, 2003).

Preparing to Interview Qualitative interviewing is time-​and labor-​intensive and sometimes emotionally draining, which is why preparing for interviews entails some planning and thought. Challenges faced by novice researchers include the following: • Dealing with unexpected responses and behavior from participants • Handling distractions • Staying reflexive about your subjectivity • Constructing and asking questions • Keeping the interview focused and going • Handling sensitive research topics (Roulston et al., 2003) Do not be discouraged by this list! “Methods” sections often do not include information about the interview situation, the interviewer’s role and social/​personal characteristics, the participant’s feelings about being interviewed, the interviewer’s feelings about the participant, and the quality of the interviewer–​participant interaction (Oakley, 2003). So it can be difficult to get real talk about interview challenges. However, we see more researchers including positionality statements in their published work and explicitly engaging with their positionality in their research by analyzing how their role in the interview process influenced the work (see Chapter 1; Faulkner, 2006). You can prepare yourself by thinking through the interview, practicing, and considering recommendations from experienced interviewers. We offer some recommendations based on our and others’ extensive interview experience: • Let the participant decide when and where to meet, which may make them more comfortable. • You can bring doughnuts or other food to the in-​person interview (Morse, 1998). • Giving participation gift cards or monetary compensation shows that you value the person’s time and experiences.

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• Be clear about the purpose of the interview, how long you anticipate it taking, and what topics will be addressed (Patton, 2002). Of course, this information is listed on your approved IRB consent form. • You may decide to do interviews in teams, especially if the topic is emotionally charged (Perry et al., 2004). • Think about what you will do if your participant discloses illegal behavior or experiences, such as sexual assault, that fall under mandatory reporting laws. • Know your interview protocol. • During the interview, use good transitions, paraphrase participants’ responses to show understanding, let participants use their own words and talk at their own pace, use prompts, allow for some silence, and be supportive and flexible (Patton, 2002). You may need to think through how to stay in the interview if any of the information is triggering for you. For example, when Sandra was doing life-​history interviews with older women about their relationships across the lifecourse, she had an uncle die of COVID-​19. When an participant disclosed that they did not take COVID precautions seriously, she had to note that internally and move on. If you are part of a group or share any identities with a participant, you may disclose this as it can help build rapport and connection, and it may be necessary for recruiting some participants (see Box 2.2). Of course, you need to be cautious if you share group membership and/​or identities with a participant; they may assume that you know things and not tell you because of the connection. You may have to ask them to pretend that you are an outsider and explain a phenomenon to you like you know nothing about it. There may be some special concerns as an interviewer if you are asking about culture and cultural practices. Because culture is so deeply ingrained it can be hard to talk about, especially if an interviewer asks broad questions. An interviewer can ask participants to give examples of a concept and to compare an event or idea in their community to something else, and can ask about routine choices (Patton, 2002). For instance: Would you tell me about [the cultural practice]? Could you describe it? Could you walk me through it? Please teach me about it. After each interview, make notes to fill in any missing information and to record impressions about the interview, any difficulties you encountered, and your emerging insights. This is like “memoing” in grounded theory (see discussion below) and keeping a reflexivity journal (see Chapter 1) or a theoretical research journal (see Chapter 3). It will also be helpful to review these notes before each interview to get a sense of what is happening in the interviews, to make any needed changes in an interview protocol, to reflect on what is going on and think about the future, and to think of questions you didn’t ask but should have. You may record process questions (e.g., Where did the interview occur? Under what conditions? How did the participant react to questions? How well do you think you did asking the questions? How was the rapport?) and information about the quality of the interview (e.g., Did you get what you needed? Were there any poorly worded questions? Wrong topics?). You will use this information to adapt your interview protocol and techniques and to document your process in the “Methods” section of your article, dissertation, or thesis.

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Ethnography Ethnography is both a research technique and process and a product of research; ethnography is research that you do and what results from the work. Werner and Schoepfle (1987) consider ethnography to be any full or partial description of a group. The term itself means folk (ethno) description (graphy). Ethnography is based on the concept of culture, and the guiding question for an ethnographer is: What is the culture of this group of people? The assumption is that culture is learned and shared among a group, and studying culture allows an ethnographer to get beyond people’s talk and actions to understand shared systems of meaning. In other words, “ethnographers are cultural detectives. We immerse ourselves in a field—​a setting in which social interactions occur—​living for a certain time and to the extent possible, in a specific social reality under study” (Smartt Gullion, 2016, p. 3). Ethnography has a rich and varied history with origins in anthropology and sociology, making a precise definition impossible, though ethnographers in communication and media focus on communicative processes and media in a cultural and social context. For example, DeSantis (2003) spent three years doing fieldwork and participant observation in a cigar bar and modeled the pro-​smoking arguments regulars at the bar made in order to reduce their cognitive dissonance, refute medical findings, and anesthetize them against anti-​smoking arguments. Ethnography is holistic and contextual; an ethnographer works from emic and etic perspectives to understand human behavior in context. Understanding behavior cannot occur without context, because we can’t separate human behavior from relevant contexts of meaning and purpose. The emic is focused on participants’ perspectives, and the etic is ethnographers’ perspective as they engage in fieldwork. Ethnographers do more than just describe behavior, though: They try to understand why behavior takes place and under what circumstances, describing as much as possible about a cultural or social group, including history, religion, politics, economy, environment, and social interaction, working back and forth from emic (insider) to etic (researcher) perspectives. An important part of the writing (graphy) of culture is to quote liberally from participants after you develop your analysis, putting data together in meaningful patterns, categories, and relationships (see Chapter 3). We discuss the writing and representation process in Chapter 6. Of course, conceptualizations of culture are not monolithic, and assumptions that people who interact for any period of time will share the same culture and share some of the same values, beliefs, and behaviors can be contested. For example, Baldwin et al. (2006) traced changing definitions and conceptualizations of culture based on interpretive, critical, and postmodern turns in the study of culture and found 313 definitions of culture in an updated content analysis. They found seven different types of definitions: structure/​ pattern, function, process, product, refinement, power or ideology, and group membership. Some consider culture to be behavior, values, and beliefs learned implicitly and explicitly and shared among members, and others consider culture to be a contested term because defining culture is based in power and ideology (Baldwin et al., 2006). What we conclude from this work is that one precise definition of culture is impossible, but we can acknowledge contradictory definitions and remain cognizant of how culture and definitions are

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intertwined. Whether an ethnographer considers those who share language, geography, and ethnicity to be a cultural group depends on their definitions of culture. “Ethnographers identify a group of people or an activity of interest to them, try to understand what happens in that setting through our fieldwork, and then explain it to outsiders with our written accounts” (Smartt Gullion, 2016, p. 3). The skills, training, and methodological commitments of the ethnographer influence the kind and form of ethnography they produce (and how they define culture). Ethnographic methods include interviews, fieldwork, participant observation, textual and object analysis, digital technologies, and surveys. As you can tell, ethnographers employ multiple methods and approaches in their work.

Forms of Ethnography There are also different types or forms of ethnography or focus depending on the ethnographer’s approach, emphasis, and methodological commitments. We will discuss the most common forms in the field of communication and media. • Feminist ethnography is a method that “produces knowledge about people and situations in specific contexts with attention to power differentials and inequities,” with a specific focus on the intersections of gender, sexuality, race, class, ability, and nationality (Davis & Craven, 2016, p. 9). • Critical ethnography is focused on power and inequality as well; “critical ethnography begins with an ethical responsibility to address processes of unfairness or injustice within a particular lived domain” (Madison, 2005, p. 5). A critical ethnographer seeks to disrupt the status quo and dives beneath the surface to question taken-​for-​granted assumptions. • Performance ethnography is a set of interrelated and emerging qualitative approaches that bring together ethnographic methods and theoretical concepts from performance studies (Given, 2008); it “simultaneously creates and enacts moral texts from the personal to the political, from the local to the historical and the cultural” (Denzin, 2005b, p. x). • Digital ethnography or cyber ethnography is ethnography in mediated contexts and virtual spaces/​cyberspace; it poses questions about the communicative phenomena taking place in a technologically mediated world (Kuar-​Gill & Dutta, 2017). • Public ethnography is ethnographic research intended for a public audience; it is ethnography that focuses on topics and communities of social importance, personal experience, researching natural settings, and accessibility (Adams & Boylorn, 2019). See Box 2.4 for a spotlight on Dr. Robin Boylorn, whose (auto)ethnographic work is a form of public ethnography.

Autoethnography Autoethnography is a form of ethnography that refers to research, writing, stories, and methods that connect the autobiographical and personal to the cultural, social, and political. It is a method focused on writing as research practice and using the power of personal story and theory to show how our stories can be the change we need in the world (Holman Jones & Harris, 2019). This approach considers “personal experience as an important

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BOX 2.4  Ethnography, Activism, and Public Scholarship with Dr. Robin M. Boylorn Q: Your ethnographic work is what I would label public ethnography. Do you agree with this characterization? What is it that you want your work to do and be? I would agree with the characterization of my ethnographic work as public ethnography. I believe the impulse of public ethnography is accessibility, and I want my research to have reach and impact, and to contribute to conversations inside and outside of college classrooms. I see public ethnography as a kind of public intellectualism that integrates cultural contexts with cultural critique and engages popular culture. I want my work to serve as documentation and evidence. I want my work to be a personal testimony of the way things are, the way things have been, and the way things could be. Too often members of marginalized communities are written out of or excluded from academic cultural narratives—​this public erasure and absence has contributed to continued White-​centric scholarship that fails to account for intersectionality, vulnerability, and diversity. Equally troublesome are the predictable and one-​dimensional ways our lives are framed, without nuance, context, or celebration. I believe that valuing and centering lived experience, allowing people to speak for/​about themselves, and engaging nonacademic audiences expands the conversation, shifts narratives and representation, and creates the possibility for pluralism. Ultimately, I would like my work to help instigate conversations and curiosities by asking: What is possible when we move ethnographic work beyond the academy and into the public sphere? Q: You’ve described your work as “Blackgirl autoethnography.” How do you define Blackgirl autoethnography and what makes it a unique form of ethnography? Blackgirl autoethnography is specific to Black women and uses an autoethnographic method to interrogate both the beautiful and problematic themes of lived experience that are unique to Black women. These experiences can be best understood through lenses of Black feminism and intersectionality. Blackgirl autoethnography centers Black womanist experience and sensemaking and critiques the misogynoir Black women experience as a result of their race and sex. The thing that makes it a unique form of ethnography is its focus on the gender/​ sexed identity of the researcher, which informs the story and analysis. Instead of seeking neutrality or objectivity, Blackgirl autoethnography places epistemological value on how Black women understand and criticize cultural systems that have historically mischaracterized them.

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Q: Your autoethnographic book, Sweetwater: Black Women and Narratives of Resilience, describes the experience of multiple generations of black women in the South. How does telling these stories contribute to the representation of black women as well as issues of social justice? Sweetwater is both ethnographic and autoethnographic. The story relies on the narratives of Black women who lived and/​or grew up in a common small rural community in North Carolina, and my narrative responses to those stories. Sweetwater surveys the range of human experience and emotion and references often taboo topics including intimate partner violence, alcoholism, father absence, and mental illness, while also documenting family, friendship, redemption, and resilience. Telling these stories adds nuance and context to representations of Black womanhood that victimize or erase Black women. I believe telling multiple stories and truths about Black women humanizes them and highlights the circumstances and challenges they sometimes negotiate in low-​income communities. The conundrum is that their stories of resilience are also stories of struggle, their stories of triumph are also stories of tragedies. It is important to hold the multiple realities of their lives in tension, and use their experiences to direct us toward social justice. It forces us to consider what social justice looks like in their particular circumstances. Q: What is the Crunk Feminist Collective and what are some of the Collective’s goals? The Crunk Feminist Collective is a hip-​hop generation scholar activist group comprised of feminists of color whose identity is informed by our complicated, undeniable, and inextricable relationship to both hip-​hop (culture) and Black feminism. We celebrated 10 years in 2020, and our mission is first to one another, and then to our community, to express and complicate our feminist identities and resist patriarchy, racism, sexism, classism, homophobia, transphobia, and ableism. As crunk feminists, we are entirely concerned with and committed to issues of social justice and activism. We have collectively, and individually, promoted and disseminated crunk feminism in the public sphere through awareness building, advocacy, public intellectualism, education, and the dissemination of information. We work toward our collective goals within and without the academy as mothers, partners, caregivers, organizers, strategists, teachers, administrators, etc. We aim to inspire audacious, righteous, and informed responses to injustice through public intellectualism, education initiatives, policymaking, advocacy, activism, and information sharing. We have one published book based on blog content from 2010 to 2015 called The Crunk Feminist Collection, and a forthcoming young adult book by three crunk feminists about feminism aimed at a younger audience.

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Q: An important part of your work as a scholar/​activist is your commitment to social justice. How does this commitment drive what you do? I want to leave the world better than I found it. I want people to live full lives free of judgment, discrimination, and poverty. I consider it my responsibility to use any platform or opportunity I have to encourage equity and empathy for vulnerable populations, and to encourage the difficult, but necessary, conversations to facilitate it. Social justice drives me to challenge and call out injustice whenever I see it, and to commit my work in the public and private sphere to emphasizing and amplifying the experiences of marginalized communities. While I have a particular commitment to Black women and girls, I am committed to social justice for all. It means we have to find ways to be engaged in issues that may not impact us personally, but should affect us personally. Our freedom depends on it.

Biography Robin M. Boylorn is Professor of Interpersonal and Intercultural Communication at the University of Alabama. Her research centers identity and autoethnography, focusing primarily on the lived experience(s) of Black women in the U.S. South. She is the author of Sweetwater: Black Women and Narratives of Resilience, and co-​writer of The Crunk Feminist Collection. Her second monograph, Blackgirl Blue(s), is forthcoming with Routledge.

References Adams, T. E., & Boylorn, R. M. (2019). Public ethnography. In P. Leavy (Ed.), The Oxford handbook of methods for public scholarship (pp. 269–​ 288). Oxford University Press.Boylorn, R. M. (2017). Bitter Sweet(water): Autoethnography, relational ethics, and the possible perpetuation of stereotypes. In D. Bolen, S. Pensoneau-​Conway, & T. E. Adams (Eds.), Doing autoethnography (pp. 7–​17). Sense Publishers. Boylorn, R. M. (2017). Sweetwater: Black women and narratives of resilience (rev. ed.). Peter Lang. Boylorn, R. M. (2020). Write. Reach. Repeat: The role and rise of public intellectualism in qualitative research. In P. Leavy (Ed.), The Oxford handbook of qualitative research (2nd ed.) (pp. 1083–​1094). Oxford University Press. Boylorn, R. M., & Orbe, M. P. (Eds.). (forthcoming). Critical autoethnography: Intersecting cultural identities in everyday life (2nd ed.). Routledge.

source of knowledge in and of itself, as well as a source of insight into cultural experience” (Ellis & Adams, 2020, p. 2). Autoethnographers use various means of data gathering and qualitative research such as participant observation, interviews, focus groups, narrative analysis, archival research, journaling, and storytelling (Poulos, 2021), and varied literary and visual forms in their autoethnography from creative nonfiction, fiction, video and film, comics, poetry, opera, hybrid work, to memoir and personal narrative. The methods and approaches that autoethnographers use in their work are varied, ranging from sociological introspection (Ellis, 2018), poetic inquiry (Faulkner, 2014a, 2020), performance (Denzin, 2005b), digital life writing (Atay, 2018), and satire (Faulkner, 2018b) to postcolonial (Pathak, 2010), indigenous/​native, queer (Holman Jones & Harris, 2019), critical (Boylorn

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& Orbe, 2020), feminist (Faulkner, 2018a), and interpretive epistemologies (Denzin, 1997). Autoethnographers highlight “the ways in which our identities as raced, gendered, aged, sexualized, and classed researchers impact what we see, do, and say” (Jones et al., 2013, p. 35). For example, Eguchi and Long (2019) use intersectional reflexivity to imagine a queer relationality “that works on and against hegemonic, heteronormative, and homonormative paradigms of relating and push toward an embrace of queer family” (pp. 1591–​1592). They write about their experiences as a “Queer Fat Femme” and a “Queer Asian Femme”: We together call for queer family as a temporal and present mode of relational and political resistance to interrupt existing power relations that structurally constrain the multiple fluidity of queerness across space, time, and history. This allows possibilities of coalitions within and among different kinds of queers to be further promoted. (p. 1603)

Fieldwork and Participant Observation Fieldwork is the hallmark of ethnography; it entails working with people for long periods of time in their natural setting. The idea is to immerse oneself in the culture under study. Ethnography is not just a series of interviews you analyze qualitatively; rather, it involves prolonged and direct contact with group members. One way that ethnographers do this is through participant observation, where an ethnographer participates to some extent in the lives of participants. This ranges from being a complete participant to a complete observer, depending on the purpose of the research, the ethnographer’s membership in a community, and their comfort in the setting. An ethnographer spends a varied amount of time in a setting, from one day to several years. Sarah Amira De la Garza (writing as González, 2000) considers fieldwork in ethnography to mirror the four seasons and conceptualizes ethnography as a creation-​centered circular ontology that emphasizes contextualized awareness rather than objective reports. A researcher surrenders to the co-​creation of cycles like the four seasons, spends time reflecting deeply on themselves as a researcher with “experiential, historical and cultural context,” and respects “the unavoidable cyclic/​wise nature of emergent experience, as co-​creative of ethnography” (p. 623). Engaging in reflective research practice is important, and spending long amounts of time in the field helps an ethnographer to learn about the beliefs, fears, hopes, and expectations of their participants and to be able to observe people in their daily lives (see Chapter 1). However, an ethnographer may study events that take place over shorter periods of time, such as festivals, one-​day events, and protests. Deciding where and what to observe can be difficult. Observations change depending on the stage of the ethnography. There is the pre-​ethnography, where ethnographers do research about their field site; the ethnography proper, which includes immersion, observation, and interviews utilizing field notes and transcriptions; the synthesis and analysis of transcriptions and notes; and the writing of an account of the fieldwork. For example, in the beginning of fieldwork, observation tends to be more broad—​observing everything in a scene, from the relationships between people and the environment and their verbal and nonverbal behavior. An ethnographer will need to determine if there are informal or formal gatekeepers who

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will prevent or allow access to a research site. The idea is that you are determining what is important to observe and who you need to talk with, which may begin with conversational interviews. A typical timeline for observations is to begin with making a map of the scene, including interaction and who is present. The ethnographer may not have much interaction with others at first as they get a feel for the scene and what they need to observe. Then the ethnographer will find and select participants to interview. Finally, the ethnographer will start to leave the field when they have enough information to write the ethnography. Of course, they may need to return to do more observation and interviews and collect more documents. Another important part of observations in fieldwork is how to record these observations. Field notes are an ethnographer’s record of their observations. They are a record or “thick description” of what was meaningful and consist of mental observations and detail about a scene—​a record of what the ethnographer saw, sensed, smelled, felt, heard, touched, and thought in the field. Accounts include objective and subjective understanding. An ethnographer may make audio recordings of field notes and later transcribe them. Ethnographers will also make what we call “scratch and head notes,” notes that are shorthand notations (audio, written, and mental) for use when writing more detailed notes after the ethnographer leaves the scene. Sandra remembers an ethnography she did in West Hollywood on lesbian space that often meant taking her “scratch and head notes” and filling in the details in elaborated field notes after the bars closed; she often wrote notes until the sun rose (see Faulkner, 2013). Maybe you are still perplexed about the specifics of what to observe in fieldwork and what to write in your field notes. Below we provide an observational exercise we give to students designed to help a beginning ethnographer focus on what to observe and practice how to write field notes. Participant Observation Exercise Research Question: What kinds of communication are most predominant in local hangouts (e.g., coffee shops)? Fieldwork: Observe the communication of regular coffee shop goers at local coffee shops. What do you observe? • People: Who is involved? • Setting/​context/​scene • Communication act/​interactions • Impressions • How/​when/​where do they communicate? • What does their communication mean? • What do people talk about? What are they saying? Write down any words or phrases that sound interesting. Do they have any unique vocabulary? • How are people communicating nonverbally?

Directions: Write scratch notes while you’re in the scene, writing as fast as possible to get everything you can down, and then soon afterwards (within an hour), expand

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them, clean them up, and type them up so that they are complete, thorough, and readable and make sense. In your field notes, you will want to add enough details so that you can vividly recall a scene later. You want to tell a story of your experience. Write A LOT, so that when we review your notes, we will feel as if we were there. Include specifics, so that when you write a report, you can illustrate your findings with direct quotes from your notes. Write down as much as possible, such as direct quotes that you overhear. Paraphrase speech if you can’t capture the direct quotes with lots of specific behaviors that you observe. Do not give ONLY your opinions without supporting them. For example, rather than just saying, “The person seemed angry,” say instead, “The person seemed angry because during the entire experience they sat with a scowl on their face and their arms folded across their chest, and when they spoke, their voice volume was loud and their tone was harsh.” If, in your notes, you put in direct quotes and specific behaviors, you can later (when you are reviewing your field notes), write in your opinions, such as, “it seemed to me that they were angry here.” You will also want to note nonverbal communication behavior. For example, you might note eye contact, posture, gestures, and paralanguage (voice tone and tempo). Be sure to make notes about the environment: How was the room set up? Was there furniture? Equipment? Who else was there? What did they look like? You will include other general background or environmental comments that will help us understand the experience. Finally, write summary comments that will help us frame the experience in its entirety.

Grounded Theory Grounded theory originated in the 1960s with Barney Glaser and Anselm Strauss, who sought a method that was different from the verification methods that dominated the social sciences at the time. They introduced a systematic inductive method rooted in symbolic interactionism that could “generate dense, parsimonious theory . . . grounded in relevant, empirical data” with the 1967 publication of their monograph The Discovery of Grounded Theory (Stern & Porr, 2011, p. 37). Grounded theory is not really a theory but rather an inductive, comparative, emergent, and open-​ended method focused on studying the processes of social phenomena. It is useful as a method for studying social processes and constructing theory and theoretical frameworks. The goal is to get as close to participants’ perspectives as possible. In general, grounded theory consists of systematic inductive guidelines for collecting and analyzing data, synthesizing data, and developing concepts and mid-​range theory from the data. It is good for looking at change within social groups and the core processes that are central to that change. Grounded theory helps researchers identify and describe phenomena, “their main attributes, and the core, social or social psychological process, as well as their interactions in the trajectory of change. In other words, it allows us to explicate what is going on or what is happening (or has happened)” (Morse, 2009, pp. 13–​14, emphasis original).

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Throughout the research process, grounded theorists develop analytical interpretations of their data that guide further data collection and that they use to inform and refine their theoretical analysis. There are some hallmarks of grounded theory (Charmaz, 2014): • Researchers simultaneously collect and analyze data. • Researchers use comparative methods. • Data (narratives, descriptions, documents, texts, observations) is used to develop new conceptual categories. • Researchers engage in memo writing (i.e., memoing) throughout the research process in order to construct their conceptual analyses. • There is a systematic coding process that begins with constant comparative methods (substantive coding) and ends with theoretical coding in order to develop inductive abstract analytical categories (see Chapter 3). • Theory construction is emphasized. • Theoretical sampling is done along the way to refine the researcher’s emerging theoretical ideas. Researchers will know who they need to interview and/​or what additional materials to collect based on their emerging theoretical understandings. • Researchers look for variation in categories and processes. • The final product will be the integration of a theoretical framework with the research literature. Since that first monograph, there have been some differences in thought about grounded theory as well as different styles and approaches. We can talk about a Glaserian approach, a Straussarian approach, and a constructivist approach (Charmaz, 2014). If you wish to use grounded theory in your work, we urge you to read the original work of Glaser, Strauss, Corbin, and Charmaz to get a sense of what approach suits you and your research goals. Glaser (1992) emphasized objective reality and the idea of a neutral observer who discovers data and then reduces that data into manageable research problems and represents that data objectively. For example, Sandra used a Glaserian approach in her dissertation work on Latinas’ sexual communication in romantic relationships and with family and friends (Faulkner & Mansfield, 2002). Corbin and Strauss (2015) assume there is an objective reality, unbiased data collection, and proposed technical procedures that show verification. Glaser (1992) thought these procedures were too rigid and forced data into categories rather than allowing it to emerge. Both schools of thought have been criticized for positivistic undertones, which is where constructivist grounded theory comes in. Charmaz (2014) argues for a constructivist approach to grounded theory, which is more flexible, with the claim that there is no one way of doing grounded theory; a grounded theory method may also complement other approaches to qualitative data analysis. A constructivist approach considers the importance of participants’ voices, discovering and acknowledging how respondents’ views or reality conflict with the researchers’, emphasizing emergent and constructed elements in data, and recognizing the art and science in analysis and representation. Thus, grounded theory strategies do not have to be rigid or prescriptive; researchers can focus on meaning making in their research setting,

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using grounded theory methods to further this understanding. Think of this as using your theoretical lens (e.g., feminist epistemology) and interpretive framework (e.g., poststructuralist) with grounded theory methods.

Arts-​Based Research Beginning in the 1970s, art therapists and other researchers began to consider how artistic inquiry could become a research method and included in their research practices varied art forms, such as dance, film, music, drama, and the visual and literary arts. Arts-​based research (ABR) can include short stories, novels, poetry, graphic novels, drawings, paintings, sculpture, theatrical performances, three-​dimensional art, quilts and needlework, comics, songs, and musical scores (Leavy, 2015). ABR practices represent diverse qualitative methodologies that rely on an aesthetic process of imagination and artistic expression through various literary and visual art media as a way to understand and examine a research problem, subject, or text (Leavy, 2017b). ABR is “the systematic use of the artistic process, the actual making of artistic expressions in all of the different forms of the arts, as a primary way of understanding and examining experience by both researchers and the people that they involve in their studies” (McNiff, 2008, p. 29). ABR highlights the aesthetics of personal experience, embodiment, and participatory measures as key features of research practice through the use of literary and visual art for/​in/​as research practice, pedagogy, and method. Using ABR as a method means engaging in creative arts-​based practices throughout the research process in “all phases of social research, including data generation, analysis, interpretation, and representation” (Leavy, 2015, p. ix). ABR can portray multiple meanings and dialogue and can be used to describe, explore, and discover social processes, thus representing a departure from relying solely on cognitive processes to create knowledge. Researchers using ABR focus on imagination and the use of feeling, intuition, and form to create new concepts in a quest to reveal and create new truths, to make research an embodied experience for others, to transform traditional research practices, and to make inner life explicit through the use of stories, metaphors, and symbols (Barone & Eisner, 2011). The goals of ABR are to use the capabilities of artistic practice to transform, subvert, and resist. ABR is distinct from art in that the focus is on using art and artistic process in the service of research. “Research findings are not replicated in their ‘raw’ form for audiences but rather made sense of (through analysis and interpretation) and then represented in a distilled, coherent, carefully crafted format” (Leavy, 2015, pp. 28–​29). Arts-​based researchers value the arts as a way of meaning making, and ABR offers qualitative researchers ways to engage imagination for personal, emotional, experiential, and embodied expressions of knowledge that value alternative, participatory, and indigenous ways of knowing. Researchers may use art and artistic forms to present their research, like Clair (2013) does in her novel Zombie Seeds and the Butterfly Blues, in which she transforms rhetorical ethnography research on organizations, public relations, and diversity at work into “fact-​based fiction.” Researchers may use art and artistic forms as a means of data analysis, like Sandra (Faulkner, 2014a) does in her poetry collection of family stories as social

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research, wherein she uses poetic analysis (a technique of using poems as data for qualitative research) to connect family stories in verse to close relationship research (see Faulkner, 2020). Poetic analysis is the process of analyzing poems as qualitative data, using traditional thematic analysis or the use of theory to frame the analysis (see Faulkner & Nicole, 2016). Poetic analysis also means representing research through the use of poetry and/​or poetic forms, as Hartnett (2003) does with poetry co-​written with prisoners to highlight problems with the prison–​industrial complex. These poems further social justice using ABR by relying on the aesthetic qualities of emotion and sensation to illuminate undiscovered, ineffable, invisible, and unspoken experiences that are not easily talked about in other forms.

Poetic Portraiture Sandra developed poetic portraiture, a form of ABR using poetic inquiry, that will be appealing to researchers interested in a nuanced, critical, and evocative re-​presentation of interviews. It can be “an evocative method of engaging with participants’ stories to challenge dominant ideologies and stereotypes by including marginalized voices and perspectives” (Faulkner et al., 2022, p. 988). It is a good method for showing researcher reflexivity and can be part of community-​engaged and participatory research. Researchers have been using poetry as representation of interviews for some time (Faulkner, 2020). For example, Laurel Richardson (1997) created poetry about Louisa May, a participant in a study on unwed mothers. Richardson used creative writing to present “both a poem masquerading as a transcript and a transcript masquerading as a poem” (p. 139). She described a process of poetic transcription (see Chapter 3 for a discussion of poetic transcription) in which she created a narrative poem from the 36-​page interview transcript using poetic devices such as line break and enjambment to capture the rhythmic qualities of Louisa May’s Southern drawl:

The most important thing to say is that I grew up in the South. Being southern shapes aspirations shapes what you think you are and what you think you’re going to be. (1992)

This poetry is a type of poetic portrait. Poetic portraiture is an ABR method of representing an participant’s embodied aspects of their life story in poetry and poetic forms (Faulkner et al., 2022). It is a method by which a researcher uses interviews to develop poetry as a re-​ presentation of participants’ stories and lives. Sandra adapted Leavy and Scotti’s (2017) use of visual portraiture and short stories to develop poetic portraiture (see section below). First, the researcher conducts an in-​depth interview with a participant. Then, the researcher creates a poetic transcript of the interview (see Chapter 3). Next, the researcher uses the poetic transcript to create a poem or series of poems that captures the spirit, contours, and specific nuances of the participant’s life

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story and experience. The poetic portrait may include images and collage to create a visual and textual snapshot. For example, students in Sandra’s graduate relational communication course took notes during a life history interview conducted by Sandra and her colleague Wendy about older women’s close relationships across the lifecourse (see Faulkner et al., 2022). They asked additional questions at the end of the interview to fill out their notes and asked for any photos that women wanted included in their poetic portraits. Then the students took their interview notes and interview transcripts and created a poetic transcript. Next, they created poetic portraits after class discussion and workshops: A poet visited the class to talk about creating poetry from interviews. This kind of discussion may be beneficial to those new to the use of poetry in qualitative research. They also did poetry exercises that helped them create a series of poems, from the Skinny to found poems to collage poems (see Faulkner, 2020, for examples). Students included photos of important people and events in the women’s lives that they were provided. Students workshopped their poetry drafts and used feedback to develop the final poetic portrait, which they gifted to their participant. Here is an example of a poetic portrait of Marilyn, an participant in a study on older women’s close relationships across the lifecourse that Sandra created: Marilyn said “I did my best” Why am I here? Vulnerability with key friends. Vulnerability my best effort. Vulnerability here I am, why? In My Blue Car of Adventure I want to be like Nancy Drew having mysteries to solve like why are we here? and What is my goal? I grew up when kids ran the streets and came home at night always up for adventure; I went to school with a dungeon and a tower had fear like hurt my real self vulnerable;

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Beautiful girls get all the attention. You can stay in your corner and be hurt or you can take your 25-​year-​old self around Europe when women didn’t travel alone. My daughter told me she didn’t feel loved she felt managed, though I didn’t want to be like my mother. I wasn’t a good big sister to that pest who followed me, but I am trying now, using a new glue. The weekends are deadly when you are a widow: I am Nancy Drew finding new challenges and adventures as an old lady. I want to be my real self. In this project, Sandra and her students used poetic portraits as a form of critical interpersonal and family communication (CIFC) research. Poetic inquiry in the form of poetic portraits was a way to critique, expand, and alter dominant discourses that circumscribe interpersonal and family communication research (cf. Faulkner, 2016c; Suter, 2018). These poetic portraits highlight the context of and influences on older women’s life stories; their stories included discussions of infidelity, abuse, growing up in poverty, choosing to remain partnerless, sexism, family relationships, friendship, romantic relationships, and dating in later life. The poetic representations helped us center “older women’s perspectives in nuanced ways demonstrating how their life courses met and challenged prevailing notions of relationship trajectories” (Faulkner et al., 2022, p. 989). The gift of a poetic portrait to each participant was part of the giving back to participants for their time. This was a mutually beneficial project where the process of creating a poetic portrait engaged a multigenerational audience through dialogue across age and difference.

Visual ABR Methods Visual methods of qualitative research include the use of photography, painting, drawing, video, and collage; visual methods rely on visual images and “draw on the power of visual art to provoke, evoke, and express nonverbal or preverbal knowledge” (Leavy, 2017a, p. 208). You can present your research as a video, an audio piece, and/​or some kind of collage/​hybrid showing the analysis in the presentation, or you can analyze visual elements as part of or your entire study (see Chapter 6). Your research may be in visual formats like video, painting, or photographs. We find that using visual methods is a good way to collaborate with other researchers and participants. For example, Leavy and Scotti (2017) developed a method of visual

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portraiture with sketching. Leavy is a writer and sociologist and Scotti is a visual artist. They collaborated on an interview project on women and toxic personal relationships. Leavy created textual summaries of interviews with women, and Scotti sketched a visual concept for each interview. Next, Leavy wrote short creative vignettes based on the initial visual concept and interview transcript. Scotti used the creative vignettes to sketch a final visual portrait to include with each vignette. The result was a textual portrait that gives “the opportunity to include marginalized voices and encourage a range of linguistic and non-​linguistic representations to articulate authentic lived experiences” (Gerstenblatt, 2013, p. 294). In addition to textual visual portraits, video as a qualitative research method is another good tool for using the power of images. Video as a research method incorporates multiple perspectives. “It’s flexible and almost limitless for gathering, analyzing, writing up and disseminating research findings” (Harris, 2016, p. 5). It can stand as a solo research method, such as in video ethnography, or can be used in conjunction with other methods, like interviewing and ethnography. Researchers can use video in a variety of ways with multiple tools such as Instagram, social media, GoPro, YouTube, Google Sketchup, Skratchit, and Scantech. For example, David Heineman used a short film as autoethnographic method. Much of the film was shot using a GoPro camera. In the Pandemic Nature Project, Heineman uses “evocative and experimental imagery, narrative and non-​narrative editing techniques, voiceover narration, and original instrumental music” in a film that “traces a series of personal experiences, emotional reactions, and critical responses to the COVID-​19 pandemic across a series of short vignettes” (2022). Sandra has used video in a few projects. For example, she (Faulkner, n.d.) presented some of her feminist ethnography on women-​ identified runners using a video essay that includes video and images from fieldwork. The video is a personal story or autoethnography about her running and includes photos from races, poetry, audio recorded while running, and video of running. Sandra edited it using iMovie. In a collaborative video and poetry piece, Sandra and the poet and essayist Sheila Squillante used visuals and poetry from their local 2017 women’s marches after the inauguration of Donald Trump in the United States to create a short video feminifesta titled “Nasty women join the hive: A womanifesto invitation for White feminists” (Faulkner & Squillante, 2018). Photography is another visual method you can use in your research. Researchers may use photographs as part of their research practice, and with the ubiquity of cellphones with cameras we see a rise in this practice. Participants may take photos of their environment as part of a study. Photovoice, for example, is a method of having participants take photos of their environment and lives (Liebenberg, 2018). It merges photography with participatory methods. A researcher may then interview participants about the photos. Clear instructions need to be given to participants about photographing and the goals of the study. For example, Lindow et al. (2022) studied how families experienced food insecurity. They were interested in parents’ ability to provide food, strategies for managing family food insecurity, and the impact on family well-​being. The researchers had parents submit photos about food insecurity, with directions to take photos of the daily challenges they faced providing food for their children during

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difficult economic times, and then interviewed them about their photos. They asked the following: 1. What made you take the picture? 2. How does the picture make you feel? 3. What does the picture illustrate about your day-​to-​day life, your physical health and/​or mental health? 4. What do you want lawmakers, advocates, or researchers to know about your picture? (pp. 988–​989) Of course, ethical issues arise with the use of photographs; ownership, copyright, confidentiality, and access are things you will need to consider. Liebenberg (2018) asks us to remember power differences between researchers and participants and to be sure to consider how we present our research: If we are to promote the aims of research approaches such as, but not limited to, critical theory, postcolonial theory, social justice research, through the use of photovoice, we have an ethical imperative as researchers to ensure that the ways in which we engage in research with communities honor their wisdom and expertise. Part of honoring this wisdom and expertise requires us to facilitate critical reflection on structurally embedded experiences, and that the knowledge emerging from this reflection is both given a platform from which to be voiced and, equally important, amplified in ways that are heard. (para. 3)

Uses of ABR Thus, researchers may consider ABR for studying identities, subjugated perspectives, and difficult experiences. It can be a form of public scholarship and community engagement (see Box 2.4). Using creative arts is a means “of expressing what cannot be conveyed in conventional language” (McNiff, 2008, p. 11). For example, Sandra used creative nonfiction about an intended ambivalent pregnancy that showed marginalized discourses of ambivalence, bodily knowledge, and flux in order to transform a totalizing portrait of the glowing pregnant woman and oppressive pregnancy discourse into a restructured aesthetic moment (Faulkner, 2012b). Sandra used personal narrative, poetry, and collage juxtaposing the experiences of new motherhood with her role as a social scientist to show how a mother could love her child but detest the mother role (Faulkner, 2014b). Using ABR helped Sandra critique cultural advice and expectations of what being a good mother means and disrupt entrenched myths about middle-​class motherhood. In Chapter 6 we discuss using ABR in writing and research (re)presentation, and in Chapter 7 we discuss the evaluation of ABR methods and practices.

Conclusion Now that we have presented the most prominent methods of qualitative data collection in media and communication—​interviews, ethnography, grounded theory, and ABR—​we

Designing

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hope that you are ready to design your qualitative project. We discuss other methods to include in your qualitative toolbox in Chapter 4 (qualitative content analysis) and Chapter 5 (new media analysis). The consideration of human participants and ethics will influence your choice of methods and sampling technique. At this point, you will also need to consider how and what you will do with the data and information you collect. We address these considerations in the next chapter.

Discussion Questions 1. Why is rapport important in interviews? What does it mean to build rapport with participants? How can an interviewer build rapport with participants? What should an interviewer do if an participant discloses illegal and/​or dangerous behavior? How does reporting violate confidentiality? 2. Think of a research project you want to do that involves human participants. How can you minimize harm to participants in the study? 3. We discussed the difficulty of defining culture in one precise and neat definition. How do you define culture? What implications does this have for ethnographic projects? 4. Science magazine sponsors a “Dance Your Dissertation” competition in the sciences (chemistry, biology, physics) and social sciences every year (https://​en.wikipe​dia.org/​ wiki/​Dance_​Your​_​Ph.D.). The contest focuses on using dance as a means to talk about research with a lay audience. The goal is to communicate about research in a form that will facilitate understanding, possibly even better than in prose. The sponsor of the contest describes the panic of a student having to talk about their dissertation research to friends and family and asks: “At times like these, don’t you wish you could just turn to the nearest computer and show people an online video of your Ph.D. thesis interpreted in dance form?” Imagine your research as a dance. How will you communicate your research through movement, sound, and image? What does using an ABR presentation add to your work compared with a more traditional representation?

Research and Writing Practice 1. Interview practice a. Conduct four interviews that last at least 30 minutes each. b. Construct a consent form that explains who you are, what the study/​interview is about, the risks and benefits from being in the study, and the nature of the voluntary consent. c. Decide what type of interview you will conduct (unstructured to structured) and design the questions. d. Answer the following: i. How did you approach this exercise? Did you have a list of questions? Why or why not? ii. What was the most difficult part of interviewing for you? iii. Would you change anything the next time you interview someone?

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e. Summarize and synthesize what you learned from the interview (approximately four pages). 2. Ethnographic field assignment a. Formulate a research question or purpose (related to your research topic) that is appropriate for an ethnographic study. b. Select a communication context in which to pursue your question. Your topic should further scholarly understanding of communication and/​or respond to a need in society. c. Make arrangements to observe communication in the context. Depending on the situation and your purpose, you may be a complete observer or a participant observer, and your observations may be overt or covert. d. If you will be interacting with participants, or if the names of participants will be known to you, you must provide an informed consent form for them to sign. e. Go to the context (field) and make observations. Write detailed field notes as well as your personal impressions. These should include a description of the context, and the verbal and nonverbal communication in the context. f. Type your field notes. g. Use the information in Chapter 3 of this textbook to analyze and code your field notes. h. Answer the following questions: i. How did you approach this exercise? Did you have a list of questions to ask or things to observe? Why or why not? ii. What was the most difficult part of this assignment for you? iii. Would you change anything the next time you engage in participant observation? i. Summarize what you learned from the participant observation (approximately four pages). You will include your analysis here.

Suggested Resources For further reading on ABR, see Leavy (2020) and Rolling (2013). For an excellent guide to interviewing, see Rubin and Rubin (2012). For a personal account of learning to interview, see Joseph (2014). For an excellent review of ethical issues in qualitative research, see Traianou (2015). For further reading on grounded theory, see Glaser (1978, 1992); Glaser and Strauss (1967); Charmaz (2014); and Corbin and Strauss (2015).

3

Doing Qualitative Analysis and Interpretation Trust in the process; the process is the analysis.

Key Terms CAQDAS, category, code, codebook, codifying, coding, concept, data analysis, live coding, member checking, poetic transcription, researcher lenses, thematic analysis, theme, theory, transcription, unit of analysis, unit of coding, voice audio

Learning Outcomes After reading and engaging with the material in this chapter, you should be able to: • List the steps in a qualitative coding process. • Describe the process of transcription. • Explain what a researcher should consider when transcribing. • Create a poetic transcript of an interview. • Identify the difference between a code, a category, and a theme. • Design a coding scheme for a qualitative study. • Justify coding decisions in a qualitative study. • Explain the process of moving from a code to category to theme to theory.

Qualitative Data Analysis The First Steps Transcription Deciding Not to Transcribe Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media. Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.003.0003

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Poetic Transcription Box 3.1: Example of Poetic Transcription as Data Analysis Figure 3.1: Raw Data for Creating Poetic Transcription The Next Step: Coding Planning Coding Plans, Coding Strategies, and Codebooks Box 3.2: Inclusive Classroom Practices Codebook Steps in Qualitative Coding: Inductive Data Analysis Step One: Develop a Plan Step Two: Decide What to Code Step Three: Develop Coding Categories Naming Codes Step Four: Check for Leaks and Plugging Holes Interpretive Relational Themes Step Five: Build Credibility Step Six: Find Exemplars Step Seven: Integrate Coding Categories Box 3.3: Example of Grounded Theory and the Constant Comparative Method Conclusion Discussion Questions Research and Writing Practice Suggested Resources

Qualitative Data Analysis What do you do when you have finished interviewing? How do you approach pages of interview transcripts? What do you do with your media examples? How do you figure out what your research observations mean? The answers to these questions point to the processes and procedures we use to make sense of our research. This meaning-​making process is data analysis. However, some qualitative researchers don’t use the word data to describe their participants’ stories, their observations, and their reflective research practices or field notes. Regardless of whether you call your research materials data, the process of making meaning from these materials is the focus of this chapter. How you make sense of volumes of transcripts, media clips, text, and observations is the process of analysis and is marked by periods of understanding and periods of questioning and confusion. Because the analysis process is often iterative, it may seem nebulous or mysterious, or like a challenging puzzle. The fact that data collection and data analysis are simultaneous processes can also be overwhelming. Sandra always tells students to “trust in the process.” Of course, it may be easier to trust a process that you have experienced before, and because the nature of qualitative material is variable, it is unlikely that your analysis process would be the same with every project. If you feel lost or overwhelmed, keep going and know that this is part of the process of analysis and interpretation. And know that trying different analytical techniques and practices makes it easier for you to trust in the process. We present step-​by-​step guidelines in the chapter to have you ready to analyze your own research.

