Category Archives: Faculty member

Know thyself: A conversation with Dr. Lisa Mitchell about writing

Academic Writing, Anthropology, Cognitive process and writing, Creative writing, Dissertation writing, Environment, Faculty member, Feedback, Focus strategies, Inspiration and motivation, Make writing social, Motivation, Organization/ Order, Outlines, Planning, Productivity, Structure, Visuals, Writing process

By Madeline Walker with Lisa Mitchell

Last week, I wandered over to Cornett to visit Dr. Lisa Mitchell, Associate Professor and Graduate Student Adviser in the Department of Anthropology. We sat together in her cozy office on a cool March afternoon to talk about writing—a favourite topic for both of us.

Dr. Lisa M. Mitchell

I asked Lisa about her own graduate school experience—could she share any tips gleaned from writing her dissertation? Lisa admitted that she didn’t become as “deeply reflective about how to write and especially what to do if writing doesn’t go smoothly” until she had her own graduate students.  We agreed that we often learn best by teaching. Lisa’s experience supervising graduate students exposed her both to students who experienced writing as pleasurable and to students who experienced writing as terrifying, and this helped her to a realization.  “I needed to get more reflective about my own writing practice and what I might offer to them to work through problems or how to take the writing to a deeper level.” Here Lisa touched on a theme she returned to several times during our dialogue: self-reflection in writing. As we become aware of our writing process, we come to know and accept ourselves as writers, and therefore we become more effective at writing, making the most of our idiosyncratic methods.

Garnered from both her own writing experience and her experience supervising, Lisa shared some of the ways she guides graduate students when they run into writing trouble. “Don’t assume that writing is easy and don’t assume it’s something natural. Take it as an  aspect of your learning process. It’s a skill and needs to be practiced. Do it regularly so it becomes a habit and something you think about through that regular engagement.”

Lisa noted that in anthropology, writing is sometimes the site or space for analysis, and students may get stuck in their writing because they are “still in the process of figuring out the analysis and trying to sort it out.”  She went on to describe several ways to overcome barriers that arise when we try to think things through before writing them down.  “When I start a piece, it’s not unusual for me to have a very hazy, broad idea of what I’m talking about, but when I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, I am working out the analysis as much as I am working out the narrative structure.” Lisa paused thoughtfully. “When things don’t go well, when you start to stumble in writing, change it up a little bit. Pick a different topic for even a few minutes or a day or two. If you’ve been sitting with your computer, stop and try pen and paper. In some of my classes, I have a session where you get a sentence fragment to start and you have to keep writing for five minutes.  Just do freewriting. Unleash the initial apprehension about starting a writing session.”

Lisa also finds that using visual tools can help shift stuck writing.  “I rely very heavily on making diagrams with my students when working through not just writing but analysis. I need to move between the word, the mind map, and the flow chart, and sometimes it is enormously helpful to sit and talk about what you are trying to write and try to represent it visually. So you have both a sense of the component elements of your writing, but also there is something very freeing, very stimulating in moving away from the word and putting it into circles and arrows.”

Another method Lisa uses when she needs to change things up is voice. “I turn on a recorder and just start talking. Sometimes it’s just me and my dogs and I’m going to start somewhere, sometimes in the middle or sometimes I think this is where I want this paper to end up. It’s a bit time consuming because you have to go back and see if there’s anything you really wanted and at times there is and at times there isn’t, but generally that process begins to bring to the surface bits and pieces that I know need to be in the piece I’m working on.”

Lisa then stressed the importance of sharing your writing: “We end up writing in little closed off spaces and there is much value in thinking about how you can make the writing more social. Talk to other people about writing – don’t assume that other people are writing without problems, without crisis.  Sometimes, talking to other people about what you are writing is a way to express it differently.”

This led Lisa to think about how she shares her own work with colleagues: “I think particularly among faculty we are unwilling to share our unfinished, our unpolished drafty drafts, and I think there is enormous value in working through even some of the basic foundational elements of an argument or the structure of a piece by being willing to open yourself up a bit.”  She elaborated on the metaphor of writing as conversation, a metaphor that can liberate us from the intimidating prospect of writing a thesis or dissertation:  “Think of writing as a creative process. If you load it up by saying ‘I have to write my dissertation,’ that’s such a daunting process, whereas if you say ‘I want to ask some interesting questions’ and ‘I want to engage in some conversations,’ it’s so much more doable, and it also feels like something that is much more like our everyday lives. Although there are certain requirements for a dissertation or a thesis in the level of academic language, and you are engaging sources in a way you wouldn’t ordinarily in everyday conversation, by metaphorically framing what you’re doing as engaging in a conversation and asking interesting questions, you don’t take on that huge burden: ‘Now I must create original knowledge’ in five or seven chapters or whatever.”

