Category Archives: Structure

Jacquie plays: The literature review as a journey up the mountain

Academic Writing, Centre for Academic Communication, Creative writing, Kinesiology, Literature review, Reading, Research, Structure, Tutoring, Writing process

By Jacqueline Allan and Madeline Walker

Jacqueline Allan, a masters’ student in kinesiology with a background in recreation, started visiting the Centre for Academic Communication early in her program. When Jacquie , who is studying adult play, shared her novel approach to the literature review with us recently, I just had to see if she was willing to let the community experience it as well.  Click onto the sound file to hear Jacquie’s journey up the mountain.

Earlier in the semester, Jacquie and I had a conversation about her life and her work.

Madeline: “Thank you for providing your literature review recording for us to enjoy. Can you tell me a little about why you wanted to study adult play for your master’s thesis?”

Jacquie : “I teach a lot of fitness classes, and I noticed that when I present something that’s playful, there are people who really resist that. They think, ‘I’m here to get a good hard workout, let’s just stay with what we know about exercising. Let’s not do anything playful.’ In fact, I’ve had people leave the class. So, I’m interested in what happens when we want to become playful. Or, why don’t we become playful?”

Madeline: “I love your question, ‘why are people resistant to play?’ I can relate as I used to be one of those people. Part of it was self-consciousness. What would people think? We’re not children anymore, I can’t look foolish. That was part of my resistance.”

Jacquie: “I think that’s a lot of it. People say I was a kid then, and I’ve left all that behind. Why is that? What are the forces acting on us as adults that don’t allow that? Is it still the work ethic thing, that if I am not working, I’m not seen as being productive? So it doesn’t have value? I am interested in that.”

Madeline: “When I first heard your lit review, you were on a hike, and there was birdsong in the background—you were embodying this spirit of play in your work, which I think is so wonderful.  I wanted to know what was the spark to give you this idea?  Was it, ‘I want to do a lit review and I want to record it, to make it a story?’”

Jacqueline made a wry face. “You just said I wanted to do a lit review; I HAD to do a lit review!” We both laughed about that.

Jacquie then described a childhood memory that informed her literature review journey: “I thought back to when I was a kid. I grew up on the North Shore of Vancouver, and we lived at the bottom of Grouse Mountain, and that was one of the things I did with my cousins, who lived in the same neighbourhood. We used to go down to the creek at the bottom of the mountain, and we would start going up the mountain, looking for Santa Claus. That was the culture we grew up in. It occurred to me that we didn’t really know where we were going. We knew that we were having fun, and this lit review is a journey for me into the unknown, into the wilderness.”

Madeline: “So that’s where you got the model for the journey up the mountain? “

Jacquie: “Yes. So I took all the people I was looking at in my research, and I could envisage them being at certain places along the way. One person that comes to mind is Brian Sutton-Smith [play theorist from New Zealand, 1924-2015]. I read his material for the literature review, and at one point I thought—wait a minute—I’ve met this person before! There was a prof who came to UBC and gave us a lecture for a convention or something, and I walked back with him and we were laughing and he looked like a surfer, and he had an accent. He reminded me of somebody who embodied playfulness! I could see him in the forest. He was with all the elves, just running around in this grove. So he takes a big part in this because he, for me, having met him, was playful even in his work. . . . And toward the end of the lit review, I came to the realization that I didn’t know anything!

I responded, “That means you’re very wise, Jacquie, when you know you don’t know anything!”

We chuckled about that nugget of truth voiced by Albert Einstein: “the more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know.”

Jacquie: “Brian Sutton-Smith said that play is ambiguous–even Aristotle and Plato said that. We don’t really know what it is. Play is a noun and a verb in our culture. In particular, what is play for adults? As adults, we tend to know when we are not at play. To me, that means we know what play is. If you know the shadow of it, then you know what it is. But at the same time realizing this is so huge and I thought I would get to this literature review, and this would be the basis of a thesis I wanted to do, and I would think, ‘great, I’ve done it.’ Oh my gosh, no, not even close!”

The Wisdom of Ravens

Reflecting on her feeling of not knowing, Jacquie starts to describe her experience with ravens.

“I have met ravens on Grouse Mountain. One day, I was up there at the chalet where you can sit and look over the city. A raven came down and sat right there looking at me. This was the raven I had in my head. Speaking of wise–they’re so very wise.  The raven looked at me:

‘You think you know what’s going on but you don’t have a clue! And furthermore this path is way longer and way more ancient than you ever thought.’