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The First Steps Your methodology, your data, and who you are as a researcher influence the interpretive process of meaning making (Trent & Cho, 2020). This is the idea of researchers using their lenses to interpret data and create meaning, as we discussed in Chapter 1. Who we are and our positionalities matter and influence how and what we see in our data analysis and how we represent our research. In qualitative analysis, researchers interpret their research materials through their lenses (i.e., values, worldview, perspectives) to construct meaning. Trent and Cho (2020) make a distinction between analysis as summarizing and interpretation as meaning making. The process of interpretation is part of knowledge creation, which is a constructed process. Researchers synthesize research “findings,” “assertions,” or “theories” from their data to glean meaning that they share with others (Trent & Cho, 2020). The analysis process includes summarizing and interpretation. How you analyze your work includes deciding on whether you will use pen and paper, word processing programs, or computer software to code, organize, and keep track of your analyses. Some researchers use Computer-​Assisted Qualitative Data Analysis Software (CAQDAS) as a tool to develop, organize, and manage their qualitative research projects. CAQDAS packages (e.g., NVivo, Dedoose, ATLAS.ti, webQDA, MAXQDA, QDA Miner) help researchers with transcription analysis, coding and text interpretation, writing and annotation, content search and analysis, and certain types of data analysis such as grounded theory, discourse analysis, and data mapping. Some advantages of using CAQDAS packages are the ability to organize and reduce vast and diverse research materials and data quickly and consistently, ease of collaboration when working in research teams and with multilingual researchers, visual modeling and representation of concepts and theories in the research, use of multiple and mixed methods, the representation of complex and iterative research processes, and the ease of coding, searching data, and analysis (Freitas et al., 2017; Sinkovics & Alfoldi, 2012). There is a perceived swiftness, preciseness and effortlessness afforded by the simple clicking, dragging of context and registry units into categories and, accessing their original sources in CAQDAS . . . compared to paper, pencil, and highlighters, and even with spreadsheets or word processor tables. (Freitas et al., 2017, p. 102) Some disadvantages of CAQDAS include the time needed to learn to use a program, choosing a program that works best for a researcher or research team, making qualitative work seem fragmented and overly simple if used superficially or in a technocratic way, and the expense of use. Most CAQDAS programs have learning tutorials, but the ease of using these tutorials varies and a researcher needs to have advanced technical and methodological knowledge (Freitas et al., 2017). You may want to do some research on using CAQDAS programs to determine if you have the time and motivation to learn to use them and if they will be helpful for your research projects. Regardless of what method you select for facilitating and organizing your qualitative analysis, remember that nothing replaces a researcher’s skill in analyzing and interpreting qualitative data. In what follows, we

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discuss different analysis techniques and approaches to your qualitative data and research materials.

Transcription We begin this chapter on analysis and interpretation with transcription, as it is a critical part of data analysis that sometimes gets overlooked. Researchers who use interviews as a method will most likely audio and/​or video record their interviews to produce transcripts. Producing a written text of an interview from an electronic recording is called transcribing. Some consider the use of transcripts to be more reliable and rigorous than relying on field notes alone (Hammersley, 2010). Typically, researchers analyze interview transcripts rather than actual interviews, so we consider transcription to be part of the data analysis process. Transcription is time-​consuming and can be tedious, so many researchers use CAQDAS and/​or voice recognition software (VRS) to produce a transcript from their electronic recordings. Researchers can produce transcripts in a few ways; they can listen to audio recordings and type what they hear to produce a transcript, they can use VRS and dictate interviews to the software program to transcribe, or they can have a software program transcribe interviews. Email or text interviews have a ready-​made transcript, given there is no audio to transcribe. Instant message, Skype, or Zoom interviews will have a transcript produced by software. Transcription software, which automatically transcribes audio and digital recordings without the need for typing, can be valuable for researchers with physical limitations and can save a researcher time. A drawback to this software is the time it takes to train the software to recognize voices. The software is updated regularly, which has increased the accuracy of transcription, but this also means that you must retrain the software with every update. And we note that listening to interview recordings and transcribing is part of analysis, so think of the time spent transcribing as an important part of the data analysis process. We need to tell you now that transcription is not a neutral act. A transcript is not the actual interview but an interpretation of an interview. A transcript is not merely a reproduction of an interview, but a construction; researchers are not objective, and a transcript does not capture reality. As Brooks (2010) writes, “the data we collect, transcribe, and analyze may be impacted both by the processes through which transcription is achieved as well as the depth of the researcher’s engagement with these processes” (p. 1228). Hammersley (2010) urges researchers to recognize there is a constructed and a givenness nature to transcriptions; transcriptions are not entirely constructed, nor do they entirely represent an interview. Consider the following questions: Do you transcribe interviews imagining how participants would transcribe their interviews? Do you rearrange the written text of an instant message, Zoom, email, or text interview to fit your version of the interview? Do you correct participants’ grammar and diction? What if someone besides the researcher(s) transcribes interviews? Do you “correct” a software-​generated transcription?

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Do you give transcripts back to participants for review? What do you do if a participant alters your transcription? As MacLean et al. (2004) point out, there are many variables to consider when transcribing: the use of VRS; a researcher’s notation choices; processing and active listening versus touch typing; the use of a transcriptionist; emotionally loaded material; class and/​ or cultural differences among participant, interviewer, and transcriptionist; and errors that may arise when working in a second language. Thus, “transcribed text can never totally capture the complexity of the interaction nor be completely error free” (p. 113). Transcription is an embodied process, especially when researchers use VRS. The process of dictating interviews with VRS involves a researcher’s mind and body. Embodiment in transcription means being aware of how you experience transcribing through your body as your body represents lived experience. Brooks (2010) describes embodied transcription as “an iterative process of three cycles: (a) Revisit and Repeat, (b) Revision, and (c) Refinement and Reflection” (p. 1230): In the first cycle, a researcher listens to the audio file and speaks the interview for the transcription software in real time using line breaks to indicate who is speaking, but not adding in any attributions; a researcher listens to “the cadence and rhythm of the spoken word” (p. 1231). Next, the researcher goes back and revises the transcript, adding in attributions and punctuation and correcting inaccuracies. In the final cycle, a researcher makes another pass through the recordings to correct any remaining inaccuracies and gets a sense of the “Gestalt,” or how all of the parts create a holistic meaning of the interview. What we are saying is that the process of transcribing and the transcripts produced and constructed have the potential to influence a researcher’s analysis and that researchers should reflect on their transcriptions and transcription process. Oliver et al. (2005) suggest that researchers build in reflection as part of the transcription process because it is “a powerful act of representation” (p. 1273). What you transcribe can affect the way you understand participants, what they share, and your conclusions. You can use the questions we ask above in your reflection. Think of the reflection as part of the transcription process in which you think about how to transcribe and consider how your choices influence the research and participants (Oliver et al., 2005). Are you interested in accuracy? What does accuracy mean in relation to your transcripts? Are you interested in the emotional resonance of an interview? Cannon (2018) provides an example of this type of reflection by considering transcription as operating in a liminal space: To represent others, I have been taught to re-​sort, categorize, construct from scraps, piecing together bits of data, bumping them against each other, perhaps a contradiction or a complement. (p. 574)

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There are reverberations of qualitative textbooks playing in my mind. Be a good researcher. Write it down word for word. Get the thick description. Don’t stray from the interview guide, don’t talk too much, don’t give it away. Capture it, and bring it home, a trophy from another era. Some nagging question(s): How much is in the spaces between words, in the glance, the sigh, the silent swallowing of thoughts too dangerous to say? And, what can we show? And, how do we make it matter? (p. 576) What Cannon’s musings on transcription reveal is the varying approaches and levels of detail that range from naturalistic to poetic. Think about how your transcription will look on the page. Ask yourself how naturalistic you want and need your transcription to be. We do not talk in complete sentences or with perfect grammar. It is difficult to capture all of the nonverbal nuances of interviews (Parameswaran et al., 2020). You will decide whether and how much you want to transcribe, how to represent the interview recording, whether to include nonverbal communication, how you will indicate who is speaking, whether to include silence and how, and how the interview will look on the page (Hammersley, 2010). A researcher can just include the main ideas of the interview, most direct quotes, or can be detailed and indicate all verbal and nonverbal communication such as laughter and vocal inflection. A naturalized transcript includes all utterances and nonverbal communication in as much detail as possible to try to capture verbatim what occurred during the interview; accuracy is paramount, and grammar and diction are corrected. This naturalistic transcript is often used in conversation analysis, discourse analysis, and narrative analysis (Oliver et al., 2005).

Deciding Not to Transcribe Typically, a researcher conducts interviews, transcribes interviews, and then codes the transcriptions to find patterns and themes. However, other options include not transcribing your data or transcribing in nontraditional ways such as using poetic transcription and live coding. Analyzing your interviews as audio data without a transcript is called live coding, which is when researchers simultaneously code while listening to or watching audio/​video recordings (Parameswaran et al., 2020). It is the process of coding without making a transcript or transcribing everything. This method is a way to deepen the analysis through preserving the speaking style of participants by not taking their voice away and reducing it to words on a page. Parameswaran et al. (2020) engaged in live coding by listening and watching video recordings of focus group interviews, making notes on verbal and nonverbal behavior according to a coding scheme they developed in situ (see section below on coding) and indicating any parts of the electronic recording that needed to be transcribed. They argued the advantages of live coding included being able to code nonverbal behavior, participant intent, and context simultaneously, which helped them achieve a richer data analysis and reduce bias because participants’ voices were used. The disadvantages were cultural mistakes coding nonverbal behavior, missed or miscoded themes because researchers did not visualize participants’ words, and not being able to search for words or phrases in written transcripts.

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Voice audio is another method of not transcribing interviews and other data. This can be considered a form of arts-​based research analysis, when researchers use an art form’s possibilities to show their research and analysis: Voice audio . . . is neither speech nor transcription. It hovers in an ambiguous third position, without either the bodily fullness and immediacy of speech, or the seamless coherence of writing. Like transcription, the inscriptions of audio permit editing and manipulation, but they also register bodily traces—​not only of the body of the speaker, but also of the acoustics of other bodies involved in the media ecologies of recording and playback. (Gallagher, 2020, p. 454) As a researcher you can manipulate audio data including interviews as a method of presentation and analysis. You can present your research as a video, audio piece, and/​or some kind of collage/​hybrid showing the analysis in the presentation. For instance, Sandra (Faulkner, n.d.) presented some of her feminist ethnography on women-​identified runners using audio and visual means; she arranged and analyzed her research in a video essay, photographs, haiku collage, and running soundscapes using VoiceCloud to show her fieldwork. The arrangement and choice of sound and image demonstrated her analysis of training runs, races, interviews, and in situ embodiment as a researcher and participant-​observer to help the audience think differently about women and running. Audio voice is not a straightforward method for “preserving” participant voices or for researchers interested in “accuracy”; rather, this technique opens up interpretation and offers critique by playing with ideas of truth as “fractured, compromised and speculative” and participant voice as not a representation of the truth of internal subjectivity (Gallagher, 2020, p. 455).

Poetic Transcription Poetic transcription is another way to transcribe interviews and audio data. This practice entails using poetry and poetic practice in research as representation and analysis (Faulkner, 2020). It can be used in conjunction with transitional transcription or as an alternative. Some researchers create poetic transcriptions from traditional transcriptions or bypass transcription of interviews in prose form and instead create a poetic transcript. In poetic transcription, the way the words look on the page matter; a researcher focuses on language, line, rhythm, vocal characteristics, and sound to construct a transcript that can be considered poetic and sometimes even poetry. Researchers use poetic transcription as a way to preserve and privilege participants’ speaking styles (Calafell, 2004; Madison, 1994), to capture the spirit of a story, to show how a story is shaped (Richardson, 2002), as ethical practice (Ward, 2011), and to portray a range of meanings (Carr, 2003). Poetic transcription “involves crafting transcripts in a caring and relational manner to foreground . . . stories, create verisimilitude and focus on the essence of the experiences, create coherent storylines, and create evocative text” (Ward, 2011, p. 355). To do poetic transcription, researchers may use traditional interview transcripts and highlight participants’ words, cutting and pasting what they consider essential elements to reveal and mirror participants’ lived experiences. They may use a single transcript or

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multiple transcripts of one participant to tell their story, or use multiple interview transcripts from a study to craft a collective voice (Lahman & Richard, 2014). In poetic transcription, the placement of the words on the page should mirror the rhythm of voice to capture indigenous performance as “sound, as well as the literal word,” which “creates the experience of the oral narrative, and in many moments sound alone determines meaning” (Madison, 1991, p. 322). This process of extraction through cutting and pasting and highlighting is akin to found poetry, which is created by using phrases, words, and passages from a source, focusing on spacing and line breaks. Butler-​Kisber (2002) argues that poetic transcription as found poetry brings researchers closer to their data and provides insights through the relationship between data and researcher. Other times, researchers may take a traditional interview transcript and write poetry based on their analysis of the interview transcript, either using participants’ exact words and phrasing or taking poetic license and focusing on their embodied experience of the interviews (Faulkner, 2020). This process entails paying close attention to the line through the transformation of the initial interview transcripts from a prose format into a poetic format. Walsh (2006) created poetic transcriptions by reading transcripts multiple times and making notes on recurring themes, including and reordering phrases that spoke to the emerging theme: “I culled words and cut and pasted segments of conversation into specifically labeled files, then played poetically with the segments of conversation in an attempt to distill themes and write succinct versions of them” (p. 990). Glesne (1997) read and reread interview transcripts and coded and sorted the data to find themes that described different aspects of her participant’s life. Then she created poetic transcriptions from participant’s words under each theme, “searching for the essence conveyed, the hues, the textures, and then drawing from all portions of the interviews to juxtapose details into a somewhat abstract re-​presentation” (p. 205). Sandra used poetic transcription when she analyzed women’s stories about running in her ethnography, Real Women Run (Faulkner, 2018c). She did not work from traditional transcripts; instead, she created poetic transcriptions directly from audio recordings. Sandra argues that these poetic transcriptions are similar to found poetry. First, Sandra listened to participants’ recorded interviews on her iPod during runs, imagining that she and her participants were talking while running together. She made head notes about the interviews on the runs. Next, Sandra noted themes using her field notes and her running transcription head notes to compose poetic transcriptions, which is how she presented the interviews. This is a form of live coding (Parameswaran et al., 2020). She used women’s exact words and language from interviews and constructed lines that mirrored women’s speaking styles and how they told their stories. The use of space forces a reader to breathe or pause or gasp; the goal is to have the reader experience the women’s stories as they were told and to experience the words on the page like taking a jog with participants. Sandra used space and lines to demonstrate how it feels to run, how she experienced listening to participants’ experiences, and to show the unfurling of their stories. For example, what follows is the poetic transcription of 41 women-​identified runners’ answer to an interview question, which is used as the title:

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“Why do you run?” I asked. I run  because I’m competitive because I am a Marathon Maniac to release stress to meditate to feel strong. I ran  because I was in Africa to have some control to control chronic pain to lose weight for my health and my kids when my husband was deployed. I run   to remember    to remember I can do hard things to forget    to get over this divorce to run away from family violence. I run  to change my life to keep centered for psychological health so I can drink    so I can eat so I can eat cheese. I run to get rid of marriage weight and baby weight, too. I run   for my good because I hate it for fun   to keep a schedule. I run as punishment as connection to become a warrior. I run   to feel strong to ease depression to help endometriosis to see other women   because of misogyny. I run

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because running is mine. I run. Running is mine. I run to be free to do my own thing for me time. Runners don’t slack. Running is cheap. Running is efficient. I run because that is who I am. (Faulkner, 2018c, pp. 60–​61) Researchers can also use poetic transcription as part of data analysis. Sandra and Paul Ruby (Faulkner & Ruby, 2015) used poetic transcription in a collaborative autoethnography on feminist identity in romantic relationships to show how discourses of romance and feminism competed in their romantic relationship. They coded a year of their email exchanges using Relational Dialectics Theory (RDT) contrapuntal analysis and presented the work as found poetry/​poetic transcription. They used poetic transcription to get closer to the idea of their relationship as “data,” to show their RDT contrapuntal analysis, and to represent the competing discourses identified in data analysis. We present the description of the data analysis and poetic transcription in Box 3.1. An example of the poetic transcription is seen below. Sandra and Ruby used email headings as titles of their poems/​poetic transcriptions to keep the rhythm, sense, and emotional resonance of their email exchanges. Should I bring a 6 pack of bud? From: pdRuby To: SF 8/​16/​01 09:07 AM Subject: Re: date i have a cooler. don’t dare ask for tofu my heart or hummus at the snack stand. watch me. feel that I want you. want you like you are. what does this have to do with sandra? From: SF To: pdRuby Subject: Re: bud? The vile watered down horse piss enigma most people like, your tongue becomes numb

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BOX 3.1  Example of Poetic Transcription as Data Analysis We engaged in RDT contrapuntal analysis outlined by Baxter (2011) by thematically examining the interplay of contrasting discourses in a yearlong series of our email exchanges. We created a PDF file of the e-​mails and completed contrapuntal analysis using both online comment tools and by writing on paper copies of the document

F I GUR E 3.1   Raw Data for Creating Poetic Transcription

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(e.g., highlighting words and phrases, making notes of categories and themes and theoretical memos with sticky note function, and writing in the margins). First, we read through the email text to get a holistic sense of the data. We asked the following sensitizing questions: “What does a listener need to know in order to render this textual segment intelligible? What socio-​ cultural and interpersonal discourses need to be invoked to understand what this textual segment means?” (Baxter, 2011, p. 159). Second, we generated preliminary codes in the margins, noting answers to the question “What is being said or implied about relational identity?” (Baxter, 2011, p. 162). Examples of codes included emotion, time versus commitment, needs, and trust. We made notes about manifest themes (e.g., “I think of you most all of the time”) and latent themes (e.g., power struggle between feminist and other relationship paradigms) by highlighting relevant passages in the text. The passages we highlighted became part of the poetic transcription of the email exchange. Third, we focused on larger systems of meaning from the initial coding. In other words, we theorized about the personal and relational identities represented in the discourse and collapsed first-​order codes (e.g., needs, trust) into the four competing discourse themes we discovered: (a) intellect versus embodiment, (b) real-​life work versus other worlds, (c) balance versus giving everything, and (d) past relationships versus the present. Fourth, we constructed poems/​poetic transcriptions to show our analysis of the competing discourses and dialectical tensions in the data by paying attention to repeating, recurring, and forceful words and phrases, following Owen’s (1984) description of relational themes. See Figure 3.1 for an example of the notations and some of the raw material we used to construct the poetic transcription/​poem “Should I bring a 6 pack of bud?,” representing the theme of past relationships versus the present. This shows how we used poetic transcription to keep the rhythm, sense, and emotional resonance of the email exchanges. Thus, the writing of collaborative found poems/​poetic transcriptions constituted part of the theoretical coding; the process of transcribing and constructing the poems helped reinforce our analysis of the competing discourses we identified (Faulkner & Ruby, 2015, pp. 211–​212).

when you drink. I shamed my roommate out of drinking BUD light. I am bad. Don’t call me girl. From: pdRuby To: SF Re: ooo

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you are a dream girl, the phd lady? the one that tells lesbian jokes-​ firegirl -​whiskey straight from the bottle. yes i remember. tsk tsk tsk bud isn’t a beer like ferrari isn’t a car, it is a personal thing with all the grease monkeys and votech fans, it takes me to automotive places of comfort-​ i like spam and pouilly-​fuisse buying into Anheuser-​Busch chivas and key memories: bring a 6 pack To: pdRuby From: SF 11:36 AM I know symbols, dislike bud as a reminder that my latte will implode. My assignments: interview people about love, not roses but impressionistic paintings what reminds me to throw up. (Faulkner & Ruby, 2015, pp. 221–​222) Writing collaborative found poems/​poetic transcriptions was part of the theoretical coding (more on this in the section below) and showed how they identified the competing discourses of romance and feminism and the influence on relational culture and identity.

The Next Step: Coding Planning Once you have your transcriptions, drawings, photographs, journals, documents, video, film, social media posts, literature, email, artifacts, media examples, observations, and field notes—​your research data—​the question becomes: How do you move from this data to findings? Data analysis is the process of identifying, coding, categorizing, classifying, and labeling primary patterns in data. Qualitative researchers often refer to data analysis as coding. Coding is a term that references the process of moving from data to findings; it is how researchers categorize and sort their data in a process that includes separating, compiling, organizing, and labeling. Coding is a systematic, subjective, and transparent process in which the researcher works from the textual and non-​textual data to find themes and connect those themes back to the data (Adu, 2019). Researchers also refer to this process as thematic analysis, describing the process of “encoding qualitative information” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 4). Thematic analysis is the search for patterns and themes in qualitative data: “It is

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not another qualitative method but a process that can be used with most, if not all, qualitative methods” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 4). In most qualitative studies, you will analyze data as you collect it. For instance, in grounded theory studies the analysis process and the data collection process occur simultaneously. The following terms are important for you to understand as you begin the coding process: Code: “A code in qualitative inquiry is most often a word or short phrase that symbolically assigns a summative, salient, essence-​capturing, and/​or evocative attribute for a portion of language-​based or visual data” (Saldaña, 2013, p. 3). Think of this as a tag or label for a unit of meaning in your data. Codifying: The process of applying and reapplying codes to qualitative data to garner meaning and show interpretation. This is a process of refining codes. Category: A cluster of codes (Adu, 2019). Categorizing: The process of “assessing the characteristics of each code, reviewing commonalities among them, and grouping them based on their shared characteristics” (Adu, 2019, p. 121) Theme: “A theme is a pattern found in the information that at minimum describes and organizes the possible observations and at maximum interprets aspects of the phenomenon” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 4). A theme is an “outcome of coding, categorization, or analytic reflection” (Saldaña, 2013, p. 14) and can be described as “a red thread of underlying meanings, within which similar pieces of data can be tied together and within which the researcher may answer the question ‘why’?” (Vaismoradi & Snelgrove, 2019, para. 3). Concept: “Concepts are developed within qualitative inquiry by developing data clusters as categories or identifying commonalities as themes, labeling or naming the category or theme, and then developing a definition for each” (Morse, 2004, p. 1389). Theory: An explanation for the phenomenon of interest; an understanding of how themes and concepts in your research are related. Showing how “themes and concepts systematically interrelate leads toward the development of theory” (Saldaña, 2013, p. 13). The process of coding typically moves from code/​subcodes to category/​subcategories and category to themes/​concepts and themes to assertions/​theory, and the terms become more abstract as you proceed from code to theme (Saldaña, 2013). A code is more explicit, whereas a theme is more implicit. Themes can be seen at the manifest level (when they are directly observable) or at the latent level (where they underlie a phenomenon). “When the major categories are compared with each other and consolidated in various ways, you begin to transcend the ‘reality’ of your data and progress toward the thematic, conceptual, and theoretical” (Saldaña, 2013, p. 12). There may be times when you want to move beyond descriptive codes in your data to build concepts and theory. Building concepts in your coding allows you to synthesize, recognize patterns, compare and recognize variation, recognize new instances, expand the scope of your work, generalize/​transfer your work, connect to other concepts, and develop qualitatively derived theory (Morse, 2004).

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To develop categories into concepts during the coding process, Morse (2004) suggests that a researcher should (1) build categories and themes, (2) name the concept, and (3) create definitions and identify boundaries and attributes. You will want to identify “common segments of data,” collecting them to make a category, and then give the category a label or emic tag. “An emic tag is a label derived from the category that actually occurs in the data and that best describes the category as a whole” (Morse, 2004, p. 1389). This is a label using the language of participants. When you name the concept, you may want to use an emic tag or create a new label if the concept does not already exist in the literature. You are not done at this point, as you must saturate your categories (see Chapter 7 for a discussion of saturation); your category should be clearly delineated and examples of what is or is not part of the category should be recognizable. As Morse (2004) argues, not every category can be a concept: First, a concept must be linked to data, or contextualized. Linked to data means that the derivation of a concept can be traced back to data—​and it can be illustrated using these data. That is, instances of the concept in use can be provided. Second, concepts must be abstract enough to be described and used independently from the context. This means that the analytic work of identifying attributes, moving beyond emic tag labels and developing careful definitions, transforms the concept so it is applicable to many similar situations and contexts and the concept can be recognized in future occurrences. (p. 1390) A researcher theorizes from concept development. As you may have gathered from our discussion thus far, coding can be a messy process. A researcher could call a few codes a theme, they could discover a dominant theme from codes that occur with the most frequency, they could label themes as categories if their analysis is finished, or they may even have subcategories and subthemes (Adu, 2019). We show how these terms fit together with an example from a feminist participatory action study on inclusive university classroom practices that Sandra and colleagues (Faulkner et al., 2021) conducted. Through focus groups with students from marginalized groups, they found that the relationship between students and instructors was paramount as students enter the classroom with their own respective standpoints; instructors who used more immediate and supportive communication behaviors were seen as more welcoming and inclusive. Being inclusive means centering student experiences, identities, and concerns, being a reflexive and responsive instructor, and focusing on the interpersonal relationship between instructor and students. Theory: Feminist Standpoint Theory Concept: Inclusive Classroom Practices Themes: 1. Centering student experiences, identities, and concerns; 2. Being a reflexive and responsive instructor; and 3. Focusing on the interpersonal relationship between instructor and students.

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Category 1: Instructor’s Behavior Before and During Class Interactions Subcategory 1: Before the Semester Begins Code: Contact Students Code: Learn About Students Subcategory 2: First Day of Class Code: Set the Tone Code: Encourage Introductions Code: Set a Group Atmosphere Code: Go Over Syllabus and Expectations Code: Self-​Disclosure Subcategory 3: During the Semester Code: Being Approachable Code: Staying Engaged Code: Providing Resources Code: Providing Trigger Warnings when Appropriate Code: Using Inclusive Teaching Materials Category 2: Transforming Power Differences Subcategory 1: Syllabus Code: Alternative Assignments Code: Code of Ethics Subcategory 2: Interpersonal Immediacy Code: Minimize Power Difference Code: Recognized as Learners and People Code: Reciprocity Code: Collaborative Process

Coding Plans, Coding Strategies, and Codebooks Researchers typically have a plan for coding their work. The steps in this process include being reflexive, selecting a unit of analysis, recording your observations of the phenomenon, finding multiple explanations for the data, and coding to find categories and themes to present “the story” of the data. Remember that qualitative researchers are interested in interpretation and the coding process varies based on the researcher’s purpose, type of study, and goals (Basit, 2010). As a researcher, you will need to decide if you are most interested in description-​focused, interpretation-​focused, or presumption-​focused coding (Adu, 2019)—​that is, whether you are interested in “describing events, settings, behaviors, experiences or stories” (p. 28), examining “the indicators to bring live what they mean” by “identifying significant information in the data and coming up with a code that represents our understanding of the information” (p. 32), or making claims by “looking for evidence in the data to support them” (p. 45). You are deciding between description, explanation, and concept development. The method you use in your study typically points to the coding approach (e.g., ethnographic analysis, narrative analysis, case study analysis). You will need to decide if you will code manually (i.e., the pen-​and-​paper method), electronically, “live,” and/​or using CAQDAS.

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You may want to develop a codebook, which is a compilation of all your codes, names, descriptions, and examples of each code, and a set of criteria specifying how to identify each code used for the analysis of a particular data collection (LeCompte & Schensul, 1999). It helps you document your coding process, which is especially helpful if you are working in a research team. It also is helpful if you have multiple participants and research sites; you may have different codebooks for different research sites. Box 3.2 is an example of a codebook that Sandra and colleagues used in their study on inclusive university classroom practices (Faulkner et al., 2021). Notice that it is organized by research questions and includes the research purpose, research questions, sensitizing constructs, codes, code names, and examples of codes from the data. You develop a codebook after you devise and finalize a coding scheme. We provide detailed, step-​by-​step guidelines below for developing a coding scheme. If you are electronically coding non-​textual data and multimodal documents, you will still want to include your theoretical framework, the types of data you are analyzing (e.g., photos), the unit of analysis (e.g., specific photos), and the scope of your analysis (Pennington, 2018). As we described above, live coding is when a researcher codes directly from video and audio files. You may decide that this will be helpful for integrating paralinguistic interaction and nonverbal data (Parameswaran et al., 2020). Though there may be some nuances and differences in analysis based on your method, approach, and goals, coding steps are generally similar (Adu, 2019). Given this, we offer a general step-​by-​step process for coding (i.e., inductive data analysis).

Steps in Qualitative Coding: Inductive Data Analysis We offer you a step-​by-​step process for developing and refining a coding scheme. Remember that coding “involves organizing data into categories related to the framework and questions guiding the research so that they can be used to support analysis and interpretation” (LeCompte & Schensul, 1998, p. 45). You will need to gather your material before you begin. This includes transcripts, memos, field notes, and audio, visual, and digital material. You may need to do some presorting and precoding. For instance, if you are coding manually, you will want to make sure you have wide enough margins to make notes. You may decide that you will use answers to interview or survey questions as a unit of coding (see below) and cut and paste this into files to ease coding. You will want to have a copy of your research purpose, research questions, theoretical framework, goals for your study, and any other issues in front of you to help focus your coding. In each step, we will offer variations and considerations depending on your qualitative information and project goals.

Step One: Develop a Plan The first step in analysis is devising a coding plan. To do this, you will need to determine the question(s) you will use to guide your analysis. You may use your research questions. You may use a general question (e.g., What is this a study of?) or a focused question (e.g., How do members of this group construct their identities at individual and relational levels?). Your goals

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BOX 3.2  Inclusive Classroom Practices Codebook Research Purpose The purpose of this project is to collaborate with students from marginalized communities about how instructors can be inclusive of and center marginalized and intersecting identities based on age, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, ability, and socio-​economic status in the classroom. We were interested in what an inclusive classroom entails and practices that instructors and students can use to realize and center intersecting perspectives in the classroom.

Sensitizing Constructs Welcoming practices; inclusive instructor behaviors and practices

Questions for Focus Group Discussions 1. What makes you feel welcome in the classroom? 2. What practices can instructors engage in that would help you feel included in the classroom? 3. What should instructors do on the first day of class? 4. What should instructors consider during class interactions? Q1:  What makes you feel welcome in the classroom? Welcome =​instructor characteristics, behavior, and policies CODE: Instructors’ characteristics (perceptions of instructor’s disposition as welcoming and immediate that was demonstrated in their behavior) e.g., easy to talk with/​ personable/​ approachable/​ open/​ encouraging, recognize WHOLE student, don’t reinforce power hierarchies, helpful, open AND professional If an instructor is open and relatable, then it is not hard for students to ask for help and go to office hours. “When people (i.e., instructor) don’t acknowledge, like, hey, I’m here to help, you can feel the difference in that type of demeanor of a professor, versus someone who verbally acknowledges, like, I’m here to help. Versus, like, if you email me and don’t put “Dr.” in front of my name, I’m not emailing you back.” “My professors, because my classes are very small, they usually start off with the days work, and then they asked what happened during the week. So like, ‘what happened since last time I saw you?’ My car broke down . . . just a communication . . . like, ‘yeah, that is on board. That’s super great. Good job, you know.’ And then we talked about that for like five minutes, 10 minutes and then we’d get into...get to know you guys. That way, it was so much easier to go and talk to her or him after class, to get more information if you need to. She did the same thing

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at the end of the class as well. It’d be like ‘Okay, let’s talk about what happened this week’ but more ‘Do you guys have any questions? Can you kind of stay after? Let’s, you know, rehash everything we just did in the last two hours and bring it together.’ ” Q2: What practices can instructors engage in that would help you feel included in the classroom? Inclusive: feeling connected with other students and to the class, recognized as a learner and a person CODE: Instructor’s Behavior (what an instructor does inside and outside class to help students feel connected and promote learning behavior through interpersonal relationships) e.g., being flexible in assignments, responding to emails, knowing about campus resources and helping students connect with them, giving students assignment options, setting the classroom tone, being flexible, breaking down assignments into smaller components, letting students discuss the difficulties of a project, being responsive, using preferred names and pronouncing them correctly, humility, respect, instructor self-​disclosure “(When instructors are) promoting like a group atmosphere, just even if it’s just a few classes like where there’s some teamwork assignments or just working on problems together. If that’s . . . like I guess outside of like feeling connected with the teacher but feeling connected with just the people around you can really help you even outside of the classroom.” 1. Before 1st Class

behaviors that instructors can do before class begins



The class environment is built from day one.

“Some of my professors have sent out emails saying things like, “Hey, I’m excited to see you in class. Just a reminder, this is where it is, and this is the time it starts.” So that’s nice just knowing that “Oh, they know I’m a student,” even before going into the course.” Q3:  What should instructors do on the first day of class? 2. 1st Class behaviors that instructors should consider the first day of class or beginning of an online class Resources listed in syllabus and presented, instructor presents self as fallible human

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Q4:  What should instructors consider during class interactions? 3. Classes During Semester

behaviors that instructors should engage in during class Getting participation from all members of class, being engaged with students as learners, interpersonal immediacy behaviors that demonstrate caring for whole student (check-​ins, de-​stressors, group work)

CODE: Teaching Materials: course material including syllabi, handouts, PowerPoint slides, and examples e.g., need expectations in syllabus and spoken/​presented in class; expectations for student behavior (e.g., communication, interaction) clearly stated Students liked when an instructor would state in class “When we talk about something that can be triggering, I’ll give out a trigger warning. So like a certain reading specifically mentioned like abuse or violence towards women or something she like labels it is like a trigger warning. This has this type of content. So like, if you need to be in a private to digest this type of content you would like to know before you open it up randomly in the library and like “oh, now I’m sobbing on the quiet floor.” So like she makes it known that like, “Okay, this can be a little bit difficult” THEORETICAL CODING: implications for instructor behavior and teaching materials OUTCOMES: What happens when instructors are welcoming and inclusive and when they are not welcoming and inclusive The relationship between students and instructors is paramount. The use of immediate and supportive communication behaviors is key to being a welcoming and inclusive instructor. These questions play into the outcomes: 1. What are students looking for? What they want teachers to know. 2. What happens during class? 3. How do instructor behaviors and course materials influence the classroom environment? -​ Feeling connected is an outcome of what instructors do in the classroom. -​ Having a good relationship with instructor matters. -​ Student identities are validated when instructors see and treat students as capable learners, respect them, make them feel welcomed so that they are comfortable asking for help. Faulkner, S. L., Watson, W., Pollino, M., & Shetterly, J. (2021). “Treat me like a person, rather than another number”: University student perceptions of inclusive classroom practices. Communication Education, 70(1), 92–​111. https://​doi.org.10.1080/​03634​523.2020.1812​680

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in a study may suggest ontological questions about participants’ worlds (e.g., What is it like being . . . ?) or epistemological questions about theory and understanding your phenomena of interest (e.g., What does it mean to be . . . ?) (Saldaña, 2013). The idea is that the question(s) will help you frame the study and focus and orient yourself to the data. For example, an ethnographer of communication will ask about codes of communication that guide members of a group. Some researchers use a sensitizing concept to guide the coding. This is when the analyst brings a concept to the data to use as a reference point and directions for sorting through data; the concept helps guide the researcher by focusing their attention on how the concept is manifested in the data as they code. These constructs typically come from the research literature, theory, or project focus and constitute overarching concepts in the project under study. Remember that “what people actually say and the description of events observed remains the essence of qualitative inquiry,” so the researcher’s constructs should not dominate the analysis; rather, they should facilitate the reader’s understanding of the phenomenon under study (Patton, 2002, p. 457). Faulkner et al. (2021) used welcoming practices and inclusive instructor behaviors and practices as sensitizing constructs in their analysis of interviews with university students about welcoming and inclusive behaviors in the classroom. The constructs helped remind them of the focus of the study as they coded the focus group interviews.

Step Two: Decide What to Code There are a few more decisions to make before coding begins. What is your unit of analysis? “The unit of analysis is the entity on which the interpretation of the study will focus” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 63). This may be a person, organization, group, or culture. It determines how you will organize your research report and the relationships you examine. You need to decide what counts as a unit of coding—​that is, what precisely gets coded in the data? “The unit of coding is the most basic segment, or element, of the raw data or information that can be assessed in a meaningful way regarding the phenomenon” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 63). The unit of coding is a segment of text, audio, or visual information that answers the question: What is going on here? You are looking for a “codable moment” in your data (Boyatzis, 1998). This could be a sentence, a word, a paragraph, all the answers after an interview or open-​ended survey question, an utterance, a specific length of time, a single observation, an act, or a gesture. Some researchers begin with a line in a transcript, engaging in the constant comparison method (comparing each line to every other line). You also need to decide if you will code an interviewer’s utterances. Saldaña (2013) recommends coding “if the interactions are significant dialogic exchanges of issues and jointly constructed meanings” (p. 16). For example, Faulkner and Hecht (2011) used individual identity as the unit of analysis and a transcript line as a coding unit in their narrative study of LGBTQ Jewish identity. They used their research questions as a guide for developing the coding scheme and focus when coding: Research question 1: How do individuals feel about being LGBTQ and Jewish? Research question 2: How do LGBTQ Jewish Americans negotiate multiple and at times competing or conflicting identities within close relationships? Research question 3: How does being LGBTQ and Jewish influence personal and relational identities and close relationships?

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Research question 4: Why do LGBTQ Jewish Americans decide to conceal or reveal their identities? They did not code the interviewer’s questions and responses to participants. They unitized the data into coding units based on identity layers indicated by the Communication Theory of Identity (i.e., personal, relational, enacted, communal). Yet another decision you must make is how much of the data to code. Some researchers think you should code everything, and others suggest coding only that which is most relevant to your research questions. We recommend that novice qualitative researchers should code everything. This would include your theoretical and analytical memos, transcripts, documents, field notes, artifacts, and digital materials. The goal is to get to the point where you can recognize what is quality data worth coding. After deciding on your data collection method, unit of analysis, and unit of coding, Boyatzis (1998) recommends asking yourself, “What aspects of the phenomenon might not be noted, observable, or available for processing with this design?” (pp. 65–​66). You can revise your plan if you think you may miss anything important. There are numerous coding methods you could use at this point (see Saldaña, 2013, for detailed descriptions and discussion). For example, domain and taxonomic coding used to identify and differentiate classes of items in a culture (Spradley, 1980). Values coding is good for examining how value systems operate in a social system by analyzing attitudes, values, and beliefs articulated by participants (Manning & Kunkel, 2014): “Given its focus on understanding how elements of social worlds interweave to form complex and multifaceted systems of meaning, values coding is an excellent tool for coming to deeper understandings of what people believe about relationships as well as how they feel about them” (p. 83). You could try emotion coding, which will focus you on the connections between emotion and meaning in a social scene (Saldaña, 2013).

Step Three: Develop Coding Categories The next step is to develop your coding categories. You will work through your data in an iterative process, making notes of codes in the margins in what we call first order, initial, or open coding, and revisiting codes to create categories as you go along, collapsing them into larger units of meaning. Initial coding is the first examination of all the data to describe what is going on. This helps when you have a variety of data and is a way to become familiar with your data set. Sandra does this by reading all the data (transcripts, field notes, memos), going line by line in transcripts, and making notes in the margins (electronically or by hand). If you are not working with transcripts, you may be coding memos of your impressions of fieldwork and material artifacts. The steps in first order/​initial coding are: 1. Read all the data. 2. Identify the first unit of data. 3. Identify the second unit of data. 4. See if those two units are similar or different. If they are the same, then you may code them as the same category. If they are different, then you have a second category.

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5. Use this process for all coding units. 6. Develop categories and descriptions for categories. Be sure to keep a memo trail of this process. 7. Keep going in a similar fashion.

Naming Codes How do you know what to call a code and the kind of information you should be recording? Boyatzis (1998) recommends doing the following when structuring a code: 1. Use a label (i.e., a name). 2. Provide a definition of what the theme concerns (i.e., a characteristic or issue constituting the theme). 3. Give a description of how to know when the theme occurs (i.e., indicators on how to “flag” the theme). 4. Give a description of any qualifications or exclusions to the identification of the theme. 5. Use examples, both positive and negative, to eliminate possible confusion when looking for the theme. (pp. x–​xi) When choosing a label, you may use in vivo or emic codes—​terms that participants use themselves—​or generate them yourself what we call analyst-​generated or etic labels.

Step Four: Check for Leaks and Plug Holes We have discussed how qualitative research is an iterative process numerous times in this book. Since you are most likely analyzing data at the same time you are gathering it, checking for any additional data you may need to fill out any categories that are scant is warranted. Perhaps you need to conduct a few more interviews or find some more media examples.

Interpretive Relational Themes You may ask yourself, “How do I know if I have found a theme?” Owen’s (1984) interpretive relational themes may be a good choice for framing your thematic analysis and knowing when you have uncovered a theme in your data. Sandra has used Owen’s (1984) description of finding themes in relational discourse as a way to reach saturation in interview studies (see Chapter 7 for a discussion of saturation). What this means is looking for recurrence, repetition, and forcefulness in interviews, discourse, and interview transcripts (Owen, 1984): 1. Recurrence: centers around a core concept; when at least two parts of a report have the same thread of meaning, even if there is different wording 2. Repetition: repeated use of the same wording, key words, phrases, or sentences 3. Forcefulness: vocal inflection, volume, and/​or dramatic pauses, which serve to stress and subordinate some utterances from other locations in the oral reports.

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In a study on feminist identity in romantic relationships, Faulkner and Ruby (2015) used Owen’s relational theme analysis to help them identify themes by paying attention to “repeating, recurring, and forceful words and phrases” in their email transcripts (i.e., naturally occurring discourse) to create found poems from the thematic analysis. They considered a theme to be one that demonstrated recurrence, repetition, and forcefulness.

Step Five: Build Credibility Engage in good housekeeping along the way. Make sure that you keep track of sources, noting interview numbers, transcript page numbers, participants, and time on an audio track, and keeping a file of quotes that may be important for developing categories and/​or using in a written report. You will also want to keep memos about your research process, noting your development of codes and understanding along the way. This is part of your audit trail and building credibility (see Chapter 7 for a discussion of audit trails and credibility). You want your audience to believe what you find, showing that you drew your findings from the data and presenting that understanding with evidence from the data (Trent & Cho, 2020). Your credibility means showing that you interpreted your work in the “right way.” One way to do this is to document your coding along the way, from preliminary coding to category and theme development. Another way to add to your credibility is through member checking, which is when you bring your transcripts and/​or analysis to participants for their feedback. You may conduct some focus groups to discuss your findings with participants. The goal is to verify your coding scheme. You will need to decide what to do if there is disagreement in interpretations. One solution is to report multiple interpretations. Negative case analysis is another good strategy for building credibility and is often used in grounded theory model construction. Do not discard disconfirming cases that may not fit your emerging understanding and coding scheme. Those that do not fit may become negative cases. The use of examples and cases that do not fit your emerging codes or conceptual model in a study help you delineate the boundaries and conditions of your codes and categories. These cases could become a category of their own or could be used to confirm your other categories by comparing cases that do not fit a pattern. “Once a model starts to take shape, the researcher looks for negative cases—​cases that don’t fit the model. Negative cases either disconfirm parts of a model or suggest new connections that need to be made” (Ryan & Bernard, 2000, p. 782). Triangulation is yet another way to check for leaks or holes in your coding scheme (see Chapter 7). You may have multiple analysts develop a coding scheme in a study, and/​ or multiple methods, theories, and sources of data that you can check against one another. Some use another “expert” or “critical friend” who is “a trusted person who asks provocative questions, provides data to be examined through another lens, and offers critiques of a person’s work as a friend” (Costa & Kallick, 1993, para. 5).