I agreed that the conversation metaphor is very useful in academic writing, mentioning a helpful writing text based on the idea of dialogue, They Say/ I Say: The Moves that Matter in Academic Writing by Graff and Birkenstein (2010).

As the clock crept closer to the end of our allotted time, I asked Lisa for any further thoughts on how she writes best, and she reiterated the importance of opening up about your writing:  “I sometimes think the reason we don’t talk about what we’re writing is there’s always a risk that we won’t finish it, so we don’t talk about it.” “Yes,” I said, “like telling people you’re quitting smoking then starting again.”  Lisa laughed. “The list of things we would like to write is always longer than the list of what we actually manage to write, but I don’t think there’s any real shame in that. Sometimes part of the creative process is working through the possibilities and then settling on the one or the two that you’re ready to actually write.  I tend to think of myself as a non-linear writer, so I really am one of those people that sometimes just starts in the middle. I kind of know where I should end up, but I’m not too sure where I’m starting from. I think by this point in my career I’ve made peace with that process; I don’t stress about it very much anymore and I’ve also made peace with the fact that sometimes I start articles or writing pieces that don’t get finished. Sometimes I lose interest, and other times I can’t figure out a way to tell the story that is compelling to others. It may be something I found deeply interesting, but I think why would other people care about this?”

The ancient Greek aphorism “Know thyself,” from a memento mori mosaic from excavations in the convent of San Gregorio in Rome

I responded: “What I am taking away from what you have said, Lisa, is that self-reflection, self-knowledge about being a writer is extremely important. Once we know what kind of writer we are, we can make peace with that, work with it, instead of thinking we ought to be a certain way.” Lisa nodded in agreement. I left feeling validated—I am one of those “start in the messy middle” writers, and I was happy to know that others worked productively, even confidently, in this manner.  Thank you, Lisa, for sharing these ideas.  There’s no shame in being the writer you know you are. . . in fact, it’s cause for celebration. Writer, know thyself.

 

 

Lisa M. Mitchell is Associate Professor and Graduate Advisor in Anthropology at UVic. Her research interests are at the intersection of bodies, technology, and inequalities. She has conducted research on prenatal testing, perinatal loss and reproductive politics in Canada, on the visualizing technologies of medicine, especially ultrasound fetal imaging, on experiences and meanings of body and risk among impoverished children and their families in the Philippines and among street youth in Canada, and on bereaved parents’ use of social media.

 

 

 

 

Pictures tell stories: An interview with Dr. Thomas Darcie about writing for engineers

Academic Writing, Engineering, Figures, Organization/ Order, Structure, Visuals
Dr. Thomas Darcie

By Madeline Walker

Dr. Thomas Darcie (also known as Ted) joined UVic in 2003 after a long career at Bell AT&T and is currently a Professor in the Department of Electrical and Computer Engineering. He is known as a leader in the development of lightwave systems for analog applications in cable television and wireless systems.

One morning in early June, I  had the opportunity to meet with Ted in his office in the Engineering Office Wing. Dozens of articles—evidence of Ted’s productivity—were spread across his desk. A cool breeze entered the open window.

Ted has supervised many graduate students in Engineering over the years, and I wanted to hear his ideas about writing in his discipline.

“How is writing in Engineering different from writing for another disciplines?” I asked.

“In Engineering, you’re trying to get across a complicated idea as succinctly as possible. I think in other disciplines they tend to use more words to express things. Certainly when there is a lot of mathematics involved, you try to let the mathematics tell the story, and you’re writing words to support the mathematics.”

Ted and I talked about the kinds of challenges writing presents for his students. “I see challenges at every level of the writing process,” he said. “There’s the top level, the organizational structure of the story to be told. Then this breaks down to paragraphs—what is supposed to be in a paragraph and what separates paragraphs. Then there’s sentence structure, use of words, punctuation, syntax. I see challenges for writers at all these levels.”

“How do you help students face these challenges?” I wondered. “Do you work with them on their writing?”

“I do. We spend quite a lot of time cleaning up drafts. I mark-up drafts – I take a document and address all the levels at the same time. The first cut is the organization cut – what goes where. Then after the organization makes sense we break it down. It takes time, and in extreme cases I’ll work through several drafts with a student.”