I know now that ravens in First Nations culture symbolize an awful lot, but one of the things is knowledge. I thought, well that’s interesting. The raven is holding all this knowledge, and it’s up to me to try to find out, but the raven had no intention of telling me any of the knowledge except to say, it will be revealed to you.  First, you need to put in the work. So I’m at the bottom of the Grouse Grind, not at the top, and I need to keep going. That was the message from the raven.”

Jacquie thought for a bit then added, “Ravens also symbolize the subtlety of the truth. Am I looking for the truth of play?  Will ever approach the truth? Or get close?”

Wondering with Jacquie, I offered the following thought: “Maybe there are multiple truths.”

Jacquie: “Good point. Ravens also symbolize the unknown. In fact, I wrestle with and have to get comfortable with and accept that I’ll never know the truth about play.”

I remembered what a favourite writer of mine said about the literature review. “Pat Thomson says that the literature review is about getting comfortable with ambiguity, with not knowing. You’ll never know it all. I love your attitude, of seeing it as a journey of revelation. Even if you only get a little bit of it, there’s still a sense of appreciation. Sometimes we get arrogant as academics, thinking we can capture all this information, but in fact it’s always changing and dynamic, and it’s impossible to know it all.”

Jacquie admitted that this was a surprise to her.

“Jacquie,” I said, “I know you are an accomplished jazz vocalist. Is that what you do for play?”

Jacquie: “It is playful, but within a massive structure. So knowing the structure is super important, and improvisation is all part of jazz. So that becomes the playful part but within this really tremendous structure. So for me personally, playfulness is an attitude. I have a strong feeling that all of creation is playful, and the fact that we as humans don’t get that is kind of our problem. And so I look for that, every single day, and I look for the people–you  recognize somebody who has a playful spirit. Most day to day situations can be turned into playful situations. But that makes going through it fun; why not have fun? We’re all in it together. To do what we do individually to the best of our abilities. Let’s just have fun together. It’s very social for me as well. I can be playful by myself, you know I like physical recreation, but being playful with other people is where it’s at.”

Madeline: “So playfulness is an attitude for you?”

Jacquie clarified: “It’s actually a behaviour trait. Most of the researchers would distinguish play as one thing, but playfulness is something different. One researcher, Gordon, says her feeling is that playfulness can be learned or re-learned as an adult, and that fascinates me. What are the conditions under which a person learns for the first time or relearns how to be playful in their life?”

Jacquie and I agreed this seemed hopeful—that adults can re-learn their playfulness.

Jacquie’s top three tips for writing a literature review

I asked Jacquie to share her top three tips for a student who says, “I have to do a lit review and I’m terrified! What should I do?”

Jacquie responded without missing a beat: “Seek help at the Centre for Academic Communication. Those people know what a literature review is, and they can give you information on how to approach it right from the very beginning. They can give you tons of resources. That was so important to me. It was vital to me, not having done one before.”

Madeline: “Thanks for the plug, Jacquie!”

Jacquie : “Second, be looking at a topic you absolutely love because it can be onerous, and reading research is a bit of a process, so just stay with your loved topic. The third one is to have fun with it because it is a journey. In Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck says ‘you don’t take a journey, the journey takes you.’ So recognize that right off the top.”

Jacquie  started to gather her things to go. Time had slipped by quickly because we had been playing. “Thank you for the opportunity and the assistance you’ve given me.”

Thank you, Jacquie , for sharing your journey through this interview and your recorded literature review. Many readers will feel inspired to welcome playfulness into their lives after they read this. I know you inspired me!

 

 

Photo of Jacquie by Malakai Design Photography

Photo of Raven: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Female_adult_raven.jpg

By Bombtime [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 3.0  (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], from Wikimedia Commons

 

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.

 

 

 

 

Candidacy Exams: Just get them done!

Academic Writing, Anxiety, Candidacy exams, Deadlines, Digital humanities, Distractions, Focus strategies, Goal setting, Graduate student writers, Inspiration and motivation, Mental health, Motivation, Organization/ Order, Outlines, Planning, Productivity, Reading, Research, Revision, Structure, Time management, Writing process

 By Tracey El  Hajj

If you are a PhD student and candidacy exams are part of your program, you are either already thinking about them or very glad to have completed them (congratulations!). Candidacy exams, in the English Department at least, are structured in a way that allows students to read for months and then take the exam (twice: A Major Field and a Focused Field) either in the form of a take-home exam over a three-day period or an on-campus exam written in five hours. The exams have three major components: preparing, writing, and defending. This post will focus on the writing process for the three-day take-home exam.