Step Six: Find Exemplars We mentioned in Step Five the importance of gathering quotes and pieces of data that may find their way into the final presentation of your work. You need to find illustrations that vividly demonstrate your categories to help the confirmability and transferability of your

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research (see Chapter 7 for a more in-​depth discussion). We have discussed the importance of “thick description,” which is moving beyond just describing your codes and talking about the meaning of categories and themes. Although we include this as Step Six, you should be looking for examples throughout the coding process.

Step Seven: Integrate Coding Categories In this step you will be mapping the relationship between categories. You can consider this to be like metacoding—​you are coding the coding categories. In general, when you are developing codes and categories, you are looking for “recurring regularities,” which are patterns that help you sort codes into categories and help you develop themes. You will be doing focused, axial, and theoretical coding (sometimes called selective coding in grounded theory), which are “coding processes for the latter stages of data analysis that both literally and metaphorically constantly compare, reorganize, or ‘focus’ the codes into categories” (Saldaña, 2013, pp. 51–​52). Internal homogeneity is “the extent to which data that belong in a certain category hold together or dovetail in a meaningful way,” and external homogeneity is “the extent to which differences among categories are bold and clear” (Patton, 2002, p. 465). Readers make evaluations about our work, so our job as analysts is to argue for substantive significance by addressing questions like the following: • How solid, coherent, and consistent is the evidence used in support of the findings (e.g., triangulation)? • To what extent and in what ways do the findings increase or deepen understanding of the phenomenon studied (Verstehen)? • To what extent are the findings consistent with other knowledge? (A finding supported by and supportive of other work has confirmatory significance. A discovery that breaks new ground has discovery or innovative significance.) • To what extent are the findings useful for some intended purpose (e.g., contributing to theory, informing policy, summative or formative evaluation, or problem-​solving in action research)? (Patton, 2002, p. 467) In this step, you compare codes to one another and condense them and recategorize and then code for categories and theme development. Sandra used grounded theory and constant comparison analysis in her dissertation to understand the meanings of sex and sexuality in Latinas’ close relationships and to explain the extant talk (Faulkner & Mansfield, 2002). Box 3.3 provides an example of this grounded theory and the constant comparison process that led to the development of a model explaining how participants reconciled messages about sex and sexuality with their cultural and personal beliefs.

Conclusion We end this chapter with a summary of the steps and decisions you need to make about data analysis and coding as a researcher and/​or research team:

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BOX 3.3  Example of Grounded Theory and the Constant Comparative Method Open coding began the process. I identified patterns in the data by comparing each piece of data with every other relevant piece of data. This entailed reviewing transcripts line by line and making notes in the right-​hand margin of descriptive code names (e.g., barriers to discussing safer sex). I wished to illuminate the properties of each category as it emerged. Glaser (1992) recommends asking three questions during this stage of coding:

1. What study are these data pertinent to? 2. What category does this incident indicate? 3. What is actually happening in the data? These questions served as a reminder that the original idea of the study might differ from what was occurring in the data. Coding was interrupted along the way to write theoretical memos in order to move from the data into an analytic realm (Glaser, 1992). Another important aspect of open coding is analyzing the data minutely. Incident-​ with-​ incident and incident-​ with-​ concept are compared to discover categories. I broke the data down into incidents (e.g., lines or paragraphs) and compared each of these against another. In addition, I compared the incidents (e.g., a specific conversation) to the concepts (e.g., being open about sexual experiences) emerging from the data to see if they were true. The next level of coding was selective coding, where first-​level codes were condensed and recategorized. The concepts remained identical unless they became irrelevant as more data were analyzed and interpreted. For example, it became apparent that searching for information and getting support were part of the same category; they represented different dimensions of the same concept. I coded systematically and concertedly for the core category at this point. Comparisons were made among initial codes of the properties, antecedents, and consequences of sexual talk until a more abstract core variable emerged. The purpose of comparing pieces of data against all other data was to identify the core category (Morse & Johnson, 1991). The core variable should be the one that explains most of the process of sexual talk; that is, it should account for most of the variation. In addition, the core category should be central and relevant to as many other categories as possible, which can be seen in its repetition in the data. The core variable, reconciling messages, ran through all the stories told by the participants on the path from being in a relationship to contending with the decision to engage in sexual activity. The data were considered saturated when no new instances could be identified and the categories were coherent.

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Along with selective coding, I did theoretical coding, which yielded conceptual relationships between the categories. In theoretical coding, an analyst looks for the relationship between the substantive codes (i.e., the empirical substance) generated during open coding and how they are related to one another and to the emerging theory (Glaser, 1992). For instance, a participant’s comfort level related to the kind of talk in which she reported engaging (being open, being quiet, being on autopilot, selectively disclosing). The goal was to identify stages and phases in the process of discussing sex, including safer sex with a romantic and/​or sexual partner. A description of categories was collected and links made between categories. The stages and phases of categories can be diagrammed and mapped. Diagramming involves identifying two variables or emerging concepts that appear to be accounting for variation in a phenomenon and then using a 2×2 matrix to determine the combinations of the absence and presence of each variable (Morse & Johnson, 1991). The data revealed a helpful typology combining comfort with explicitness to explain the kinds of sexual talk in which women reported engaging. Adapted from Faulkner, S. L., & Mansfield, P. K. (2002). Reconciling messages: The process of sexual talk for Latinas. Qualitative Health Research, 12, 310–​328.

1.

Decide what makes most sense given your research question(s) and/​or research purpose. a. Are you going to have a sensitizing construct(s)? b. What is your unit of analysis? c. How will disputes be handled? Talk until you reach agreement? Drop codes that you cannot agree upon? d. What should be the result? That is, analyst-​generated codes? An emic perspective (e.g., domain analysis, relational themes, grounded theory)? 2. Begin with open coding and use descriptive names. 3. Connect descriptive names to arrive at categories (i.e., what goes together). Give every category a label and a definition and explain how you recognize it by using examples. 4. Interpret and connect categories to one another (if possible) to describe a process. Regardless of your method and approach, we consider coding to be a systematic, rigorous data reduction process characterized by the need for transparency, reflexivity, and documentation. Your positionality influences your analysis of qualitative materials and the decisions you make about approach and style and transcribing or not transcribing. We hope that you will take our advice to “trust in the process” and dive into your qualitative project with verve.

Discussion Questions 1. We contend that the process of transcribing and the transcripts produced and constructed have the potential to influence a researcher’s analysis. Respond to the idea that transcription is not a neutral process. How does your positionality influence how and

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what you see in an interview transcript? How does your positionality influence the representation process? 2. What is the difference between a code, a category, and a theme? Find a communication study and look for descriptions of these in the work. How do the researchers discuss their coding process? If concepts are not described in the research, what would a researcher need to do to develop them (i.e., move from categories to concepts)? 3. We suggest that member checking is a good way to build credibility in your qualitative analysis. What would you do if a participant disagreed with your emerging understanding of a phenomenon? Discuss the tension between analyst and participant understandings of data. Does the research method mitigate these concerns?

Research and Writing Practice Gather three transcripts from interviews you have conducted or find some online. Create a poetic transcription from the traditional transcripts as follows: 1. Begin by reading your transcripts line by line to get a holistic sense of the interviews. Take note of the themes/​ideas/​concepts that you notice. Highlight words, phrases, and/​ or lines that stand out. You can do this on a paper copy by writing in the margins or create a PDF file of your transcript and use online comment tools (e.g., highlighting words and phrases, making notes of categories and themes and theoretical memos with the sticky note function, and writing in the margins). You can decide to use a sensitizing construct or orienting question(s) to help you focus. You could ask: What does this interview tell me about this participant’s experiences? 2. Create a poetic transcript from the notes and highlights you made on the transcripts. Decide if you are only using the exact words, phrasing, and language from the transcripts or whether you will add anything. Pay attention to the way your transcript looks on the page. Decide whether you will have three different poetic transcripts or whether you will create a composite from the three source transcripts. A variation of this would be to take audio/​digital recordings of an interview and create a poetic transcript directly from the files—​that is, use a version of live coding. Another variation: Follow the inductive coding process we describe in this chapter with the transcripts and then create a poetic transcription/​representation for each theme you identify.

Suggested Resources For a good review on teaching yourself how to use CAQDAS, see Freitas et al. (2017). For a more detailed discussion of poetic transcription, see Faulkner (2020). Excellent references on coding are Adu (2019), Miles et al. (2020), and Saldaña (2013).

4

Doing Qualitative Media Analysis (Part 1) A multilevel perspective conceives of mass communication as a process consisting of both horizontal relationships of media production and consumption linked by media content and vertical linkages of macro and micro concepts through social and organizational mechanisms. (Pan & McLeod, 1991, p. 151)

Key Terms audience, feedback, multilevel media analysis, production, qualitative content analysis

Learning Outcomes After reading and engaging with the material in this chapter, you should be able to: • List the different levels of multilevel analysis. • Identify the different influences in mass media production. • Describe the method of qualitative content analysis. • Differentiate between qualitative content analysis and forms of textual analysis. • Explain the different paradigms for conceptualizing audiences. • List the different forms of interactivity that count as “feedback” in multilevel analysis.

Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media. Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.003.0004

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Qualitative Media Analysis: Traditional Model of Mass Communication Media Production Media Content Box 4.1: A Conversation About Rhetorical Criticism with Dr. Michael Butterworth Frameworks and Protocols Selecting Texts Media Audiences Behavioral Paradigm Incorporation/​Resistance Paradigm Audience Performance Paradigm Box 4.2: A Conversation About Qualitative Audience Analysis with Dr. Jennifer Rauch Feedback/​Interactivity Conclusion Discussion Questions Research and Writing Practice Suggested Resources Whenever people speak about communication materials that they access from broadcast media (e.g., television or newspapers), they tend to refer to them as “the media.” Scholars and laypeople alike often conceptualize “the media” in a very monolithic way. We frequently hear politicians or political pundits talking about “the media.” There will be claims that “the media” misrepresented something. Or people will lament that “the media” is biased against them. But this is a very simplistic view of a communication phenomenon that is quite complex. Such a view conflates organizational practices of media production, content, audiences, technology, and more. Indeed, this entire process becomes reducible in these discussions to content alone—​or, at least, content takes the forefront in these conversations. Therefore, when we engage in the academic study of media—​whether qualitative or quantitative—​it is important to understand the components that we seek to examine. If we understand more about what we are studying—​media—​we can engage in a more deliberate research process. What is more, media processes and audiences are becoming more complex than ever before with the rise of interactive and digital technologies. Two distinct models of media and mass communication, which are based on empirical observations of these phenomena by scholars over the years, now exist. On the one side is what we refer to in this book as the traditional model of media and mass communication, which is discussed in this chapter. This model is based on the study of centralized broadcast media systems, content, and audiences during the 20th century. Conversely, there is what we call a contemporary model that includes interactive and social media platforms; it is based largely on Manuel Castells’s (2011) notion of mass self-​communication. This model will be discussed in greater detail in Chapter 5. The following sections examine the traditional model of centralized, broadcast media, as well as different methods that may be utilized to explore multiple levels or this vision of “the media.”

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Qualitative Media Analysis: Traditional Model of Mass Communication The traditional model of mass communication involves centralized media systems that broadcast content to large, mass audiences. Essentially, this is a view that is based largely on a transmission model of communication, in which producers send messages through a medium to audiences. Such a view is based in large part on the observations in the 20th century that gave rise to media effects theories like two-​step flow (Lazarsfeld et al., 1949), cultivation theory (Gerbner et al., 1980), and agenda setting (McCombs & Shaw, 1972), as well as semiotic and cultural studies (Fiske, 1987; Hall, 1980). Pan and McLeod (1991) provide a richer illustration of this model with their notion of multilevel media analysis. They conceptualize “the media” in terms of four interconnected levels that feed—​or bend—​into one another: 1. The top level is media production, in which individuals, artists, or organizations work to produce content and circulate it to audiences. 2. This connects into the next level, which is the content that is produced, with all its themes, frames, discourse, and images. 3. Such content connects with, or bends into, the bottom level: the audience, who consumes, uses, interprets, reacts, or behaves. What the audience does—​consumes or reacts—​depends largely on the epistemological assumptions (i.e., the nature of knowledge) that researchers hold about the nature of an audience. 4. Finally, the audience bends into a final level of feedback that moves upward to the production level; this can take the form of “likes” on social media, letters to the editor, or the purchase of content or merchandise (or lack thereof). In this way, then, “the media” stands as a cyclical process of four interconnected levels. Essentially, Pan and McLeod recommend that scholars and students of media engage with as many of these levels as possible in order to develop a picture of the interconnectivity between media audiences and processes. Obviously, bringing together all four levels would constitute an onerous task, and in many cases may not be necessary or even possible. Nevertheless, researchers should at least understand any project as situated within the different levels described here and explain their findings as a part of an interconnected process of production, content, audiences, and feedback. Although Pan and McLeod approached this multilevel analysis from a social science, quantitative perspective, they essentially constructed a model that allows for all students and scholars of media to engage in thoughtful research on specific components of this important communicative and social phenomenon. Indeed, many critical and humanistic works that discuss the study of “the media” illustrate approaches based on these specific levels. Textbooks about television criticism like Critical Approaches to Television (Vande Berg et al., 2004) and the edited volume Television: The Critical View (Newcomb, 2006) include three parts dedicated to the study of that medium: production criticism, audience

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criticism, and text-​based criticism. More recently, Ina Bertrand and Peter Hughes (2018) explain in their book Media Research Methods that there are three primary research topics related to media: audiences, media institutions, and texts. In each of these cases, the only part of the Pan and McLeod model missing from these textbooks is the notion of feedback. Ultimately, then, as scholars engage in research concerning “the media,” it is important to understand the components—​or levels—​that are under investigation; just as important as it is to understand epistemology or research questions. Essentially, this model allows for students and scholars to conceptualize “the media” in a more dynamic way, which reflects its interconnectivity with different sections of modern society. Josh’s early research utilized such an approach to qualitative media analysis, as he examined the role of alternative media within activist networks (Atkinson, 2008, 2010; Atkinson & Dougherty, 2006). This line of research illustrated the role of alternative media in peace and justice activist organizations during the years of the Iraq War and the U.S. occupation of Iraq. These studies explored the content that was produced in local communities, as well as the ways in which audiences made use of such content in their own performances of political resistance. In addition, his work illustrated the ways in which audience feedback informed the work of alternative media in those local communities, as well as at the national level. Using interviews and qualitative content analysis, Josh illustrated the framework of resistance performance, which entailed interconnected categories developed from grounded theory analysis. These categories involved the intercreativity between audiences and producers, the content that formed backdrops for the performance of resistance, and the audience’s communicative strategies of resistance (see Atkinson, 2010). Essentially, the different levels existed together in this framework, providing a full, thorough picture of alternative media audiences and processes. In the following pages, we use this model as a guide for conceptualizing different ways to conduct research concerning communication phenomena involving broadcast and interactive media. In particular, we present the important topics or issues that should be considered whenever one makes the decision to engage in media analysis. In addition, we provide some examples of research that can help readers to visualize the interviews, focus groups, or qualitative content analysis protocols that can be used to fully explore each of these important levels.

Media Production At the top of the multilevel analysis loop is media production, in which individuals, artists, organizations, and media networks create content that flows to audiences. The key to engaging in qualitative research of this level lies in identifying the influences that are integral to shaping the content. What aspects of the production process are important for the research? What should researchers be searching for in their observations or conversations? The study of mass media production has its roots primarily in the categories of influence described by Dimmick and Coit (1983). They identify nine categorical levels of influence that shape the production of texts and content: individual or cognitive influences, dyadic communication influences, formal or informal groups, intraorganizational influences, market influences, supranational influences, industry-​level influences, societal-​level influences, and

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pan-​national influences. These nine levels of influence were later condensed into three primary influences: individuals, organizational practices, and societal influences (Vande Berg et al., 2004). The first of these entails the work and practices of individual producers and artists. Organizational practices focus on influences like formal structure, work routines, and decision-​making processes (e.g., Gitlin, 1983). In addition, the examination of organizations can involve the influence of informal groups on the production of content: power relationships and patterns of personal interactions within (and outside of) an organization. Finally, societal influences include politics and policies, as well as industry issues related to markets, corporate strategies, and relationships between media networks (e.g., Kenix, 2011; Turrow, 1992). Essentially, this level focuses on forces external to the groups or individuals responsible for producing media content. This can include constraints placed upon the producers through policies or political threats, or potential rewards offered from advertisers or other commercial forces. In reference to the study of individual producers, interviews prove valuable at illustrating recurring styles, themes, motifs, and meanings intended by those people who create content (Bertrand & Hughes, 2018; Vande Berg et al., 2004). Although work conducted in the fields of television and film criticism describe this as a process of textual analysis, in which critics look for patterns within texts created by individuals, such patterns can also be gleaned through interviews with producers. One of the key issues that must be resolved before the researcher can embark on interviews, however, is to identify those key individuals who are the most important—​or responsible—​for the final content that is produced (e.g., Newcomb & Alley, 1983). For instance, in film the individual who is most responsible for the finished content that is circulated to audiences is the director; in television it is the executive producer (e.g., Thompson, 1998). Of course, there are other key individuals involved in producing content for both media: writers, actors, and executives all play key roles in the production process. When looking at print media—​like news media—​one can look to editors, owners, and writers as all playing key roles (Forde, 2011; Kenix, 2011). This could also include the study of journalists, novelists, poets, or other writers, or producers of blogs or interactive media materials. The interview process can help the researcher better understand the motivations for creating those materials, as well as the steps they went through in their work. One example of such research would be the work of Papen (2012), who explored the “linguistic landscape” of Prenzlauer Berg in Berlin. This eastern suburb of the German capital had once been a part of the communist-​dominated East Berlin. Reconstruction of this working-​class quarter of the city following World War II was completed with inferior materials, and economic hardships following reunification accelerated degradation of that physical environment. Over the course of 20 years following German reunification, however, the suburb became a trendy middle-​class community. The primary reason for the revival of Prenzlauer Berg was gentrification, which was—​in part—​stimulated by the political art on many of the dilapidated buildings. In her research Papen engaged in interviews with key figures involved in the emergence of this political art: local artists and activists, as well as the owners of cafes and other shops in the neighborhood. In addition to the interviews, Papen traveled about the community photographing all the artwork and graffiti that she

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found along all of the major streets and walkways. The interviews would help her to understand the meanings and intentions associated with the different forms of artwork encountered in the urban environment. The interviews helped her “understand the meanings of logos, names and images as well as the contents of campaign slogans and political banners. Further questions concerned typescript, colour and other visual aspects of signs as well as their materiality” (p. 61). Another example of interviews utilized to explore individual producers can be found in Forde’s 2011 book Challenging the News. One important aspect of the book illustrates the ways alternative journalists choose topics about which they write—​often for activist audiences. The data used to describe processes of writing and production on the part of journalists was collected from 19 semi-​structured interviews with alternative media writers in the English-​speaking nations of the United States, United Kingdom, and Australia. In addition, they conducted 13 focus groups with the managers of different community radio stations in Australia. In these interviews, Forde asked these producers how they defined the concept of alternative media. They also asked questions that allowed the producers to elaborate on how they prioritized news stories, how they covered issues, and how they encouraged political participation from the audience. In regards to research concerning broader, organizational practices of production, many scholars engage in ethnography or participant observation. This makes it possible to investigate and illustrate structures (formal and informal), the different roles and duties within those structures, and communicative rituals (Gitlin, 1983; McManus, 1994). Take for instance research conducted by Pickard (2006) regarding the production of news content within the Seattle and Urbana-​Champaign independent media centers (IMC), two of the many IMCs in the United States and around the world in the first decade of the 2000s. Pickard relied on participant observation at both IMCs to explore the different constructions of democracy in action. Essentially, his work in both of the IMCs allowed him to observe the formal rules that guided open publishing and other community media work within both organizations. The primary rules that he observed involved discourses about principles of unity, as well as open meetings and consensus-​based decision-​making. These formal rules gave rise to a form of structurelessness within the organizations; such structurelessness created informal tyrannies that often influenced the publication of stories on the different IMC websites. In this way, then, Pickard’s ethnographic fieldwork allowed for the observation of key structures, routines, and decision-​making processes that guided the production of media content. The last of Dimmick and Coit’s categories focuses on social and industry influences on content. In many ways, one can look to Herman and Chomsky’s (1988) media filters to see the important role of this level of influence. In their model, there are five important characteristics of the mainstream media industry that influence the content produced by television networks in the United States: high costs of production and circulation/​broadcast, reliance on advertising for revenue, need for information (for timely news), the emergence of flack, and anti-​communist sentiments. Essentially, the first four are industry-​level characteristics that lead into one another. Maintaining multimedia networks is expensive, so most (if not all) networks turn to advertising to generate revenue to pay those costs.

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What is more, most networks have some news divisions; in order to ensure large audiences (to generate advertising revenue) there is a need for reliable, up-​to-​date news information. This requires the networks to rely heavily on corporate and government sources to accrue such information. All of these things (costs, advertising, information) open up multimedia networks and conglomerates to flack; if they produce content that offends, they create financial risk. Advertisers can pull revenue, and sources of information can deny access. For this reason, content becomes filtered to maintain good relations with each. The final characteristic, anti-​communism, is a society-​wide sentiment that leads to the filtration of particular themes or frames within content. Much of the research that explores society-​and industry-​level influences relies on the use of content analysis to explore patterns in themes and frames. The issue of content analysis is covered in more detail in the following section.

Media Content Media content may be studied in one of two ways: content analysis or textual analysis. The method of qualitative content analysis has also come to be known by other names: ethnographic content analysis and qualitative media analysis, for instance. For the purposes of this book, we will simply use the more historical term qualitative content analysis to describe the observation and analysis of media content through qualitative means. What is more, we use the term textual analysis to describe an interpretive process by which scholars use texts to illustrate aspects of society—​which is in line with the use of textual analysis by other qualitative scholars (e.g., Atkinson, 2017; Berger, 2020; Brennen, 2022; McKee, 2003). This term encompasses forms of analysis like rhetorical criticism, ideological criticism, and narrative criticism. Josh is often asked by students—​and even scholars—​about the difference between qualitative content analysis and forms of textual analysis (like rhetorical criticism). Or they’ll ask him if there even is a difference between them. To be sure, the two approaches to the examination of content are quite different. Though many consider it to not be a research method, textual analysis is nonetheless an approach to interpret texts for the purpose of explaining or describing larger, social issues. Essentially, when conducting any form of textual analysis, a scholar is explaining how one should interpret or understand a particular text within a given social context. Any form of content analysis, however, is an examination of what terms or latent meanings are actually in a given text. For example, in casual conversations that Josh has had with various critical scholars and graduate students, he has heard it stated that the television program (and comic book) Walking Dead is an expression of white anxiety about an increasingly diverse America populated by people of color and immigrants. Living characters of color on the program stand as domesticated Others (e.g., athletes, exotics), while the zombies that terrorize and kill the living characters represent the “unwashed” masses of color and immigrants in the United States. Essentially, the zombies, with their darker, rotting skin and hunger for the flesh of the living, are an expression of white fears about people of color taking jobs and vital resources like healthcare. This is an interesting use of this text to engage in a critique of contemporary society. However, it is an interpretation that is based on reading by particular individuals, which is made into an argument for how others should understand the text (and the anxieties of White people in

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contemporary society). Nowhere on the television program or in the comic books does such an analogy ever arise. If we were to conduct a qualitative content analysis of the program, categories concerning white anxiety, or something similar, would likely never emerge. One might create categories around problematic representations of race found within the text, but such a large interpretation about white anxiety about jobs or healthcare would not be possible, as those topics do not exist within the content. In this way, then, qualitative content analysis is a method that is used to illustrate manifest and latent meanings within a particular text or sample of texts. It is also important to note here that forms of textual analysis, like rhetorical criticism, do not entail concrete methods for the systematic collection and analysis of data. Indeed, many rhetorical scholars note that rhetorical criticism is not a method but rather an art form for developing arguments about how people should view a text within a larger social context (see Kuypers, 2009). In his book Textual Analysis, Alan McKee (2003) discusses the role of semiotics and structuralism in the conceptualization of texts. He also provides ample discussion about the connection between texts and sense-​making in society. However, at no point in the book does he ever describe a process that researchers can use to collect data and perform an analysis (see Box 4.1). To illustrate this point, Josh asked students in a graduate-​ level qualitative methods class to make a list of the steps that they would use to conduct the kind of textual analysis described by McKee. The lists that they developed varied greatly. This is further illustrated by Bonnie Brennen (2022), who explains in her book Qualitative Research Methods for Media Studies that “there is no one correct way to analyze a text, and that researchers bring their own interpretive strategies to their work” so that “no two analyses produce the same interpretation” (p. 228). In this way, forms of textual analysis, like rhetorical criticism or narrative criticism, are primarily a process of reading and formulation of argument. Such critique is based on close reading grounded in particular humanistic or critical theories (e.g., feminist theory, narrative paradigm), subjective interpretation, and specific research questions (e.g., Bertrand & Hughes, 2018; Brennen, 2022; McKee, 2003). Three of the common forms of textual analysis typically utilized by researchers to explore media content are: • Neo-​ Aristotelian rhetorical criticism: This form of textual analysis emerged from Aristotle’s Rhetoric, as well as the works of the Roman senator Cicero and other scholars of antiquity (Herrick, 2012). Their work constitutes the foundation of Neo-​Aristotelian rhetorical criticism, which entails close reading to identify the proofs utilized within a text. In addition, researchers may examine the organization of proofs and their delivery (Brock et al., 1990; Foss, 2017). • Ideological criticism: This form of critique is based on works concerning ideology and hegemony written by scholars like Louis Althusser (1972), Antonio Gramsci (1971), and Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno (1972), as well as others. Scholars engage in close readings of texts in order to identify the ways in which dominant meaning structures and social values are integrated within the text, and interconnected to other texts (Berger, 2020; Brennen, 2022).

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BOX 4.1  A Discussion About Rhetorical Criticism with Dr. Michael Butterworth Rhetorical Criticism as Attitude Since the origin of “rhetorical criticism” as an academic enterprise in the early decades of the 20th century, scholars of rhetoric have debated what should constitute the object and method of study. Students of the discipline have for decades become oriented to rhetorical criticism by reviewing the foundational works of Herbert Wichelns (1925) and Ernest Wrage (1947) before encountering Edwin Black’s (1978) paradigm-​shifting Rhetorical Criticism: A Study in Method, first published in 1965. In the decades since, critics have developed and deployed a range of “methods,” producing studies defined in the language of “neo-​Aristotelianism,” “genre,” “narrative,” “ideological critique,” “post-​modernism,” and more. This methodological pluralism can be a decided asset, as it enables critics to explore persuasive discourse in an array of contexts, idioms, and texts. Most contemporary textbooks on rhetorical criticism adopt the logic of organizing scholarly approaches by replicating these methods as if they delineate discrete outlines for engaging in research. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, and it provides some analytic clarity that is especially useful for beginning critics. However, the reliance on “method” is, at least to a degree, at odds with the critical purpose implied by rhetorical inquiry. Indeed, the rhetorical tradition has long privileged the ability to make ethical judgments about the use of discourse rather than to settle for explanations of rhetoric’s “effectiveness.” William Nothstine, Carole Blair, and Gary Copeland (1994) argue persuasively that rhetorical criticism has too often been influenced by institutional discourses about scientific inquiry and professionalism, to the extent that critical judgment “has become a secondary and often quite expendable goal” (p. 32). Thus, when demanding that rhetorical criticism adhere strictly to “method,” we may inadvertently reduce it to instrumental understandings that observe persuasive discourse without attending to the reasons for or consequences of its effects. An alternative orientation is to think of rhetorical criticism not in terms of method but instead in terms of “attitude.” Such an approach might be best aligned with Kenneth Burke (1984), arguably the most influential figure in rhetorical studies in the United States during the 20th century. Ironically, perhaps, Burke’s expansive corpus has often been simplified through formulaic interpretations of his ideas such as “the pentad.” Indeed, Burke observed that human symbolic relations could be understood through five components of drama: act, agent, agency, purpose, and scene (Burke, 1969); yet, he had little interest in simply mapping those components onto discourse as though they were a blueprint for understanding the most complex of interactions. As William Rueckert (1994) explains, “The sustaining action of Burke’s

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career has been his commitment to criticism as a way of life” (p. 100). For Burke, this meant using rhetorical concepts and vocabulary to identify the (inevitable) flaws of human nature, to challenge rigid dichotomies and sedimented definitions, to encourage humility (by favoring his well-​known “comic frame” over a “tragic frame”), and, ultimately, to limit the harm human beings cause one another. From such a perspective, rhetorical criticism is directed not merely toward rhetoric’s effects but more importantly toward our ability to use rhetoric to build identifications and ameliorate conflicts. Approaching rhetorical criticism as an attitude need not be anti-​methodological. Indeed, critics may still identify and categorize figures of speech, metaphors, discursive patterns, myths, ideologies, and more. In keeping with other “critical” orientations to scholarship in the humanities and social sciences, attitudinal criticism directs our attention to persuasion’s ends more than its means. It reminds us to consider the nuances of language, the ambivalence of motives, and the ideological consequences of persuasion. Rhetorical criticism could be content merely to catalog the appeals of persuasion but, as Burke (1970) himself famously said, “It’s more complicated than that” (p. 312).

References Black, E. (1978/​1965). Rhetorical criticism: A study in method. University of Wisconsin Press. Burke, K. (1984/​1937). Attitudes toward history. University of California Press. Burke, K. (1969/​1945). A grammar of motives. University of California Press. Burke, K. (1970/​1961). The rhetoric of religion: Studies in logology. University of California Press. Nothstine, W. L., Blair, C., & Copeland, G. A. (1994). Professionalism and the eclipse of critical invention. In W. L. Nothstine, C. Blair, & G. A. Copeland (Eds.), Critical questions: Invention, creativity, and the criticism of discourse and media (pp. 15–​70). St. Martin’s Press. Rueckert, W. H. (1994). Criticism as a way of life: Kenneth Burke’s A Grammar of Motives forty years later. In W. H. Rueckert, Encounters with Kenneth Burke (pp. 99–​109). University of Illinois Press. Wichelns, H. (1925). The literary criticism of oratory. In A. M. Drummond (Ed.), Studies in rhetoric and public speaking in honor of James Albert Winans by pupils and colleagues (pp. 181–​216). The Century Co. Wrage, E. (1947). Public address: A study in social and intellectual history. Quarterly Journal of Speech, 33, 451–​457.

Biography Dr. Michael L. Butterworth (Ph.D., Indiana University, 2006) is the Director of the Center for Sports Communication & Media, the Governor Ann W. Richards Chair for the Texas Program in Sports and Media, and Professor in the Department of Communication Studies. His research explores the connections between rhetoric, democracy, and sport, with particular interests in national identity, militarism, and public memory. He is the author of Baseball and Rhetorics of Purity: The National Pastime and American Identity during the War on Terror, co-​author (with Andrew Billings and Paul Turman) of Communication and Sport: Surveying the Field, editor of Sport and Militarism: Contemporary Global Perspectives, and co-​editor (with Daniel A. Grano) of Sport, Rhetoric, and Political Struggle. Dr. Butterworth’s essays have appeared in journals such as Communication and Critical/​ Cultural Studies

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and Communication and Sport. Dr. Butterworth serves as Vice Chair of the Sports Communication Interest Group for the International Communication Association. He previously served as the Chair of the Communication and Sport Division for the National Communication Association and was the Founding Executive Director of the International Association for Communication and Sport. He is an avid Chicago Cubs fan and can easily be distracted with conversations about sports, politics, and music.

• Narrative criticism: This form of critique is based on the narrative paradigm developed by Walter Fisher (1985). In this form of critique, scholars search for key narrative components within the text, such as characters, setting, actions, or temporal relations. The scholar then identifies the ways in which those narrative components constitute a frame that audiences can use to make sense of the social world (Atkinson, 2017; Foss, 2017). Unlike textual analysis, qualitative content analysis involves systematic sampling and collection of data from texts. Many contend that there is no such thing as a qualitative content analysis. Such scholars argue that all content analysis must eventually become quantitative, as there is a need to demonstrate statistical significance of terms, themes, or emergent categories. For these scholars, like Phillip Mayring (2014) and Arthur Berger (2020), the qualitative component of content analysis is the inductive development of categories from the text under investigation. After categories have been developed and refined, the scholar then engages in chi-​square analysis based on the observed and expected frequency of the categories to determine significance. If those categories prove to lack statistical significance, then they should be disregarded. However, consider another example Josh uses when discussing the flaw of such reasoning: Let’s imagine a discussion with an individual deeply involved in city politics. The primary focus of the entire discussion is water infrastructure, and the costs of that important city resource. Most of the long discussion involves minutiae about water bills, but at one point the city official uses a racial slur—​the n-​word. This is the only moment in which the term is utilized throughout a long, rather boring discussion about water infrastructure, bills, costs, and other aspects of city utilities. Since the term is only used once, it would likely prove to be statistically insignificant in a chi-​square analysis. But is it insignificant? Not at all! The presence of the term alters everything else in the content. We cannot view the rest of the discussion or conversation outside of the presence of the n-​word. This is not merely hypothetical, as such a discussion actually happened in the aftermath of revelations of the water crisis and lead poisoning in Flint, Michigan. One individual involved in Flint banking engaged in a 20-​minute discussion about water and infrastructure in the city and was recorded saying the following: Detroit was charging all its customers [like Flint] for the cost; they weren’t collecting from their residents. They weren’t shutting the water off, they were letting bills go

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forever, but they were charging everybody else, they covered them. Well, Flint has the same problems as Detroit. Fucking n*****s don’t pay their bills. Believe me, I deal with them. I don’t want to call them n*****s. Shit. I have—​shit. I just went to Myrtle Beach, twenty-​four guys, and I was the only white guy. I got friends, I mean, there’s trash and there’s people that do this . . . They just don’t pay their bills. Well, Detroit didn’t collect on their bills, so they charged everybody else, but Flint—​Flint had to pay their bill to Detroit. (Abbey-​Lambertz, 2017, n.p.) In this case, this one segment, which included the use of the n-​word, impacted everything discussed by this particular individual. All other discussions of water, basic infrastructure, and lead pipes are now influenced or altered by the presence of this one term. Some meanings utilized within content can impact others and change them. One might think about this phenomenon like gravitational pull. Some meanings exert minute influence and change little within content; for instance, if the person had used the term “idiots” it would have had minimal, if any, impact on other meanings or terms in the discussion. But other meanings or terms, like the horrible one utilized in the discussion above, are like black holes exerting an enormous force on everything else across all of the content, often leaving meanings deeply altered. In cases involving such black hole terms, statistical analysis can be blind. Despite their challenges to the notion of qualitative content analysis, Mayring (2000, 2014) offers two approaches to conducting such research: inductive and deductive. The first involves systematic category development from the content under investigation, while the second involves the application of preexisting categories. Let’s take these two approaches one at a time. Inductive analysis is a method of close reading by one or multiple researchers. This process of reading is typically guided by research questions or key theories that are foundational to a project. As they read through content, the researchers look for terms, concepts, meanings, or themes that they find to be useful. As such examples are identified, they are compared to one another to see if they are similar. If examples are similar, they may be grouped together; if they are not, they will be kept separate. As additional terms or themes are identified, they are compared to all the others that have been set aside. Eventually, after much reading and comparison, categories emerge. When there are multiple researchers engaged in a project, it is important that they discuss these findings and make sure that there is agreement on the development of these categories. Indeed, such partnerships and collaborations help to refine emergent categories so that they better address the research questions or adhere to theoretical grounding. These partnerships can also serve as the kind of research triangulation that helps to establish trustworthiness and validity—​something that is discussed in greater detail in Chapter 7. The other approach noted by Mayring is a deductive form of qualitative content analysis. This is where many scholars claim that all content analysis inherently becomes quantitative (e.g., Krippendorff, 2012; Mayring, 2014). In this approach, researchers apply preexisting categories to the content under examination. A similar close reading process is utilized. However, rather than conducting comparisons of terms, themes, or meanings, the researchers identify the elements in the content that seem to fit with the preexisting

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categories. For Mayring, this leads to counting and frequencies, which, in turn, necessitates the use of formulas like chi-​square analysis to demonstrate significance. However, as noted previously, sometimes terms or meanings that exert heavy gravitational pull may not be frequently used within content. In those cases, it is up to the researcher to make an argument for their significance. Some instances, like the Flint example, are easy cases to make such an argument. When terms or meanings exert lesser gravitational pull than those of the black hole variety, however, it becomes important that the researcher builds a strong case for significance. This often requires that they do look beyond the content to context, or the origin of terms or concepts. In addition, they will likely need to explain the impact of that gravitational pull onto other terms, themes, or meanings within the content. Josh has a particular example that demonstrates both approaches to qualitative content analysis. In research that he conducted with a group of graduate students, they looked to see if themes from alternative media were utilized in debates between Republican candidates for president in 2015 and 2016 (Atkinson et al., 2019). In that research, they started with an inductive analysis by closely reading through key debate responses by four candidates: Chris Christie, Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, and Donald Trump. The research team worked separately, developing thematic categories based on the issues and evidence discussed by each candidate. At various points in this process, the researchers would meet to discuss their findings and compare the different categories that were developing from their close reading. After all the categories from the chosen debates were developed and refined, the researchers then engaged in a deductive analysis of key conservative alternative media produced online in the weeks prior to each debate. In this step of the research project, the categories from the inductive analysis were utilized as preexisting categories for the deductive analysis. The researchers engaged in close reading of multiple articles from three different alternative media titles, all the while searching for terms or themes that matched the categories from the debates. Essentially, they considered if themes that emerged in the debates had first arisen in conservative alternative media. Instances in which items matched the preexisting categories were counted for frequencies. However, the researchers also took note of the ways in which these were used within the content to demonstrate a more gravitational significance. We note that deductive analysis can be complicated even more, as it does not even have to entail frequency at all. Rather than simply counting the number of instances that a category appears, researchers can also develop descriptions of those categories as they are discovered during close reading. In this case of deductive analysis, the researchers move through the content picking out the categories as they find them and make comparisons. On the surface, this may sound like inductive content analysis, but it does prove to be particularly different. One example to illustrate this form of deductive analysis would be research that Josh conducted with Clayton Rosati. In that study, they examined a web community in Detroit that sought to reimagine the unruly or dilapidated quarters of the city through the use of a virtual tour and discussion forum they hosted online (Atkinson & Rosati, 2012, 2020). They read through various threads on the group’s discussion forum, searching for topographical categories that were developed in the research of Sadler and Haskins (2005): landmarks (recognizable sites in a city, like the Statue of Liberty), nodes

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(places where people congregate, live, or work, like apartments or coffee shops), pathways (e.g., streets), and edges (e.g., hedges, fences). As they moved through the content, they looked for examples of discussions about the specific topographical categories and recorded general descriptions and ways of communicating. They discovered that patterns emerged in regard to communication practices about the topographical categories in the city.

Frameworks and Protocols The process of qualitative content analysis begins with the development of a research question, as in the case of interviews or ethnography. Once researchers have established a strong guiding question based on their epistemological and theoretical grounding, they can move forward with the selection of units of analysis and texts. The selection of unit of analysis is a reference to the elements within the content that the researchers will examine in order to answer their question, while the selection of texts entails the construction of a sample to be analyzed. What will we examine within the content? To which texts will we look? The first of these—​unit of analysis—​is important to the construction of the research protocol and will be discussed here. The units of analysis are those elements within the content that the researcher will peel away from the other materials and examine in order to address the research question. This may be a category, as in the case of the deductive approach, or it may be a general concept for inductive analysis. Once these elements have been peeled away, they may be counted or interpreted for the purposes of category development. In order to guide the qualitative, close reading of content, researchers often utilize instruments that highlight for them those units of analysis that will help them to answer their guiding questions. There are different forms of such instruments. Altheide and Schneider (2013) describe protocols for this kind of research, while Schreier (2012) discusses the use of coding frames that steer close reading. Essentially, the research protocol is typically used to guide inductive analysis, while the coding frame is best used to conduct deductive analysis. In reference to the first, Altheide and Schneider describe protocols as a means for identifying key components within content. Usually, the researchers are guided to general items in the content so that they can make comparisons across different texts. Take for instance the inductive analysis discussed in the previous section in which the researchers examined the debates between Republicans vying for the party nomination (Atkinson et al., 2019). In that case, they developed a protocol that directed each reader to pay close attention to key items. In particular, they paid attention to the questions asked of the candidates and the topics they spoke about in their response. They also looked at any theme or frame associated with the topic, as well as their position on it and proofs to support that position. The codebook they used was: 1. Debate date 2. Respondent 3. Question 4. Application frame: topics a. Topic 1: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ i. Theme: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​

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ii. Position: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ iii. Proof a: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ iv. Proof b: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ b. Topic 2: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ i. Theme: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ ii. Position: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ iii. Proof a: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ iv. Proof b: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ c. Topic 3: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ i. Theme: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ ii. Position: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ iii. Proof a: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ iv. Proof b: _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ 5. Responses by other candidates (details about responses by Cruz, Rubio, Trump, Christie) 6. Notable audience or moderator responses/​reactions Ultimately, the protocol allowed for each member of the research team to peel away those elements of the content that would help them to answer the guiding research question. As they moved through each debate, readers recorded those elements for future comparisons. Later, they were able to develop key categories from the themes and frames associated with the topics that candidates used in their responses. For instance, in the first debate that they examined, there were five main topics discussed by the candidates; their discussion about those topics constructed an overarching theme for each. These emergent thematic categories were immigration menace, economy in transition, terror exported from Iran, a Washington cartel, and dilemmas in education. Coding frames described by Schreier stand as the second instrument that can be utilized for qualitative content analysis. The coding frame entails the use of categories for which readers should search within the content. The readers can count the number of times that they appear, or they can build descriptions of those categories, as in the case of the Atkinson and Rosati research. In the case of the research concerning conservative debates and alternative media, the research team already had a description of the thematic categories based on their inductive examination of the debates. Rather, they looked through different conservative alternative media titles looking for those categories that they had uncovered and counted them as they appeared. When looking at alternative media around the time of the first debate, then, the coding frame entailed those categories that had emerged from the first round of deductive analysis: 1. Source 2. Title 3. Date 4. Immigration menace: 5. Economy in transition: 6. Terrorism exported from Iran:

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7. Education dilemma: 8. Washington cartel: In this case, they searched through articles on RedState.com and Tea Party Express newsletters to see if these thematic categories ever emerged within the content. Essentially, whenever a topic like immigration appeared in the content, they examined it to see if its use matched the theme of “immigration menace.” When it did, it was counted as an example of the thematic category appearing in conservative alternative media prior to the Republican debates.