I was curious about what Ted identifies as the biggest problem in graduate student writing. He used a metaphor to illustrate how students sometimes miss the point of writing: “People tend to want to write about what they spent their time doing whether or not that aligns with the story that needs to be told. A student might spend 80% of their time trying to polish something without breaking it, and they succeed. Then they spend 80% of their manuscript writing about the polishing, but what the reader wants to know is the outcome.” Ted’s example tweaked my memory; I’d seen corresponding situations in other disciplines, for example the data-driven thesis in the social sciences. A student might discuss her data for pages and pages without drawing any conclusions about it.

We moved from talking about problems to talking about successes. I asked Ted what characterizes the best engineering writing by students. “It’s well organized. Organization is key,” he answered. “In organized writing, the writer establishes a direct line between the introductory objective, the analysis, the results, and the meaning. The direct line is very important.”

I asked Ted to tell me more about the “direct line,” an intriguing phrase that reminded me of the “red thread” that some people refer to in argument-driven writing. “Well,” he said, “a technical manuscript is a concatenation of results, graphs, and equations, and you can tell the story with no words by lining up your graphs, figures, and equations in the right order. You can fill in the blanks between by joining those visuals. Visuals are telling the story, the words are just supporting the visuals. I badger my grad students to give me the story line in the visuals. Write in point form between the pictures, then expand each point into a paragraph. I’d much rather see a concatenation of 20 pictures telling a story than a concatenation of 20 paragraphs telling a story because I know which one would be better organized. You don’t need words to tell a story. Once the pictures are lined up, it’s easier to get the words right.”

The breeze from the open window lifts the top pages of the articles blanketing Ted’s desk. I thank him for his insights and go out into the bright day. I muse on disciplinary writing differences. My own love for art helps me know at a deep level that you can tell a story without words. I just hadn’t thought about how that idea can be applied in academic writing. I will now approach the engineering and math students I meet with this new perspective. For these disciplines, the word is often helpmate to the picture, and as Ted says, “once the pictures are lined up, it’s easier to get the words right.” Thank you Ted, for helping me to see writing in a new way.

An example of pictures telling stories
Credit: Smith, Jooshesh, Zhang, & Darcie. (2017). THz-TDS using a photoconductive free-space linear tapered slot antenna transmitter. Optics Express, 25(9). 10118-10125. https://doi.org/10.1364/OE.25.010118, p. 10120.

 

 

 

 

 

The first rule of Write Club is you have to write

Academic Writing, Centre for Academic Communication, Dissertation writing, English Department, Goal setting, Graduate student writers, Posts by Kaveh, Procrastination, Productivity, Time management, Writing groups

By Kaveh Tagharobi

Having a full time job and writing a thesis is not easy. Actually, this is an understatement because sometimes the task appears utterly impossible. Work projects alone require your undivided attention, and at the end of the day, there is not much intellectual power left to read about your topic, organize your thoughts, and more importantly, to weave those thoughts into the paragraphs, sections, and chapters of a thesis. The most important factor in writing a thesis is consistency, and having a full-time job, and (occasionally) a life, makes it too hard to maintain that consistency. You might manage to make a Write Club posterbreakthrough on a weekend or during “holidays,” but as soon as you spend a whole week on the work roller coaster, you find yourself back at square one, detached from your thesis, needing to review stuff that is now weeks old.

This is where I kept finding myself for two years trying to finish my MA thesis while working at the CAC. As an EAL Specialist, I knew in theory how to go through the writing process and how to break down writing tasks into smaller chunks in order to make incremental progress. I did not, however, find the place, time, or the motivation to put what I knew into practice.

But things changed in the summer of 2016, when I started to go to Write Club, a group writing initiative started by Stephen Ross in the English Department for faculty and graduate students to write together. The ad for Write Club described it as “a no-pressure, no distraction setting for getting that pesky writing done,” and it encouraged bringing any writing project because “No one cares what you write, so long as you write.” This simple, crisp, and forthright invitation was all I needed to start building a simple, crisp, and forthright habit: to carve two hours out of my workday (by going to work a couple hours earlier) and writing about four paragraphs during that time. It was as simple as that, and I wrote my thesis (the whole 50,000 words) in the same rhythm, two hours a day, four paragraphs at a time. Of course, on some days, I spent my two hours reading, planning, and revising, but I tried to keep the same habit rain or shine. In the fall, when I got busier at work and could not go to Write Club regularly, I still kept my two hour routine early in the morning or after work in the evening. It was surprisingly easier to keep the momentum once I got into a groove, and I actually worked for much more than two hours during Christmas holidays and as I got closer to the finish line. Write Club helped me finish my thesis, and as someone who had tried to start writing groups at the CAC as part of my role, I went back to Stephen to ask him about the reasons for Write Club’s success.