First of all, before the day your exam is set to begin, take a moment to realize the amount of information you have acquired over the preparation period, embrace the fact that you have accomplished what you have so far, and acknowledge the fact that you have done your best and the time has come for you to engage with your knowledge and skills. Now you have the questions and you are supposed to pick one from each of the three sections. It goes without saying that you should pick the ones that sound the easiest and most doable for you. However, make sure to choose ones that allow you to cover the different texts you have to engage with and ones that allow you to demonstrate your understanding of the field as fully as possible. Some supervisors advise their students to set a back-up fourth question they could go to as a plan B.

Once you have picked your questions, pick the texts you want to refer to in your answers. Make sure you stick to the number of texts advised in your exam prompt and that the ones you choose do not overlap across questions. Once you have this down, breathe and pat yourself on the back; you’ve already done something. As a next step, outline your answers–yes, all three of them. Writing the outline will reveal to you that you know what you want to talk about and how you are going to approach it. It also eases you into the process of writing, and prepares you for the second and third day of your exam, during which you will be thankful that you don’t really have to do much brainstorming. Note that it is important that you have a thesis, or something close to that, as part of your primary outline. Also note that it is okay if these outlines change a little. Their purpose is to rid you from the heavy load of planning and brainstorming on your two later days, so minor edits are acceptable and even expected. Next, you write.

Start with the question you are least comfortable with. You are on your first day, you are well rested, and quite alert. You can tackle the hardest question. Besides, once you are done with this first answer, you will feel more confident and more comfortable approaching the two “easier” questions. When you are writing, follow the process you are most comfortable with: if you free write then go back, add sources, edit, etc., stick to that; if you write and edit as you go, do that. The point is, this is a very structured setting, so call upon your most confident strategies and adopt them. Make sure, however, that you are aware of the time constraints and that you have time to go back and edit your essays before you submit. In addition, keep going back to your main argument and make sure that your claims speak to it. Just as with any other argumentative piece, your thesis is meant to guide the rest of your work; this exam is no different. Your committee wants to read a work that is clear, concise, and coherent. Though they are aware of your constraints (time and word count), they also know very well how capable you are, and they expect a certain level of competency, nothing you haven’t already achieved. Aim to finish the first question on the first day; set the tone for the rest of the exam. Don’t worry about final editing right away. As you may know by now, it is good to step away from your work and come back to it with a fresh look. However, if you feel like you need to completely finish every question on its own, then do whatever keeps you in a good mental space.

A few things might come up as you are writing. This is a very stressful time; acknowledge that. If you feel the stress creeping up, and you think you need a break, take the break. Go for a walk, grab a coffee with a friend, call someone dear, take a breather. If you engage in a conversation and feel the urge to brainstorm with a friend, do that, jot down some notes while you’re at it. Do whatever you feel will keep you going. You know you can do this, but the setting and the structure are definitely adding to the stress. Some of your colleagues may have smoothly cruised through their exams, and you might as well. But if you don’t, you’re not alone in this. Many students, including myself, give in to the haunting load of candidacy exams; we make it through nonetheless. One way I managed to overcome a writer’s block on day one is a change of scenery. I went to a nearby coffee shop where other students were also immersed in their work. I set a goal (number of words) and only left after I achieved it. Once back in the original setting I automatically acknowledged the progress and felt a little more confident. It’s the little things, the little steps, the brief moments of “I got this” and the large coffees/smoothies/juices/energy drinks or whatever keeps you running. It is important that you eat well and be well rested. These exams are doable, that’s why they’re there. These exams are not meant to be easy though, and that’s also why they’re there. Just write those answers; get it over with!

About Tracey

Tracey is  a PhD student in the English Department at the University of Victoria. She received her Master’s from the American University of Beirut, after developing a Social Network Analysis tool for post-war Lebanese Anglophone novels. She currently works in the field of Digital Humanities, focusing on Critical Technical Practice. Her research focuses on the intersections between computing and culture, looking at how the humanities can help shape more socially aware technologies.  She is also a TA in the English Department and a tutor at the Centre for Academic Communication. Tracey has a passion for teaching alongside research.

Being passionate about your project is not enough: Be specific and plan well

Academic Writing, Education, Focus strategies, Graduate student writers, Organization/ Order, Outlines, Planning, Productivity, Professional degree, Research, Structure, Writing process
Satty Virdi

By Satinder Virdi

Whenever I am asked what I’m studying at university, my response is always “I’m doing my Masters in Education.” This isn’t technically true as I’m actually completing a Master of Education known as the M.Ed. degree program. Apart from their titles, significant differences exist between a Master of Arts (M.A.) and an M.Ed. degree.