Selecting Texts Once the protocol has been developed, but before coding and analysis can actually start, researchers should turn their attention to the selection of texts for analysis. The selection of texts largely depends on the approach being taken to conduct the research, as well as the manner of the texts themselves. In reference to the latter, sampling may not be necessary when examining a single text, like a movie. If one were to examine the Star Wars films, there would likely not be any sampling involved. The researcher would simply examine all the feature-​length films available (at least, until the number of Star Wars films becomes too unwieldy to examine all of them). Instead, the researcher would focus on developing their unit of analysis, as described above. Those units of analysis would inform the protocol or coding frame that would be used to read the content. One such unit of analysis might be the representations of gender. In this case, then, researchers would ignore special effects, space travel, and lightsabers and focus their attention on the characters within the story; specifically, they would read and record performances of masculinity or femininity. Many texts, however, are part of a larger universe of materials. Newspapers, television programs, blogs, videos, podcasts, and other such texts have often existed for decades, with numerous episodes, printings, or postings within a given year (or even within a single week!). In those cases, then, it is important to conduct a systematic form of sampling to capture as many characteristics of that text as possible. Take for instance The Simpsons—​one of the longest-​running programs in television history. Since the program first aired in 1989, there have been over 700 episodes broadcast on Fox. Given such a large number, it would be quite difficult to conduct a qualitative content analysis of every episode featured on the program. To make the research endeavor manageable but still capture as many characteristics of the program as possible, a sampling method would need to be incorporated. However, the approach to the analysis will often dictate the manner of sampling. Inductive qualitative content analysis, which entails the development of categories directly from content, relies heavily on the concept of progressive theoretical sampling described by Altheide and Schneider (2013). They describe this form of sampling as “selection of materials based on emerging understanding of the topic under investigation” (p. 56). Essentially, the researcher begins examining a preliminary set of texts that address the guiding research question or that seem to be theoretically relevant. After close reading of those first texts, key terms, concepts, themes, or frames should start to emerge, and the researcher can then broaden their search for texts based on those initial findings. As more

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texts are identified, they are coded as well, adding to the emergent data from the analysis. Ultimately, the researcher continues this process—​developing and refining categories, all the while expanding the search for texts—​until the categories can no longer be developed. In many ways, we can think about the end of this process like the notion of theoretical saturation described in Chapter 7. The selection of texts and analysis ends when there are no new categories, and each category has been refined as much as it can be; further analysis offers nothing new. Deductive qualitative content analysis, in which researchers apply categories to texts, typically utilizes some form of random sampling. A simple random sample will suffice whenever researchers are engaged in the analysis of only one kind of text. For instance, if someone were to look at New York Times coverage of the Trump campaign in 2016, they could randomly select articles that covered some aspect of the campaign (e.g., the candidate, his staff, accusations of sexism). The researcher may want to make sure that they do not accidentally select too many texts from early or late in the campaign, and so they may conduct random selection from various months or weeks, rather than a random selection of all possible articles. However, there are other instances when a pure random sample would be problematic. In particular, whenever different texts publish or post stories or materials at different rates, a random selection may overlook or ignore one text over another. In these instances, it would be good to utilize a stratified random sample. In this case, the researchers create categories, or strata, of the texts in question; this allows for different rates or frequencies of random sampling across those strata. The research project that Josh conducted with graduate students concerning the presidential debates and alternative media noted above helps to illustrate the importance of this form of sampling (Atkinson et al., 2019). In that case, they conducted their deductive analysis of alternative media texts by looking for categories developed from their examination of the debates. The texts that they examined were key conservative alternative media titles that had been explored in past research: the Tea Party Express newsletter, RedState.com, and Rush Limbaugh’s broadcasts. A significant problem that immediately emerged was the fact that these three titles were not published or broadcast at equal rates: There were two or three relevant segments from the Rush Limbaugh program each day, several articles (10+​) were posted on RedState.com every day, and the Tea Party Express newsletter was only circulated two or three times a week. If they collected all relevant texts across all three titles, it was entirely possible that little, if any, of the Tea Party Express newsletter would be selected for analysis, and it is likely that they would oversample from RedState.com. For these reasons, they decided to randomly select five articles from each title within three different three-​ week periods around the debates that they had examined. In this way, then, they were able to analyze each of the titles equally in their search for categorical themes within the content.

Media Audiences What does and does not constitute an audience largely depends on the researcher’s epistemological position. According to Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998), as well as other scholars (e.g., Ruddock, 2001), there are three views of what makes an audience: behavior, incorporation/​resistance to ideology, and audience performance within mediascapes.

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Behavioral Paradigm The first of these most closely matches Pan and McLeod’s position, as well as their conceptualization of multilevel analysis. Under the behavioral view, audiences are typically individuals who react in some way to the media content presented to them. Researchers in this case typically utilize quantitative methods, like surveys, in order to measure changes in the behaviors, attitudes, opinions, or beliefs of individuals who used particular media content. This, of course, emerges from a social science framework, which is not typical of interpretivist or humanistic research positions that use qualitative methods. Nevertheless, behaviors or attitudes can be examined through qualitative research, and provide excellent descriptive data to complement quantitative measurements. Social science scholars operating from the behavioral paradigm will often use survey interviews or focus groups in order to collect descriptive data to supplement data that demonstrate correlations or cause-​ and-​effect relationships.

Incorporation/​Resistance Paradigm The second view of the audience is the incorporation/​resistance paradigm, which typically addresses interpretations of media content over behavioral reactions (Abercrombie & Longhurst, 1998; Ruddock, 2001). This emphasis emerges from more interpretivist positions like phenomenology, cultural studies, and hermeneutics. There are multiple styles, or approaches, available to researchers for the conceptualization and observation of audiences based on this vision. These styles essentially guide the researcher to particular forms of data associated with audience incorporation of, or resistance to, particular ideologies or meaning structures circulated through media content. Thomas Lindlof (1988) describes five such approaches to the study of audiences within this view of the audience: The socio-​phenomenological approach refers to the study of motives for, and experiences of, using particular media. This approach is in many ways influenced by Berger and Luckman’s (1966) work on social construction of reality. Such an approach may focus on the role of media in the co-​construction of perceptions, or the ways that past experiences with content may shape identity. The communication rules approach explores the rules or guidelines that are necessary for audiences to follow in order to use a particular medium. Such an approach emerges from the work of scholars like McLuhan (1964a, 1988) and Meyrowitz (1985, 2000), who stipulate the importance of the medium in the construction of meaning and formation of society. Meyrowitz in particular stresses the importance of media literacy to understand and utilize particular media channels and platforms. For instance, there are particular rules associated with watching broadcast network television; one must understand that the commercials are not part of the narrative in TV programs. The reception studies approach focuses on the interpretations of texts by audiences. Essentially, this approach comes out of traditions like those developed by Fish (1980) and Lindlof (1988), in which the act of reading influences the meanings audiences find within texts. Audiences often learn particular strategies for reading

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texts from the communities of which they are a part. These reading strategies, in turn, shape the meanings that they find and understand within content. Finally, the cultural studies and feminist approaches to audience research focus on the ways in which the audience members have been constrained or oppressed by media discourse. The cultural studies approach often explores the ways in which notions of race or economics are shaped for audiences, while the feminist approach illustrates the perpetuation of gender norms or patriarchy. A good example of audience-​oriented research situated within both approaches of socio-​phenomenology and communication rules is Josh’s work with Laura Cooley comparing two local-​level activist networks (Atkinson & Cooley, 2010). In that research, Josh interviewed 47 activists who were audiences of a variety of locally produced alternative media in two different regions in the United States and asked them to describe their participation in their respective networks and activist organizations, their interactions with other activists in their respective regions, and their uses of alternative and mainstream media. The first set of questions about roles and interactions helped to illustrate perceptions and identity, while the last set of questions about the use of alternative media addressed rules. There were two important findings from the data: There were different perceptions about the local “hub” listservs utilized by activists in the different networks, and these differences were constructed largely from media literacy (or lack thereof). In one network, all the activists understood how to use and read the listserv, while in the second there was much confusion about how the listserv worked (there was a central administrator in both). In the first, the different activists and organizations worked together quite well; the activists had constructed perceptions of closeness to others in the network. In the second, the activists were suspicious of one another and frequently did not coordinate actions with other groups; perceptions of distance kept many people and organizations feeling separate or isolated. The interview questions helped to illustrate the underlying perceptions within the two networks, as well as the rules and media literacy utilized within those networks. Another example of such audience-​oriented research would be the work of Mitra (2010), who functioned from the reception studies approach. Specifically, he focused on interpretations (e.g., Fish, 1980; Lindlof, 1988) to explore the ways in which queer bloggers and activists worked together to build an interpretive community. Mitra was interested in the ways in which this interpretive community taught participants the strategies for reading and watching that shaped their understanding of news reports concerning the first gay pride parade in India. To conduct this research, Mitra engaged as an “unobtrusive” participant observer in the interpretive community, of which he was a part. In this way, he paid close attention to conversations and stories told throughout the community. In addition, he engaged in qualitative content analysis of many of the different alternative and mainstream media sites from which the participants gathered their information. The use of content analysis proved to be particularly useful, as it was not enough to merely look at the audience readings of the texts. Insight into the content was integral to the research, as it helped them glean insight into the ways in which many in the community read and made sense of these news reports.

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Audience Performance Paradigm The final view described by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) entails performances within mediascapes. Such a view of the audience emerges from epistemological positions such as postmodernism, dialectics, and heuristics. Under this view, the audience constructs mediascapes from the various content that they consume; they bring together images and narrative fragments in order to construct imagined lives (Appadurai, 1996). That is not to say that the consumption of media leads people to behave or act like they are their favorite actor or athlete. Instead, performance and performativity (see Butler, 1990; Patraka, 1996) is integral to this notion of the audience (Park-​Fuller, 2003); the audience blurs the line between their performances in everyday lives and the spectacle that they observe in content. The swirling assortment of narrative fragments and images that audiences use to construct mediascapes serve as backdrops that inform their interaction and engagement in particular social situations (Abercrombie & Longhurst, 1998; Atkinson, 2010; Ruddock, 2001). The nature of the content that the audience consumes can deeply impact the construction of the backdrop and performance in everyday life. Media content that includes commercial spectacle is typically the basis for the construction of performances that are narcissistic (Abercrombie & Longhurst, 1998), while media content that separates spectacle into a bifurcated vision (e.g., good/​activist spectacle vs. bad/​corporate spectacle) constructs performances of resistance (Atkinson, 2010, 2017). Nick Couldry’s (2000, 2003) work concerning the “media world” offers a good example of research grounded in these assumptions about audience performance. In that work, he demonstrates how the rituals and performances of audiences maintain a separation between the ordinary world and the media world. The first is the mundane world in which people go to work, raise kids, fold laundry, and engage in everyday activities. The latter is the larger-​than-​life world of media production in which the gaze of the camera (and the audience) makes everything and everyone special. This sense of specialness, however, comes from the rituals of audiences—​seeking autographs and pictures of those people and places that have been in “the media.” In his book The Place of Power, Couldry (2000) explores the “media pilgrimage” as one such ritual. These pilgrimages are efforts by audiences to visit physical sites that have been depicted in media programming. He conducted interviews with audiences who visited and toured the sets at Granada Studios Manchester; this studio had produced the long-​running British soap opera Coronation Street. Essentially, fans of the program were able to take the tours at the studios in order to see the “houses” and “streets” (all sets) where their favorite characters had lived their lives. Couldry conducted 84 short unstructured interviews (10 to 15 minutes each) with people he encountered at Granada Studios who had toured the sets of Coronation Street. He also engaged in longer, three-​hour interviews with nine other participants who had engaged in those tours, in which he talked with participants about their interests in the program, as well as their reasons for taking the tours. In order to supplement the interview data, he also put out advertisements in soap opera magazines asking for people to tell their stories about their visits and tours at the studio; there were 21 responses. Overall, the data from these methods helped Couldry to demonstrate the tours as a pilgrimage to a “sacred” site of the media world. Essentially, the pilgrimages were one more ritual performed by

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audiences that reinforced a hierarchical division between the media world and the ordinary world. Another study that illustrates audience performance research is a project that Josh and colleagues engaged in concerning the DetroitYES! web community (Atkinson et al., 2012). This was an extension of their earlier qualitative content analysis research (noted above), in which they explored the ways members of the community utilized the content in the interactive platform. They were interested in the ways that content in the virtual tour and other forums in the web community shaped the performances of members in everyday life online and in the physical environment of Detroit; their findings in this research demonstrated a standpoint performance informed by the content found in the web community. They conducted semi-​structured interviews with 18 members of the community in which they asked each to describe their use of DetroitYES! materials, explain their role in the web community, and describe their interactions with other members and the built environment of the city itself. These questions helped to illustrate the ways in which content informed different kinds of performances for those members who were audiences of those online materials; some members performed according to the framing techniques utilized in the virtual tours, while others performed against that vision. In Box 4.2 we share a conversation about audience analysis with Dr. Jennifer Rauch that further highlights some important concerns when doing qualitative media analysis.

Feedback/​Interactivity The study of feedback is perhaps the most overlooked of the four components of multilevel analysis. Indeed, Bertrand and Hughes (2018), as well as other modern scholars, do not include this component in their framework. In their initial research, Pan and McLeod’s conceptualization of this level focused on the interactions between producers of texts and their audiences, like letters to the editor. This vision of feedback also entailed consumer feedback, similar to Herman and Chomsky’s (1988) notion of flack associated with the loss of advertising revenue. One example of the study of such feedback is Josh’s research concerning producers of alternative media content (Atkinson, 2008). In this case, the focus was on those interactions between audiences and producers of texts. Josh approached multiple producers of alternative media content: local-​level producers of newspapers and radio programs, and “social movement intellectuals” (see Atton, 2001) who were frequently called upon to write for national-​level alternative media publications like The Progressive and Z Magazine (Atkinson, 2008). Josh focused on the ways in which the local producers engaged with global producers (e.g., social movement intellectuals) and how the global producers interacted with larger audiences. He was interested in their practices for writing content for those publications, as well as their interactions with audiences—​the feedback level bending into the production level. Did they ever receive mail of any kind (physical or email) from readers of those publications? If so, how did they engage in those interactions? What did they learn from those people? Did they ever incorporate ideas offered by audiences into their work? Such questions revealed that these celebrities in activist circles did in fact interact with audiences, often through email. What is more, many of them

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BOX 4.2  A Conversation About Qualitative Audience Analysis with Dr. Jennifer Rauch Q: Many interpretivist scholars rely on textual analysis to learn about culture and audiences. How does qualitative audience analysis fit into your research? Why engage in such work? My research program began with an interest in textual analysis—​in examining what makes news sources “alternative” in terms of their coverage. It was later that I turned my attention to audience interpretations of journalism, instead of the presented or intended meanings of news texts. A lot of scholars have struggled to define alternative media; some have even said the idea is obsolete—​that we supposedly stopped needing alternative media when the internet and social networks came along. I hadn’t seen any research asking people who used alternative media what it meant to them. So I set up to discover how alternative-​media fans perceived their preferred genre as being different from mainstream media. My analysis of qualitative interviews with activists (Rauch, 2007) showed that they associated a distinct set of cultural ideals and practices with the phrase “alternative media” and still found it valuable in our digital age. I have found great value in combining qualitative methods, too. In the aforementioned study, I wanted to confirm the assumption that activists use a disproportionate amount of alternative media, by comparison to mainstream news sources. So I asked participants to keep logs of their media use for a week. Analyzing the diary data, I realized that the activists had spent just as much time attending to mainstream outlets as to alternative ones; they actually used mainstream media (MSM) more than the average American did, not less. This contrasted with their conversational claims to other activists that they avoided corporate-​commercial media—​which they considered an unreliable source of information. Having two sets of data helped me see that alternative media use was such an important part of these activists’ identities that they ritualistically emphasized it (and downplayed exposure to MSM) when they interacted with like-​minded people. Qualitative audience analysis has also served as an exploratory phase in my broader research program. On the basis of what I learned in semi-​structured interviews with activists about their interpretations of media, I designed a follow-​ up study: a primarily quantitative survey that gathered data from a broader swathe of alternative-​media users, including both liberal and conservative activists (see Rauch, 2015, 2019). That survey also asked some qualitative questions to get a sense of how the language that people used might diverge from the phrasing I had chosen. Q: How do you prepare to conduct qualitative audience analysis? What steps do you take before you begin your research? I start by steeping myself in the literature and looking for interesting questions that remain unanswered and new approaches I could take to the subject. In planning my qualitative interviews with activist audiences, I made several key decisions. First, to

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recruit participants at a protest, which would guarantee finding people who were meaningfully engaged in activism. Second, to meet with them in small groups where conversations might be more productive and more naturalistic than talking one-​on-​ one. Third, to start the sessions by watching a TV news show together, to provide a concrete experience and to stimulate conversation. Another significant choice was to conduct similar focus groups with college students, to provide a basis for comparison with the activist interpretations. Instead of evaluating reader responses against my own perception of textual meaning, I aimed to explain interpretive differences through a cross-​case analysis using two sets of structural conditions. One of the most important and difficult preparatory steps in audience research is often recruiting participants. I opted to attend a local demonstration, introduce myself to strangers, and invite them to get involved with the project. I approached protesters of various ages, genders, and ethnicities involved with a range of causes (taking cues from their shirts, hats, badges, banners, and other signifiers). Participants received $35 for joining a discussion group, which lasted around 90 to 120 minutes, plus submitting a one-​week media diary to me. I had the impression that they were interested in the study and enjoyed the conversation; they weren’t just in it for the token payment. Not a random sample, to be sure, but these informants had characteristics relevant to my research problem and goals. The activists were likely to interpret the messages of mainstream news in a critical, resistant manner and likely to have consumed alternative news sources. The students served as a control group, of sorts. They were less engaged in politics and consumed information from a narrow range of mainstream sources—​similar to the U.S. population as a whole, and with comparably low levels of exposure to news, as their diaries confirmed. By considering two different audience groupings side by side, I deepened my understanding of how people interpret the news. Q: How do you interact with audiences when you engage in such research? Tell me a little about the process that you follow. Scholars in our field often call work “ethnographic” when it examines audiences using qualitative or mixed methods like participant observation and interviews. I reserve that term for more traditional, anthropological approaches in which researchers spend substantial time “in the field,” so to speak. Most of the qualitative audience work that I’ve done so far (like Rauch, 2007, 2010, 2015) can be considered “quasi-​ ethnographic.” In addition to conducting interviews and collecting diaries, I have been involved in a smattering of social activities with informants—​once accompanying some to a local museum and, a couple of times, having lunch or coffee with others.

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In designing the study, I weighed the virtues of individual versus group interviews, and settled on focus groups with the expectation that they would be more spontaneous, require less direction from me, and make an appealing and sociable research experience for participants. (Recruitment is not an easy task!) When I conducted the focus groups, I created an interaction that looked and felt—​to the extent possible—​like a naturalistic conversation. I had met everyone face-​to-​face previously, to help build rapport and trust. And I held the interview sessions at my home, to set a casual tone for our exchange. When the groups gathered for interviews, we began with some informal talk and I briefly explained that I was interested in hearing their views on media content. To jump-​start the discussion, we watched an evening news program that I had previously recorded. I moderated all groups myself and followed a loosely structured questionnaire to maintain consistency across sessions. I asked participants what stood out in their minds about the program, what they learned from it, if there was anything they didn’t like about it, and how the newscast made them feel. I encouraged people to digress and tried to pursue whatever topics arose spontaneously. I gently steered the conversation by paraphrasing their comments, giving nonjudgmental prompts, and asking them “how they knew that” or “why they thought that.” The dynamics of group interviews have worked well for me. Participants seem to feed off each other and the discussion flows easily; it never feels like a stilted Q-​ and-​A session. I have kept groups small enough (four or five people each) and relatively homogeneous enough that it is not too difficult to control for domination and draw observations from everyone. Q: What are some of the biggest challenges that you face conducting this kind of research? Working with audiences can be extremely interesting and gratifying. Yet it also tends to be more time-​consuming, more expensive, and more challenging than analyzing texts—​facts that might deter researchers from taking this methodological route. As you can imagine, people are busy and it’s hard to persuade them to participate in a study, to get them together in groups, to develop a trusting rapport, and to sustain their involvement through multiple stages of a project. It helps if you can provide a financial incentive, which requires sufficient funding; by contrast, texts don’t usually expect you to pay them. A shortage of funds also prevented me from hiring a professional transcriber, as I had planned to do. Transcription takes a LOT of time. Though I’ll note that typing the audio interviews myself turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It helped me make discoveries that depended on hearing conversational tones, which I probably would not have identified by reading transcripts. I could hear participants’ voices

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change when they role-​played as other people and hear their sarcasm when they criticized language used in the newscast. Plus, there are ethical and bureaucratic considerations to studying “human subjects,” too—​like getting IRB [institutional review board] approval. IRB can feel especially stultifying to people like me with a background in journalism—​who are used to just asking members of the public what they think, what they do, and why. It’s cumbersome that qualitative scholars need to seek so many permissions so far in advance of interviews. There are also more abstract ideological and institutional challenges. Widespread cultural preferences for quantitative or hard data, which are common throughout the academy, influences [sic] the kind of research that gets funding and other institutional support. This over-​valuation of numbers can discourage many people from pursuing this kind of work. It also creates a sense of cleavage between quantitative and qualitative scholarship that prevents people on different sides of the divide from learning from each other. Q: What advice would you like to give to students considering qualitative audience analysis as a method in their research? My main advice is that if people are considering this method, they should give it a try! As an interpretive researcher, I find people’s cultural understandings of the world so fascinating. And as a scholar interested in social change, I enjoyed sharing my research agenda with activists. It was satisfying to construct a research experience that was socially and personally meaningful—​not just to me, but (I think) to participants. Because my approach was collaborative, I consulted informants to get their feedback on my analysis. This kind of “members check” is ethically responsible and help boost validity, but it also brings pleasure. When I sent tentative findings to participants and asked for their insights and critiques, several sent notes saying they had appreciated my literature review, that my interpretations made sense to them, etc. Others wrote several pages detailing points on which they found my discussion ambiguous or my focus too narrow. And at a time when too much scholarship stays distant from the real world, it is heartening when you can connect with social actors and do something that they consider practical, not “merely academic.”

References Rauch, J. (2007). Activists as interpretive communities: Rituals of consumption and interaction in an alternative media audience. Media, Culture, and Society, 29(6), 994–​1013. Rauch, J. (2010). Superiority and susceptibility: How activist audiences imagine the influence of mainstream news on self and others. Discourse and Communication, 4(3), 263–​277. Rauch, J. (2015). Exploring the alternative–​mainstream dialectic: What “alternative media” means to a hybrid audience. Communication, Culture, and Critique, 8(1), 124–​143. Rauch, J. (2019). Comparing progressive and conservative audiences for alternative media and their attitudes toward journalism. In J. Atkinson & L. J. Kenix (Eds.), Alternative media meets mainstream politics: Activist nation rising (pp. 19–​37). Lexington Books.

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Biography Jennifer Rauch, Ph.D., is a professor of journalism and communication studies at Linfield University in Portland, OR. Her studies of alternative and activist media, news audiences, ritual communication, media abstention, and zines have been widely published. Rauch’s book Slow Media: Why Slow is Satisfying, Sustainable and Smart was honored with a Silver Nautilus Book Award. Her new latest book, Resisting the News: Engaged Audiences, Alternative Media, and Popular Critique of News, was published by Routledge in 2021. Rauch has served as a judge for the George Polk Awards in Journalism for more than a decade.

helped Josh to understand that this form of feedback effectively helped them to identify topics to write about; essentially, audiences would provide them with suggestions for future content. The vision of the feedback level originally described by Pan and McLeod changed dramatically, however, with the ascent of the modern internet and interactive media platforms. In many ways, then, the notion of interactivity has supplanted older visions of “feedback” like those described by Pan and McLeod. The emergent centrality of interactivity, however, has led to examination and reexamination of what it means for media to be “interactive.” Stated simply, it is no easy thing to discuss interactive media, as there are so many different definitions and conceptualizations of this topic. Over the years, many scholars have defined interactivity in terms of content features (e.g., clicking links or buttons within a website), while others have discussed the concept in terms of the ability to reach out to multiple users at one time (e.g., email or listservs). Sally McMillan (2002) built a classification system for the different forms of interactivity that had arisen in scholarly research on the topic. She noted that there are generally three types of interactivity described in academic research: user-​to-​system, user-​to-​user, and user-​to-​document. We note that these concepts of interactivity are based on early internet websites; these notions of interactivity are significantly different from those that are described in terms of mass self-​communication in Chapter 5. Essentially, McMillan’s classification system is still grounded in notions of centralized, broadcast media systems. The first of McMillan’s categories of interactivity—​user-​to-​system—​refers to users’ interactions with sites, programs, platforms, or apps. One example of such interactivity would be a person purchasing items through Amazon.com or a similar website, or “liking” a business on Facebook. Endres and Warnick (2004) and Warnick et al. (2005) have utilized textual analysis and content analysis in order to examine interactive features that allow users to interact and engage with political websites. In this case, the researchers analyzed the features within the content of the website that were considered to be interactive. User-​to-​user interactivity refers to interactive media platforms or apps utilized to communicate with other users. Examples of this kind of interactivity would be posting messages for people through social media like Facebook, or texting friends to go out to a movie.

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The final type of interactivity described by McMillan is user-​to-​document, which entails users’ ability to add to, or shape, media content through interactive media platforms. Wikipedia serves as one of the best examples of user-​to-​document interactivity; through this platform users can add sites or add information and materials to existing sites in the Wikipedia system. Indymedia.org, described previously, also served as one such forum in which audiences could post their own articles for others to read. Josh and Rosati’s research with the DetroitYES! web community represented a site of user-​to-​document interactivity (e.g., Atkinson & Rosati, 2012). Essentially, members of the web community were able to post their own stories or commentary about the city, often with links to news stories or videos that supplemented their own information. For instance, there was a case of several of the community members watching over the demolition of the old Tiger Stadium and posting hour-​by-​hour updates on the forums about how the work was coming along. In this way, then, it is important for researchers to understand the kinds of feedback or interactivity that is possible in regards to the media content and production that they study. They must make decisions about whether they are going to look at feedback made through user-​to-​user interactivity, the interactive features found in content, or the content that is provided by the audience. Or will they explore a combination of these things? This is all very important, as it helps researchers to decide on methods, as well as what they should explore or ask about through those methods.

Conclusion Despite the presentation of “the media” as monolithic in popular culture and much of academia, past research has provided communication and media scholars with a way to understand media as composed of different parts. In particular, models like Pan and McLeod’s (1991) notion of multilevel analysis helped scholars to conceptualize media phenomena in terms of the symbiotic loop of production, content, audiences, and feedback that characterized a traditional model of media. Over the years, changes in views on the audience and advances in interactivity led to a more dynamic understanding of this loop. In order for qualitative researchers to effectively conduct qualitative media analysis, they should always begin by understanding the different levels that they wish to examine or explore. Then, they may select the right methods to collect the relevant data associated with those levels.

Discussion Questions 1. What are some benefits to media qualitative content analysis? What kinds of projects would be appropriate for qualitative content analysis? 2. We complicate the notion of media and audience in this chapter. How do you define “the media”? How do you define an audience? What implications do these definitions have for research method selection and analysis? 3. What should researchers consider when doing qualitative media analysis? How does one select texts?

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4. Think of one particular media title, like NBC Nightly News or the Netflix series Stranger Things. Using resources available to you, answer the following questions: • How is the program produced? Who are the key producers? How would you study the production of this media program? • How would you study the content of this program? Develop a protocol that would allow you to explore the underlying latent meanings. • Who is the audience? How do you conceptualize that audience? How would you propose studying such an audience? • What feedback or interactivity with the audience is associated with this media title? How would you study any such interactivity?

Research and Writing Practice 1. Describe a media project that could be conducted using qualitative content analysis. Indicate what texts you would use, whether you would take a deductive or inductive approach, whether you would have a research protocol or content frame, and how you would study feedback/​interactivity. 2. Using the same project, how would you examine the production of the content? How would you identify key producers? If you would conduct interviews, what questions would you ask of producers? Would it be possible to conduct participant observation or other ethnographic methods in this study? Explain. 3. Using the same project, how would you examine the audience? What key assumptions do you make about this particular audience? How do those assumptions shape or influence your chosen methods?

Suggested Resources • Altheide, D., & Schneider, C. (2013). Qualitative media analysis. Sage. • Guest, G. (2012). Applied thematic analysis. Sage. • Mayring, P. (2000). Qualitative content analysis. Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 1(2). http://​www. qual​itat​ive-​resea​rch.net/​fqs-​texte/​2-​00/​2-​00mayr​ing-​e.htm • Saldana, J. (2009). The coding manual for qualitative researchers. Sage. • Schreier, M. (2012). Qualitative content analysis in practices. Sage.

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Doing Qualitative Media Analysis (Part 2) Media institutionalizes our communicative practices on various levels. We are moving here from practices not just to forms (watching television) but also to complex patterns of practices: the level of how we arrange ourselves in the moment of media use, the level of forms and patterns of our communication through a medium, and the level of a medium as a certain organization—​to name just the most important levels. (Couldry & Hepp, 2017, p. 32)

Key Terms collaborative work, mass self-​communication, networks, rhizomatic, user experience (UX)

Learning Outcomes After reading and engaging with the material in this chapter, you should be able to: • Explain the difference between mass communication and mass self-​communication. • Describe how the rhizomatic metaphor is central to mass self-​communication. • Give examples of the different approaches to the study of online networks. • Illustrate the different key experiences associated with user experience (UX) research. • Describe the process of collaborative work as a research method.

Qualitative Media Analysis: Contemporary Model of Mass Self-​Communication Box 5.1: Analyzing Rhizomatic Media Assemblages with Dr. Nico Carpentier Networks Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media. Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.003.0005

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Internal Approach External Approach User Experiences Collaborative Work Conclusion Discussion Questions Research and Writing Practice Suggested Resources

Qualitative Media Analysis: Contemporary Model of Mass Self-​Communication As noted in the previous chapter, the traditional model associated with mass communication research is based on observations of centralized, broadcast media systems. This model entails a hierarchical communication loop in which messages are sent from producers to audiences through a specific medium. For instance, the research of Gerbner et al. (1980) about cultivation of perceptions of a “mean world” was based on observations of audiences’ attitudes formed by watching broadcast television. Herman and Chomsky’s (2002) research concerning propaganda in mainstream news media was based on their observations of news production and content. In these cases, there are distinct divisions between production, content, audience, and feedback. However, the rise of interactive media platforms has started to blur, or erase completely, those distinctions. One scholar who has pointed to this blurring is Nico Carpentier, who has addressed the rhizomatic nature of new media networks. Rhizomatic is a metaphor that describes how new, alternative forms of media create intersections between different parts of society that would otherwise be disconnected; such intersections are diffused and develop organically. In one of his research projects, Carpentier (2008) builds on the work of Deleuze and Guattari (1987), who claim that alternative forms of media are rhizomatic in nature. In this case, these discussions of alternative media refer to those types of media that are different from traditional, centralized mainstream media; this is a broad definition that would include the internet and social media. For Carpentier, alternative media networks—​in the case of this research project, a guerrilla Wi-​Fi network in Europe—​allow for civil movements, markets, and the state to come together in ways that had not been possible before. This is due, in large part, to the different entry points into “the media” afforded to people across the region where the network was established (see Box 5.1). This interconnecting rhizomatic nature of new, interactive media led to the development of the important concept of mass self-​communication. In his book Communication Power, Castells (2011) notes that there is no longer a clear distinction between the four levels of media described by Pan and McLeod (1991). Rather than audiences attending to content disseminated from centralized producers, they note that media technologies and content are now organized around the individual; the media processes in society are far more decentralized—​even individualized. Mass self-​communication, then, may be thought

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BOX 5.1  Analyzing Rhizomatic Media Assemblages with Dr. Nico Carpentier The rhizome is a powerful metaphor, but at the same time a treacherous one. This is why it is useful to keep an eye on Deleuze and Guattari’s (1987) theorisation of the rhizome, as their work lies at the very heart of this metaphor (and its popularity). Even though we should be careful not to sacralise the particularities of their interpretation, we should also avoid removing the metaphor’s strength by having it refer to every—​­ however (in)significant—​moment of fluidity or complexity. Arguably, simply positing that a particular social phenomenon, or a particular technological infrastructure, is rhizomatic because of its resemblance with a network with interconnected nodes, might be too easy, and might not do justice to the political significations of this metaphor. Moreover, we should be careful to exclusively focus on technological infrastructures in defining the rhizome. To put this differently, a particular technology can be articulated in different assemblages, and these assemblages can be rhizomatic, but they do not have to be. When it comes to the internet, we can return to Bey’s (1985) text on The Temporary Autonomous Zone—​visionary in so many ways—​where he distinguishes between the Net and the Web. For Bey, the Net is “the totality of all information and communication transfer. Some of these transfers are privileged and limited to various elites, which gives the Net a hierarchic aspect. Other transactions are open to all—​so the Net has a horizontal or non-​hierarchic aspect as well” (Bey, 1985, p. 106). For Bey, in contrast, the Web is “the alternate horizontal open structure of info-​exchange, the non-​hierarchic network” (Bey, 1985, p. 106). The rhizome metaphor navigates in a similar significatory field, even when it is more general in its formulation and ambition. For Deleuze and Guattari, the rhizome is about epistemology, and not so much about technological infrastructures. One way to explain the specificity of the rhizome is to bring its opposite—​the arbolic—​ into the discussion. As Santana and I wrote before (Santana & Carpentier, 2010): Also the arbolic is a structure, but—​in contrast to the rhizomatic—​it is linear, hierarchic and sedentary. Visually, the arbolic can be represented as “the tree-​like structure of genealogy, branches that continue to subdivide into smaller and lesser categories” (Wray, 1998, p. 3). The rhizomatic is a different kind of structure, one that is non-​ linear, anarchic and nomadic: “Unlike trees or their roots, the rhizome connects any point to any other point” (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 19). In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari (1987) go into much more detail when describing the rhizome, listing a series of characteristics, namely: connection and heterogeneity, multiplicity, asignifying rupture, cartography and decalcomania. Connection and heterogeneity refer to the already-​mentioned idea that any point connects to any other point, but also to the idea that these points (that are articulated in this network) can be very different in nature. A rhizomatic assemblage is not necessarily fixed, and new elements can always be added, which then generates new operational rules (which is what the multiplicity characteristic refers to). The

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asignifying rupture principle means that “a rhizome may be broken, shattered at a given spot, but it will start up again on one of its old lines, or on new lines” (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 9). Finally, and very much in line with the previous, the rhizome is characterized by the principle of the map. In contrast to the copy, the map is “open and connectable in all of its dimensions; it is detachable, reversible, susceptible to constant modification” (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 12). Even when all this might sound terribly abstract, the rhizome metaphor remains useful for communication and media research, because it makes us attentive towards environments which are not highly structured, but in contrast, deeply ephemeral and contingent. There is a tendency in the field of communication and media studies to privilege the study of arbolic structures, whether they are affiliated with the state or the market, while the more underground, hidden, unstable structures—​those that are rhizomatic—​tend to receive much less attention. Community media—​which are, arguably, rhizomatic media assemblages (see Carpentier, 2016)—​is one example that has received some academic attention, but significantly less than, for instance, mainstream audio-​visual, print and social media. Exactly the underground nature of these rhizomatic media assemblages makes them more difficult to research, but at the same time, this kind of research is relevant because it disrupts the hegemony of the arbolic, and demonstrates that the social consists out of an ever-​changing combination of arbolic and rhizomatic structures, with their different epistemologies, ethics and politics. Given their sometimes-​hidden nature, case study methodologies are often used to study them, with a tendency for qualitative research approaches. This is not a necessity, though, as also quantitative methods have been used, for instance, to map all community media on the island of Cyprus (Voniati et al., 2018). Still, qualitative methods tend to do more justice to complexity of rhizomatic (media) assemblages, with, for instance, ethnographic observations, in-​depth interviews, and textual (content) analysis (see Santana & Carpentier, 2010; Filimonov & Carpentier, 2021). Even when these in-​depth analyses are far from easy, they are highly rewarding, in shedding light on epistemologies, social structures and social practices that are surprisingly different from the mainstream.

References Bey, H. (1985). The temporary autonomous zone: Ontological anarchy, poetic terrorism. Autonomedia. Carpentier, N. (2016). Community media as rhizome: Expanding the research agenda. Journal of Alternative and Community Media, 1(1), 4–​6. Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (1987). A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia. University of Minnesota Press. Filimonov, K., & Carpentier, N. (2021). Beyond the state as the “cold monster”: The importance of Russian alternative media in reconfiguring the hegemonic state discourse. Critical Discourse Studies. https://​doi. org/​10.1080/​17405​904.2021.1999​283 Santana, M., & Carpentier, N. (2010). Mapping the rhizome: Organizational and informational networks of two Brussels alternative radio stations. Telematics and Informatics, 27(2), 162–​174. Voniati, C., Doudaki, V., & Carpentier, N. (2018). Mapping community media organisations: A methodological reflection. Journal of Alternative and Community Media, 3(1), 17–​32. Wray, S. (1998) Rhizomes, nomads, and resistant internet use. http://​www.thing.net/​~rdom/​ecd/​Rhiz​ Nom.html

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of in the following terms: In contemporary society, users may now (1) collect content from global networks, and attend to it in their own time, at their leisure, and (2) utilize digital media and interactive platforms to create and circulate content. In reference to the first, audiences/​users are no longer constrained by the limitations that were often placed on them under more centralized broadcast networks. This is not to say that those broadcast networks no longer exist; however, users may now find content produced by centralized, global production companies (e.g., Disney) and use it at their leisure. Put another way, under the old broadcast paradigm of the 20th century, when a movie premiered, audiences had to see it in a theater at specified times. The advent of VHS changed this a bit, but there were still limitations for television programs and news. With the emergence of interactive and social media, users may now locate the content they want, when they want it. They can stream movies or television programs whenever it suits them or save them for later. In this way, then, users dictate the consumption and use of content, rather than multimedia networks and producers. For Castells, this emphasis on the self has allowed a limited form of empowerment for audiences/​users of 21st-​century media systems. In reference to the second part of Castells’s notion of mass self-​communication, users (rather than audiences) may take up any number of technologies or platforms, and create content with little, if any, external help. Essentially, these new technologies, like smartphones, have provided everyone with the ability to produce content (Andén-​Papadopoulos, 2014); platforms like YouTube and TikTok, then, provide the means for circulation. Indeed, José Van Djick (2013) addresses this issue in her book Culture of Connectivity, in which she claims that interactivity is less dependent on technological features of a platform and associated more with user motivations and actions. She notes that there are three different types of interactive media platforms available to users: trading and marketing sites (e.g., Amazon), social networking sites (Facebook), and user-​generated content sites (YouTube). Each of these entails the three types of interactivity described by McMillan (2002) and noted in the previous chapter in the discussion concerning feedback and interactivity. For instance, Amazon.com is primarily a user-​to-​system site, but users may post reviews and comments about projects as a form of user-​to-​document interactivity. Conversely, YouTube is based on features that allow for user-​to-​document interactivity, but many users simply browse videos and engage in terms of user-​to-​system interactivity. For these reasons, then, Van Djick claims that users may utilize interactive media platforms and digital technologies as networked communication, or as platformed sociality. The former entails using interactive media for browsing, watching, or sharing, while the latter allows for the construction of content, building networks, and collaboration. Essentially, mass self-​communication involves the widespread ability of users to create content and utilize interactive media platforms in ways that help them to circulate or access such content. Taken together, these two characteristics of mass self-​communication described by Castells create a significantly more fragmented media environment, in which audiences/​ users of interactive media have greater control over the flow of content and even produce their own content. Media systems are no longer built around centralized producers, but around the audiences/​users who utilize interactive and digital technologies. For these reasons, then, there has been a movement in recent years away from broadcast notions of

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media to “spreadable” media. Such a vision involves a convergence of content, audiences, production, and feedback/​interactivity. In their book Spreadable Media, Henry Jenkins et al. (2013) explain how media content in the era of mass self-​communication functions differently than broadcast content. They claim that older, broadcast media operated under the assumptions of “stickiness.” That is to say, content was transmitted to a broad audience, which would then “stick” to the audience members if they found it useful or entertaining. This idea can easily be associated with Pan and McLeod’s multilevel analysis described previously in this chapter. In the current era of interactive and social media, however, content no longer sticks—​it spreads. Jenkins et al. claim that the different forms of interactivity that are integrated into all the forms of interactive media platforms and apps described by Van Djick are now constantly at the disposal of modern users. Whenever users find content that they like, they essentially “spread” it through their likes, posts, and reposts. Essentially, content is no longer transmitted or broadcast to a wide audience. Instead, it moves by way of audiences/​users—​they spread the content that they enjoy or find important. Ultimately, then, the users are the most important component of this contemporary model of media processes. It is not the case that the levels described by Pan and McLeod, and others, are necessarily gone or negated. Rather, those levels are less hierarchical, and much more interconnected and intertwined. Indeed, it is often now difficult to differentiate the lines between audience and producer, or content and feedback. Such enormous changes in the dynamics of media process—​from centralized broadcast to diffused and user-​oriented—​led Nick Couldry and Andrea Hepp (2017) to revise Berger and Luckman’s (1966) social construction of reality. According to Berger and Luckman, reality is constructed by sharing experiences, interpretations, and typifications when people communicate with one another. What is more, face-​to-​face communication is central to this process for Berger and Luckman; media is barely discussed. In their book Mediated Construction of Reality, Couldry and Hepp note that much has changed since that early work on the subject, and that media technologies—​and mediated communication—​ have become much more integral to modern construction of reality, as described by Castells. In this way, then, Couldry and Hepp developed the mediated construction of reality, which builds on Berger and Luckman’s original work by introducing materialist phenomenology, as well as figurations. The notion of materialist phenomenology is based on four tenets: 1. There has been a significant shift to multi-​directional, interactive media platforms and apps in daily life. 2. These platforms are readily available in face-​to-​face communication. 3. They allow for users to bridge past and present communication. 4. All of this is integrated into modern communication performances and rituals. Essentially, there are large portions of society for which multi-​directional media platforms are readily available, and they frequently utilize these in everyday life. That is to say, social media platforms are often utilized to initiate, facilitate, or maintain communication and relationships. What is more, these forms of media are also used to bring the past into

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communication that people are currently engaged in. An example would be two friends arguing about the best running back in National Football League history through Facebook Messenger. One person says that it is Emmett Smith of the Dallas Cowboys; the other says that it is Walter Payton of the Chicago Bears. While they debate, one or both can pull up statistics from ESPN.com or videos from YouTube to illustrate their point. They are utilizing multi-​directional media to facilitate their face-​to-​face communication, and they are bringing the past (statistics and videos) into the present. All these tenets have become ubiquitous in contemporary communication practices. In addition to materialist phenomenology, Couldry and Hepp also note the importance of figurations to the mediated construction of reality. Figurations are the different media objects that an individual may utilize. Whenever audiences utilize similar figurations, it becomes easier for them to share and coordinate meaning. Television, radio, and YouTube would all constitute different media objects. The authors note that in the past, figurations were quite similar, as the number of media objects was limited (e.g., television networks, radio stations, newspapers). This allowed for ease of coordinating meaning, as well as greater trust in institutional facts. However, with the rise of the myriad of interactive media platforms and mobile technologies in contemporary society, figurations have become increasingly varied. One person may utilize television and newspapers for their information, while another may rely on YouTube, Facebook, and Netflix. Because of the different figurations utilized by these two people, it becomes more difficult for them to coordinate and share meaning. This, then, can lead to distrust in institutional facts in society. One of Josh’s former graduate students, Jules Patalita (2022), conducted a dissertation project in which he examined Dungeons and Dragons gaming communities and their use of different media objects for tabletop gaming. In that project, Patalita explained figurations in the following way: The user and their media objects function like a solar system. At the center is the user, with the media objects arranged around them like planets. In the case of our solar system, some planets have enormous mass, and exert tremendous gravitational pull—​like Jupiter. Other, smaller planets are subjected to the pull from those larger planets—​Earth’s own axial tilt is the result of the gravitational pull from Jupiter. Such is the case with figurations. For some users, Twitter is their most important media object; it exerts a “gravitational pull” that influences the other media objects arranged around them. In this way, then, Twitter shapes not only the content that they seek out or use from other media objects, but how they use those other media objects. Essentially, such users would learn of TV programs or video games from reading Twitter posts by other users, but they may also seek out content that they can capture and post to their Twitter feed. Patalita’s solar system analogy helps to illustrate how figurations work and demonstrates how Couldry and Hepp’s work addresses far more than content. The notion of figurations addresses not only how audiences/​users access and consume content, but also the importance of how they physically interact with media objects around them. The different levels associated with the traditional model of mass communication are not gone and in fact are still quite relevant to the study of contemporary media processes, content, and audiences. However, many scholars, like Castells, argue that these levels have

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been altered by the advent of modern interactive media platforms associated with mass self-​ communication, and are no longer distinct. Recent studies concerning interactive media platforms have pointed to three sites for investigation. Essentially, researchers may choose to examine (1) networks or (2) user experiences, or (3) engage in collaborative work with audiences/​users. These three sites illustrate the interconnections of content and feedback, and the interrelationship between audiences (or users, as they are now envisioned) and the media objects and content oriented around them. Indeed, these sites constitute what scholars like Will Merrin (2009), Joke Hermes (2009), and Jonas Löwgren and Bo Reimer (2013) have called “Media 2.0.”