My main question for Stephen was how he managed to spark interest and keep people going to Write Club. I had tried to do the same, and I had noticed that the initial enthusiasm would dissipate rather soon. He reassured me that it is part of the nature of such initiatives to “bloom and fade” somewhat quickly, and that it is fine. To increase persistence, Stephen believed that you should “go slow burn”: “You don’t need to go for huge numbers to make a big show and a big deal out of it.” This was true. It was somehow the simplicity of the idea that attracted me and kept me going. He said that it was just him in the beginning and then he decided to send out an invitation to faculty and graduate students. “I never advertised it outside English or to undergraduates.” This allowed him to keep it easy and simple, and that helped with consistency.

One other way to keep it simple was to limit the activities and functions of the group. The invitation simply said “come and write.” I asked if there was any sharing of writing or plans to give feedback. “Very informally,” Stephen said. “Once Adrienne [Dr. Adrienne Williams Boyarin, an Associate professor in English] had a question about her paper, and we made her deliver her paper. It became a discussion.” But it seemed that for the most part, Write Club was just about being there and quietly beavering away. “The emphasis was on not disturbing other people. I did not want anybody to hijack the session,” said Stephen. I agreed. The idea was to provide encouragement and motivation by showing that we are all in it together. I remember being there, and as I got tired, I would look at others writing and would feel that I was not alone, and that helped me continue. Stephen confirmed this: “It is somehow like physical education. You need a workout partner. For writing, it is kind of the same principle.” They key is to know that someone is doing the same thing you are doing. He thinks that you do not even have to be in the same room to do this. You can have a “writing appointment” with someone and write at the same time.  “Not everybody likes to write around other people. It is weird for them, and that’s fine. For me it is all about accountability.” He continued with his delightful frankness, “Like many academics, I am driven by shame. If I create conditions for myself, I don’t want to embarrass myself.” I definitely felt that sense of accountability. Knowing that other members would show up to the writing session every morning gave me not only the motivation to commit to my writing, but also a sense of being watched by kind, yet panoptic co-writers, and this kept me leaving home a couple hours earlier every day even when I really didn’t feel like it.

It is not all about being kept in check though. “Equally it is about support,” Stephen said. “We are all suffering. Writing is not easy for anyone. Anyone who tells you it is easy, then they are not writing good stuff!” He was also straightforward in admitting the hardships: “some days were just so terrible, and I wanted the students to know that.” He showed it as a way of “modelling” for student participants because he thinks we must accept that blocks are part of writing. Yet there are solutions. He thinks that taking a break and coming back later can work, as “the brain cooks up the solution” when you go about your day doing other stuff. “Go have lunch or go for a walk and think about something else. At some point, you will have an ‘aha moment.’ Create space for those.”

Creativity and productivity come with a healthy balance: “Write for three hours a day max, and then do other things. The window of productivity is relatively tiny.” This makes Write Club perfect because in those two hours “you can prime the pump.” Longer periods of work “lead to frustration. Because you are working too hard. Not smart. You shouldn’t be writing for more than three hours per day. You do that, and your brain quality and quantity falls down.” Stephen said that he wrote a book and several journal articles during the summer with the same routine of 2-3 hours per day, and he still managed to lead a normal life: “I pick up my kid from school, go for a run, etc., and if I have an idea while doing these, I would dictate it into my phone for later.” I think this is clever, healthy, and reasonable, and he agrees: “this is actually the kind of life an academic should lead.”

Dr. Stephen Ross
Dr. Stephen Ross

I thank Stephen for his time and leave his office, with a little bit more hope and motivation for my future academic writing projects. The power of group writing is immense, and Write Club proved that by helping me and others accomplish important writing projects. I hope there are more programs like this across the campus to help graduate students get their writing done. Maybe all we need is an uncomplicated plan and a healthy balance of accountability and support.

Kaveh Tagharobi is an EAL (English as an additional language) Specialist at the Centre for Academic Communication.  He is also in the English Department’s MA Program with a concentration in Cultural, Social, and Political Thought.

