Category Archives: Argument

Shape out of chaos: The mysterious process of writing

Academic Writing, Argument, Book reviews, Centre for Academic Communication, Cognitive process and writing, Organization/ Order, Outlines, Productivity, Reading, Revision, Writing process

By Madeline Walker

 “Insisting on control, having a plan or outline, and always sticking to it is a prophylactic against organic growth, development, change. But it is also a prophylactic against the experience of chaos and disorientation which are very frightening.” (Peter Elbow, Writing without Teachers, p. 35).

As spring explodes into summer in the Northern Hemisphere, my thoughts are the upcoming year. Starting July 1, I will be taking a year’s leave from my job at the Centre for Academic Communication.

Since I started this blog in December 2016, we’ve published 44 posts – many by graduate writers graciously sharing their stories.  In my first blog post, Writing Undressed, I wrote about the messiness of writing, an uneven process that occurs in fits and starts and not according to some smooth trajectory. In this post, I would like to return to the mysterious and magical process of writing, a topic that continues to fascinate me.

A friend who self-published a novel asked me to write a review, and I was happy to agree because I enjoyed his story.  But getting traction on writing the review has been difficult. First I re-read the book, taking notes. The first read was for pure pleasure; the second time was purposeful—I was looking for key ideas and quotations to use in the review. I also looked carefully at the structure of the novel, which on my first read simply blended into the background.

Once I had my notes, the real difficulties began. How can I capture all of the different ideas I have? Where to start? Do I need to summarize the story first? But what about an engaging opening? Am I reading it correctly? Am I making too much of this idea?  Self-doubt flooded me and I felt like a novice writer. I’ve written several reviews before that were published, but somehow previous experience didn’t seem to give me a leg up. I felt mired in chaos.

And then I realized: This happens every time. Lately, my self-doubt is laced with the added tang of ageism: “you’re getting old and your mind is deteriorating, you’re losing vocabulary, you can’t do this anymore.” Different spice, same message, just the familiar devil of doubt sitting on my shoulder. Recognizing the pattern means I know what to do. Ignore the voice as I muddle through. And muddle through I always do! I spent several evenings writing fragments and re-starting the review, mulling over it when I wasn’t actually writing.

 “The turning point in the whole cycle of growing is the emergence of a focus or a theme. It is also the most mysterious and difficult kind of cognitive event to analyze. It is the moment when what was chaos is now seen as having center of gravity. There is a shape where a moment ago there was none.” (Peter Elbow, Writing Without Teachers, p. 35)

And then one morning as I rode my bike to work, it started to happen, the center of gravity for that review started to emerge. I need to trust that this always happens, eventually, if I muddle and mull long enough. It was as if my neurons were firing a mile a minute—ideas flowed and my center of gravity emerged like a hot sun around which my planetary thoughts revolved. I knew the key idea that I was to follow in the review and I had to stop twice, pulling my bike over to the side of Lochside trail to make notes so I didn’t forget what it was I wanted to say.

Peter Elbow’s wonderful metaphor for center of gravity suggests a place of equilibrium, where the ideas are pulled into a central mass of significance. And this happened for me when I recognized the argument I wanted to make about the book. Emergence of an argument signals the emergence of a center of gravity because for me, argument is the structuring principle of most of my writing. Once that starts to take shape, it gets easier.

I don’t make plans or outlines. Well sometimes I do, but they fail—they are provisional—I don’t stick to them. I’ve realized that I must honour the scary disorienting feeling of being groundless when I begin the process of writing. Tons of notes and scribbles and frustration and trying to find a thread.   I need to trust that the mulling and stewing and casting about for words and ideas is a necessary messy and chaotic stage I go through. When I try to force a solution or structure too soon, the process becomes distorted and prolonged.

One  dictum about writing is “clear thinking = clear writing.” I hazard a rewrite of that simplistic equation:  “chaotic thinking and messy writing lead eventually to clear thinking and writing.”  There really are no shortcuts.  One stage leads to the next: the emergence of an argument or significant idea or center of gravity or shape. And from that center of gravity the work will build itself.   At least that has been my experience.

Please enjoy the blog as it is–we will not be adding content during my absence. However, I will check my email at mrwalker@uvic.ca if you wish to contact me with ideas for the blog’s future directions.

Take good care and enjoy the work and play of writing.

Madeline

 

 

How to build an argument

Academic Writing, Argument, Dissertation writing, Political science, Writing process

By Regan Burles

Regan is a PhD student in Political Science, studying political theory and international relations.

 

The first thing to remember is that an argument is not something already in the world, waiting to be discovered, but must be built by you.

 

 

 

 

Almost any academic writing assignment involves making an argument, but for graduate students, building an argument comes with a particular set of challenges. This is because at the graduate level, making an argument is not simply a matter of expressing what we think, but of making an original contribution to a field of study. This involves convincing other academics, who often have considerable experience and expertise, of the value and significance of our views. Even if we know what we think about a given subject, building an argument that accomplishes these goals can be a daunting and difficult task.

The first thing to remember is that an argument is not something already in the world, waiting to be discovered, but must be built by you. This involves articulating the argument itself, identifying relevant and convincing evidence, and developing connections between your argument and existing literature, events, or problems. This can be done in a variety of ways, and it is important to remember that arguments can be constructed differently depending on the discipline they are speaking to, the kind of supporting evidence employed, or the particular style of the author. Sound, compelling arguments can be built with materials and techniques as different as empirical research and analysis and close reading of texts, or synthesis and analysis.

Despite this diversity of methods, I find that the best arguments tend to have the same qualities: thorough, clear, logical, relevant, and critical. This last quality—critical—is particularly important, as it implies that the author has incorporated a consideration of the limits of their own argument into their analysis. This strengthens the argument itself, as it shows the author has thought about the particular beliefs, assumptions, and rationales that inform their own perspective.

A key element of building an effective argument is identifying your audience. Figuring out exactly what your argument is can be challenging, not least because of the need to make an argument that is original. Finding out what others have said about a particular topic can help you identify what is unique about your own position. By identifying similarities and differences between your own position and those of others who study the same subject, you can create what is sometimes called an “argument space,” a set of texts, concepts, and concerns the contours of which can help determine your guiding questions, central concepts, and main interlocutors. When trying to identify your audience, ask, “Which scholars or disciplines might be able to learn from what I am saying? To whom might my argument be most relevant and interesting?”

Once you have constructed a strong, clear argument supported by ample evidence, your task is still not complete. Don’t forget, an argument on its own is insufficient. It is crucial that you have some idea of why and to whom your argument matters. In other words, making a strong argument requires thinking about its implications. This means thinking about your argument as one element in a much broader context, whether that context is a policy arena, a particular set of literatures, or a problem that needs solving. This understanding will inform how you make your argument, what evidence you will gather, and the weight and inflection you will give to both.

Good luck!

Regan Burles is a PhD student in Political Science, studying political theory and international relations. He is also a tutor at the Centre for Academic Communication. He did his MA here at UVic in Political Science and the Cultural, Social & Political Thought Program. Regan has a BA from the University of Ottawa in History and Political Science (French Immersion).