Networks Given that the webs of interconnected media objects are central to the concept of mass self-​communication, there is a tremendous need for methods that allow for researchers to explore and examine networks. The network concept was first developed by anthropologists following the Second World War; they defined networks as lines of communication between different nodes (e.g., groups, individuals). The concept later became important in academic study with the experimental work of William Evan (1972), who illustrates how information moves between, and within, groups. His work illustrates three key network formations: chain, star, and all-​channel. The first involves information moving from one node to the next in a line, while the second involves nodes clustered around a single hub. For the most part, the first two stood as the dominant forms of networks in society at the time that Evan was conducting his research; there were few, if any, real all-​channel networks. Indeed, John Arquilla and David Ronfeldt (2001) later explain that the only real all-​channel networks were international terrorist networks. However, the all-​channel network, which is composed of nodes that have interconnections to all (or nearly all) of the other nodes in the network, has become the dominant formation in contemporary society. Interactive media platforms, like Facebook and YouTube, and other digital technologies allow for such networking. Without the all-​channel network, mass self-​communication is not possible. In his own research concerning networks, Josh has illustrated that there are three logistical categories for the conceptualization of modern networks: (1) reach, (2) connective media, and (3) levels (Atkinson, 2017). The first entails the number of nodes and interconnections within a network. The more nodes in a network, as well as interconnection between them, the longer the reach. The second category entails the media technologies that stand as the lines that connect the nodes. Face-​to-​face communication, newspaper, telephone, and social media all stand as connective media. Each of these forms of media has characteristics that influence the flow of communication between nodes; they limit or enhance the capacity for the reach of the network. Finally, “level” refers to whether a network is confined to a single, local community, or has expanded—​or has attained a reach—​to a global level across multiple communities. Overall, networks can be considered in terms of each of these logistical categories. When conducting qualitative projects, then, researchers should start by assessing each; they should conceptualize their work in terms of reach, connective media, and levels.

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Overall, there are two primary approaches to the study of networks: internal and external (Atkinson, 2017). In the internal approach, researchers explore a network from within, typically focusing on one or two nodes. Conversely, in the external approach, researchers investigate from the outside looking in; they take a broad view of the network to examine all or a multitude of the nodes therein.

Internal Approach Researchers have two primary options when conducting internal examination of networks: participant observation and interviews. Natalie Fenton and Veronica Barassi’s (2011) research concerning U.K. labor groups illustrates the ways in which participant observation is used to conduct internal investigations of a network. They studied one particular node in the larger network of labor groups: the Cuba Solidarity Campaign (CSC). By doing so, they were able to closely examine the inner workings of that node, as well as its connection to others in the network. Their research relied heavily on their own one-​year participant observation of the practices and media in the CSC, as well as other qualitative methods to supplement their observations (informal interviews and qualitative content analysis). In their role as participants, Fenton and Barassi engaged as volunteers in CSC; they worked in the national office and took part in major events. This ethnographic work allowed them to observe the interactions and relationships—​online and off—​that constituted the reach of the network. Most important for this chapter, the pair worked with the CSC’s Facebook and Twitter feeds, which placed them in a position to gain feedback from others in the network concerning messages and connective media. In addition, they were well positioned to observe how other people in the node, and the larger network, made use of the information that was disseminated through those two interactive media platforms. Overall, this participant observation provided a rich opportunity to learn about the reach of one node in the network and its connections to different levels in the United Kingdom. Research by Josh, Blessy McWan, Jewel White, and Rafsanul Hoque (Atkinson et al., 2022) demonstrates the ways in which interviews can be used to engage in internal exploration of networks. In their research, they explored the role of interactive media in local-​ level, mainstream political parties. Essentially, they were interested in the ways in which Democrats and Republicans used platforms like Twitter and YouTube, as well as listservs, in their respective local level networks. To conduct this research, they recruited key leaders within both parties through snowball sampling; these were the people who led the committees, ran campaigns, and orchestrated official interactive media production for the parties. In order to collect data, the group conducted one-​on-​one interviews with these key figures. In each case, the team started by asking each participant to explain their role in their respective party. Afterwards, questions turned to the different types of media that the participants used, as well as the ways those media types were utilized in their political work. Finally, the questions turned to discussions about their work with different interactive and alternative media forms within their party. These questions, then, illustrated the connective media within the networks of Democrats and Republicans in the region. In addition, these questions also helped the team to better understand how those types of media created connections to global-​level Democratic and Republican parties.

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External Approach The external approach involves examining a cross-​section of nodes that exist throughout a particular network. Rather than focusing on one or two, as in the cases above, researchers draw a sample of nodes to examine as they are looking at the network from the outside. There are two primary ways in which researchers may examine networks from the outside: They may engage in some form of content or textual analysis. In content analysis, scholars may analyze the texts that serve as the nodes of a particular network: websites or other online materials. For instance, a project by Summer Harlow (2011) concerning a Facebook network in Guatemala illustrates the ways in which the analysis of texts can be central to answering key research questions. In this case, she explored a Facebook network dedicated to raising awareness about the murder of Rodrigo Rosenberg, a Guatemalan lawyer in 2008; in a video released posthumously in 2009, Rosenberg blamed his demise on the president of Guatemala. In this case, the nodes in the network were the different Facebook profiles that were commenting on, posting about, or sharing material related to Rosenberg’s death. Harlow sought to understand the role of the interactive platform in advancing the narrative about his murder and expanding the discourse offline. She used multiple methods to answer her guiding research questions: content analysis of the various Facebook profiles, supplemented with interviews with key leaders. She conducted quantitative and deductive qualitative content analysis. The quantitative content analysis noted the frequency of key issues like responses and comments, as well as hyperlinks. To conduct the deductive qualitative content analysis, she recruited four bilingual coders to aid with close readings of the profiles that constituted the network. In this deductive analysis, Harlow and the coders utilized the concept of collective action frames (see Gerhards & Rucht, 1992) as categories that they applied to comments and other materials posted in the Facebook profiles. In this way, the research team applied the different frames from past research to each comment they identified in the various Facebook profiles. They were able to classify commentary in the network according to three collective action frames: diagnostic (definition of a problem), prognostic (potential solutions to the problem), or motivational (calls to action). The interview data, frequency and statistical data, and qualitative data that emerged from the deductive analysis helped Harlow to identify the key ways in which Facebook was utilized in the network to raise awareness about Rosenberg’s death.

User Experience The concept of user experience (UX) emerged separately from the related field of media ecology, but there is significant overlap between the two fields. Indeed, UX research seems to pick up where the broadcast-​oriented media ecology research left off. The study of media ecology started with Marshall McLuhan’s books on the importance of the medium in constructing meaning. In his first book, Understanding Media (1964a, 1964b), he illustrates the differences between hot media (e.g., books, newspaper) and cool media (e.g., television); the former require high levels of involvement on the part of the audience, while the latter do not. In a 1967 book written with Quentin Fiore, The Medium Is the Massage, the authors explain that different types of media “massage” our senses in different ways. For instance, reading text about a football game and watching images of a football game create

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altogether different meanings for audiences. McLuhan’s ideas influenced later scholars like Joshua Meyrowitz (1985, 2000), who explained that there are key features of a medium that shape the way in which we engage in meaning making; these include features like degree of fidelity, physical requirements for engaging a medium, level of difficulty to decode, and scope of dissemination. The study of media ecology has helped scholars to better understand the rules of different types of media within a broadcast-​oriented society. We noted this in the communication rules approach to the study of audiences under the incorporation/​resistance paradigm in Chapter 4. All of this leads to the rise of UX research, which emerged primarily from research within the interactive media industry in order to explore how the design of digital technologies influences communication (e.g., Norman, 2009; Norman & Nielsen, 2021). In their book UX Research Methods for Media and Communication Studies, Angela Cirucci and Urszula Pruchniewska (2022) describe different methods researchers can use to examine media objects that are arranged around users. For the most part, the study of UX is focused on the development of new, interactive products for the marketplace. According to Cirucci and Pruchniewska, companies like Meta and Google often conduct UX research to try to identify best practices and features for users in a world of mass self-​communication. Nevertheless, the study of UX can also have applications for the academic study of media and social environments, as there are seven key experiences that are examined through such research: 1. Useful—​Is the product useful? Does it have a purpose? Note that what is considered “useful” changes person by person, but generally a product should have a clear use for some defined target audience. 2. Usable—​ Can users effectively and efficiently achieve their end objective with the product? 3. Findable—​Is the content in the product easy to find? Are the features of the product easy to find? Websites, for example, should be easily navigable by novice users. 4. Credible—​Does the design enhance the credibility of the product—​that is, do the users trust the product? 5. Accessible—​Does the product provide an experience that can be accessed by users with a full range of abilities? 6. Desirable—​Is the product design and experience aesthetically pleasing? This facet includes things like branding, image, and identity. 7. Valuable—​Does the product deliver value to the user and to the business? The product should deliver customer satisfaction but should also contribute to the bottom line (in for-​ profit companies) or to the mission and values (in nonprofits). (Cirucci & Pruchniewska, 2022, pp. 5–​6) Overall, Cirucci and Pruchniewska identify a variety of methods that can be used to examine the seven key experiences of interactive media products. First, traditional methods, like interviews and focus groups, allow users to speak for themselves about the media objects that they utilize in their lives, as well as how they engage with them.

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Focus groups are particularly useful as they allow users to come together and compare their experiences with particular media objects. Josh’s doctoral student, Patalita (2022), used focus groups to address his own research about the user experiences of different Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) gaming communities. Essentially, he was interested in the ways in which long-​term communities adopted different platforms, and how those platforms influenced the process of playing tabletop D&D together. To address his guiding research questions, he engaged in focus groups with groups who had been playing campaigns together for extended periods of times; he was not simply conducting focus groups with random players. During the focus groups, he posed the following questions to the participants: • Tell me how you all started playing D&D? How do you all play together? What does play look like? • What media do the group use when you play together? Explain. • Do you feel that the use of interactive media has impacted the group’s experience playing together? Does it affect anyone’s immersion in the game, or their sense of flow? • Does anyone here feel as though they’ve used more/​less D&D media than other members of the group? Does this impact your experience playing with the others? Does anyone feel like it changes if it is a player or a Dungeon Master (i.e., game leader) in terms of their media-​consumption affecting the rest of the group? Patalita allowed the participants to explain the different media objects around them and how their experiences with them influenced game play. The focus group method also provided participants the opportunity to build on one another or remind each other about key elements of their group or media use that some might have overlooked. Aside from the traditional methods of interviewing and focus groups, Cirucci and Pruchniewska also introduce readers to other methods for UX research. Some of the methods that build on traditional methods are contextual inquiry, emotional mapping, and screenshot diaries. Contextual inquiry builds on the notion of interviewing. However, unlike traditional interviews, in which the researcher might sit down with a participant and ask them a series of questions, in contextual inquiry the researcher sits down with a participant while they are in the process of using particular media objects. The goal of this method is to explore the usage and interactions with specific media objects under examination. As the participant engages with the object, the researcher may ask questions about what they are doing, or why they are taking particular actions. Thus, the contextual inquiry is based less on memory and more on usage in the moment. Emotional journey mapping builds on the former, in that the researcher engages the participants in one-​on-​one discussions as they engage with media. However, the emphasis here is not specific types media, like in the case of contextual inquiry, but the wider use of media throughout a “normal” day for participants. Essentially, participants provide a guided tour to the researcher of their use of interactive media objects throughout a typical day, demonstrating how they engage with different platforms and search for content. Like

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with contextual inquiry, the researcher utilizes an interview guide to pose questions to the participants throughout this process. Such questions can help to assess which sites or apps participants enjoy, and which they find bothersome or unwieldy. With the data, researchers can map out the journeys of the participants through their use of media, and search for emergent trends across cohorts or populations studied. Screenshot diaries are another method demonstrated by Cirucci and Pruchniewska. This method is similar to other qualitative diary projects that have been described by scholars like Lindlof and Taylor (2019). Like other self-​report diaries, participants are asked to record their use of different media throughout a timeframe specified by the researcher. Unlike the qualitative diary projects described by other scholars, however, screenshot diaries require that the participants provide screenshots of sites and apps that they use. These visual components help to supplement the written information they provide. They also serve as a text that the researcher may examine through methods of textual or content analysis. In this way, then, researchers may study the features of those websites and apps to better understand the experience of using them. One final UX research method that is worth discussing is what Cirucci and Pruchniewska call “break-​up and love letters.” In this method participants are asked to assess the pros and cons of different interactive media objects that they use in their lives. However, unlike a simple list of pros and cons, the researcher asks the participants to integrate these lists into letters to the specific media in their lives; they write love letters to the media objects they enjoy and break-​up letters to those they do not. In this way, participants must look beyond simple functionalities and pragmatics associated with those objects, so as to assess their own emotional involvement and taste regarding the designs and functionality of those interactive media.

Collaborative Work The final site for the study of mass self-​communication involves collaborative work between audiences/​users of interactive media platforms and the researchers who are studying their endeavors. Such research stands as a convergence of digital arts and digital humanities (Berry, 2012; Svensson, 2012) and has strong connections to the UX research described previously. In their book Collaborative Media, Jonas Löwgren and Bo Reimer (2013) explain that interactive media platforms and spreadable content have led to the merger of producers and audiences in contemporary society, which is a central point of mass self-​ communication. As Van Djick (2013) explained, people may now engage in collaborations with other audiences/​users or collaborations with traditional media producers or create content alone that may spread through networked communication. Löwgren and Reimer call for academics and laypeople to work together so as to create a richer understanding of the ways that design shapes the production and consumption of content. Indeed, William Merrin (2009) notes that it is not possible for researchers to examine audiences as if they are not audiences themselves; researchers are, in fact, audiences of media. With the advent of interactive and social media, they are also, now, producers of media. It is important for researchers to abandon the binary dichotomy in their endeavors and explore media content, production, and use alongside their participants.

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In their book, Löwgren and Reimer propose a process for collaborative work in which academic researchers and laypeople come together and talk critically about production and consumption of media content. In this process, the two parties work to understand why the lay participants engage with the content that they do and make specific creative choices. This mirrors the interviews described in reference to UX research. However, Löwgren and Reimer claim that it is not enough to simply hear from the participants. Rather, researchers should also do the acts of media production alongside the participants; they call this work “intervention.” Through such collaborative work and personal experience, researchers and laypeople may create new knowledge about the media environment, the processes of production, and the consumption of content. This stands as a kind of participant observation, similar to such ethnographic work described in previous chapters of this book; the projects merge advocacy with autobiography (Hermes, 2009). Such participant observation, they claim, should be guided by the following five rules: Be collaborative. We find the combination of media and communication studies with interaction design to be essential for the kind of research we advocate. What is more, we find that the mainstream notion of knowledge transfer from academia to society needs to be questioned; sustained co-​ production for collaborative knowledge production is a more promising perspective, in our view. Be interventionist. There is no place for conventional academic distance and ceteris paribus in the kind of collaborative media research we represent. Development of theory and concepts happens in parallel with interventions and with design of possible new collaborative media practices, and the two strands presuppose and inform each other. Be public. Collaborative media research needs to happen in public spaces, physical as well as mediated ones. This is more than a simple matter of knowledge dissemination from the academic ivory tower to the general-​interest audience; collaborative media researchers are but one group of actors in a field where action takes place in constant consideration of and in plain view of other constituencies. Be agonistic. The field where collaborative media researchers play their parts in intervention and knowledge production is a real and public one, which among other things means that we have to move beyond naïve notions of consensus. Different constituencies have their own agendas, normally conflicting ones; issues of power and influence are at the forefront of the ongoing infrastructure taking place. Be accountable. Playing a part in the agonistic field of collaborative media also means assuming responsibility for your standpoints and actions. Neutrality regarding consequences is a luxury that spectators in the stands may indulge in, but it is not an option for actors taking part in the unfolding events in the field. (Löwgren & Reimer, 2013, p. 42) Research by Joke Hermes (2009) illustrates such a process in her work with a Dutch-​ Moroccan web community called Marokko.nl, which was a site for online discussion, sharing content, and collaborative work between members. When the administrators wanted to

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develop a news site for their community, they decided that an interesting gateway for such a site would be a fictional telenovela that would relay the history of the community, as well as the larger Dutch-​Moroccan community that existed offline; they felt that such an approach would draw young people into the news site. Hermes’s team at INHolland University had already been engaged in research with the community, exploring online youth culture. The team offered to work with Marokko.nl, sharing their insights about scriptwriting and narrative, while working with the administrators of the community and content creators to better understand the youth culture therein. The collaboration, then, involved discussions/​ informal interviews with administrators and creators, as well as hands-​on participation in the production of the telenovela. In the later stages of the project, Hermes engaged in “chronicle mode,” which involved “recording how cultural logics and knowledge change and adapt, and how an Internet community may be both forum and jumping board for that to happen” (p. 123). In this way, Hermes explains that the research team and community, working together, sought to engage in a process that involved “openness, sharing, flexible design, improving what you are doing while you are doing it, co-​ownership” (p. 121). Such a process, then, mirrored the core rules of collaborative work described by Löwgren and Reimer.

Conclusion In this chapter, we have illustrated a model of diffused mass self-​communication that has emerged from the introduction of various interactive media platforms and technologies in contemporary society. This vision of “the media” stands in stark contrast to the multilevel model associated with the centralized, broadcast notion of mass communication. This is not to say that the levels described by Pan and McLeod (1991), as well as more recent scholars (e.g., Bertrand & Hughes, 2018), are defunct or obsolete. There is still production, content, audiences, and feedback/​interactivity. However, the presence of interactive and digital technologies, as well as the user-​to-​document interactivity or platformed sociality associated with them, has flattened or intertwined these levels. Rather than observing these levels in isolation from one another, researchers should examine them together within one of three different research sites: networks, UX, or collaborative research. In order to properly engage in qualitative media analysis in the context of mass self-​communication, researchers should always understand which of these sites will best help them to accomplish their scholarly goals.

Discussion Questions 1. How would you explain to someone the concept of mass self-​communication? How is it different from mass communication? What examples would you use? 2. Think about the interconnections between mass communication and mass self-​ communication. Can you discuss a program like The Mandalorian on Disney+​under the assumptions of both? Explain.

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3. What should researchers consider when conducting qualitative media analysis in the context of mass self-​communication? How does this differ from the considerations for qualitative media analysis under the assumptions of mass communication? 4. Think of a platform like Twitter or YouTube. Using resources available to you, answer the following questions: • Find examples of key networks associated with the platform. • What are your own user experiences? How does the design of the platform shape those experiences? • Is it possible to conduct collaborative work with others through this platform? Explain.

Research and Writing Practice 1. Working with a partner, map out the media objects that you each utilize in your everyday lives. Note how each of you use each of these media objects (i.e., as networked communication or platformed sociality; user-​to-​system or user-​to-​document). How do the two sets of media objects compare with your partner? Is there the potential for the development of common relevance frames? 2. Describe a media project that could be conducted using qualitative content analysis, grounded within the assumptions of mass self-​communication described in this chapter. Discuss networks that may be examined in the project. How would you go about studying these networks? Explain. 3. Using the same project, how would you examine user experiences? What specific methods would you utilize? 4. Would it be possible to conduct collaborative work research in the context of this platform? Explain.

Suggested Resources • Castells, M. (2011). Communication power (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press. • Cirucci, A., & Pruchniewska, U. (2022). UX research methods for media and communication studies: An introduction to contemporary qualitative methods. Routledge. • Couldry, N., & Hepp, A. (2017). The mediated construction of reality. Polity Press. • Löwgren, J., & Reimer, B. (2013). Collaborative media: Production, consumption and design interventions. MIT Press. • Merrin, W. (2009). Media studies 2.0: Upgrading and open-​sourcing the discipline. Interactions: Studies in Communication and Culture, 1, 17–​34.

6

Writing and Presenting Qualitative Research

Writing is a vital part of the research process.

Key Terms arts-​based research, citational practice, subjectivity, writing as method, writing practice

Learning Outcomes After reading and engaging with the material in this chapter, you should be able to: • Discuss the importance of writing as method. • Explain how you can make writing a habit. • Appraise your writing practices. • Demonstrate what you want your writing to do and be. • Explain the importance of citational practices. • Construct a plan for your writing practice. • List different types of writing forms in qualitative research. • Describe the format of a typical qualitative research article. • Practice using arts-​based research presentation.

Writing as Method and Process Writing as Method Citational Practices Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media. Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.003.0006

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Writing as Process Writing Practice Box 6.1: Faulkner’s Writing Process, May 2016 Writing Process Writing Forms Box 6.2: Typical Format of Qualitative Research Articles Ethnographic Tales Box 6.3: Examples of Ethnographic Tales Arts-​Based Research Presentation Figure 6.1: Example of Arts-​Based Research Presentation Creative Forms and Qualitative Writing Box 6.4: Creative Forms and Qualitative Writing Conclusion Box 6.5: A Conversation About Qualitative Research, Ethics, and Writing with Dr. Devika Chawla Discussion Questions Research and Writing Practice Suggested Resources

Writing as Method and Process Writing is a vital part of the research process.

Writing as Method Writing is often considered to be a fundamental element of qualitative research. Thus, writing is a vital part of the research process, and one reason we devote an entire chapter to writing and presenting qualitative research. The nice thing about the idea of writing as method is that all the activities you do for a research project serve your writing, including thinking. If writing is part of the thinking in qualitative research, writing includes designing, reading, planning, and analyzing qualitative work. We hope that this makes writing less daunting, because it means that everything you do in your research project moves you toward writing. And all the things you do in service of writing are part of the research process. Given that we consider writing as method, we encourage you to consider yourself as a writer and a qualitative researcher. Study the writing forms you wish to use as you would study analytical methods. Understand that format affects what you can write about and how (Richardson, 2000a). This means becoming a better reader, so that you can become a better writer. What texts do you admire and wish you had written? What authors are you drawn to and why? In what format will you craft your research project? If you make strong, supple sentences, Improvise, understand and exploit your mistakes, Keep yourself open to the possibilities each sentence creates, Keep yourself open to thought itself,

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And read like a writer, You can write in any form. (Klinkenborg, 2013, p. 16) Think of yourself as a writer and a qualitative researcher. As you read or listen to this chapter, consider how your writing will be a vital part of your qualitative research so that your texts (and videos and movies) will engage your audience and accomplish your important goals. I confessed that for years I had yawned my way through numerous supposedly exemplary studies. Countless numbers of texts I had abandoned half read, half scanned . . . Qualitative research has to be read, not scanned; its meaning is in the reading . . . Was there some way in which to create texts that were vital and made a difference? (Richardson & St. Pierre, 2005, pp. 959–​960) The issue is that many of us have been taught to write when we know what we want to say, rather than writing to find something out, to write from a rigid outline and toward a predetermined point, rather than writing like you are the lens through which interpretation occurs and your perceptions and analysis are the project (Richardson, 2000a). We are taught that we “write up” the research like the writing process is mechanical, rather than organic. Klinkenborg (2013) encourages writers to trust in their own voice and vision, to act as an ethnographer noticing what you notice and all of the details. The central fact of your education is this: You’ve been taught to believe that what you discover by thinking, By examining your own thoughts and perceptions, Is unimportant and unauthorised. As a result, you fear thinking, And you don’t believe your thoughts are interesting, Because you haven’t learned to be interested in them. There’s another possibility: You may be interested in your thoughts, But they don’t have much to do with anything you ever been asked to write. The same is true of what you notice. You don’t even notice what you notice, Because nothing in your education is taught you that what you notice is important. (p. 36) We think of this advice as akin to taking a creative approach to writing qualitative research. The advice we give in this chapter, which is unlike most methods books, is to think about

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your writing process and practice like creative writing. This means paying attention to form, function, style, and audience. This means writing to be read instead of just to publish. Consider what Agnes Callard (2020) wrote: Academic writing does not exist in order to communicate with a reader. In academia, or at least the part of it that I inhabit, we write, most of the time, not so much for the sake of being read as for the sake of publication . . . Writing for the sake of publication—​instead of for the sake of being read—​is academia’s version of “teaching to the test.” The result is papers few actually want to read. (para. 2 & 6) What if you took the approach that it doesn’t matter how many publications you have, but it counts if people actually read your work? Ask yourself the following questions about your writing: • What is the goal of your work? • Who is the audience for your work? How can you engage them? What is it that you want the audience to do, feel, or believe after reading your work? • What are the ethical considerations of your work? How will you handle them? • What structure and form will enable you to accomplish your goal(s) for your work? • How will you evaluate your work? How will you know if you have achieved your goal(s)? We believe that focusing on your writing as a vital element in the research process will add interest to your work, make your work evocative for your readers, and help you achieve your research goals, because, after all, who wants to think of someone yawning as they read/​experience/​hear your work (see Faulkner & Squillante, 2020)? Badley (2020) points out that much academic writing is bad because it’s obscure, turgid, and bloated; academics think that writing needs to be abstract, they use jargon because they assume others know what they are talking about, and they believe that simple writing is not academic enough or respected. Let’s rid ourselves of these dysfunctional notions. In addition, many scholars, like Griffin et al. (2019), note the importance of aesthetic appeal in the generation of communities of agreement. Essentially, theories developed from interpretivist or humanistic methodologies take root and become accepted within the field because of agreement among scholars. Aesthetically good writing is just as important for establishing such a community as data and validity.

Citational Practices Writing is not a neutral activity. Who we cite and how we cite them matters. We urge you to consider this as you plan, analyze, and write your way through a project. Are you only citing White scholars? Only men? Only scholars from the West? What frameworks are you using in your work? The National Communication Association (NCA) was taken to task by a group of concerned members in 2019 because of the White, western, and male dominance in the Distinguished Scholar selection process (Flaherty, 2019). Practices of whiteness and

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White dominance in the academy, including the communication and media studies field, need to be addressed. A social media and writing campaign launched by some NCA members called #CommunicationSoWhite has been addressing these issues with special journal issues and targeted blog posts (e.g., Communication, Culture & Critique, June 2020, vo. 13, no. 2; Communication and Cultural/​Critical Studies, 2020, vol. 17, no. 2). Communication also shares with other fields in the humanities and social sciences a precarious place in the neoliberal university. Thus, communication’s survival is never guaranteed, and this lack of assured continuity positions the discipline perpetually on the defensive and seeking to account for its legitimacy . . . Communication’s longstanding desire for legitimacy is predicated on such mechanisms of citizenship and therefore invests in white civil society’s originary exclusion, i.e., antiblackness. To seek disciplinary legitimacy is to desire whiteness and, therefore, to disavow Blackness. (McCann et al., 2020, pp. 243–​244) This investment in whiteness has everything to do with who you cite and the work you use and how you use it in your own projects. The work and politics of “inclusive exclusion” begins with you and your writing and cultivating a critical consciousness. This is a step toward decolonization, asking yourself how you can resist the staid structures of white supremacy. Calventea et al. (2020) ask you to consider if you are just performing comradery as the dictates of white civility demand or if you are actively resisting: “So, again, we ask, where are you in these experiences? What is at stake for you? What performances will you choose to engage in?” (p. 207). Your writing is an opportunity to engage in a performance that matters.

Writing as Process Writing is hard work. A clear sentence is no accident. Very few sentences come out right the first time, or even the third time. Remember this in moments of despair. If you find that writing is hard, it’s because it is hard. (Zinsser, 2006, p. 8) Everyone writes bad first drafts. Writing is all about revision. (Faulkner)

We begin this section on the writing process with a quote from Zinsser and a quote that Sandra often uses in the classroom, not to deter or scare you but to focus on important ideas for your writing. Writing is part of our work as qualitative researchers. Writing is a process. Good writing means believing in the power of revision and revising your writing. Having a writing practice helps when the writing gets hard; you have a routine and habit to fall back on to just keep writing. Or, to put it more simply, qualitative researchers write. Gail Sher (1999) offers “The Four Noble Truths for Writers”: 1. Writers write. 2. Writing is a process.

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3. You don’t know what your writing will be until the end of the process. 4. If writing is your practice, the only way to fail is to not write. (p. 5) We point out the wisdom in truth #4: Think about reframing writing as something you get to do rather than something you have to do.

Writing Practice Given the importance of writing to qualitative and critical research, we encourage you to develop a writing practice or routine, if you do not already have one. The idea that writing just happens or that it is the final part of the research process, or that one just “writes up” their research, contributes to false notions that writing is an afterthought or a necessary evil. We discussed earlier how writing is part of the research method and analysis for qualitative researchers, so centering writing as qualitative research practice makes sense. The maxim is to make time to write. This means that you should establish a writing habit. Many writers and scholars discuss how vital having a daily writing practice is for one to enjoy “having written” (e.g., Faulkner & Squillante, 2016; Sher, 1999). This means showing up, being ready to work, and putting in the time. You may be saying to yourself that you understand that you are motivated to write, but we find that the hard part is how to take that motivation and turn it into a habitual practice. “A habit is the link between inspiration and self-​realization” (Sher, 1999, p. 18). Relying on motivation alone rarely works; we can be motivated to do many things, but until they are habitual behaviors, we may or may not do them. What we are arguing is that having a writing habit makes the showing up part the easy work. We talk about habits and how to form them here for you to use in developing a writing action plan. Consider this planning as important for your research; better yet, make a writing plan part of conceptualizing your research project. We offer an exercise at the end of this chapter to help you develop a writing plan based on your motivations that you can subsequently develop into a writing habit. Begin by asking yourself the following three questions: 1. How will I make time to write? 2. How will I make writing a habit? 3. How will I overcome writing obstacles? Use your answers and your motivation to write to create a writing habit. “On average, it takes more than 2 months before a new behavior becomes automatic—​66 days to be exact” (Clear, March 2014, para. 15). Behavioral psychologist James Clear (July 2014), discusses how to develop a habit (and we consider writing to be a good habit to create and nurture). You want to start with an incredibly small habit. This may mean writing for 15 minutes a day. Or perhaps you will write for 30 minutes two times a week. The idea is to start with something easy to do and not to begin with too big of a habit, because you will be using motivation to kick-​start the new habit. The less activation it takes, the better. Or, to put it

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another way, “research shows that willpower is like a muscle. It gets fatigued as you use it throughout the day” (Clear, July 2014, para. 4). So, you don’t want to begin with too big of a task, as it may take too much motivation and willpower to accomplish. It may even be best to consider writing before you do other tasks. Increase your habit in small ways. Starting your plan with two hours of writing a day seven days a week may mean that you fail, and this failure may influence your motivation. If you start small, your success may contribute to increased willpower and motivation. What if after two weeks of writing 15 minutes three times a week, you make it 15 minutes a day before you do anything else work-​related? As you build up, break habits into chunks. Let’s say you want to start writing for 30 minutes a day. You could write for 15 minutes twice a day to get you to 30 minutes. When you slip, get back on track quickly. If you do not make your goals for a week, refocus and recommit to the following week. One missed writing session does not mean that you have failed. Better yet, plan on some failure, and readjust to get back to your writing. In Box 6.1 Sandra offers a narrative poem on her writing practice that speaks to this point of readjusting and getting back on track. Be patient. Stick to a pace you can sustain. Clear (July 2014) reminds us that a new habit will get hard soon enough, but the key is to make it easy at first and focus on being consistent. Another question we asked you to consider was how to contend with obstacles to your writing practice. You may have childcare or eldercare responsibilities, teaching, service work, graduation requirements to fulfill, illness, and other personal responsibilities. Building a writing habit can help you find time to prioritize writing, or maybe scale back your expectations for what you do in any one writing session, or use your habit as a way to write even when you lack motivation. Building an environment that is conducive to your habit and figuring out any sticking points are important ways of dealing with obstacles (Clear, January 2015, August 2015). Having a dedicated writing area, turning off social media, writing in a quiet room without TV, lessening distractions, and listening to focusing music are all ways to set a good writing environment. Another way to clear obstacles is to figure out what the sticking points are and to eliminate them (Clear, August 2015). Do you need to write in an office or another space? Is getting to the office or the library or the coffee shop a limiting factor? If so, you may consider creating a writing space and writing at home. One major writing obstacle for many of us is procrastination—​giving into internal and external distractions rather than working on what we need to work on. But what triggers procrastination? . . . it seems that procrastination is triggered when the anxiety of writing overrides the consequences of not writing . . . Writing triggers an anxiety reaction because writing is a creative experience and any creative experience can open us up to self-​exposure. The creative experience is more likely to trigger an anxiety reaction when it is linked to our core being, goals, and dreams. As a result, engaging in the activity can trigger the anxiety associated with not being good enough, feeling like a fraud, or not living up to the standards that we hold for ourselves. The level at which we want to work may not be the level at which we are

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BOX 6.1  Faulkner’s Writing Practice, May 2016 Wake up at the usual time. Roll over like you are still asleep, so the dog won’t hear. You just need another minute. Curse the minute that transformed into an hour. Damn the semester’s night class that took your will for early morning writing espresso and listening to your house’s predawn snoring. No free hour of writing for you today as the nagging obligations of domesticity and paid work crouch at your writing desk, littered with unpaid bills and a smear of dust. Forget how last week a student asked to see this magical writing space you describe in a published interview about your writing practice. Know that there is no magic. Hope that extra sleep was worth it. The writing practice you just slept through. Recommit to your deadlines as you let the dogs rouse the snoring family. Deadlines as writing prompts usually get you to put words in a .doc file, to write at the desk tucked under the loft in your church house. Think about adopting your colleague’s method of 500 words a day. Remember that never worked for you, and re-​metaphor deadlines as the skeins of writing motivation that you knit into habit. Instant message your writing buddy for the weekly check-​in after you let the dogs out to pee. Complain about the meetings about meetings that you let interrupt your writing. Laugh when she suggests your grumpiness could make a good poem. Agree to exchange those essays—​or whatever they are—​her poetry about sex and desire versus the daily tedium of relationships in middle age, and your satire and screed about hating guns in a pro-​NRA family. Yes, the ones that you both worked on when you were supposed to be writing something else. Feel thankful that you found a way to write about this and be grateful for your writing buddy. Let yourself feel nervous about sharing, but maybe, just maybe, this piece might work. Make another date to talk about what you can do with that writing. List the projects you want to work on this month on a sticky note. Use the crayon you find on the floor by the dog bed since someone borrowed all of the pens that are supposed to be in the chipped cup by your desk. Ignore your spouse wrangling the first grader: Eat your fish sticks. Put on your clothes. Put on your clothes! No, you can’t watch TV. We have to leave. Now. Now! Find the overdue library book wedged between the dog and the couch cushion. Remind them to take the book back to school. Check the homework folder and cram it into the backpack. Is that smell pee? Clean the dog’s irritation at some slight you most likely are responsible for off of your daughter’s backpack and notice that was puke you just stepped in on the carpet by the door. Cringe at the feel of bare feet on squishy moist fluids. Ask your new rescue dog, the dog now called Barfy, to stop eating all the nasty treasures she finds outside and leaving them inside for you. You really do not need such elaborate presents. Promise the dogs you will take them for a walk after you drink one more cup of coffee. And find your pants. Eat the cold crust of cinnamon toast off your daughter’s plate as you search for the orthotics for your running shoes. This counts as breakfast. Set the plate

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down for the dogs to eat the egg scraps. No need to scrape and rinse. You can work on writing as you run. Didn’t you read some neuroscience article on the connection between problem solving, creativity, and relaxation? Didn’t one of your favorite writers, Haruki Murakami, write, What I talk about when I talk about running, a memoir about running AND writing? The connection between exercise practice and writing discipline? You can write Poets who run: How to write haikus in your head as you train. Today. On this run you need to take because you are training for a half marathon. (Of course, you are always training for a half marathon.) Argue that this run will make you nicer in your afternoon meetings. Smile at your consideration of others. Email your student to say you will be 15 minutes late to your meeting. Switch your usual route to avoid running by the Dean’s house. Run in the depressing tree streets, the ones that are named for trees that do not exist in this hell of pavement and sprayed-​on lawns with little signs that warn you no kids or dogs: Poison. Notice there are no squirrels here, either. Get lost in your resentment. Be mad when you actually do get lost in the wasteland because you were writing a poem in your mind about how the maze of depression in the rows of beige vinyl siding with a splash of brick disorients you. You have to pee now. Don’t hold your urine. Find the bulldozer parked at the end of new construction on Sequoia Street and enjoy squatting behind it. Realize that this is going to be a long run. How the heck do you get out of this development? Moan about being hungry now. Panic. Stop because you emailed the student. Praise yourself for getting in a long run in the middle of the week. Wonder if you will have time to take a shower before going to the office once you finally exit your middle-​ class suburban nightmare. It will be 2 more miles until you reach a shower. Think about the reviews you agreed to write. Groan at the emails you will have to answer. Remind yourself to cancel the meeting about the meetings. You are sick. Yes, sick of overcommitting to things that do not help your writing. What if you over committed to writing? Ask if that is even possible. Decide that you will take Wednesday to write. And keep your meeting-​free Friday writing day, too. Craft the emails on the last 2 miles you can now sprint. Write a narrative poem about writing using lots of imperatives because you must give yourself permission to write. Remember a quote, one you uttered during an interview about being a mother who writes: “Be kind to yourself. Be impatient with the difficulty of finding time to write and don’t quit.” Be impatient. Give yourself permission to write. Write down your plan with a sharpie marker. Tell the others. Do it. Do it with wet hair. (Faulkner, 2017c)

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currently working, and we don’t want to admit that to ourselves or to others. (Single, 2010a, para. 5) Procrastination occurs when we are afraid of failure, when we are afraid of success, when we engage in perfectionism, when we give in to inner criticisms, when we have unclear goals, and when we see writing as only about words on a page. We just discussed how having a writing practice is one way of contending with procrastination. Single (2010b) suggests you have a dedicated writing space and that you engage in “prewriting” to overcome procrastination, which occurs when you experience uncertainty and overload. You don’t know what to say, so you can’t write. Prewriting is one way to help. This could take the form of an outline, or writing notes in stream-​of-​consciousness fashion, or taking notes as you read. As we stated above, all of these activities are part of the writing process; consider that when you are feeling overwhelmed. You don’t have to sit down and write an entire article or chapter during one writing session—​in fact, you won’t. But the consistency of doing tasks like reading, thinking, analyzing, outlining, taking notes, and engaging in your writing practice will get you there. Many writers, including academic writers, espouse the value in daily writing: Endorsing writing as a daily, human, practice helps us become more convincing and persuasive in the attempts we may make to achieve our main purposes, to realize the main whys of our writing. Successfully realizing our whys, our main purposes of, or reasons for, writing depends on becoming better at the hows of writing. (Badley, 2020, p. 250) We suggest that making writing a daily habit is of great value to you as a qualitative researcher. Sandra’s narrative poem in Box 6.1 shows how she engages with the questions of writing motivation, making time to write, writing as habitual practice, and overcoming writing obstacles. Though the poem may seem tongue-​in-​cheek, we hope you see the advice between the lines and in the last stanza: Commit to and schedule your writing into your daily routines. The schedule may change depending on other commitments you have in your life, sometimes you may fail, but find a way to hold yourself accountable for your writing. You and your work are worth it.

Writing Process Now that we have discussed the importance of establishing a writing practice, we want to talk about the actual process. The process will, of course, depend on your particular project. We began this chapter with the notion that writing is part of the process of qualitative research analysis and design, so the idea is to just write through it all. Sandra has found that for more traditional qualitative projects—​that is, not arts-​based research (ABR)—​she uses a mostly linear process that includes reading through all of the materials to be incorporated into the project, making notes and highlighting quotes, creating a working outline, and then working on sections of a manuscript that are already laid out. However, this does not

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mean being rigid; as Klinkenborg (2013) argues, “You’ll never know what you think until you escape your outline” (p. 95). We like to think of the outline as a starting point and not the endpoint, a flexible guide that can be tweaked—​and/​or tossed out if need be. For other projects, in particular those using ABR or narrative ethnography, the process is most likely a circular and iterative one (see section below on ABR presentation). As we discussed previously, writing entails reading and thinking, too. It may be that you schedule reading time as a prewriting session. This counts as writing. You may consider walking or some other kind of movement as part of the thinking process. Yes, walking or running or skipping or dancing. Think about playground activities. There is neurological evidence that movement helps us think; moving and thinking are related (Leisman et al., 2016). At this point, we feel we must talk about fear of the blank page, aka writer’s block. Carl Leggo (2019) urged us to not think of the page as blank: Where did I learn the fear of the blank page? The page is not blank; the page is never blank. Instead it is scribbled over and over by all the writers who have gone before me, as it will continue to be scribbled by all the writers presently writing and all the writers who will write after me. My fear is not only that I have nothing to write; my fear is that I have nothing new to write. Others have said it all. Why say it again? In school I did not learn I had a word-​making role in the world, or that the world ran only as long as I made my words. Instead of wavering with the anxiety of influence, instead of growing weary with the desire for something new, instead of propagating a myth that writing is individual and idiosyncratic and unique, I need to write an older myth that celebrates the communitarian dynamic of writing as corporal. Writing is a palimpsest. Writing is a wooden desktop that has been written over and over. Writing is layers of acetate laid on top of one another, a thousand miles high. Writing is tangled and criss-​crossing. (pp. 442–​443) You may want to take a walk, a stroll, or a run when you feel stuck in writing and think about Leggo’s advice. Research shows that walking boosts creativity, especially when done outside. “Walking opens up the free flow of ideas, and it is a simple and robust solution to the goals of increasing creativity and increasing physical activity” (Oppezzo & Schwartz, 2014, p. 1142). Running also helps emotional regulation and is tied to creativity (Bernstein & McNally, 2015). In fact, aerobic activity grows brain cells (Creer et al., 2010). This suggests that movement is good for your writing process. Sandra wrote an ethnography on running and found that the process of data analysis and writing entailed running: My running practice is tied to my writing practice, so it is not shocking that my ethnographic analysis of women and running is impossible to talk about without talking about running and writing. Writing is not a disembodied activity. Writing about running proved to be an embodied experience; I worked out structural, content, and theoretical issues as I ran. And my running became a problem to work out in my writing . . . I often take a run when I’m stuck in my writing. Running enhances our creativity through stress reduction, focus, and efficiency, and our

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subconscious making connections (Presland, 2016). The movement minds and reminds me that writing is a process; I often find connections between seemingly disparate ideas, work out and create new problems, and write good lines in my mind as I run. There are good and bad runs. There are good and bad writing sessions. (Faulkner, 2018c, p. 108) We suggest that you think about writing like a process and a skill that you can develop and practice. Try different ways of writing a project to find what works for you. And we ask you to reframe the blank page as an opportunity rather than something to be feared. It may be comforting to know that we all write “shitty first drafts,” as Anne Lamott (2005) tells us: “Now, practically even better news than that of short assignments is the idea of shitty first drafts. All good writers write them. This is how they end up with good second drafts and terrific third drafts” (p. 93). The good news is that revision is your best writing friend. Be sure to make space in your writing practice for revising your work.