The M.A. in Education is a research degree primarily for students who have an interest in conducting research in the field of education. It is well suited for those who intend to pursue doctorate level study. In order to earn an M.A., students must complete and defend a thesis.

In comparison, the M.Ed. can be classed as a professional degree, which is ideal for licensed educators looking to expand their career options. This degree often focuses on more practical, field-based research and experiences, which critically evaluate educational practices. The M.Ed. does not require a thesis; however, it does contain research elements on par with the standard required by an M.A. This requirement can take the form of a capstone project, development of a portfolio, and/or comprehensive examinations.

At UVic, the final requirement of the M.Ed. program is a comprehensive examination. The penultimate task is the completion of a research project, which cannot include human subjects. The project is typically 50-70 pages and can take a number of different forms. While some projects are more theoretical, the majority aim to serve a practical purpose. Projects can range from policy development to the implementation of arts-based workshops.

The focus of my project is the mental well-being of schoolchildren. I am carrying out research that will be used by the Ministry of Education to establish guidelines for school leaders on how best to support the mental wellness of children in their schools. Mental well-being has become a recurring theme in my work over the last 10 years. During my time as a classroom teacher, I frequently came across students feeling stressed due to the fear of failure. In addition, a course I completed earlier this year sparked my interest in the mental well-being of schoolchildren further. This was a project that was completed for the Ministry of Children and Family Development. It focused on the provision of sexual health education in the schools of British Columbia. According to my research, one of the key elements associated with young people making sensible and informed sexual decisions was directly related to their mental health. This led me to investigate the Ministry of Education’s research priorities. I was unsurprised to learn that mental well-being in schools is a big agenda item for the Ministry at present. This motivated me to involve myself with the project in an attempt to support current research and investigate developments in this area.

My interest and passion for the subject led me straight to the UVic Library. I spent hours searching through various databases to find everything I could that has recently been written on mental well-being. At this point, I had no research questions or framework to work with, and I knew my approach wasn’t ideal. I downloaded paper after paper and had highlighting everywhere! When I attended my research methods class, my project supervisor taught me the importance of being specific. It was exactly what I needed to bring order to the chaos I had unintentionally created. Now that I knew exactly what I was searching for, it also lent a hand in beginning the writing process. There is no set format for writing your project. However, it is a good idea to use a basic outline regardless of the approach you use. Supervisors seem to like the three-part structure and it is what I am using too.

Following an abstract and table of contents, the first part of the write-up is an introductory chapter that explains the overall purpose and objectives of your project. It provides the general context that helps readers understand the problem being tackled and the significance of your research. Chapter two is where you outline the theoretical foundations and framework of your study. References to literature can help demonstrate your understanding of similar studies and the findings of scholars in your area of interest. The final chapter, which is what I am currently working on, is where you showcase your findings. Depending on the type of project you complete, this can take the form of a report, a workshop, or a piece of artwork. As part of the discussion and conclusions section, you can share ideas for further research or make specific recommendations.

At times writing my project has been challenging. Referring back to my original handwritten draft outline is what has always helped me stay on track. In my experience so far, being truly passionate about the subject alone hasn’t proven to be enough. What we learn and what we may know mean very little unless we can translate them into written words. Feedback from my supervisor states that my writing is persuasive and effective, which reassures me that I’m heading in the right direction. Focusing on one aspect at a time and writing in short bursts is working out well for me. As writers, our approaches and styles may vary, but I honestly believe that good planning can help lead the way for us all.

 

About Satty

Satinder (Satty) Virdi is a UK qualified secondary school teacher with 10 years of classroom experience. Since moving to Victoria in August 2016, Satty has been an M.Ed. Leadership Studies student in the Faculty of Education. She is currently completing her final project, which focuses on the mental well-being of schoolchildren. Along with her studies, she also works at the University of Victoria as a CAC tutor and the Teaching Assistant Consultant for the Educational Psychology and Leadership Studies department. Off-campus, Satty works as the Executive Director of The Society of Friends of St. Ann’s Academy; a non-profit organization, which raises awareness of and tackles issues of gender and social justice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The abstract is “an argument, writ small”

Abstracts, Academic Writing, Blogs and blogging, Centre for Academic Communication, Dissertation writing, EAL graduate students, Graduate student writers, International graduate students, Structure, Tutoring, Writing process, Writing resources

By Madeline Walker

The word abstract is a bit confusing.  When I looked up this word in the dictionary, I found the first definition is for the adjective, to do with “thought rather than matter, or in theory rather than practice; not tangible or concrete.” Thus an abstract concept, such as love, good, or evil, has no physical referent. The noun definition is “a summary of or statement of the contents of a book.” When you write an abstract for an article, thesis, or conference, you are “abstracting” (a rarely used verb form of the word, meaning to extract or pull out) some key bits from the whole. Yet contrary to the adjectival meaning of the word (non-concrete), it’s a good idea not to be too “abstract” when writing your abstract! An abstract abstract is likely to be ineffective because your goal is to deliver a clear picture of your research in your reader’s mind, and abstract language won’t do that. When you have only a few words to say a great deal, you had better be as concrete as possible in order to deliver your purpose to the reader directly.