 

Hidden gems: A conversation about writing with Dr. Anne Bruce

Academic Writing, Centre for Academic Communication, Creative writing, Dissertation writing, Faculty member, Feedback, Graduate student writers, Outlines, Productivity, Reading, School of Nursing, Tutoring, Voice, Writing process, , ,
Dr. Anne Bruce

By Madeline Walker

Late one Friday afternoon in January, I sat across from Anne in the Bibliocafé to talk about writing. The metal gates were being drawn around the food counter, and most seats were empty as students went off to their week-end activities.  In her role as the Associate Director of Graduate Education at UVic’s School of Nursing, Anne meets with many graduate students struggling with writing their theses and dissertations. The first thing I asked Anne was, “How can students be effective writers?”

Anne was quick to respond: “Write a lot. Engage in conversation with what you are reading—make notes, be in conversation with the author.” Anne recommended that students engage in note-taking at every stage of the dissertation.  Take notes during your coursework, your research, your data analysis.  “Very soon,” she said, “you will start to make connections.  The analytic process is fostered through organizing one’s thoughts through writing.”

Note-taking, Anne suggests, can also be in the form of a reflective journal, a vehicle that gives you “permission to be footloose and fancy free. Especially when doing research. You can include everything. Include whatever’s happening, the feeling of being blocked, the emotional experience of writing, the personal—everything—follow all lines of thought.”  Anne’s eyes lit up when she remembered how an entry she made in her reflective journal while on vacation led to musing about the verb “to vacate,” an observation that ended up in her dissertation.  “You never know what gems will come up,” Anne smiled.

This talk of gems got us onto the topic of voice: How do students find their own way of writing?  Anne suggested you be alert to writing that really engages you, writing that evokes a sense of aliveness. “Read to get a sense of what moves you,” she said. “If a writer really speaks to you, acknowledge that—take the writing apart—ask yourself, what is it about the style that is evocative? Don’t mimic the writing, but look at structure and style and make it your own.”

“Who do you like? Who moves you?” I asked.  Anne didn’t skip a beat. “Gary Rolfe writes with passion. I’ve found his voice clear and strong, the confidence.  He has an opinion,” she continued. “His writing borders on polemic, and my tendency is to be temperate, but polemic has its place,” she said with a wry grin.

Engage in note-taking at every stage of dissertation writing.

“Anybody else?” I asked. “Sally Gadow, a poetic philosopher,” Anne replied.  “She gave me permission to write that way. And another writer is Patti Lather—she writes fractured text, visually
‘saying’ what she means.  For example, she embeds boxes in her work that disrupt the writing.”

Anne and I talked about how students can gain inspiration from writers they admire, how they can play with writing, not taking it too seriously.  She reminded me that just as an academic writer’s body of work changes over time, so does the writing of graduate students as they develop their own styles and voices.

We shifted to another topic.  What about writers who struggle with writing and self-expression?  Anne suggests that grad students do an honest self-assessment of their writing, and if they need to learn the basics, then they can set out to learn them. It’s never too late to figure out how to work with an outline, to practice using mind-maps, to learn how to signpost and summarize.  This was the perfect opportunity for me to point out that graduate students can make appointments with tutors at the Centre for Academic Communication to work on any aspect of their communication skills.

Fittingly, my last question for Anne was about finishing; how do students finish a long writing project when they feel stuck?  Her answer was that we need to “acknowledge and work with fear and resistance. It’s part of the process, inherent to a sense of identity. It feels vulnerable to write, but we must find a way to be with it.”

One of the reasons students get stuck is that they get paralyzed by feedback from supervisors and committee members.  Anne had this recommendation: “Try not to take feedback personally, learn from it, and know that you don’t have to accept it, especially comments about style or approach. You can differentiate what is helpful and leave the rest.”  Anne also cautioned about “seeking feedback too early. In writing’s formative stages, things are in process. It’s a messy incubation period, and if you seek feedback from your supervisor too soon, the work can become even messier. You may get advice you don’t want to follow, which complicates your relationships. Instead, find peers who might be helpful, trustworthy, and honest.”

The winter sky turned purple and orange beyond the quad: It was time to part ways.  Anne had to go meet some PhD students at the Grad House and my work day was over.  But before we left each other, Anne added a lovely parting gift: “I know that students, as they build confidence, will write themselves into their dissertations.”

Thank you for the wise and encouraging words, Anne.  May we all trust the writing process.

Dr. Anne Bruce has been with UVic since 2003. Her approaches to research and teaching invite students into (un)speakable and in-between spaces of our professional and personal lives. Her current scholarship includes understanding nurses’ experiences with medical assistance in dying and integrating contemplative approaches into teaching and learning. She believes education can inspire, transform, and generate life-long friendships.​