Writing Forms At this point in our discussion, you may be wondering about how to choose a form for your research project. Consider the questions we asked at the beginning of the chapter related to project goals, audience consideration, and ethics. Often, answering these questions will lead you to some possible forms for your writing. Are you writing for communication scholars? Practitioners? Laypeople? As the fulfillment of a degree requirement? Are you able to ethically write about your topic, or would a particular form be more ethical (e.g., fiction)? Are you targeting a specific journal or other outlet (e.g., editorial)? Are you writing for the general public? We begin by discussing the elements of a typical qualitative research report for an academic journal using American Psychological Association (APA) style in Box 6.2. This format may work well for your research writing when you are interested in a realist reporting format.

Ethnographic Tales You may think of ethnography when you think about writing, given that ethnography means the writing of culture. And ethnographers write ethnography, which is both a process and a product—​a process of systematically studying a culture and a product, which is the writing of a culture (see Chapter 2). An ethnographer’s focus on deep description and attention to details calls to mind writing as a way of life (Rose, 1990). Many (auto)ethnographers embrace this way of writing—​collecting material from everywhere and with anyone and using it in their writing. Perhaps this is a good stance to adopt yourself. When writing your ethnography, you can consider what Van Maanen (1988) described as three types of “tales” that ethnographers tell: 1. In the realist tale, the ethnographer writes in the authorial third person to reflect the actuality of what was observed. Think of this as a documentary style and the form of a

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BOX 6.2  Typical Format of Qualitative Research Articles Abstract • The first portion of the manuscript, like a table of contents • A capsule version of the manuscript after it is written • A summary of the content of the article in about 200 words • Lets others know if they want to read the full report • Usually includes keywords

Introduction • Sets up the rest of the manuscript • A clear statement of the research problem(s) and why it is important • Usually one page

Literature Review Why: Answers the “why” questions: Why is this research important? Why this study? • Puts your research into context • Shows where and how you enter into a scholarly conversation • Acknowledges the contributions of others • Builds a rationale for your research • Demonstrates how your work fits into, extends, or challenges past research • Cites relevant literature to present underlying theoretical and methodological • rationale for the research • A critical assessment of past research • Usually about four or five pages

How: Find literature with online database searches using keywords • Use article(s) to find relevant authors, keywords, and journals you can search • Use the reference lists of articles that seem key to your research to find literature • Format: Do not review literature source by source like a string of articles • Give a brief overview of your study • Describe the broad problem, theoretical problem, and/​or behavioral domain • Define concepts and key terms • Discuss the importance of study (e.g., statistics that show the scope of an issue, • the impact on others)

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• Typically organized topic by topic with headers • The goal is to be critical, to summarize, and to position your work in the context of past research (e.g., show how others have studied the problem and provide any critique in method, population, theoretical positioning, and/​or approach) • Place research question(s) along the way • You may think of a literature review like a thematic analysis (i.e., what themes did you find in your review)

Methods • State clearly and accurately how you did the study in about two or three pages: • Research design (how you did the research/​method used) • Participants (if relevant) (who was involved; demographic, descriptive, and identity characteristics; why you selected participants) • Sample (if relevant) (how and why you examined the media and discourse chosen) • Institutional review board (IRB) process (if relevant) • Procedures (exactly what you did) • Analysis (how you analyzed/​made sense of the “data” in your study, step by step)

Findings • Your research problem(s) and research question(s) are answered here • You may use tables and charts to help tell the story of the research • You may organize by research question, by theme or finding, by process, or by topic • Usually the longest portion of the manuscript, at around 10 pages

Discussion • Begin and end with brief summary of research • Put work into perspective of research in field and in broader culture • Discuss the meaning of your findings • Discuss theoretical advancements and how your work adds to the literature • Discuss practical applications (if relevant) • Usually around four to five pages

Conclusion • Draw conclusions • Discuss the strengths and limitations of your work • Suggest improvements in research design, method, sample, and/​or participant recruitment

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• Suggest future research • Usually around three pages

References • A list of all sources used in your manuscript • In some styles (e.g., Chicago), your sources may be cited as footnotes or endnotes

typical research report that we describe in Box 6.2. In this type of tale, the ethnographer focuses on the minute and sometimes mundane details of their ethnography to show the ordinary and everyday. This type of tale is usually written from an emic perspective (the participant’s point of view). 2. The confessional tale relies on the personal authority of the ethnographer, who is present in the text; they share their point of view, surprises and uncertainties that occurred during fieldwork, and how they developed as an ethnographer during the research. The ethnographer shows how they became an accepted member of a group using explicit information about what occurred in the field to demonstrate trustworthiness. 3. The impressionist tale is like an impressionistic painting; the writing may be fragmented and seemingly disordered. This mirrors the idea that knowledge is fragmented and sense-​making is an iterative process. The ethnographer focuses on dramatic recall, where events are told in detail and may be presented chronologically for readers to experience the narrative as a story with a beginning, middle, and end. An ethnographer often constructs characters with feelings and lives and names to personify group membership. This kind of story is often told in the first person with dramatic tension that builds to a climax to make the reader feel as if they are living the experience told in the tale. Box 6.3 contains examples of these types of ethnographic tales. These last two types of tales may be written to evoke a feeling or emotion, or as a call to action for your readers, what many ethnographers call an evocative narrative (Adams et al., 2015) or writing theories of the flesh (Moraga & Anzaldúa, 2015): The evocative narrative as an alternative form of research reporting encourages researchers to transform collected materials into vivid, detailed accounts of lived experience that aim to show how lives are lived, understood, and experienced. The goals of evocative narratives are expressive rather than representational; the communicative significance of this form of research reporting lies in its potential to move readers into the worlds of others, allowing readers to experience these worlds in emotional, even bodily ways. (Kiesinger, 1998, p. 129)

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BOX 6.3  Examples of Ethnographic Tales The “Realist Tale” DeSantis, A. (2003). A couple of white guys sitting around talking: The collective rationalization of cigar smokers. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 32(4), 432–​ 466. doi:10.1177/​0891241603253833 In the summer of 1997, curious to learn more about America’s trendiest new fad, I serendipitously discovered what can best be described as my city’s “most unique retailing establishment”—​Tullio’s Cigar Shop. Along with selling a wide variety of cigars, Tullio’s has also evolved into a de facto men’s smoking club where no dues are charged, no application form is needed, and no pledging is inflicted. In fact, the only requirement to become a “member” is a desire to participate in the community of cigar-​smoking, basketball-​loving, gregarious men. As one enters Tullio’s for the first time, one is struck by the abundant humidor displaying thousands of cigars for public consumption (typical for most cigar shops), seating for twenty, and a refrigerator in the back brimming with patrons’ “favorite beverages” (the latter two entities are very atypical for most, if not all, cigar shops). As I would come to learn, Tullio’s has no liquor or food license but instead has an empty five-​gallon pickle jar positioned at the main counter. The tacit protocol calls for patrons to put a dollar in the jar for each consumed beverage. James Tullio, the store’s owner and only employee, collects the money at the end of each day and replenishes the stock before the start of the next day’s business . . . Throughout the three years of this study, I observed approximately thirty regulars collectively create, refine, and share five recurring prosmoking arguments. These arguments punctuated both real-​time interactions and isolated interviews. Working within these larger arguments, however, regulars often customized their positions to fit their individual lives (smoking habits, degree of anxiety over smoking, educational level, age, and seniority at the shop). The primary function of these arguments was to inoculate regulars from the potential dissonance-​causing and anxiety-​creating effects of antismoking messages . . . One of the most popular and recurring prosmoking arguments discussed in the shop is the “all-​things-​in-​ moderation” argument. As George, a thirty-​six-​year-​old regular, stated, “Anything in moderation is not going to hurt you.” It is only when people smoke to excess that “they have a problem.” Within this larger argument, however, regulars often adapted their forms of support (i.e., stories, statistics, and testimony) to accommodate their specific smoking habits and lifestyles. (pp. 443; 446-​447)

The “Confessional Tale” Faulkner, S. L. (2013). Notes from a Pretty Straight Girl: Questioning identities in the field. Liminalities, 9(2), 39–​48. http://​limin​alit​ies.net/​9-​2/​faulk​ner.pdf

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May 20, 2000, The Palms, WeHo The woman smoothly sidles up to the seat beside me, reminiscent of an actor in an old cowboy movie. Her feet do not roll from heel to toe; rather, she plants them flat in order to allow room for the cell phone clipped to her pocket. We are in the middle of a conversation that I can’t recall beginning. I noticed her at the other end of the lacquered wood bar with two beers in front of her (MGD and Bud Light! Why do lesbians drink such crappy beer?), and now she and I are making bad poetry. “I like you. You are so pretty,” Karrrrrla says to me again and again. She makes fun of my inability to roll my r’s, presses her right knee into my left leg, caresses my ankles and legs with her fingers enough to notice I need to shave, kisses my neck (but not my lips after I say I’ve got a girlfriend I want to keep). I get her to promise to try a Heineken next. “Do you like gay and lesbian people?” Karla asks as she swallows a mouthful of Miller. “Are you asking me if I’m gay?” I say and think this is a strange question to ask in a lesbian bar. Aren’t all the women here gay? Would you ask that in a straight bar? I pause, not wanting to answer. Do you have to be a lesbian if you date women? Can you be gay if you don’t use the title lesbian? Think about that T-​shirt slogan—​I’m not a lesbian, but my girlfriend is. Karla points to my clothes, that stretchy long black skirt with the side slits and black camisole underneath the periwinkle silk shirt (this time), when I ask the reason for her question. As I struggle with the best way to sit on the stool to make my skirt cover my legs, I ask, “How do you know if someone is gay?” “I just know if someone’s gay,” Karla replies, tapping her chest with her right hand to emphasize her skill. “I just know. I always know.” She leans over and bites the top part of my right thigh, exposed from that damn skirt slit. I shoo her away with a limp gesture, not certain of my playful reaction. If a man touched me as much as she has been touching me, I would stop it with a stinging hand slap and an insult. Is it the newness of gaining access to the world of women flirting with women? Or maybe it’s my neophyte negotiation of what participant observation means I can do and say and feel. “But how do you know?” I am insistent because of the contradiction between her question and her boasting—​The question, “are you gay?” And the confident, “I know, I always know.” Look at your clothing and the way you stand she says nonverbally by pointing at me, yet she isn’t certain. We are playing the pickup game. Karla jumps from the stool, pushing it back with her right leg. She grasps her beer bottle, ignoring the napkin stuck to the bottom. She takes a drink while holding out her pinkie, and a man’s silver link watch slides down her arm. “Gay men,” she says. Then she shakes her hands to begin a new demonstration, and I feel as if we are playing charades. Karla places one hand in her navy tailored pants pocket and the other one on her hip as she props one leg on the brass runner under the bar. She takes up room, lots of room.

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“Lesbian,” she says. I wonder why I am being asked these questions again, now? What does this mean? In the past, men asked this question about my sexuality. This is the first time I’ve been faced with this question since I began dating a woman, and a woman is doing the asking in an explicitly lesbian bar. Is my behavior again unacceptable? And why is behavior the marker? And why are these girly clothes not working me into a femme lesbian look? (pp. 44–​45)

The “Impressionist Tale” Faulkner, S. L. (2016b). Postkarten aus Deutschland: A chapbook of ethnographic poetry. Liminalities, 12. http://​limin​alit​ies.net/​12-​1/​pos​tkar​ten.html Beschweren Sie sich: 3 Beispiele (3 examples) z.B.1. Ein Hobby beschweren sich is to complain, weigh oneself down, encumber oneself, okay, ja!, to complain, but epically like my teacher Nicola says, everyone needs a hobby and this is an epic hobby I learn and practice to show I can speak German and weigh others down with my unencumbered curmudgeonly bitching z.B.2. Der Verkehr (transportation) always old men on busses and trains bitching about their dissatisfaction with how the rest of us cause pain-​ our strollers, accents, and undisciplined children the kibble they need to feed: exhibit a. the Mürrischer Mann in Stuttgart who sputtered about the Turks and then the woman who had trouble folding a stroller into closing doors as the bus stuttered on the climb to the Schloss Solitude, his swearing of burdens we were meant to carry. exhibit b. the Schnurrbart Mann on the fast train to Freiberg who fussed about children on trains,

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flung his papers like unwanted toys, his tantrum finale pistoned fists of such force on a tray table, the train din stopped; everyone in the car finally focused on him, the passenger next to my child moved cars away, the woman with infant censured to the vestibule toilet. exhibit c. the Mann in Strapsen who barked his question at me as I stood beside mein Kind wedged between the trash and the WC, no seats on the sole train back to Mannheim during the planned Bahnstreik-​ Ist dass Ihr Kind? Schade.-​(Is that your child? What a pity.) I nod my head and wish he would give me his seat and coffee instead of these words I could understand. a. Mürrischer Mann (grumpy man) b. Schnurrbart Mann (mustached man) c. Mann in Strapsen (man in suspenders) z.B.3. Jazzmin’s Joke with kaffee und Apfelkuchen at her apartment Stammtisch, meine neue Freundin und ich practice German conversation, I ask how to use beschweren like a real German: This couple wanted a child badly and waited for years for the wife to get pregnant, so when they finally had a child, they were patient when the boy didn’t speak. They waited. First birthday, no words. Second birthday, no words. Third birthday. No words. Fourth birthday. No words. On the child’s fifth birthday, the mother made Apfelstrudel. The child took a bite. “This is cold!” He complained.

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You can speak? His parents asked. Why did you not say anything before now? He replied, “I didn’t have anything to complain about.”

Arts-​Based Research Presentation We began this chapter by expressing the importance of writing and making your work approachable, accessible, and able to meet your research goals. The use of creative forms of writing such as creative nonfiction, poetry, and collage can be a form of public scholarship, a way to make your work more accessible and useful (see Chapter 7 for a discussion of usefulness as a criterion for your work; see Faulkner & Squillante, 2019). Creative practices provide an evocative way to interrogate and address social inequities (Leavy, 2015). Using ABR can create an empathic audience, because art utilizes an individual’s emotional capacity to understand and feel others’ humanity. ABR persuades the audience to move beyond their existing assumptions regarding phenomena and challenges them to examine the world from different perspectives and alternate points of view. The arts address the qualitative nuances of situations by addressing what is subtle but significant, by developing dispositions and habits of mind that reveal to the individual a world they may not have noticed. This represents a turn away from the conventional assumption that all research should bring us closer to a definitive understanding of the social world and abandoning the notion that our research processes should always result in more persuasive arguments about how social and cultural phenomena are best perceived and conceptualized. The goals of ABR practitioners may be similar to the goals that you have for your own writing—​the re-​presentation of meaning, making your meaning-​making process explicit to others, using radical subjectivity to uncover universal themes in the human condition, and using research as social action and public scholarship (Faulkner & Squillante, 2019). If you are considering using art and artistic practice in your research, an understanding of the craft of the medium is essential, as the ABR should be good art to be seen as effective (Faulkner, 2017b; Faulkner, 2020). Your goals will be best accomplished when you understand the capabilities of the art form of interest through study and consideration of craft. This may mean studying a methods textbook like the very one you are reading or listening to now and practicing your method of choice. ABR as a form of writing and research presentation highlights the subjectivity of the researcher and their sense-​making processes through the use of aesthetic means. Subjectivity in writing means focusing on the researcher’s lenses and their research process. What we are suggesting is to embrace subjectivity, which is a hallmark of ABR. When we think about some of the work in communication and media, especially research on personal relationships, using overly academic language can be antithetical to showing the challenges and joys in our close relationships (Faulkner, 2016c; Faulkner, 2023). Using more

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creative writing forms, such as poetry, allows a researcher to show emotion, demonstrate the sense-​making process, and evoke audience response. The goals with this work are to use the personal and aesthetic to help others learn, critique, and envision new ways of relating in personal relationships. ABR utilizes artistic concepts to merge theory and practice in social research. How you incorporate your experiences as a researcher in your work depends on the structure and form you choose for your project. How you decide to incorporate/​present/​ re-​present your research depends on your aesthetic goals for your presentation. You may explicitly incorporate research into a piece of creative nonfiction. You may use footnotes and endnotes in a poetry manuscript; use a layered text with explicit context, theory, and methodological notes surrounding your poems, prose, and visuals; sometimes, you may just use the writing and/​or visuals. A qualitative researcher may decide to use dates and epigraphs from historical and research texts in the titles of poem or prose, like Sandra does using headers in a creative nonfiction piece on cancer and social support (e.g., Faulkner, 2016a, “Panel I: Painting the Church-​House Doors Harlot Red on Easter Weekend, 2014”). They may include chronologies of facts and appendices with endnotes and source material, or prefaces, appendices, or footnotes with theoretical, methodological, and citational points and prose exposition about the creative writing. For example, Tony Adams (2011) includes an appendix in his autoethnography on coming out, the closet, and same-​sex attraction that includes notes on method, criticism, and representation. Sandra (Faulkner, 2016c) used footnotes of theoretical framings and research literature to critique staid understandings of marriage, interpersonal communication research, and the status quo in an editorial titled “The Promise of Arts-​Based, Ethnographic, and Narrative Research in Critical Family Communication Research and Praxis” for a special issue on Critical Family Communication Research; all of the academic work was contained in footnotes, so that the story of 10 years of marriage and 10 years of research was highlighted in the main text in 10 sections. In Sandra’s feminist ethnography “Postkarten aus Deutschland” (Faulkner, 2016b), she included dates in poem titles, details about cities in poetry lines, and images and places crafted into postcards beside the text (see Figure 6.1). Bernadette Calafell (2007) used a letter format to write about mentoring in “Mentoring and Love: An Open Letter” to show faculty of color mentoring students of color as a form of love; the letter form challenges “our understandings of power and hierarchies in these relationships and academia in general” (p. 425).

Creative Forms and Qualitative Writing We offer the following questions for you to consider if you decide that ABR presentation is the right format for your qualitative work: • What voice do you want to use in your project (researcher, academic, personal)? • What structure (braided or fragmented narrative, lyrical, poetic, collage, linear narrative) and form (literary arts such as fiction; visual arts such as video) will help you achieve your project purpose (evocation, usefulness, understanding, action, exploration, persuasion)? • How can you accomplish your research goals and maintain the aesthetic value of the work?

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F I GUR E 6.1   Example of Arts-​Based Research Presentation

Leben. Im Quadrant. Mannheim Brezelstände 27 November, 2014 I have been here long enough to know when the graffiti in the pissed in tunnels under the tracks by the Universität has been sprayed over with the sheen of new critique, when the pile of vomit after a Feiertag fest will be swept away with the green glitter of broken wine bottles, where the bend in the Rhein sideways cargo ships, but not long enough to know where to get the best Brezel, which stand on what corner shills the most lecker 25 Brezlen I need for my kid’s Goodbye German Kindergarten Party: ams, Golden Brezel, Grimminger Kurpfalz Brezel, Mannheim Brezel Haus? We all know that ALDI is the cheapest, so I pretend a walk in the Quadrant is like a game of Battleship as I move from L2 by the Schloss,

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past Rewe City to Paradeplatz und Stadthaus N1, where the benches are always full with early drinkers and exuberant teenagers, steer left by the Turkish bakeries and Döner, at Marktplatz H2, 1 to F2, 5-​10, to learn why every German test has a question about shopping at ALDIs: I fail my B1 German Zertifikat Prüfung hier as I belly up to the baked good machine and push the button for Brezel after Brezel. The alte Frau rudders up on my Starboard side, sails her walker into my thigh as she presses the button for her own Brezeln, my hand moored in the opening of the machine as the other alte Frau rams into my port side and beschweren Sie sich in my American ear-​ You are taking all of the baked goods Sie nehmen alle Backwaren! I pretend like I don’t understand German anchor my ugly American hook in the Brezeln because I need to eat my way durch Deutschland, take up space in this country where I catch only elbows and stares because I can’t say Entschuldigen Sie mich, ich war zuerst hier. (Excuse me, I was here first.) Once you have answered those questions, you will want to consider an ABR form. Box 6.4 summarizes some literary art forms you may use and why you may use them. You could use poetry in your work to compress your “data” and make it sing, to evoke empathic responses in an audience, to show multiple truths, to be evocative, to mirror the slippery process of identity negotiation, and to appeal to the universal through embodied emotional work (Faulkner, 2017b; Faulkner, 2020). For example, in Sandra’s collection of poetry, Knit Four, Frog One, she used different poetic forms (e.g., collage, free verse, dialogue poems, sonnets) to show stories of grandmother–​mother–​daughter relationships, women’s work, mothering, family secrets, and patterns of communication in close relationships (Faulkner, 2014a). The use of poetry enabled her to present different versions of family stories and reveal family patterns of interaction to tell better stories and offer more possibilities for family relationships. Sandra used poetry as ABR to articulate personal experiences and critique larger culture structures to explain and contest the meaning of mothering for a White, middle-​class, highly educated, feminist woman. Another example of using poetry as embodied work is Sandra’s chapbook, “Hello Kitty Goes to College,” which shows the emotional costs of sexual harassment in the academy (Faulkner et al., 2009; Faulkner 2012a).

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BOX 6.4  Creative Forms and Qualitative Writing Literary Art Forms Poetry: good for compression of “data,” display of multiple meanings, identity work, use of a lyrical voice, creating empathy, appealing to universal emotions; sound and alliteration amplify meaning Fiction: good for creating privacy and contending with relational ethics, creating empathy as audience relates to characters, accessible and engaging texts Narrative and Creative Nonfiction: focus on storytelling, use of fictional techniques (e.g., narrative arc, character development, dialogue), bringing the voice of participants forward, creating empathy, way to re-​story, co-​narrate, and reveal multiple meanings Memoir and Personal Essay: focus on life history, life stores, reflexivity, researcher’s embodiment

Hybrid and Experimental Forms Photo/​Video Essay, Lyric Essay, Collage/​Bricolage: marked by the use of multiple elements (sound, visuals, text, found objects), nonlinear narratives, cross-​ genre work, a form of queer methodology, good for demonstrating the nonlinear process of memory, embodied experiences, way to show the indeterminacy of knowledge claims

The poems use the fictional pop culture character, Hello Kitty, to explore the affective and cognitive feel of sexual harassment. You could use fiction or an amalgam/​composite of participants’ interviews and stories as a way to protect the privacy and confidentiality of co-​participants. Fiction is a good form for contending with relational ethics as you can alter details and focus on the “narrative truth” in your research. Fiction is a good form to create empathy in readers and make your work accessible, especially to those outside of the academy (Leavy, 2017a). The use of fictional devices such as dialogue can help you bring your audience into a setting as a participant and co-​discoverer in your research. Clair’s (2013) suspense novel, Zombie Seed and the Butterfly Blues, is a good example. Clair uses fictional ethnography about corporate greed, domestic violence, and environmental pollution to have readers consider their own complicity in corporate and domestic violence. The story, which is based on Clair’s ethnographic research with farmers, activists, investigative reporters, and documentaries, follows Professor Delta Quinn and reporter Caleb Barnes as they discover the political story behind the scientific and corporate use of zombie seed. You could use narrative and creative nonfiction to focus on storytelling and experience. These forms use fictional techniques (e.g., narrative arc, character development, dialogue)

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to bring the voice of participants forward and create empathy in readers through evocation. You can also use these forms to re-​story, co-​narrate, and show multiple meanings. Robin Boylorn (2013) does this in Sweetwater, where she uses ethnography and autoethnography as a form of narrative work. Boylorn wrote a story about family, friendship, redemption, and resilience among a group of Black women who lived and/​or grew up in a small rural community in North Carolina, including her narrative responses to their stories. Boylorn said this about the work: I believe telling multiple stories and truths about black women humanizes them and highlights the circumstances and challenges they sometimes negotiate in low-​income communities. The conundrum is that their stories of resilience are also stories of struggle, their stories of triumph are also stories of tragedies. It is important to hold the multiple realities of their lives in tension and use their experiences to direct us toward social justice. It forces us to consider what social justice looks like in their particular circumstances. (See Box 2.4 in Chapter 2.) You could write a memoir or a personal or lyrical essay to highlight your reflexivity in a project, to show your embodied research practices or elements of your life story, and to engage audiences in the aesthetics of storytelling. Sandra wrote a personal essay about being ambivalent about an intended pregnancy to highlight a different pregnancy story (Faulkner, 2012b). Sandra used a memoir format in one chapter of her feminist ethnography Real Women Run (Faulkner, 2018c); she wrote an autoethnographic memoir of running and her emerging feminist consciousness from grade school to her present. The material in the chapter included participant observation at the 2014 Gay Games, vignettes of runs with friends in the everyday, running in road races, and times when physical and psychic injuries prevented running. Interspersed between the vignettes are haiku as running logs that show her embodied experiences of running while female to make an aesthetic argument for running as feminist and relational practice. You could use hybrid forms and visual and textual collage to feature interesting and nuanced details about your research that are not easily displayed in purely text-​based forms. Hybrid forms use multiple features of artistic work—​sound, visuals, text, found objects—​to tell nonlinear narratives and present researchers’ and participants’ embodied experiences. This form of presentation is good for demonstrating the nonlinear process of memory and is a way to show the indeterminacy of knowledge claims. Hybrid work is also a form of queer methodology (see Faulkner, 2017a). For instance, Sandra (Faulkner, n.d.) created web-​based material for her feminist ethnography on women-​identified runners. She presents the embodied fieldwork through sound and image using a video essay, photography, haiku collage, and soundscapes of running to show the fieldwork and help the audience think differently about women and running. The sounds and sights of running and fieldwork jog the audience through training runs, races, and the in-​situ embodiment of running by displaying the sounds and sights, the grunts, the breathing, the work, the joy, and the disappointments. Sandra’s (Faulkner, 2016b) creation of virtual postcards that included sound, text, and images from fieldwork in Germany in the

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feminist ethnography “Postkarten aus Deutschland/​Postcards from Germany” is another example of embodied ethnography (see Figure 6.1). Her presentation of fieldwork as atypical postcards shows the false dichotomy between the domestic and public spheres and the interplay between power and difference. Another example of hybrid work is Sandra’s (Faulkner, 2018c) collage on queering sexuality education in family and school; she uses poetic collage as queer methodology by cutting and pasting headlines of current events about women’s reproductive health and justice and curriculum from liberal sexuality education into a document, and juxtaposing that material with conversations with her daughter about sex and sexuality. The goal was to critique sexuality education and policies about women’s health in the United States. Sandra used dialogue poems between mother and daughter as autoethnography to demonstrate reflexivity, social science “research questions” as a frame to push the poetic analysis and demonstrate critical engagement with sexuality literature, and the collaging of news headlines about sexuality to connect personal experience about sexuality education to a critique of larger cultural issues around sex and sexuality education.

Conclusion In summary, the writing process is a vital part of qualitative research methodology. As researchers, students, and practitioners, we should establish a writing practice, think about how writing form and function can help us accomplish our research goals, and be mindful of our citational practices. And don’t forget the importance of revision; that is part of your writing practice and process. We end the chapter with Box 6.5, in which Dr. Devika Chawla talks with us about qualitative research, ethics, and writing practice.

BOX 6.5  A Conversation About Qualitative Research, Ethics, and Writing with Dr. Devika Chawla Q: Many qualitative researchers talk about writing as part of the analysis and meaning-​making process, rather than a simple “write-​up” of research. What do you see as the relationship between writing and qualitative research? For me fieldwork, analysis, writing, and thinking are entwined processes. In my experience, analysis begins even when you are conceptualizing a project, it is embedded in the way that we begin and then navigate a project. I believe all the lines drawn between data collection, analysis, and writing are fictions. Our worlds are complicated and qualitative research, both the process and the product, is charged with exploring this human complexity. For this reason, I think of writing as research as analysis. It is only in retrospect and in pedagogical spaces that I find myself able

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to show where something went from being a moment in the raw data to becoming an analytical or conceptual idea. But then, this retrospection is also analysis. Q: Could you talk about your writing practice? Does the particulars of the project you are working on influence your process? If so, how? Writing practice can mean many things. It can include the routines, habits, and quirks we cultivate as writers—​when we write, where we write, what instruments we use to write. And I certainly have those habits and quirks. But writing practice can also mean “how do we write?” For me, the latter is the more interesting question. How I write is determined by what I am writing about. But there are some consistencies. No matter what artifact I am writing about and with—​recorded oral histories, field notes, memories—​for me, writing begins with scribbles in my notebook where I haphazardly note down ideas, reading notes, head notes, and other thoughts as they come to me. I write around these ideas until a manuscript begins emerging and cohering. This is a more complicated way of saying that I don’t know what will emerge until I start writing it. I’ve written short essays of 1,500 words in this manner and four books also in this manner. So, this must be my writing practice. Q: As an ethnographer, there are ethics around the representation and presentation of others. How do you consider the ethics of writing about others’ experiences? How does your positionality influence your writing? My primary fieldwork has taken place with urban Indian populations, specifically middle-​class families in north India. At 46, I’ve lived half my life in India and the other half in the U.S. I consider myself an insider and outsider to both countries. This liminal space that I inhabit is the primary lens via which I traverse the field and my participants and the lens I bring to bear in representing and presenting. This liminal space is an interpretive and incomplete space that amplifies the idea that we only know what we can see and experience, and as ethnographers, we are, at best, conduits. As a conduit, I consider myself an interlocutor whose task is to write what I see, hear, and feel, and to also write what seems confusing and unclear. Integrating reflexivity into interpretation rather than treating them as disparate processes is how I persevere to write about these close-​others, who I simply refer to “another/​s.” I follow the dictum, I cannot speak for or about my participants, but I can speak for and about them “nearby.” Q: Let’s talk about writing and pedagogy. You served as editor for Departures in Critical Qualitative Research. How do you see your role as editor in the pedagogy of qualitative research methods? The editorial vision of Departures in Critical Qualitative Research is to publish peer-​ reviewed, innovative, experimental, aesthetic, and provocative works on the theories, practices, and possibilities of critical qualitative research. My effort has been to

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stay as close to this vision because this is how we serve the various interdisciplinary scholars who submit their work to us. I think of myself as a friendly pedagogical guide rather than a disciplinarian editor. As a rule, we do not publish traditional qualitative research; our goal is to work with authors who are accessing experimental, decolonial, anti-​ racist, and aesthetic modalities to their engagement with social worlds, thereby changing the way/​decolonizing we think about research, fieldwork, and writing. My task is to enable the best reviews and editorial guidance to bring such work to fruition. I aspire for us to be a journal where innovative qualitative work is given its best possible chance to see print. I see us as a space of resistance to traditional and conservative methodologies even within qualitative research. Q: How do your commitments to feminist writing practices, postcolonial theory, and ethical scholarship influence your writing and presentation of your work? I was educated in qualitative research and interpretive methods in the late ’90s and early 2000s when the canon, grand narratives, and other forms of colonial knowledge were being rigorously contested. I was lucky to come of age as an academic when we did not have to apologize or argue for experimental, feminist, aesthetic forms of representation. Even though the social-​scientific lobby was and is strong, we knew there were spaces for other ways of knowing, being, and writing. My commitment continues to be to ensure that my representations of persons from the Global South are not violent and violating to their/​our realities. I begin from the firm belief that my subjectivity is imbricated in theirs. For me, the subject and persons with whom I work and study must be able to recognize themselves in the stories that I tell about them. And that I too must be an active voice in that storytelling, and I too must be recognizable. My goal is to tell the story as I see it, and not reduce the persons to a category or to sediment them in a space or time. I always work with the assumption that my writing is one story and therefore one interpretation, and the reader brings their own worlds to the stories, thereby making a text persistently mutable.

Biography Devika Chawla is professor in the school of communication studies at Ohio University. Her research focuses on communicative, performative, and narrative approaches to studying family, home, and its relationship to social identity. Her work explores how human beings transform themselves in the relationships that surround them, and the resources—​social, political, economic, material—​that are available to them. Most of Chawla’s research has taken place in the context of contemporary urban India. Her recent book, Home, Uprooted: Oral History of India’s Partition, attended to cross-​generational refugee identity in the iterations of home among families displaced by India’s Partition of 1947. Chawla is working on an experimental memoir on material objects, memory, migration, affect, and social identity.

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Discussion Questions 1. To become a better writer, you should become a better reader (Klinkenborg, 2013). Choose three texts to analyze and answer the following questions: What texts do you admire and wish you had written? What is it about the texts that draws you in? The voice? The structure and form? What authors are you drawn to and why? 2. We argue in this chapter that citational practices are important. Select three texts you intend to use in a research project and study who the authors are citing. Who do the authors cite? What does this tell you about the body of literature you want to use in your work? Do you need to seek out additional sources? What does this tell you about citational practices? 3. We discuss the use of ABR as research writing practice. Go to the Dance Your Dissertation online site (https://​en.wikipe​dia.org/​wiki/​Dance_​Your​_​Ph.D.) and find the social science category. Examine the year’s winners and answer the following questions: What did you understand about the dissertation based on the dance presentation? What does this tell you about ABR? Is there a way to use ABR presentation to achieve the goals you have for your work? How does ABR accomplish goals of public scholarship and accessibility?

Research and Writing Practice 1. Develop a Writing Plan. This exercise is intended to have you think consciously about your writing, develop a writing plan to suit your strengths, and use that plan to schedule writing into your workweek, creating a writing habit and an identity as a writer. (Remember that writers write.) A. Answer the following questions: • When do you feel most alert when writing? • What time of day is best for you to write? • What obstacles prevent you from writing? • How can you manage writing obstacles? • How will you make time to write? • What things and conditions do you need to write? B. Post your answers in a prominent place in your writing area. (You do have a writing area, don’t you? If not, create one.) C. Find an accountability team. You could do this via a Facebook group, for instance. You will use this team for support and encouragement to show up and write. D. Create a writing schedule for a project you want to complete. Consider the following: • What deadlines will you create? So many words a day? X amount of time X times a week for a writing session? • Where will you write? • Who is on your accountability team/​writing group? • What is your reward for writing? E. Use a permanent marker to write in your plan on your calendar. Honor your commitment.

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F. Reward yourself for engaging in your writing habit. 2. Select a research project you are working on, and ask yourself the following questions: • What is the goal of your work? • Who is the audience for your work? How can you engage them? What is it that you want the audience to do, feel, or believe after reading your work? • What are the ethical considerations of your work? How will you handle them? • What structure and form will enable you to accomplish your goal(s) for your work? • How will you evaluate your work? How will you know if you have achieved your goal(s)? Once you have answered the questions, consider at least two different forms for your work (e.g., ABR, traditional format). What are the forms and what do you need to use them? For example, if you select “poetic inquiry,” what do you need to accomplish the project? To read more work on poetic inquiry methods? To take a workshop on poetry forms? Remember, this is all part of the writing process! 3. Read the article by Badley (2020), “Why and How Academics Write.” Write a reflection paper on why and how you write. Include in your reflection aspirations you have for your writing.

Suggested Resources For two excellent guides on writing, see Zinsser (2006) and Klinkenborg (2013). For more detailed practice and discussion on writing autoethnography and personal essays, see Faulkner and Squillante (2021). For more ways to think of writing qualitative research as creative practice, see Faulkner and Squillante (2020). For inspiration and motivation to develop a writing habit, see Sher (1999). “The Qualitative Report Guide to Qualitative Research Journals,” curated by Ronald J. Chenail, is a great resource (https://​tqr.nova.edu/​ journ​als/​).

7

Evaluating Qualitative Research But is it useful?

Key Terms audit trail, axiology, credibility, crystallization, data saturation, ethical frameworks, ethics of care, reflexivity, research ethics, rigor, transferability, triangulation, theoretical saturation, usefulness, virtue ethics

Learning Outcomes After reading and engaging with the material in this chapter, you should be able to: • Describe ways to evaluate qualitative research. • Explain what makes a qualitative research project of high quality. • Illustrate methods of evaluating qualitative arts-​based research. • Compare and contrast the use of qualitative criteria. • Evaluate your preference for the term “rigor” or “vigor” as they apply to qualitative research. • Identify four frameworks that can be utilized as criteria for assessing moral decisions in research. • Demonstrate how you can reach saturation in a research project.

Evaluating Qualitative Research Table 7.1: Qualitative Criteria and Evaluation Criteria, Rigor, and Vigor Validity and Reliability Rigor Versus Vigor Ethics

Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media. Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.003.0007

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Credibility Box 7.1: Example of Data Analysis Trustworthiness Saturation Reaching Saturation Demonstrating Saturation Transferability Arts-​Based Research Criteria Reflexive Practice Poetic Inquiry and ABR Criteria Figure 7.1: Criteria for Evaluating Poetic Inquiry Triangulation and Crystallization Conclusion Discussion Questions Research and Writing Practice Suggested Resources

Evaluating Qualitative Research But is it useful?

There is no singular way to assess the quality of qualitative research given its diversity, as you have seen in our discussion of qualitative methods and approaches to communication and media research in this book (cf. Guba & Lincoln, 2005). Some say the quality of the research depends on the quality of the researcher (Morse et al., 2002), and others argue that quality depends on the research design and whether one can show theoretical saturation. Still other researchers would tell you that the usefulness, ethical, heuristic, and social justice components of research should influence our assessments of qualitative work (e.g., Faulkner, 2018a). Morse et al. (2002) urge qualitative researchers to focus more on the process of ensuring rigor than the outcome as “there has been a tendency for qualitative researchers to focus on the tangible outcomes of the research (which can be cited at the end of a study) rather than demonstrating how verification strategies were used to shape and direct the research during its development” (p. 17). To us, a focus on the outcome of research suggests the criteria of usefulness and heurism. A useful study is one that can be translated into other contexts with similar contextual features, what some would call translational research (Petronio, 2007) or transferability (see section below). A study can be considered to demonstrate usefulness when it has practical implications and applications and “naturalistic generalizations” (Tracy, 2010). If your research is evocative and moves others to act, we can consider it useful. A heuristic study is one that generates useful questions for further study and aids in discovery, problem-​solving, and self-​learning. To give you an example: Tye-​Williams and Krone (2017) interviewed 48 individuals from various occupations about advice they received related to

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bullying in the workplace and found that a paradox existed between the advice employees received and what actually worked to address workplace bullying. Employees urged one another to confront workplace bullies, although this strategy often did not work, because it was decontextualized from the workplace environment. The researchers offered practical advice for employees to try sense-​making with their co-​workers to validate strong emotions of being bullied and overcome the trauma and stigma of being bullied: “Sense-​making with co-​workers can help stabilize targets’ emotions, restore a sense of comfort, and help repair a damaged identity” (p. 229). The idea is that if co-​workers attend to one another’s emotions, they can work to form a collective sense of identity and a collective, rather than an individual, response to workplace bullying. Sharing stories can allow co-​workers to “imagine other ways to communicate about and address their mistreatment” (p. 232). This research on how to build work allies is useful research-​informed or heuristic advice that can be applied in a wide range of workplaces. We wonder what kinds of creative stories about dealing with workplace bullying you can generate in future work. It is with this advice to consider what you wish the outcome of your qualitative work to be that we continue this chapter on evaluating qualitative communication and media research through a discussion of the use of criteria and notions of rigor and vigor for assessing our qualitative research. In Table 7.1, we synthesize the major concepts related to qualitative criteria and evaluation that we discuss in this chapter. TABLE 7.1   Qualitative Criteria and Evaluation Criteria

Definition/​Demonstration

Arts-​based research

Question/​method fit, aesthetic power, usefulness, participatory and transformative, artful authenticity, canonical generalization

Confirmability/​dependability

Evaluation of researchers’ conclusions to see if they are warranted

Credibility/​trustworthiness

Documentation of research decisions and procedures

Crystallization

A pluralistic, constitutive approach that combines multiple forms of analysis and representation, demonstrates reflexivity and vulnerability, and acknowledges the indeterminacy and partiality of knowledge claims

Heurism

Research that generates useful questions for further study and aids in discovery, problem-​solving, and self-​learning

Poetic inquiry

Artistic concentration, embodied experience, discovery/​surprise, conditionality, narrative truth, transformation

Rigor

Consideration of theory, demonstration of time spent in the field, attention and care with sample, data collection and analysis procedures, and rich writing

Saturation

When no new information or themes are observed in the data; thorough descriptions, explanations, and interpretations of research

Triangulation

The use of multiple researchers, data sources, methods, and theoretical frameworks

Transferability

Theory and research can be used and applied in other settings with similar contextual features

Useful

Research and theory has practical implications and applications

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Criteria, Rigor, and Vigor The use of criteria to assess our qualitative work is not without controversy. Criteria by their very nature limit and constrict, which can leave out innovative and marginalized qualitative work. Seale (1999) urged qualitative researchers to view methods as a craft skill and not force a fit between our methods and underlying philosophies or epistemologies. “In qualitative research, the project of criteriology experiences particular contradictions because of the difficulty in regulating and constraining an endeavor whose guiding philosophy often stresses creativity, exploration, conceptual flexibility, and a freedom of spirit” (p. 467). This seems to us another argument for the idea of usefulness, breaking free of fulfilling philosophical obligations while concomitantly affirming the value of philosophical and political reflexivity for our craft. Questions about who decides on criteria and what criteria are applied are part of the debate (Seale, 1999). We don’t consider not using criteria as the answer; rather, we argue that discussions about the quality of our work and what types of criteria to use and ways of assessing quality are worth having (see Bochner, 2000; Faulkner, 2016d, 2020). We urge you to learn by reading widely and paying attention to writing about methodology and the strengths and weaknesses you see in others’ work. The idea of using and creating flexible and capacious criteria is appealing. Some researchers believe that we can apply universal criteria with enough flexibility to ensure quality and rigor in our work. Tracy (2010) talks about the importance of “distinguishing universal end goals from a complex mix of mean practices” so that “qualitative researchers can speak, if desired, with a unified voice while simultaneously celebrating the complex differences within our community” (p. 838). So, yes, criteria are political, and we feel being strategic about their use can help researchers, students, and practitioners achieve their goals—​good, effective, useful, quality research. In this spirit, Tracy (2010) emphasizes the end product of research by offering eight “big tent criteria” that are meant to be markers of excellence across research methods and paradigms: 1. A worthy topic 2. Rich rigor 3. Researcher sincerity 4. Credibility 5. Resonance 6. A significant contribution 7. Ethical research 8. Meaningful coherence We consider the idea of a worthy topic and resonance to be akin to usefulness. We continue this chapter with a discussion of the remaining criteria, keeping in mind that “the more complex and varied qualitative methodologies become, the more discussions there are about qualitative goodness and the more elusive a set of universal criteria seems to be” (Gordon & Patterson, 2013, p. 690).