I am a big fan of Thomson and Kamler’s four-move abstract described in Detox Your Writing: Strategies for Doctoral Researchers (available as an e-book in our library). Their model works well for all types of abstracts, and it can also be used to kick-start your writing. Thomson and Kamler write that the abstract is not a summary—it’s actually an “argument, writ small,” and it must contain your central argument in abstracted form.  You might say, “Well mine is a computer science article—I don’t really have an argument.”  I imagine T & K would respond that any piece of academic writing can be abstracted into an argument. You are trying to persuade the reader that your computer science finding/development/algorithm contributes to the research/makes a difference in some way. And that’s an argument. Here are Thomson and Kamler’s moves; please refer to the chapter “Learning to argue” (pp. 83–106) in Detox Your Writing for more information and samples of ineffective/effective abstracts.

LOCATE: this means placing your paper in the context of the discipline community and the field in general. Larger issues and debates are named and potentially problematized. In naming the location, you are creating a warrant for your contribution and its significance, as well as informing an international community of its relevance outside of its specific place of origin.

FOCUS: this means identifying the particular questions, issues or kinds of problems that your paper will explore, examine and/or investigate.

REPORT: this means outlining the research, sample and/or method of analysis in order to assure readers that your paper is credible and trustworthy, as well as the major findings that are pertinent to the argument to be made.

ARGUE: this means opening out the specific argument through offering an analysis. This will move beyond description and may well include a theorisation in order to explain findings. It may offer speculations, but will always have a point of view and take a stance. It returns to the opening Locate in order to demonstrate the specific contribution that was promised at the outset. (Thomson & Kamler, 2016, p. 92)

The authors encourage you to keep writing and rewriting your abstract throughout the broader writing process; each time, you will  refine it further. Try preparing a draft abstract of your article/thesis, regardless of the stage you are at. You’ll be surprised at how it focuses your writing and cements your motivation.  I’ve had more than one student tell me it worked to get them writing again after a dry spell.

Call for graduate student blog post writers!

A huge thank you to all of our student writers so far this year: Kaveh Tagharobi, Russell Campbell, Kate Ehle, Marta Bashovski, Cindy Quan, Jonathan Faerber, and Arash Isapour.  Your writing resonated with so many of your fellow graduate students. Thank you for taking the time to craft wonderful posts and share your experience.

We need more student writers for the 2017/2018 academic year, so please consider writing for us.  We need students from different disciplines and backgrounds and at various stages of study to volunteer to write for the blog. Your topic can be anything related to academic communication and graduate students; see the guidelines here. If you feel uncertain that your writing skills are sufficient to the task, please make an appointment with me cdrcac@uvic.ca  I’ll be happy to coach you on how to improve your draft until we are both happy with it.  As Peter Elbow says, “Everybody can write.”

Additionally, we need some specific topics covered this year, and perhaps one of these attracts you:

  • The “thesis by publication” or article-based dissertation. This model, popular in the sciences and social sciences, requires that you write three or more “publishable” articles (plus weave them into a whole with intro/conclusion). Although the book-length dissertation is still with us, the article-based version is definitely a trend in our university, and I’d love somebody to write about it. Are you a student who is following this model or considering it?
  • Writing in different disciplines. Perhaps you are writing an interdisciplinary thesis, dissertation, or article and you need to negotiate with supervisors from various faculties. How’s that going for you? We would love to hear from you if you’ve had this experience or you have written in different disciplines (say, you did your MA or MSc in one area and are doing your PhD in a different one).  What have you learned about disciplinary differences in writing?
  • Communicating with your supervisor.  Okay, this may seem elementary, but some of us have struggled for hours to craft communication with supervisors or other professors.  EAL students unfamiliar with the Canadian university context may find this especially difficult. Would you like to write about this challenge and some strategies that have worked for you?

Don’t want to write, but want to read about something in particular? Please email me to suggest a specific blog post topic: cdrcac@uvic.ca.

We are taking a break for August, and the next post will be published in mid-September. Happy summer everybody, and thank you for reading the blog.

 

 

 

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.