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Validity and Reliability Few researchers still use the terms “validity” and “reliability” to assess qualitative work, because these terms are associated with quantitative research and scientism. Yet, you will see the terms in some literature, so we will discuss how they are used when referring to qualitative work. One view is to see reliability and validity as tools rather than some reflection of truth (Koro-​Ljungberg, 2008). Koro-​Ljungberg (2008) considers the term “validation” best to emphasize the social construction of knowledge, the fallibility of validity, and the active role of the researcher during the evaluation process. “Validation highlights the diverse ways of making, conducting, and even legitimizing research” (p. 983). Guba and Lincoln (2005) note that validity is a question as to whether our conclusions are well founded: Are we observing what we really think that we are observing? In the social sciences, this form of validity raises questions about measurement. In interpretivist and humanistic methodologies, they say that it raises questions about authenticity of the data. Guba and Lincoln claim that questions about validity can be addressed by examining whether the data can raise awareness about social conditions, spur action, or illustrate transgressive lived experiences. Qualitative validity concerns how confident we can be that we have interpreted our findings in the “right way”—​that is we are showing the credibility of our work (Agar, 1986). If the findings are not valid, we can assume that asking the wrong questions is part of the problem. Thus, qualitative validity is handled through careful use of methods. The use of researcher or method triangulation is one way to help validity (see section below). Qualitative reliability is related to the documentation of our research findings, the degree to which our findings are independent of accidental circumstances. Researchers demonstrate this by documenting their internal research decisions, what we may call dependability or trustworthiness. This documentation can be considered an audit trail and includes reflexive practices like memoing, member checking, and being transparent about the research process. The use of reliability and validity as qualitative criteria often occurs within the context of verification strategies that demonstrate the rigor of one’s research process. Morse et al. (2002) discuss verification strategies as indices of rigor that help establish reliability and validity in qualitative research through the use of methodological coherence; sufficient sampling; keeping an iterative relationship between sampling, data collection, and analysis; as well as thinking theoretically. This means researchers should consider the relationship between their research questions and the methods used and ensure that the method is appropriate for the research questions, what Tracy (2010) calls meaningful coherence. As with all qualitative work, this is an iterative process in which the researcher considers theoretical and data saturation and adjusts method, data collection, sampling, and analytical techniques as needed during the research process—​all while keeping ethical considerations prominent. And as you may have surmised by this point, the process is not necessarily linear. As we emphasize to our students, just tell us what you did in the writing and presentation of your work. Remember that “the process of searching for similarities, recognizing privilege, and the constant making of validity keeps the concept itself always unthinkable, on the move, in flux, and open to the Other—​ways of knowing, living, experiencing, and researching” (Koro-​Ljungberg, 2008, p. 988).

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Rigor Versus Vigor Many qualitative researchers eschew the terms “reliability” and “validity” because of the association with quantitative work and epistemologies. Instead, you may hear researchers talk about the importance of being “rigorous” in their work. Tracy (2010) considers “rich rigor” to be one of the important criteria for qualitative work. Researchers can be rigorous by considering theory; demonstrating time spent in the field; taking attention and care with sample, data collection, and analysis procedures; and doing rich writing. “The most important issue to consider is whether the data will provide for and substantiate meaningful and significant claims” (p. 841). Thus, rigor references the use of reflexive research practices and systematic procedures in the research process itself. Davies and Dodd (2002) talk about rigor as a “systemized, ordered, and visible approach to research methods” (p. 280). However, like many of the criteria we discuss in this chapter, there are caveats. Some consider the adoption of rigor as a criterion to evaluate qualitative research as inadequate and inappropriate because of the term’s association with science and quantitative methods (Bochner, 2018; Davies & Dodd, 2002). Arthur Bochner (2018) argues that using rigor as a criterion ignores some types of qualitative work like autoethnography and performance and likens qualitative work to science. Using “rigor” may preclude the use of other criteria. We should not think of truth in our work in the capital-​T sense that what we are producing knowledge that represents “reality” because our qualitative work focuses on describing and explaining human behavior: “When we make these kinds of knowledge claims, we have to worry about the extent to which our descriptions and explanations are accurate and thus ‘true’ ” (p. 360). He urges us as qualitative researchers to focus on the practical elements of our work and engage with the aesthetic artistic side, and prefers the term “vigor” as an antidote to “rigor”; too much focus on scientific rigor, he argues, threatens the artful, moral, and ethical commitments that characterize so much of qualitative research. Vigor refers to how you approach your work; it means that you care about quality work but choose to focus on the aesthetic, political, and ethical features as a mark of quality. Consider what could happen if we adopt the use of vigor as a metaphor instead of rigor to focus on the aesthetic, political, and ethical nature of qualitative work. We may gain a wider readership and fulfill the criterion of useful scholarship. Sandra has written about the use of vigorous criteria in poetic inquiry work as a way to engage in the debate over rigor (Faulkner, 2016d). We share the first few stanzas from a poem she wrote in response to the rigor/​vigor debate to show the kinds of questions and considerations researchers face when considering these issues (p. 662): Rigor Du Jour/​De Rigueur What is critical rigor? Critical rigor? Rigor? How do we ensure it? Is it even possible? What are the politics of rigor? Why rigor? Why

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rigor? Is there space for non-​rigor? What does critical rig-​ or look like? Is there a politics of rigor? How do you embody r i g o in your own work? Who is responsible for enforcing rigor?

r

Sandra took the questions used in the poem directly from a conference panel on “critical rigor in qualitative methods” at the 2015 International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry. These questions may be worth asking yourself: How does applying rigor to your work enhance or diminish it? Is it possible to use rigor in a critical manner? If so, how would you do this? Is it possible to redefine the term and the limiting way it has been applied, like Davies and Dodd (2002) argue? “To apply quantitative notions of rigor to qualitative research provides a poor verstehen [intuitive understanding] for evaluating qualitative research . . . if we reconceptualize what we often understand as weaknesses within qualitative research, we can begin to see them as the real strengths and rigor” (p. 281). Whether we decide to use and redefine the concept of rigor to indicate our concern with good qualitative research that acknowledges subjectivity as a strength and the importance of reflexive and ethical practices, or whether we eschew the term because of its association with science, we are certain that all of us can agree that our research practices must be ethical.

Ethics In Chapter 1, we described the integral relationship between epistemology, methodology, and method. In that discussion, we illustrated the ways in which views about reality associated with particular epistemologies shaped the use of research methods; this convergence constituted methodology. The concept of methodology also proves to be integral to axiology, or the role of values in research (Anderson, 1996). Values often stand as particular criteria, or guidelines necessary for completing successful qualitative research. Ethical parameters can serve as a measure for whether research is useful or not—​ conducted rightly or wrongly. Essentially, research—​qualitative or quantitative—​can be assessed in terms of whether it has adhered to particular ethical guidelines or standards (e.g., Wiles, 2013). Take for instance the case of social science methodologies, like positivism and post-​ positivism. Researchers who fall within those methodological positions typically assume that values are supposed to be excluded. It is often the case that such research requires objectivity to ensure that values have not skewed observations in any way. One criterion for positivist experiments, then, is whether actions or steps were taken to exclude the researchers’ opinions or beliefs concerning the topic. Methodological views concerning the role of values in research constitute the foundation for ethical frameworks and ethical

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communities, the conceptualization of moral behavior (e.g., Pojman, 2005) and professional rules or guidelines (e.g., Wiles, 2013). Ethical frameworks are general means by which researchers may approach research projects and solve moral problems that may arise. These frameworks help to guide people to an understanding about what is right and wrong. How researchers address emergent ethical dilemmas and come to conclusions about right and wrong is one important way in which research may be assessed. Davies and Dodd (2002) argue that paying attention to ethical concerns in our research practices leads to rigorous research. Consider terms such as “attentiveness, empathy, carefulness, sensitivity, respect, honesty, reflection, conscientiousness, engagement, awareness, openness, context, and so on” (p. 288). There are four general frameworks that can be utilized as criteria for the assessment of moral decisions in research: consequentialist or utilitarian ethics, principlist or deontological ethics (e.g., Johannesen, 2007; Pojman, 2005), virtue ethics (e.g., Neher & Sandin, 2017), and ethics of care (e.g., Denzin, 1997; Edwards & Mauthner, 2002; Hewitt, 2007). Each of these different frameworks focuses on some aspect of research. The first, consequentialist ethics, examines the consequences of the researcher’s work; the result of a research project is important. Under this framework, actions are right if they generate “social good” or avoid “harm.” Conversely, under the principlist or deontological ethics, it is important that actions or behaviors adhere to important principles, or rules, that are deemed to be absolute. These principles are so important that they must never be violated or ignored, as they are the foundations for civil society. Certain principles, like honesty and autonomy, are so important that their violation undermines the social order. These principles serve as integral rules for decision-​making as one conducts interviews or ethnography. Under this framework, then, research that adheres to these important rules is good or well done; the ends of the research are less important. Virtue ethics emerges from the writings of Aristotle concerning “good character.” The focus of this framework, then, is the character of the researcher. Does the researcher embody features that are typically associated with models of good research and scholarship? Are they respectful and sincere? Are they reflexive in their interactions with participants? Finally, ethics of care is derived from the work of feminist scholars and writers. Under this framework, the focus shifts to the relationships fostered and enacted between the researcher and participants. In their work, researchers should strive to build strong, interpersonal connections with those who have given their time—​or risked confidentiality—​in the course of interviews or ethnography. Such connections are important, as the researcher is obligated to ensure that those participants also glean something from the research. They should learn something about themselves or their community or become empowered in some way. These four ethical frameworks serve as general approaches to making decisions about “right and wrong.” Each of these can be used as a basis for evaluating particular research projects. They are more important, however, as the basis for different ethical communities, which serve as obligations associated with professions or disciplines (Wiles, 2013; Winfield,

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2017). Essentially, an ethical community emerges from a shared understanding among scholars or professionals about the nature of reality and ethical frameworks; this shared understanding aids in reflexivity about research or work being conducted (Arnett, 1986). Past communication scholars have noted a variety of ethical communities that have been established in the field: social science, qualitative research, organizational communication, and feminist, to name a few (Dougherty & Atkinson, 2006). The social science ethical community, alluded to above, draws heavily from utilitarianism and entails three primary obligations: protecting participants’ rights, weighing benefits of the research against potential risks to participants, and maintaining personal distance from the participants (e.g., Babbie, 2012; Bloche, 1998; Reynolds, 1982). Essentially, the central moral obligation for researchers operating within this professional, academic ethical community is to do no harm (or as little as possible). Researchers are required to provide information about the research project to prospective participants, ask them to provide their consent, and keep a professional distance from them over the course of the project. The qualitative research ethical community draws from utilitarianism as well but also utilizes the framework of deontological ethics. This community similarly emphasizes the first two obligations to protect participants’ rights and keep them from harm. However, it differs from the broader social science community in that strong interpersonal connections with participants are allowed—​even encouraged (e.g., Brinkmann & Kvale, 2009; Patton, 2002). This need for connection stems from the frequent emphasis in humanistic qualitative research on lived experiences, perception, and identity. It is often the case that insight concerning these requires the researcher to build trust and rapport with participants. Instead of maintaining distance, then, researchers who operate from this ethical community must respect their participants’ autonomy and point of view. Informed consent is important here, as in the case of the social science community. However, it is vitally important that they follow one important key rule: respect their participants’ experiences, perceptions, and positions on issues. Researchers should never attempt to alter the participants in any way or change their view of the world. To do so would violate this important obligation for respect. The organizational communication ethical community mirrors in many ways the qualitative community. Informed consent and respect are important, as is the concept of do no harm associated with the social scientific community. However, confidentiality and the maintenance of anonymity for the participants are just as important—​if not more so (e.g., Muto, 1993). Because researchers operating within this ethical community often work to uncover meaning making and processes of communication within organizations, groups, or physical communities, it is vital that information disclosed to them cannot be traced back to any one individual. This protects participants from any reprisal that they may face from taking part in the research, as well as providing valuable—​often sensitive—​ information to the researcher. In this way, then, the organizational communication ethical community draws heavily from principlist or deontological ethics. The most important rule for this community is that researchers should never disclose the names or sources of their information.

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Finally, the feminist ethical community draws heavily from the ethics of care and virtue ethics and deviates significantly from the other communities described above. In many ways, the previous three all build outward from the original social science community. Whereas the previous three essentially demand that researchers leave as few “footprints” in the field as possible, the feminist community emphasizes identification and limitation of oppressive practices (e.g., Buzzanell, 2004; Denzin, 1997; Dougherty & Krone, 2000); scholars should work toward—​and embody—​the ideal of liberation. Rather than avoiding harm or changes to participants’ views, scholars who work within this ethical community are obligated to challenge oppressive practices or problematic ideologies wherever they find them. This is referred to by Denzin and Lincoln as the “seventh moment” of qualitative research, in which researchers should not merely study the world but work to enhance it through their work (Denzin, 2002, 2005b; Lincoln, 2003). The list of ethical frameworks and communities included here is not exhaustive, but those we have described here illustrate the case of ethics as criteria. Each of the frameworks and communities provides guidelines or obligations that can serve as criteria for assessing qualitative research. The key to such assessment, however, is not whether a project adhered to one framework or another. Instead, research projects can be assessed by how researchers deal with the dilemmas that will almost certainly arise within the projects they conduct. It is important to understand that there is no one ethical framework that is right or wrong, and often scholars find that they are members of multiple ethical communities. Researchers typically find themselves in situations with no right answer (Arnett, 1986). Assessment, then, lies in how they handle those key moments in the research process. Take for instance research conducted by Dougherty concerning sexual harassment in a corporation. In that study, she engaged in semi-​structured interviews with men who had been accused of sexual harassment and disciplined by management (Dougherty & Atkinson, 2006). In one instance in the research project, one of those men actually harassed her during the interview. She reflected back on the problem that this situation posed: How was she supposed to respond? As a member of the qualitative research ethics community, she had an obligation to respect her harasser’s experiences and identity. As a member of the organizational communication ethical community, she had a similar obligation to protect his confidentiality and anonymity. Yet, the feminist ethical community, of which she was a part, demanded action; she should confront the man. Indeed, this last community would require that she report the man’s actions to management so that his sexual harassment would not continue within the organization. Of course, the obligations of the latter would clearly violate the other two. To address this situation, Dougherty decided to educate the man rather than reporting him to management. She explained to him that his comments during the interview had been harassing, and they made her uncomfortable. In response, he demonstrated regret for his actions. Such an action violated one ethical community but adhered to the other two. In this way, then, she found an imperfect solution to a dilemma with no obvious or correct answer. This kind of reflection demonstrated by Dougherty, and the search for solutions to ethical dilemmas, serves as an example of ethics as criteria.

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Credibility The credibility of one’s work is the evaluation of researchers’ conclusions to see if they are warranted. This is when readers ask themselves whether the presentation of the researchers’ work makes sense, represents a range of realities, helps others, and is a sophisticated understanding of phenomena. How you show an audience your research process and the subsequent interpretations they make adds to your credibility. That is, the documented evidence you provide is an important part of what others use to confirm the credibility of your research. For example, the analysis section from Stafford et al.’s article, “It’s the Best Day of Your Life: Dominant Discourses in Brides’ Wedding Planning” (2020), demonstrates their documentation (Box 7.1). You may have more than one researcher analyze data, which is a form of triangulation that can add to others’ assessment of saturation and the credibility of your research (see section on saturation below). The use of member checking is another way of achieving credibility. Member checking can take several forms: A researcher may provide interview transcripts to participants to make sure the participants’ words are what they want. Researchers can bring their analyses to participants for feedback. This can take the form of synthesized member checking (SMC), in which the researcher summarizes emerging themes from their work, being sure to use non-​research language and including quotes that exemplify themes (Birt et al., 2016). Birt et al. (2016) suggest including a cover letter with the SMC asking for participants’ feedback about the findings and whether they wish to make alterations, validate the findings, and/​or add new information. Researchers may also conduct further interviews or focus groups to “test” their analyses and conclusions. The use of member checking demonstrates the co-​constructed nature of qualitative research and a researcher’s trustworthiness.

Trustworthiness Our assessment of the dependability or trustworthiness of research is formed when we assess the value of the work. In other words, do you “buy” the researchers’ interpretations? Answering this question may mean evaluating the authenticity of the researchers. In Writing the New Ethnography, Goodall (2000) argues that how a qualitative researcher writes tells us about their trustworthiness or dependability and suggests all qualitative researchers should ask questions about their writing and work: • Am I posing interesting research questions? • Are my questions and concerns important? • Is my work informed by the current literature? • Can my work help readers learn? • Does the narrative style help fulfill my purpose? (p. 194) A researcher’s self-​disclosure demonstrates their dependability by telling the reader about authorial character or rhetorical ethos; the reader’s perceptions of who you are as a person and a sense of your vulnerability can add to your credibility and

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BOX 7.1  Example of Data Analysis Following Baxter (2011), we conducted contrapuntal analysis of the interview transcripts. Contrapuntal analysis uses the same interpretive methods commonly used in qualitative analysis of texts. A thematic analysis is conducted wherein the unit of analysis is the discourse, and discourses are systems of meaning. We paid attention to manifest and latent discourses as well as contrasting and conflicting discourses (Baxter, 2011). We approached the text with our guiding question: what is being said or implied about the bride’s role in wedding planning? Specifically, we asked: what discourses are present and are they competing? How are the discourses interanimated? That is, what discourses have the most power and are dominant? What discourses are marginalized? Are those dominant discourses critiqued, resisted, or transformed? Contrapuntal analysis involves identifying discourses, identifying contrasting discourses, and identifying the interplay of contrasting discourses (Baxter, 2011). In identifying the discourses, we conducted a six-​step thematic analysis as outlined by Baxter (2011), who followed the work of Braun and Clarke (2006). In accordance with step one, all of the data was transcribed verbatim, and all authors read all transcripts to become familiar with the data holistically. In step two, two authors engaged in an iterative process to develop initial coding categories to answer the question about the brides’ role in wedding planning. We developed initial categories, noting themes and highlighting and segmenting text into categories until saturation was reached (Strauss & Corbin, 1998). Examples of codes included “bride-​centric” (e.g., my day, want what I want), “perfectionism,” “focus on the marital relationship,” “focus on others,” and “money” or “cost.” In the third step, we generated themes by highlighting relevant texts and noting manifest themes. We found manifest themes of self-​focus and other focus. We found latent themes concerning perfectionism and the role of money as power. This continued until saturation was reached and first-​ order codes were organized into discourses. We reviewed (step four), named themes (step five), and delineated examples of what constituted dominant discourse (e.g., bride’s day, person who pays makes decisions) and marginalized discourse (e.g., focus on the marital relationship rather than the wedding day) in wedding planning (step six). Finally, we considered the interplay of the competing discourses; how these discourses “play off with and against one another” (p. 169). We considered discourses in a counterpoint relationship. Baxter (2011) notes that native speakers often “mark” discourses as competing. Discourses are marked as competing through negation, countering, and entertaining. Negating occurs when parties align with different discourses; they recognize a competing discourse only to discard it. Negating also occurs when one party introduces a discourse only to negate that same discourse. Countering occurs when a discursive position replaces what is expected. Countering is often indicated by markers such as “yet,” “although,” “but,” and “nonetheless.”

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Entertaining occurs when discourse indicates that a particular stance is one of many that might be considered. Such discourses are, sometimes, marked by phrases such as “it is possible that” or “it seems.” Such negating, countering, and entertaining are means through which discourses are reinforced as the status quo, resisted, or transformed (Suter, 2018). From Stafford et al. (2020, pp. 4–​5).

may help level the power differences of representation. This is what Tracy (2010) refers to as sincerity, which is achieved through self-​reflexivity, vulnerability, honesty, transparency, and data auditing. “Sincerity means that the research is marked by honesty and transparency about the researcher’s biases, goals, and foibles as well as about how these played a role in the methods, joys, and mistakes of the research” (p. 841). Sandra’s autoethnography on using poetic inquiry as feminist methodology in her work on motherhood, running, and identity negotiation is an example of this self-​reflexivity and sincerity in that she actively reflects on why she moved to using poetry in her research (Faulkner, 2018a): “Real Women Run” is a feminist embodied ethnography that defies the mind–​body split because of the attention paid to the material and the discursive; this work takes up emotional, physical, and ideological space. My running helped my writing, and my writing helped my running. I used poetic inquiry as a feminist ethnographer to contend with dominant discourses about women’s running bodies, identities, and gendered/​sexualized roles and the concomitant evaluations by acknowledging, examining, and altering the complex reality that not all women who run are young, long, and lean. (p. 6) Engaging in reflexive research practice is a major way of demonstrating your trustworthiness as a qualitative researcher (see Chapter 1). Being self-​reflexive means being aware of and acknowledging your contribution to the construction of meanings throughout the research process. Thus, researchers need to acknowledge how their preconceived behaviors, attitudes, and beliefs may influence their research (Cutcliffe, 2003). Showing reflexivity helps establish trustworthiness in qualitative research, because “[i]‌f we do not consider the ways in which who we are may get in the way of portraying the voice of the participant, we may miss important meanings that are being presented by our participants” (Lietz et al., 2006, p. x). Guillemin and Gillam (2004) argue that active engagement with reflexivity not only demonstrates rigor but also helps ensure that our research practices are ethical: “Being reflexive in an ethical sense means acknowledging and being sensitized to the microethical dimensions of research practice and in doing so, being alert to and prepared for ways of dealing with the ethical tensions that arise” (p. 278).

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Saturation How do you know when you have interviewed enough people? How do you know when you have coded enough texts? Have you observed enough interactions in your scene? Spent enough time in the field? Is your concept adequately defined? Have you provided a thorough explanation of your phenomenon of interest? One way to answer these questions is to say that you stopped interviewing, coding texts, and observing “when I reached saturation.” Saturation is a commonly used but poorly defined concept in qualitative research. It has become a marker of sampling adequacy for qualitative researchers, although it is not without its problems, given it has different meanings depending on one’s methodological concerns. Researchers typically define data saturation as the point when “no new information or themes are observed in the data” (Guest et al., 2006, p. 59). The concept was developed from grounded theory methodology and has become a concept used in other qualitative methods to refer to general saturation, data saturation, or thematic saturation (O’Reilly & Parker, 2012). However, O’Reilly and Parker (2012) argue that “different qualitative perspectives have different indices for quality assurance and in this respect some qualitative approaches do not rely on saturation as a marker for sample size adequacy” (p. 191). So then the question becomes: When should qualitative researchers use saturation to talk about the quality of their work? Rather than use saturation as a generic marker of quality, we consider saturation as a criterion researchers may use when their method or analysis dictates the use. Because the concept arose from grounded theory methodology, saturation as a criterion when doing grounded theory is an obvious choice. We also consider saturation a useful criterion when doing content analyses of media, thematic analyses of interviews and naturally occurring discourse, and concept development. As we discussed above, meaning in context, credibility, and usefulness may be better for determining sample size using critical methods, and when using arts-​based research (ABR) approaches, researchers will use different assessments of quality. Further, saturation may best be thought of as a matter of degree and not a fixed determination, because we can argue that “no data are ever truly saturated: There are always new things to explore” (Wray et al., 2007, p. 1400).

Reaching Saturation We have discussed interviews, observations, textual, document, and/​or visual elements as forms of data that qualitative researchers collect to discover, understand, and explain phenomena of interest. We can say that saturation occurs when redundancy is reached in data analysis; this signals to researchers that they may cease data collection. In her study on how legalized same-​sex marriage impacted the lives of bisexual-​lesbian couples, Pamela Lannutti (2007) used grounded theory and “semistandardized interviews were conducted with couples using the three-​way chat function of a popular instant messaging (IM) program. Participant recruitment, theoretical sampling, and data analysis occurred simultaneously until saturation was reached” (p. 243). Data saturation refers to the quality and quantity of information in a qualitative research study and requires a thorough investigation of our data to fully comprehend and

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explain its implications. This is why we often say saturation has been reached when the researcher has done an exhaustive exploration of whatever phenomena are being studied. Guest et al. (2006) describe data saturation as “the point in data collection and analysis when new information produces little or no change to the codebook” (p. 65). Researchers may claim to have done an exhaustive exploration because they have researcher triangulation, a diverse sample, and repeated confirmation and recurrence of themes and codes during data analysis (Morse et al., 2002). When researchers can find no further explanations or interpretation of information based on theoretical considerations, saturation has been achieved. One type of saturation that is not ideal is researcher saturation or burnout. For some research topics that are sensitive, such as sexual harassment and gender-​based violence, and research projects with a voluminous amount of data, researcher saturation is more likely to occur. Wray et al. (2007) suggest that having multiple researchers working together on projects that are stressful, difficult, and traumatic can help reduce researcher saturation. In their work on gynecological cancers, they used four strategies to add to the validity of their research and help reduce researcher fatigue: (1) They used participant observation to help construct their interview protocol, (2) they paid careful attention to data saturation in interviews and collaboratively analyzed data at the same time, (3) they limited participant observation to less stressful stages of the research project, and (4) they used rapport with participants to keep in touch outside the hospital and clinical setting, which was distressing. Having multiple researchers and paying careful attention to research design and the research process can help you avoid “drowning in data” (Morse, 1993). Collecting and analyzing data simultaneously is one strategy for unstructured interview projects. After an interview, asking what themes should be explored in subsequent interviews can help reduce the number of interviews you will conduct. Other times, if you have more structured interviews, data analysis may not occur until after all interviews are complete. However, because participants are asked the same questions, it may be easier to have co-​researchers to share the work and avoid over-​sampling. You may also increase participant size if you are using CAQDAS (Computer Assisted Qualitative Data Analysis Software). Theoretical saturation means that researchers have done a comprehensive examination of the phenomena being studied and have actualized the depth and breadth of social theory to achieve thorough descriptions, explanations, and interpretations of their research. When a researcher notices redundancy in data and theory construction and theoretical concepts are fully accounted for, theoretical saturation is achieved (Charmaz, 2014). Saturation means it is unlikely that more data would indicate similar theoretical findings and there aren’t unanswered questions or underdeveloped concepts. Theoretical saturation is an overarching determination of the quality of the research and occurs when the research design is adequate for the purposes and goals of the research. When researchers have thoroughly developed their research framework, have fully used their methods, and have described their research findings with adequate detail and have provided enough supporting evidence, we can argue that they have reached theoretical saturation. You may be asking yourself: “But how do I know?”

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Demonstrating Saturation The confusion about saturation stems from the fact that researchers often do not explicitly discuss or are ambiguous about the usage and meaning of saturation in their work. This presents us with a conundrum when evaluating the quality of the work, given there is no precise or universal definition (Bowen, 2008). We agree with qualitative methodologists who argue that we should include what we mean by saturation in our work, and how, when, and to what degree we have achieved saturation so that the type, quality, transferability, and credibility of the work will be clear (Bowen, 2008; Leininger, 1994). Thus, we urge you to focus on the process of acquiring saturation as well as the reporting of saturation. In your research writing, you should discuss the type of saturation you are reporting on and how it was achieved and provide examples of saturation from your research. For example, in their project on identifying and reimagining the paradox of workplace bullying, Tye-​Williams and Krone (2017) reported that they reached saturation when “by the 48th interview an acceptable level of theoretical saturation was reached as the experiences offered by participants revealed little new information” (p. 223). The assessment of saturation is based on the methodological considerations in a particular study, so the question of the sample size (e.g., how many interviews, observation hours, textual and visual elements) needed to reach saturation depends on the research purposes. We wish that we could give you a precise number of interviews, texts, and observation hours that would mean you have reached saturation. Some researchers have offered numbers for interviews ranging from six for phenomenological and in-​depth interviews to 20 to 50 interviews for grounded theory, ethnography, and ethnoscience studies (Guest et al., 2006). However, data saturation is contextual; the determination of saturation can be a matter of degree. As Francis et al. (2010) point out, there can be times when a theme seems “idiosyncratic,” but with further sampling with potentially under-​represented sub-​groups, we may find it is important. In other studies, researchers “explicitly search for contrasts within the sample in order to generate hypotheses about how individuals or sub-​groups might differ” (pp. 1233–​1234). Theoretical saturation may best be understood as an assessment that occurs while one is analyzing and writing about qualitative data. When Sandra reviews and writes qualitative research articles, she makes assessments of saturation based on the following questions: Are there any categories that seem underdeveloped or ill defined? Are there examples of themes that are confusing, not related, and/​or vague? Is there a category labeled “miscellaneous”? Are the examples of codes scant? Is the analysis credible? If the answer to any of these questions is “yes,” Sandra asks if more data is needed or if rephrasing would add to the clarity and her assessment of whether saturation was reached. You can plan for how you will consider and show saturation in your research project. We suggest asking yourself the following questions: What type of analysis will I be doing? What is the scope of the topic? How much variation do I anticipate? Will I use qualitative data analysis software? Am I using a theoretical framework where my conceptual categories are predetermined? Answers to these questions can help you plan your project, anticipate time and costs, and potentially avoid researcher saturation (Morse, 1993). For many ethnographic, grounded theory, and phenomenological projects with unstructured interviews,

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researchers collect and analyze data simultaneously, so that saturation is often considered to be reached when no new themes and understandings emerge. At that point, no new data needs to be collected. If you have a narrower research question or are doing in-​depth interviews, you may anticipate needing fewer interviews to reach saturation. In a study with highly structured questions, such as when using a semi-​structured interview guide, it may be easier to work in teams to determine when to cease interviews. Another way to approach saturation in your theory-​based interview studies is to consider what would be a minimum sample size, which you will use as an “initial analysis sample,” and then consider how many more interviews you will conduct “without new ideas emerging,” which will serve as the “stopping criterion” (Francis et al., 2010, p. 1229).

Transferability The criterion of transferability is akin to the concept of generalization in quantitative work—​that is, the idea that our work can be useful if we can apply it in other settings and contexts. Tracy’s (2010) criteria of a worthy topic and resonance fits in here. You may decide to research a topic that has personal and political relevance. Your studies may lead you to a particular topic. “Good qualitative research is relevant, timely, significant, interesting, or evocative. Worthy topics often emerge from disciplinary priorities and, therefore, are theoretically or conceptually compelling. However, worthy topics just as easily grow from timely societal or personal events” (Tracy, 2010, p. 840). Sandra and her colleagues (Faulkner et al., 2020) conducted a series of focus groups with university students about what makes for a welcoming and inclusive classroom after a student had approached her in her role as director of Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies about not feeling welcome in the classroom. The goal of the feminist participatory action project was to collaborate with students from marginalized communities about how instructors can be inclusive of and center marginalized and intersecting identities based on age, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, ability, and socioeconomic status in the classroom—​what we considered a worthy topic based on personal experience at our university. Research exists on inclusive classroom practices, but the project team wanted to hear from students in their own words on their own campus to develop best practices. We believe our findings about best practices to foster an inclusive classroom can be transferred into other settings. What kinds of qualitative projects can be translated or transferred into other contexts? What does it mean to say that your work is transferable? Work by Kate Magsamen-​Conrad et al. (2020) with seniors on technology use and adoption for health in a five-​year community ethnography represents this kind of transferable research. The research team used their field observations of a community technology training program to offer practical applications useful for medical professionals serving patients of all ages. When you use grounded theory, transferability refers to being able to use theory in a similar context while preserving particularized meanings. “The key objective of grounded theory is the development of successively more abstract and formal theories that are both empirically faithful to the cases from which they were developed and enduring beyond the single case” (Sandelowski, 2004, p. 1371). In a participatory action research project,

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transferability is related to the usefulness of the action step, as Sandelowski (2004) emphasized: “the extent to which an identified problem was resolved and, when conducted in a more critical vein, the extent to which oppressive structures were undermined and liberatory/​emancipatory goals were achieved” (p. 1371). Thus, we can also talk about transferability in social justice terms. Does your research help critique unjust social structures? Will your work spur others to action? Can your research be used to create just social policies? For instance, can your work on family structures be used in policy decisions on who and what counts as a family (e.g., Family Medical Leave Act, Affordable Care Act, earned income credits, unemployment benefits)? The assessment of whether qualitative research is transferable or resonant or constitutes a worthy topic rests with the audience and/​or stakeholders.

Arts-​Based Research Criteria As we discussed in Chapters 2 and 6, arts-​based research (ABR) represents diverse qualitative methodologies that rely on aesthetic processes of imagination and artistic expression using various art mediums as a way to understand and examine a research problem, subject, or text. A play, a collage, a novel, a crown of sonnets, comic satire, and photo essays are all examples of ABR (e.g., Faulkner, 2018b; Leavy, 2017b). The biggest strength of ABR is the flexible practices that allow for multiple ways of understanding, experiencing, and presenting qualitative research. However, it is this flexibility in method that is criticized for not being easily transferable from one context to another, for being overly subjective, and for relying on intuition. Researchers and practitioners of ABR counter these criticisms of validity and trustworthiness with claims that ABR is systematic (and rigorous or vigorous!) and the insights generated demonstrate systematic patterns that can be generalized or transferred beyond individual experience, like in scientific work: “Both art and science are thoroughly empirical and immersed in the physical manipulation of material substances that are carefully observed” (McNiff, 2008, p. 35). In addition, ABR can be used in conjunction with other types of interpretive and critical work as a form of crystallization (see section below). Because ABR researchers use multiple forms of analysis and representation, demonstrate researcher reflexivity and vulnerability, and show the indeterminacy and impartiality of knowledge claims, we may gain a fuller and deeper understanding of our phenomenon of interest (Ellingson, 2009). And as Ellingson and Sotirin (2019) make clear: “Making data involves inventing, imagining, encountering, and embracing lived experience and material documentation as methodological praxis” (p. 3). From a materialist perspective, researchers are the ones who make data and bring it into being. Researchers who use ABR as a methodology are actively engaged in this data-​creation process, which suggests some criteria for evaluation. What criteria should we use when evaluating ABR projects? ABR theorists suggest using different criteria than that used for traditional qualitative social scientific work. Sandra has argued that we should look at the intersection of art and science to find criteria (Faulkner,

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2020). Renowned arts-​based researcher Patricia Leavy (2017b) emphasized the importance of evaluating seven areas: methodological practice; usefulness, significance, or substantive contribution; public scholarship; audience response; aesthetics or artfulness; personal fingerprint or creativity; and ethical practice. Similarly, Laurel Richardson (2000b) proposed five criteria by which to consider the scientific and artistic merits of creative analytic practice: substantive contribution to understanding social life, aesthetic merit, reflexivity, impact on emotions and intellect, and expression of a reality. Arthur Bochner (2000) wants to see researchers use concrete details that include facts and feelings, complex narratives that rotate between past and present, the author’s emotional credibility, vulnerability, and honesty, the transformation of the narrator, and ethical considerations. The work should move the heart and head—​this is what Bochner calls “poetic social science.” Others focus on the aesthetic goals and qualities of the work: good plot; verisimilitude; authenticity; showing, not telling; and coherence (Ellis, 2000). Because writing is so important in ABR and qualitative research, in general, it is important to pay attention to your writing (see Chapter 6). “If the question we ask is worthy enough, if the issue is compelling enough, then whatever story form that evokes or answers it should be good enough, too” (Goodall, 2000, p. 194). You may have noted some common suggestions for criteria to evaluate ABR, poetic inquiry, and creative analytical practice. The most common criteria include a focus on the aesthetic and ethical aspects of the work. ABR presents challenges like other research methods and methodology; thus, researcher-​artists should have an appreciation for or expertise in the area of the arts in which they wish to work. This means studying your preferred art form like you study research methods (cf. Faulkner, 2020). Given the call for ethical and just research, we can also evaluate ABR on how well it advocates for social justice, moves us to political action, and provides heuristic value (Clough, 2000; Denzin, 2005b; Madison, 2005).

Reflexive Practice ABR allows for researcher reflexivity in all stages of the research process, which we argue is an important hallmark of qualitative research (see Chapter 1). In fact, many ABR practitioners argue that reflexivity is a major strength of ABR methodology. Reflexivity refers to researchers’ awareness and acknowledgment of their contributions to the construction of meaning throughout the research process and the impossibility of remaining outside of their subject matter (Faulkner, Kaunert, et al., 2016). The artistic process requires that researchers actively engage with their interpretation of social phenomenon and represent and interrogate that engagement in their work. This focus on reflexivity also prepares an audience for the interpretation process beyond conventional ways of viewing research: “the arts-​based researcher may persuade readers or recipients of the work (including the artist herself) to revisit the world from a different direction, seeing it through fresh eyes, and thereby calling into question a singular, orthodox point of view” (Barone & Eisner, 2011, p. 15). ABR practitioners should intentionally engage the community by creating opportunities for extended dialogue between the researcher, audience, and participants. An active engagement with reflexivity helps achieve this goal and contributes to the heuristic and useful nature of ABR.

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Poetic Inquiry and ABR Criteria Sandra has argued for the importance of engaging in the debate over criteria while employing flexible criteria and demonstrating a concern with craft/​method (Faulkner, 2017b, 2016d, 2020). When using poetry as/​in/​for research in poetic inquiry, she searched at the intersection between scientific and artistic criteria to find criteria in that shaded middle space: Poetic inquiry may be evaluated on the demonstration of artistic concentration, embodied experience, discovery/​surprise, conditionality, narrative truth, and transformation (Faulkner, 2020). • Artistic concentration is demonstrated when a poet-​researcher has placed their work in conversation with other poetic work and within the history and craft of poetry. • When a researcher’s poetic inquiry makes an audience feel with the poetry more than about the poetry, they show how poetic inquiry can be and show embodied experience; the audience experiences emotions, feelings, and intentions during the presentation of the work. • “When a poem teaches us to see something familiar in new ways or ways that may be surprising, and we learn something about the human condition and ourselves,” that poetic inquiry demonstrates discovery/​surprise (Faulkner, 2017b, p. 236). • Conditionality refers to the demonstration of the partiality of knowledge claims, the fact that point of view is conditional and truth claims are contingent. Poetic inquiry that demonstrates this conditionality may show narrative truth. “The facts as presented should ring true, regardless of whether events, feelings, emotions, and images ‘actually’ occurred” (Faulkner, 2020, p. 146). • Poetic inquiry demonstrates transformation by providing new insight, giving perspective, and/​or advocating for social change. As you can see in Figure 7.1, criteria to assess poetic inquiry exist in the space where artistic and scientific criteria converge. Faulkner’s found poem, At The Intersection, created from an ABR text, illustrates the idea that qualitative researchers can create and use flexible criteria to evaluate the quality of ABR in general, and poetic inquiry in particular (see Faulkner, 2016d, p. 663). At the intersection of the merging of the world and the Art-​Science Divide, the points of convergence between polarized worlds, larger shifts focus new spaces, tools shape questions, our arsenal “for the sake of more.” The value system is hybrid in both form and content:

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F I GUR E 7.1   Criteria for Evaluating Poetic Inquiry

the power toward public is worth noting grab powerful ways and audience members. When we consider other types of ABR, such as creative nonfiction, fiction, photography, play building, and collage, we like what Chilton and Leavy (2014) propose as criteria: question/​method fit, aesthetic power, usefulness, participatory and transformative, artful authenticity, and canonical generalization. These criteria complement and mirror what we offer for evaluating poetic inquiry and address what many ABR theorists deem as important for ABR projects.

Triangulation and Crystallization We end this chapter on evaluation with the concepts of triangulation and crystallization, because they encapsulate how we think of and use qualitative criteria. Triangulation references the use of multiple researchers, data sources, methods, and theoretical frameworks. Triangulation can shore up the weaknesses of each method and approach to reveal multiple constructed realities. We value this pluralistic approach to the assessment and use of qualitative research, which includes the use of triangulation and a constitutive approach. Koro-​ Ljungberg (2008) makes the argument that we can use pluralism, “as well as acceptance, coexistence, and collaboration with the Other” as a validating tool (p. 983). This means

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that we use multiple methods, are open to multiple viewpoints, collaborate with others, and search for counter-​points and balance to our emerging theories, what Ellingson (2009) calls crystallization. “Crystallization, then, follows a constitutive research model, where findings can be considered in light of each other for fuller understanding” (Manning & Kunkel, 2015, p. 183). Crystallization means taking a pluralistic, constitutive approach in which researchers combine multiple forms of analysis and representation, show reflexivity and vulnerability, and acknowledge the indeterminacy and partiality of knowledge claims (Ellingson, 2009). Manning (2014) argues that interpersonal communication studies should be constitutive. That is, we should engage with seemingly disparate communication theories and models across contexts and research traditions to allow larger understandings about communication. “Scholars should consider how theory and method that was developed in other traditions can be heuristically transformed for use in the tradition or traditions they favor” (p. 434). Dyadic and collaborative approaches to communication research support a constitutive and critical approach (see Manning & Kunkel, 2015). For example, Paul Ruby and Sandra used collaborative autoethnography as a feminist method to show how the interanimation of discourse in romantic dyads contributes to relational and personal identities (Faulkner & Ruby, 2015). Their use of email as an example of romantic couple discourse represents a heuristic approach to what counts as dialogic data. This work expands our conceptions as what counts as data: email, text messages, IM chats, social media posts. We began this chapter talking about heurism as an important criterion, because of the generative focus on usefulness, discovery, problem-​solving, and self-​learning.

Conclusion In this chapter, we began with a discussion of the importance of talking about qualitative criteria. Even though there is not a singular way to assess qualitative work, we argued that you should have conversations about criteria as a way to decide what is important to you as a qualitative researcher and what you want your work to do and be. Perhaps the criteria of usefulness and heuristic value make sense as you work on research that will have a large impact in your community and generate future projects. You may create ABR projects and focus on the aesthetic and transformative features of your work. For instance, Sandra has found that a poetic portraiture project on older women’s relationships across the lifecourse has been useful for her community to highlight the stories of older women in the community and has led to more work and ideas for working with older populations (e.g., Faulkner et al., 2022). The four ethical frameworks we introduced—​utilitarian ethics, principlist ethics, virtue ethics, and ethics of care—​can be used as qualitative criteria. We can tell you that research ethics is vital and using ethics as criteria is a must in qualitative research regardless of other criteria you may choose to focus on in your work. We discussed reliability and validity and the reasons some qualitative researchers keep the terms and others prefer to discuss the

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trustworthiness, credibility, and transferability of their work instead. The key point is that there should be meaningful coherence between your research questions and your methods. Researchers can create meaningful coherence through strategies such as triangulation (the use of multiple methods and/​or researchers) and crystallization (the use of multiple viewpoints, methods, and procedures). We end this chapter on a positive note. Evaluating qualitative research in communication and media is complex and nuanced, but you now have the tools to assess your own work and that of others. High-​quality qualitative research depends on it.

Discussion Questions 1. Find four qualitative research articles on a topic of interest to you. Compare and contrast how the researchers discuss quality and criteria in their work. In what ways do they demonstrate quality? 2. Weigh in on the rigor-​versus-​vigor debate. What term do you think is more useful for assessing qualitative research and why? Do you think researchers should return to the use of the terms “validity” and “reliability” in qualitative research? Why or why not? 3. Consider the chart of qualitative criteria we present in Table 7.1. Would you agree that these criteria are general enough to be flexible, akin to the concept of “big tent” criteria that Tracy (2010) advocates? Are there some criteria that you would argue are most important?

Research and Writing Practice 1. How can you show saturation in your research project? Think about an interview study, media analysis, or grounded theory you will do. What is your research purpose? 2. Consider what practices you will engage in, from research design to analysis. Questions to ask yourself: What type of analysis will I be doing? What is the scope of the topic? How much variation do I anticipate? Will I use multiple researchers, participant observation, and pilot interviews? 3. Write a plan that includes the strategies you will use, being sure to pay attention to researcher saturation or burnout in your plan.

Suggested Resources For further reading on ABR, see Leavy (2017). For more in-​depth reading about poetic inquiry, see Faulkner (2020). For more on evaluation, see Cho and Trent (2000).

Epilogue: Being a Qualitative Researcher

We did not want to leave you without some parting thoughts and observations we have after writing this book on qualitative research in communication and media. We began with highlighting the strengths of qualitative research and ideas for conceptualizing your own projects. We have devoted our careers to using and developing qualitative research skills, because of the kinds of knowledge we can create and what this research offers our community. Here’s to hoping that you have come away with some exciting ideas for your own work and practice. Because of the iterative nature of qualitative work, we want to remind you to trust in the process. At times, qualitative analysis and data can be overwhelming, but if you remember that it is a process that you have learned about, you can take a few deep breaths and carry on. And after spending time with this book, we are confident that you can use that as a mantra when you pursue your own qualitative research projects: Trust in the process. Trust in the process. Repeating this mantra as you consider methods and analysis strategies that we have discussed will be helpful. As you can see from our descriptions of interviewing, being interested in people’s stories and treating them like you would treat your friends is a lesson to remember. Approaching your participants with respect and interest is one of the most important ideas we can emphasize. We have had some good experiences approaching interviewing in this manner, and Sandra became friends with an participant from her dissertation work. They still talk and visit 25 years later! We also hope you see the importance of defining what you mean by “the media” and consider the interconnected process of production, content, audiences, and feedback. Relatedly, who you consider to be the audience (or user) and how and why are important questions to answer when doing qualitative media analysis. Writing is key to qualitative research, as we emphasized, so we encourage you to use the strategies we offer and develop your own writing practice. Making your writing a

Qualitative Methods in Communication and Media. Sandra L. Faulkner and Joshua D. Atkinson, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190944056.003.0008

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priority by creating a habit will be the best time you spend—​only 66 days to create a habit. Take small steps and reward yourself along the way. As you may have surmised as you worked your way through this book, we believe in having engaged discussions and dialogue about the uses and goals of qualitative criteria, the purposes and practice of qualitative research, and what constitutes good qualitative research in communication and media. We appreciate Gordon and Patterson’s (2013) example in which they engage with Tracy’s (2010) idea of “big tent” universal criteria for qualitative work by theorizing them in their work using a womanist caring framework: “Tracy’s call for universal criteria is an attempt to unify the qualitative research community in the face of political assault and the privileging of quantitative, experimental work” (p. 690). The point is that we need to be having these conversations in our community to guide the conversation toward what we want quality work to be and do. It is just this spirit that we hope you adopt and consider the work we presented in this book as a framework to use in a flexible fashion. Think of what we have presented as tools for your work-​bag; we look forward to seeing what you will do. You are a qualitative researcher!

APPENDIX

Glossary of Key Terms

Arts-​based research (ABR): Diverse qualitative methodologies that rely on an aesthetic process of imagination and artistic expression through various art mediums, such as the visual and literary arts, as a way to understand and examine a research problem, subject, or text. (Chapters 2, 3, 6, 7) Audit trail: Researchers’ documentation of their internal research decisions, what we may call dependability or trustworthiness. (Chapters 3, 7) Axiology: Role of values in research; related to research ethics. (Chapter 7) CAQDAS: Computer Assisted Qualitative Data Analysis Software. (Chapter 3) Categorizing: The process of “assessing the characteristics of each code, reviewing commonalities among them, and grouping them based on their shared characteristics” (Adu, 2019, p. 121). (Chapter 3) Category: A cluster of codes (Adu, 2019). (Chapter 3) Citational practices: Writing is not a neutral activity. Who we cite and how we cite them matters, so you need to consider this in your work. The work and politics of “inclusive exclusion” begins with you and your writing and cultivating a critical consciousness. (Chapter 6) Code: “A code in qualitative inquiry is most often a word or short phrase that symbolically assigns a summative, salient, essence-​capturing, and/​or evocative attribute for a portion of language-​based or visual data” (Saldaña, 2013, p. 3). (Chapter 3) Codebook: A compilation of all your codes, names, descriptions, and examples of each code, and a set of criteria specifying the criteria to identify each code used for the analysis of a particular data collection (LeCompte & Schensul, 1999). It helps you document your coding process, which is especially helpful if you are working in a research team. (Chapter 3) Codifying: The process of applying and reapplying codes to qualitative data to garner meaning and show interpretation. (Chapter 3)

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Coding: The process of moving from data to findings; it is how researchers categorize and sort their data in a process that includes separating, compiling, organizing, and labeling. Coding is a systematic, subjective, and transparent process in which the researcher works from the data (e.g., interview transcripts, observations, media clips) to find themes and connect those themes back to the data. (Chapter 3) Collaborative work in media: When researchers do the acts of media production alongside the participants; Löwgren and Reimer call this work “intervention.” This is like ethnographic participant observation. (Chapter 5) Concepts: Concepts “are developed within qualitative inquiry by developing data clusters as categories or identifying commonalities as themes, labeling or naming the category or theme, and then developing a definition for each” (Morse, 2004, p. 1389) (Chapter 3) Convenience sampling: Recruitment of participants who are readily available to the researcher. This is the fastest and easiest method of sampling, although many scholars claim that it is not a particularly strong sampling strategy. (Chapter 2) Conversational interviews: Interviews that are often indistinguishable from a casual conversation and are most often used in the context of ethnographic fieldwork. There will be talking points, but the interview is most akin to a natural conversation as points are touched on when appropriate in the moment. (Chapter 2) Credibility: Level of confidence researchers have they have interpreted their findings in the “right way.” This is shown through the documentation of research decisions and procedures. (Chapters 3 and 7) Criterion sampling: Process that involves seeking out participants who fit particular conditions that will aid in addressing the guiding research questions. Essentially, the research calls for interviews with specific participants—​or examination of a specific set of texts. Sometimes referred to as purposive sampling. (Chapter 2) Crystallization: A pluralistic, constitutive research approach that combines multiple forms of analysis and representation, demonstrates reflexivity and vulnerability, and acknowledges the indeterminacy and partiality of knowledge claims. (Chapter 7) Data analysis: Process of identifying, coding, categorizing, classifying, and labeling primary patterns in data. (Chapter 3) Data saturation: Researchers typically define data saturation as the point when “no new information or themes are observed in the data” (Guest et al., 2006, p. 59). (Chapter 7) Deductive qualitative content analysis: When researchers apply categories to texts, typically utilizing some form of random sampling. (Chapter 4) Double loop analysis: Developed by Altheide and Schneider (2013), this process can accompany theoretical sampling. The researcher pauses after collecting some initial data, and then reflects back on the research questions, research instrument, and emergent categories. At this point, the researcher may make some adjustments to any of these things, and then continue with the theoretical sampling and data collection. Later, the researcher can again pause and reflect on all these things, especially as the categories become more developed. Essentially, the development of categories through theoretical sampling leads to reflection and revision, which helps to better refine the category development through the sampling and data collection. (Chapter 2)

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Empirical: Construction of knowledge through observation or experience. (Chapter 1) Epistemology: Beliefs about how we come to know/​what counts as knowledge. (Chapter 1) Ethical frameworks: General means by which researchers may approach research projects and solve moral problems that may arise. These frameworks help to guide people to an understanding about what is right and wrong. How researchers address emergent ethical dilemmas and come to conclusions about right and wrong is one important way in which research may be assessed. (Chapter 7) Ethics: A multifaceted concept referring to how you engage in the right and wrong of research given your personal principles, which are shaped by culture, upbringing, socialization, and adherence to regulations and laws. (Chapters 1, 3, and 7) Ethics of care: The relationships fostered and enacted between the researcher and participants. Researchers should strive to build strong, interpersonal connections with those who have given their time—​or risked confidentiality—​in the course of interviews or ethnography and make sure to give something back to participants. (Chapter 7) Ethnography: Both a product and a process of research that entails prolonged contact with a group of people. Ethnography literally means the writing of culture. It entails fieldwork (online or face to face) and immersion in a cultural context. (Chapter 2) Grounded theory: Not really a theory, but rather an inductive, comparative, emergent, and open-​ended method focused on studying the processes of social phenomenon. It is useful as a method for studying social processes and constructing theory and theoretical frameworks. (Chapter 2) Heuristic: A heuristic study is one that generates useful questions for further study and aids in discovery, problem-​solving, and self-​learning. (Chapter 7) Inductive qualitative content analysis: Developing categories directly from content; this process relies heavily on the concept of progressive theoretical sampling. The researcher begins by examining a preliminary set of texts that address the guiding research question or seem to be theoretically relevant. (Chapter 4) Informed consent: Process ensuring that participants enter into research voluntarily and with adequate information. (Chapter 2) Live coding: Coding while listening to or watching audio or video recordings. (Chapter 3) Mass self-​communication: Widespread ability of users to create content and utilize interactive media platforms in ways that help them to circulate or access such content. (Chapter 5) Media analysis: A multilevel process (Pan & McLeod, 1991). Researchers should focus on “the media” in terms of four interconnected levels that feed—​or bend—​into one another: (1) media production, (2) the content that has been produced, (3) the audience, and (4) feedback that moves upward to the production level. (Chapter 4) Member checking: Seeking feedback from participants using interview transcripts or analyses. In synthesized member checking, the researcher summarizes emerging themes from their work, being sure to use non-​research language and including quotes that exemplify themes (Birt et al., 2016). (Chapters 3 and 7) Method: Specific techniques one uses to gather and analyze research material. (Chapter 1)

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Methodology: The study’s methodology emerges from the influence of epistemology on a particular method—​the choices concerning how the method is utilized. It informs how researchers engage with participants, the questions they ask, or the structure of their instruments. (Chapter 1) Negative case analysis: Use of examples and cases that do not fit emerging codes in a study. They help delineate the boundaries and conditions of codes and categories by comparing cases that do not fit a pattern. These cases could become a category of their own or could be used as a way to confirm other categories. (Chapter 3) Network: A concept first developed following the Second World War by anthropologists, who defined networks as lines of communication between different nodes (e.g., groups, individuals). The study of networks involves how information moves between, and within, groups. (Chapter 5) Ontology: Belief system about the nature of the world. “Our ontological belief system informs both our sense of the social world and, correspondingly, what we can learn about it and how we can do so” (Leavy, 2017a, p. 12). (Chapters 1 and 7) Paradigms: Worldviews, methods, models or patterns for doing research, such as the interpretivist paradigm. This is a “foundational perspective carrying a set of assumptions that guides the research process” (Leavy, 2017a, p. 11). (Chapters 1, 4, and 5) Poetic transcription: A way to transcribe interviews using poetry and poetic practice. Researchers use poetic transcription as a way to preserve an participant’s speaking style, to capture the spirit of a story, and to portray a range of meanings. (Chapter 3) Positionality: How a researcher’s values, beliefs, knowledge, and biases influence their work. (Chapter 1) Qualitative research: A complex confluence of methods for empirical observation of meanings and materials situated within particular sites or texts, which cuts across multiple paradigmatic approaches to the study of communication and media. (Chapter 1) Rapport: Sense of harmony and affinity that is accomplished throughout an interview. It involves a sense of connection between an interviewer and participant and the creation of an atmosphere of respect and curiosity. (Chapter 2) Reflexive research practice: Explicit acknowledgment of how you as a researcher influence the research process. (Chapters 1, 3, 6, and 7) Reflexivity: Researchers’ awareness and acknowledgment of their contributions to the construction of meaning throughout the research process and the impossibility of remaining outside of their subject matter. Researchers interpret their research materials through their own lenses to construct meaning; their values, attitudes, perceptions, and experiences influence what and how they see, their approach to research, and their methodological commitments. (Chapters 1, 3, 6, and 7) Researcher lenses: Who we are and our positionalities matter and influence how and what we see in our data analysis and how we represent our research. In qualitative analysis, researchers interpret their research materials through their lenses (i.e., values, worldview, perspectives) to construct meaning. (Chapters 1 and 3)

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Researcher saturation: Burnout and the feeling of drowning in data. More common with research topics that are sensitive, such as sexual harassment and gender-​based violence, and research projects that involve a voluminous amount of data. (Chapter 7) Research interviews: Used to discover, understand, and query individuals’ perspectives on phenomena of interest. (Chapter 2) Rhizomatic: Adjective that describes how new, alternative forms of media create intersections between different parts of society that would otherwise be disconnected; such intersections are diffused and develop organically. (Chapter 5) Rigor: Use of reflective research practices and systematic procedures in the research process itself. A researcher demonstrates rigor through the consideration of theory; demonstration of time spent in the field; attention and care with sample, data collection and analysis procedures; and rich writing. (Chapter 7) Snowball sampling: Form of sampling that entails reaching out to potential participants and asking them to take part in the research. The recruitment can also call for such prospective participants to pass along a recruitment message to others whom they feel would be good participants for the project. (Chapter 2) Stratified random sampling: Generation of random samples within predetermined categories, or “strata.” This complex strategy is more often associated with qualitative media analysis rather than interviews and focus groups that are used to explore specific communities. The researcher must identify and develop the different categories that are to be sampled within a particular population. Sometimes referred to as maximum variation sampling. (Chapters 2 and 4) Subjectivity: Focusing on the “researcher as instrument” and highlighting the researcher’s sense-​making processes and research process they use with their “lenses.” (Chapters 1 and 7) Thematic analysis: Process of encoding qualitative information. “It is not another qualitative method but a process that can be used with most, if not all, qualitative methods” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 4). (Chapter 3) Theme: “A theme is a pattern found in the information that at minimum describes and organizes the possible observations and at maximum interprets aspects of the phenomenon” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 4). A theme is an “outcome of coding, categorization, or analytic reflection” (Saldaña, 2013, p. 14) and can be described as “a red thread of underlying meanings, within which similar pieces of data can be tied together and within which the researcher may answer the question ‘why?’ ” (Vaismoradi & Snelgrove, 2019, para. 3). (Chapter 3) Theoretical sampling: Associated with grounded theory data analysis and the development of theory from qualitative research methods. The purpose is to actively conduct the research (e.g., interviews, content analysis) as more and more samples are drawn to allow researchers to build categories as they recruit or select new texts for analysis. The goal of such a sampling method is to reach a point of “theoretical saturation.” (Chapter 2) Theoretical saturation: Point at which the researchers have done a comprehensive examination of the phenomena being studied and have actualized the depth and

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breadth of social theory to achieve thorough descriptions, explanations, and interpretations of their research. (Chapter 7) Theory: An explanation for the phenomenon of interest; an understanding of how themes and concepts in your research are related. When a researcher shows how “themes and concepts systematically interrelate,” this leads toward theory development (Saldaña, 2013, p. 13). (Chapter 3) Transcription: Written text of an interview. Researchers may use a transcriptionist or CAQDAS or do the transcription themselves. The process of transcribing can be considered part of the data analysis process. This process and the transcripts produced and constructed have the potential to influence a researcher’s analysis. (Chapter 3) Transferability: Being able to use theory and research in a similar context while preserving particularized meanings. (Chapter 7) Triangulation: Use of multiple researchers, data sources, methods, and theoretical frameworks. (Chapters 3 and 7) Trustworthiness: Others’ perceptions of a researcher’s ethos or credibility. Researchers demonstrate trustworthiness by the documentation of their internal research decisions, the writing of their work, and what we may also call dependability. This documentation includes reflexive practices like memoing, member checking, and being transparent about the research process. (Chapter 7) Unit of analysis: “The unit of analysis is the entity on which the interpretation of the study will focus” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 63). This may be a person, organization, group, or culture. It determines how you will organize your research report and the relationships you examine. (Chapter 3) Unit of coding: What a researcher is coding in the data. “The unit of coding is the most basic segment, or element, of the raw data or information that can be assessed in a meaningful way regarding the phenomenon” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 63). This could be a sentence, a word, a paragraph, all of the answers after an interview question, an utterance, a specific length of time, an act, or a gesture. The unit of analysis is a segment of text or audio or visual information that answers the question: What is going on here? (Chapter 3) Usefulness: A criterion we can apply to argue that our research has practical implications and applications. (Chapter 7) User experience (UX): The study of UX is focused on the development of new, interactive products for the marketplace. UX involves how consumers of interactive media experience the products in their lives and their likes and dislikes of the media platforms. (Chapter 5) Virtue ethics: The researcher’s character. (Chapter 7) Voice audio: Manipulation of audio data including interviews as a method of presentation and analysis. You can present your research as a video, audio piece, and/​or some kind of collage/​hybrid showing the analysis in the presentation. (Chapter 3) Writing as method: The idea that all of the activities you do for a research project serve your writing, including thinking. If writing is part of the thinking in qualitative

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research, writing includes designing, reading, planning, and analyzing qualitative work. (Chapter 6) Writing practice: Routine a writer has for writing. The idea that writing just happens, that it is the final part of the research process, or that one just “writes up” one’s research contributes to false notions that writing is an afterthought or a necessary evil. Make time to write by establishing a writing habit; this means showing up, being ready to work, and putting in the time. (Chapter 6)

References

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Index

For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–​53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages. Tables, figures, and boxes are indicated by t, f, and b following the page number ABR. See arts-​based research abstracts, 143b academic journal articles, 142, 143b accessibility, 125 accountability, 128 activism, 44b Adams, Tony, 151 Adorno, Theodor, 94 alternative media, 90, 92 alternative media networks, 116 Althusser, Louis, 94 Amazon.com, 112, 119 American Psychological Association (APA) style, 142, 143b analysis constant comparison example, 83, 84b–​85b contrapuntal, 172b–​73b of data, 60 deductive, 98–​100, 103 double loop, 31–​32 inductive, 75–​83, 98–​99, 102–​3 of media, 87–​114, 115–​30 negative case, 82 qualitative, 60–​71, 75–​83, 87–​114, 115–​30 questions to guide, 75–​79 of rhizomatic assemblages, 117b–​18b step-​by-​step process, 75–​83 textual, 93–​97

thematic, 71–​72, 172b–​73b units of, 79 analyst-​generated or etic labels, 81 Anderson, James, 20 anonymity, 24, 25, 169 APA (American Psychological Association) style, 142, 143b Aristotle, 93–​94, 168 Arquilla, John, 122 articles, journal, 142, 143b artistic concentration, 180 arts-​based research (ABR), 51–​56 creative forms and writing for, 153, 154b criteria for, 178–​82 definition of, 51 evaluation of, 163t, 174 poetic portraiture, 52–​54 presentation of, 150–​56, 152f, 154b questions to consider, 151 reflexive practice, 179 resources for, 58, 183 uses, 56 visual methods, 54–​56 voice audio, 65 writing process for, 141 Atkinson, Joshua D., 11b ATLAS.ti, 61 At The Intersection (Faulkner), 180–​81

210  |  I n d e x audiences, 103–​7, 108b, 184 advice for students considering research on, 111 approaches to analysis of, 104–​5 challenges in working with, 110–​11 examples of research with, 105 interaction with, 109–​10 performance research, 106–​7 preparation for working with, 108–​9 recruiting participants, 109 audio, voice, 65 audit trails, 82, 165 autoethnography, 43–​47, 55, 155 Blackgirl, 44 collaborative, 182 writing resources, 160 axiology, 5 Barassi, Veronica, 123 behavior, interviewer, 39–​40 behavioral research, 104 Berger, Arthur, 97 Berger, Charles, 15 Berry, Keith, 10 big tent criteria, 164 Black, Edwin, 95b Blackgirl autoethnography, 44 Blair, Carole, 95b Bochner, Arthur, 166, 178–​79 Boylorn, Robin M., 43, 44b, 45, 46, 154–​55 “break-​up letters,” 127 Brennan, Bonnie, 94 bricolage, 154b Burke, Kenneth, 95b–​96 burnout, 175 Butterworth, Michael, vii–​viii, 95b–​97b Callard, Agnes, 134 CAQDAS (Computer-​Assisted Qualitative Data Analysis Software), 61–​62, 74, 86, 175 Carpentier, Nico, 116, 117b–​18b categorizing, 72 category(-​ies) definition of, 72 developing categories into concepts, 73 developing coding categories, 80–​81 examples, 73 integrating coding categories, 83 Chawla, Devika, 156b, 158b Cicero, 93–​94 CIFC (Critical Interpersonal and Family Communication) framework, 9 Cirucci, Angela, 125 citational practices, 134–​35 code(s) definition of, 72 examples, 172b–​73b

codebooks, 75, 76b, 100–​1 codifying, 72 coding definition of, 71–​72 domain and taxonomic, 80 electronic, 74–​75 emotion, 80 initial, 80–​81 live, 64, 74–​75, 86 manual, 74 naming codes, 81 open, 84b resources for, 86 selective, 83, 84b step-​by-​step process, 75–​83 structuring, 81 theoretical, 84b–​85 units of, 79–​80 values, 80 coding categories developing, 80–​81 developing categories into concepts, 73 integration of, 83 coding frames, 101–​2 coding methods, 80 coding planning, 71–​75 coding plans, 74–​79 coding strategies, 74–​75 coherence, meaningful, 165 collaborative autoethnography, 182 collaborative work, 127–​29, 130 collage, 153–​54, 154b, 155–​56 communication critical interpersonal and family communication (CIFC) research, 9, 54 mass, 88, 89–​113, 116–​29 mediated, 15, 120 most prominent data collection methods, 56–​57 communication rules approach, 104 #CommunicationSoWhite campaign, 134–​35 community media, 118b Computer-​Assisted Qualitative Data Analysis Software (CAQDAS), 61–​62, 74, 86, 175 concept(s) definition of, 72 developing categories into, 73 examples, 73 sensitizing, 79 conditionality, 180 confessional tales, 145, 146b–​48b confidentiality, 24, 25, 169 confirmability, 163t consent forms, 25, 26b–​27b consequentialist ethics, 168 constant comparison analysis, 83, 84b–​85b

I n d e x  |  211 constructivist approach, 50–​51 contemporary model of mass communication, 88, 116–​29 content analysis, 93–​103 framework and protocols, 100–​2 selecting texts for, 102–​3 contextual inquiry, 126 contrapuntal analysis, 172b–​73b convenience sampling, 28–​29 conversational interviews, 36 Cooley, Laura, 105 cool media, 124–​25 Copeland, Gary, 95b Coronation Street (ITV), 106–​7 Couldry, Nick, 106–​7, 120 creative forms, 151–​56, 154b creative nonfiction, 154b, 154–​55 creative writing, 52 credibility, 82, 125, 163t, 165, 171 criteria for arts-​based research (ABR), 178–​82 big tent, 164, 185 ethics as, 170 markers of excellence, 164 for poetic inquiry, 180–​81, 181f for qualitative research, 162–​78, 163t, 182–​83 universal, 185 vigorous, 166–​67 criterion sampling, 29–​30 critical ethnography, 43 critical interpersonal and family communication (CIFC) research, 9, 54 critical media studies, 16–​17 The Crunk Feminist Collection, 45 Crunk Feminist Collective, 45 crystallization, 163t, 181–​83 Cuba Solidarity Campaign (CSC), 123 cultural studies, 15, 16–​17, 18b, 105 culture, 42–​43 cyber ethnography, 43 “Dance Your Dissertation” competition, 57, 159 data external homogeneity, 83 internal homogeneity, 83 data analysis, 24 definition of, 60, 71–​72 example, 172b–​73b inductive, 75–​83 poetic transcription as, 69b–​70b, 69f qualitative, 60–​71 question(s) to guide, 75–​79 data collection, 24, 56–​57 data saturation, 174–​75, 176 Dedoose, 61 deductive analysis, 98–​100, 103

De la Garza, Sarah Amira, 47 Denzin, Norman, vii deontological ethics, 168, 169 Departures in Critical Qualitative Research, 157–​58 dependability, 163t designing a qualitative study, 22–​58 desirability, 125 DetroitYES! community, 107, 113 DeTurk, Sara, 15–​16 dialectics, 106 digital ethnography, 43 discovery/​surprise, 180 Disney, 116–​19 documentation, 171 domain and taxonomic coding, 80 double loop analysis, 31–​32 Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) gaming communities, 121, 125–​26 electronic coding, 74, 75 Ellis, Carolyn, 24 email interviews, 33 embodied ethnography, 152f, 155–​56 embodied experience, 180 embodied transcription, 63 emic codes, 81 emotional journey mapping, 126–​27 emotion coding, 80 epistemology definition of, 2–​3 foundations that influence research and methods, 14–​20, 18b essay lyric, 154b, 155 personal, 154b, 155, 160 photo/​video, 154b writing resources, 160 ethical issues frameworks for, 168–​70 with photographs, 56 resources for, 58 ethical research, 6 ethics, 167–​70 of care, 168, 170, 182–​83 consequentialist, 168 as criteria, 170 definition of, 12–​13 deontological, 168, 169 feminist, 13, 170 principlist, 168, 182–​83 relational, 13 research, 23–​25, 182–​83 utilitarian, 168, 169, 182–​83 virtue, 168, 170, 182–​83 of writing about others’ experiences, 157

212  |  I n d e x ethnographic tales, 142–​45 confessional, 145, 146b–​48b evocative narratives, 145 examples, 146b–​50b impressionist, 145, 148b–​50b realist, 142–​45, 146b types of, 142–​45 ethnography, 32, 42–​49, 109 autoethnography, 43–​47, 160 Blackgirl autoethnography, 44 critical, 43 cyber, 43 definition of, 42 digital, 43 embodied, 152f, 155–​56 feminist, 43, 152f, 155–​56, 173 fictional, 154 fieldwork, 47–​49 forms of, 43 narrative, 141 participant observation, 47–​49 performance, 43 public, 43, 44b, 128 types of tales ethnographers tell, 142–​45 etic labels, 81 evaluation criteria for arts-​based research (ABR), 178–​82 criteria for poetic inquiry, 180–​81, 181f criteria for qualitative research, 162–​78, 163t, 182–​83 questions to ask about your writing and work, 171 resources for, 183 Evan, William, 122 excellence, markers of, 164 exclusion, inclusive, 135 exemplars, 82–​83 experimental forms, 154b external approach, 123, 124 Facebook, 112, 119, 122, 123, 124 face-​to-​face interviews, 32, 33 fact-​based fiction, 51–​52 Faulkner, Sandra L., 11b, 138b–​39b At The Intersection, 180–​81 Marilyn said “I did my best,” 53 In My Blue Car of Adventure, 53–​54 “Nasty women join the hive: A womanifesto invitation for White feminists” (Faulkner & Squillante), 55 Rigor Du Jour/​De Rigueur, 166–​67 Should I bring a 6 pack of bud? (Faulkner & Ruby), 68, 70b “Why do you run?” I asked, 67 feedback, 89, 107–​13

feminism as methodology, 15, 18b radical, 16–​17 feminist ethics, 13, 170 feminist ethnography, 43, 105 collaborative autoethnography, 182 examples, 152f, 155–​56, 173 feminist writing practices, 158 Fenton, Natalie, 123 fiction as ABR, 154b, 154 fact-​based, 51–​52 fieldwork, 47–​49 figurations, 121 film, 55 findability, 125 Fiore, Quentin, 124–​25 Flint, Michigan, 97–​98 focus, selecting, 13 focus group discussions, 76 focus group interviews, 36 focus groups, 16, 125–​26 found objects, 155 found poetry, 180–​81 “The Four Noble Truths for Writers” (Sher), 135–​36 Fox, 102 Frankfurt School critique, 16–​17 free verse, 153–​54 gaming communities, 121, 125–​26 generalization, naturalistic, 162–​63 Glaser, Barney, 49 Glaserian approach, 50 Google, 125 Google Sketchup, 55 GoPro, 55 Gramsci, Antonio, 94 Granada Studios Manchester, 106–​7 grounded theory, 32, 49–​51, 83 constructivist approach, 50–​51 definition of, 49 examples, 83, 84b–​85b, 174 Glaserian approach, 50 hallmarks, 50 key objective, 177–​78 resources for, 58 Straussarian approach, 50 Harlow, Summer, 124 harm, minimizing, 24, 169 Heineman, David, 55 Hepp, Andrea, 120 hermeneutics example projects, 17, 19–​20

I n d e x  |  213 as methodology, 15, 16, 18b, 20 Hermes, Joke, 121–​22, 128–​29 heurism, 162–​63, 163t heuristics, 106 heuristic studies, 162–​63 Horkheimer, Max, 94 hot media, 124–​25 Hwang Dong-​hyuk, viii hybrid presentations creative forms, 154b examples, 155–​56 ideological criticism, 94 iMovie, 55 impressionist tales, 145, 148b–​50b inclusive behaviors and practices, 79 inclusive classroom practices codebook (example), 75, 76b inclusive exclusion, 135 incorporation/​resistance research, 104–​5 independent media centers (IMC), 92 inductive analysis, 98–​99 sampling for, 102–​3 step-​by-​step process, 75–​83 informed consent, 25, 169 example form, 26b–​27b INHolland University, 128–​29 initial coding, 80–​81 In My Blue Car of Adventure (Faulkner), 53–​54 Instagram, 55 instant message or email interviews, 32, 33, 62 institutional review board (IRB), 23–​25, 111 integrity of the research, 24 interactive media platforms, 122 interactive media products, 125–​26 interactivity, 107–​13 user-​to-​document, 113 user-​to-​system, 112 user-​to-​user, 112 internal approach, 123 International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry, 167 internet (Net), 117b interpretive relational themes, 81–​82 interpretivism, 14–​15 intersectional reflexivity, 43–​47 intervention, 128 interventionism, 128 interview design, 32–​33 interviewers, 39–​40 interview guides, 33 interview protocols, 33, 37b–​38b interviews, 32–​41 challenges faced by novice researchers, 40 co-​constructed, 38 contextual inquiry, 126

conversational, 36 email, 32, 33 example processes, 34b–​35b face-​to-​face, 32, 33 focus group, 36 in-​depth, 36–​38, 37b–​38b instant message or email, 32, 33, 62 interviewer characteristics and behavior, 39–​40 lessons to remember, 184 narrative, 36–​39, 37b–​38b online, 32, 33 phone, 32, 33 preparing for, 40–​41 rapport building, 39–​40 recommendations for, 40–​41 resources for, 58 types of, 33–​39 video, 62 interview schedules, 33 in vivo or emic codes, 81 IRB (institutional review board), 23–​25, 111 Jenkins, Henry, 119–​20 journal articles, 142, 143b journals, reflexivity, 10 labels, 81 Lannutti, Pamela, 33, 34b–​35b, 174 Leavy, Patricia, 178–​79 Leggo, Carl, 141 LGBTQ Jewish identity interview protocol, 37b–​38b liberal feminism, 16–​17 life projects, 32 Lincoln, Yvonna, vii Lindlof, Thomas, 104–​5 literary art forms, 142, 154b literature reviews, 143b live coding, 64, 74–​75, 86 “love letters,” 127 Löwgren, Jonas, 121–​22, 127 Luckman, Peter, 15 lyric essay, 154b, 155 Magsamen-​Conrad, Kate, 177 manual coding, 74 Marilyn said “I did my best” (Faulkner), 53 Marokko.nl, 128–​29 Marxist critique, 16–​17, 18b mass communication contemporary model of, 88, 116–​29 traditional model of, 89–​113 mass self-​communication contemporary model of, 116–​29 definition of, 116–​19 materialist phenomenology, 120

214  |  I n d e x maximum variation sampling, 30–​31 MAXQDA, 61 Mayring, Phillip, 97 McLuhan, Marshall, 124–​25 McMillan, Sally, 112 meaningful coherence, 165 media, 184 alternative, 90, 92 alternative networks, 116 community, 118b contemporary model, 88, 116–​29 cool, 124–​25 hot, 124–​25 interactive platforms, 122 interactive products, 125–​26 new media networks, 116 news, 91 print, 91 rhizomatic assemblages, 116, 117b–​18b spreadable, 119–​20 traditional model, 88–​89 media 2.0, 121–​22 media analysis collaborative work, 127–​29 most prominent data collection methods for, 56–​57 multilevel, 89 qualitative, 87–​114, 115–​30 resources for, 130 media audiences, 89, 103–​7, 184 media content, 89, 93–​103 media networks, 92–​93, 116, 122–​24 media pilgrimages, 106–​7 media production, 89, 90–​93 mediated communication, 15, 120 member checking, 82, 171 memoir, 154b, 155 Merrin, William (Will), 121–​22, 127 Meta, 125 method(s) author spotlight, 11b definition of, 14 epistemological foundations that influence, 14–​20 writing as, 132–​35 methodology(-​ies), 14, 18b, 20 Meyrowitz, Joshua, 124–​25 minimizing harm, 24 Morse, Janice, 39 multilevel media analysis, 89 multimedia networks, 92–​93 Murakami, Haruki, 138b–​39 naming codes, 81 narrative criticism, 97

narrative ethnography ethnographic tales, 142–​45 evocative, 145 writing process for, 141 narrative interviews, 36–​39, 37b–​38b narrative nonfiction, 154b, 154–​55 narrative projects, 32 narrative truth, 180 “Nasty women join the hive: A womanifesto invitation for White feminists” (Faulkner & Squillante), 55 National Communication Association (NCA), 8, 134–​35 negative case analysis, 82 Neo-​Aristotelian rhetorical criticism, 93–​94 network(s), 122–​24 definition of, 122 external approach to study of, 123, 124 internal approach to study of, 123 media, 92–​93, 116, 122–​24 new media, 116 new media networks, 116 news media, 91 new technology(-​ies), 119 nonfiction, 154b, 154–​55 Nothstine, William, 95b NVivo, 61 objectivism, 14–​15 observation, participant, 47–​49 exercise, 48–​49 rules for, 128 observational exercise, 48–​49 online interviews, 32, 33 ontology, 2–​3 open coding, 84b oral history projects, 32 Pandemic Nature Project, 55 paradigmatic approach, 2–​3 paradigms, 2–​3 participant observation, 47–​49 exercise, 48–​49 rules for, 128 participatory action research (PAR), 32, 177–​78 Patalita, Jules, 121 pedagogy, 157–​58 performance ethnography, 43 performance research, 106–​7 personal essay, 154b, 155, 160 personal risk, 24–​25 phenomenology example projects, 17–​19 materialist, 120

I n d e x  |  215 as methodology, 15–​16, 18b socio-​phenomenological approach, 104 phone interviews, 32, 33 photography, 55–​56 photo/​video essay, 154b photovoice, 32, 55–​56 pilgrimages, 106–​7 planning, coding, 71–​75 poetic collage, 156 poetic inquiry, 163t, 173 criteria for, 180–​81, 181f resources for, 183 poetic portraiture, 52–​54 poetic social science, 178–​79 poetic transcription, 65–​71, 69b–​70b, 69f resources for, 86 “Should I bring a 6 pack of bud?,” 68 “Why do you run?” I asked, 67 poetry as ABR, 153–​54, 154b as embodied work, 153–​54 ethnographic, 148b–​50b found, 180–​81 portraiture, poetic, 52–​54 positionality, 6–​10, 11b, 20 positionality statements, 8, 10 examples, 9–​10 guidelines for, 8 positivism, 14–​15, 18b postcards, virtual, 152f, 155–​56 postcolonial theory, 158 postmodernism, 106 postpositivism, 14–​15, 18b power differences, 56 Prenzlauer Berg, 91–​92 presentation, 65, 150–​56 articles, 142, 143b creative forms and writing for, 153, 154b examples, 151, 152f questions to consider, 151 prewriting, 140 principlist ethics, 168, 182–​83 print media, 91 privacy, 25 probability sampling, 27 procrastination, 137–​40 progressive theoretical sampling, 102–​3 Pruchniewska, Urszula, 125 public ethnography, 43, 44b, 128 purposive sampling, 29–​30 QDA Miner, 61 qualitative analysis of audiences, 103–​7, 108b

of data, 60 deductive, 98–​100, 103 first steps, 61–​71 frameworks and protocols for, 100–​2 inductive, 75–​83, 98–​99, 102–​3 of media, 87–​114, 115–​30 of media content, 93–​103 of media production, 90–​93 preparation for, 108–​9 questions to guide, 75–​79 selecting texts for, 102–​3 step-​by-​step process, 75–​83 qualitative research, 1–​21, 184–​85 author spotlight, 11b core issues, 5–​6 criteria for, 163, 163t, 164–​78, 182–​83, 185 data collection methods, 56–​57 definition of, vii–​ix, 2–​6 evaluation of, 162–​78, 163t mantra for, 184 questions to ask about your writing and work, 171 seventh moment of, 170 strengths of, 3–​5 study design, 22–​58 typical format for articles, 143b writing and, 156b writing process for, 140–​41 qualitative writing, 151–​56, 154b queer methodology, 155–​56 radical feminism, 16–​17 random sampling, 30–​31, 103 rapport, 39–​40 Rauch, Jennifer, 16, 107, 108b–​12b realist tales, 142–​45, 146b Real Women Run (Faulkner), 66 reception studies approach, 104–​5 recruitment strategies, 34b–​35b reflection, 63–​64 reflexive practice, 171–​73, 179 reflexivity, 6–​10, 24, 179 definition of, 7–​8 intersectional, 43–​47 self-​reflexivity, 171–​73 showing, 8–​10 as spinning, 10 reflexivity journals, 10 Reimer, Bo, 121–​22, 127 Relational Dialectics Theory (RDT), 68 relational ethics, 13 relational themes, interpretive, 81–​82 reliability, 165 reporting data, 24 representative sampling, 27

216  |  I n d e x research arts-​based (ABR), 51–​56, 141 behavioral, 104 critical interpersonal and family communication (CIFC), 9, 22 ethical, 6 incorporation/​resistance, 104–​5 integrity of, 24 markers of excellence, 164 participatory action (PAR), 32, 177–​78 qualitative, vii–​ix, 1–​21, 184–​85 qualitative criteria for, 163, 163t, 164–​67 selecting topics and focus, 13 strategies to help reduce fatigue, 175 researcher saturation, 175 research ethics, 23–​25, 182–​83 research interviews. See interviews resistance research, 104–​5 resources, 21, 58, 86, 114, 130, 160, 183 respect, 169 rhetorical criticism as attitude, 95b–​97b Neo-​Aristotelian, 93–​94 rhizomatic media assemblages analysis of, 117b–​18b nature of, 116 Richardson, Laurel, 52, 178–​79 rigor, 5–​6, 163t, 164–​67 Rigor Du Jour/​De Rigueur (Faulkner), 166–​67 risk, personal, 24–​25 Ronfeldt, David, 122 Rosenberg, Rodrigo, 124 Ruby, Paul, 68, 182 “Should I bring a 6 pack of bud?” (Faulkner & Ruby), 68, 70b Rueckert, William, 95b–​96 sampling, 27–​32 complex, 30–​32 convenience, 28–​29 criterion, 29–​30 example recruitment scripts, 28–​29, 30 for inductive content analysis, 102–​3 maximum variation, 30–​31 probability, 27 progressive theoretical, 102–​3 purposive, 29–​30 random, 103 representative, 27 simple, 28–​30 snowball, 29 stratified random, 30–​31 theoretical, 31 saturation, 163t, 174–​77 assessment of, 176

data, 174–​75, 176 demonstrating, 176–​77 reaching, 174–​75 researcher, 175 theoretical, 175, 176 Scantech, 55 Science magazine, 57 screenshot diaries, 127 selecting a research topic and focus, 13 selective coding, 83, 84b self-​communication, mass contemporary model of, 116–​29 definition of, 116–​19 self-​disclosure, 171–​73 self-​reflexivity, 171–​73 sensitizing concepts, 79 seventh moment, 170 Shapiro, Ben, viii Sher, Gail, 135–​36 “Should I bring a 6 pack of bud?” (Faulkner & Ruby), 68, 70b The Simpsons (Fox), 102 sincerity, 171–​73 sketching, 54–​55 Skratchit, 55 Skype, 32, 62 smartphones, 119 snowball sampling, 29 social constructionism, 15 social justice, 177–​78 social media, 55 socio-​phenomenological approach, 104 Squid Game (Netflix), viii Squillante, Sheila, 55 standpoint theory, 7 stratified random sampling, 30–​31 Strauss, Anselm, 49 Straussarian approach, 50 study design, 22–​58 subcategory(-​ies), 73 subjectivity, 6–​10 surprise, 180 synthesized member checking (SMC), 171 technology, new, 119 terminology coding, 72 glossary, 187 textual analysis, 93–​97 textual collage, 153–​54, 154b, 155 thematic analysis, 71–​72, 172b–​73b theme(s) definition of, 72 interpretive relational, 81–​82 theoretical coding, 84b–​85

I n d e x  |  217 theoretical sampling, 31 theoretical saturation, 31, 175, 176 theory, 72 TikTok, 119 topics, selecting, 13 traditional model, 88, 89–​113, 140–​41 transcription, 62–​71, 110–​11 deciding not to transcribe, 64–​65 embodied, 63 poetic, 65–​68, 69b–​70b, 69f, 86 resources for, 86 transferability, 163t, 177–​78 transformation, 180 triangulation, 82, 163t, 165, 171, 181–​83 trustworthiness, 163t, 165, 171–​73 truth, narrative, 180 Twitter, 121, 123 units of analysis, 79 units of coding, 79–​80 universal criteria, 185 usability, 125 usefulness, 125, 162–​63, 163t user experience (UX), 124–​27 with interactive media products, 125–​26 key experiences examined through UX research, 125–​26 methods for UX research, 125–​27 resources for UX research, 130 users, 184 user-​to-​document interactivity, 113 user-​to-​system interactivity, 112 user-​to-​user interactivity, 112 utilitarian ethics, 168, 169, 182–​83 validation, 165 validity, 165 value, product, 125 values coding, 80 Van Djick, José, 119 video, 55

video interviews, 32, 33, 62 vigor, 5, 166–​67 virtual postcards, 152f, 155–​56 virtue ethics, 168, 170, 182–​83 visual ABR methods, 54–​56, 154b, 155 voice audio, 65 VoiceCloud, 65 voice recognition software (VRS), 62, 63 voluntary participation, 25 Walking Dead (AMC), 93–​94 webQDA, 61 welcoming practices, 79 whiteness, 134–​35 “Why do you run?” I asked (Faulkner), 67 Wichelns, Herbert, 95b Wikipedia, 113 World Wide Web (Web), 117b Wrage, Ernest, 95b writer’s block, 141 writing, 131–​60, 156b, 184–​85 ethics of, 157 feminist practices, 158 forms of, 142–​56 “The Four Noble Truths for Writers” (Sher), 135–​36 as method, 132–​35 prewriting, 140 as process, 135–​42 qualitative, 151–​56, 154b questions to ask about your writing and work, 171 resources for, 160 writing practice, 136–​40, 138b–​39b, 141–​42, 156, 157, 160, 184–​85 writing process, 140–​42, 156 YouTube, 55, 119, 122, 123 Zombie Seeds and the Butterfly Blues (Clair), 51–​52 Zoom, 32, 62