by Cally Guerin
I have been visiting a number of universities lately, talking to other academics and travelling quite extensively. Fascinating as this has been, and in full recognition that it is a great privilege to have such an opportunity, I have to admit I was getting a bit frazzled by all the stimulation after a few weeks. Then I sat down at my computer to get on with some writing that had been patiently awaiting my return and suddenly I felt completely different — re-energized, focused, able to concentrate. Basically, I felt like myself again.
This experience got me thinking about the relationship between writing and academic identities. The reason I felt so good was not simply because I had retreated from all the new experiences and collegial friendships from the last few weeks; this calming sense of returning to myself seemed to be closely linked to actually doing some writing. This feeling resonated strongly with the literature that links writing and academic identities. Lots of scholars have explored this connection in detail, and if you don’t know their work already, I’d recommend:
Lee, A., & Boud, D. (2003). Writing groups, change and academic identity: Research development as local practice. Studies in Higher Education, 28(2), 187–200.
Kamler, B., & Thomson, P. (2006). Helping Doctoral Students Write: Pedagogies for Supervision. Oxford: Routledge.
Petersen, E.B. (2007). Negotiating academicity: Postgraduate research supervision as category boundary work. Studies in Higher Education, 32(4), 475–487.
Barnacle, R., & Mewburn, I. (2010). Learning networks and the journey of ‘becoming doctor’. Studies in Higher Education, 35(4), 433–444.
Baker, V.L., & Lattuca, L.R. (2010). Developmental networks and learning: Toward an interdisciplinary perspective on identity development during doctoral study. Studies in Higher Education, 35(7), 807–827.
Brew, A., Boud, D., & Namgung, S.U. (2011). Influences on the formation of academics: The role of the doctorate and structured development opportunities. Studies in Continuing Education 33(1), 51–66.
I have tried to bring some of this together in a paper on rhizomatic research cultures.
For many of us, our academic identity emerges during the process of writing a doctoral thesis. That’s a long time ago for me — and I hope some further development has happened along the way — but there are clearly strong links between what we know, what we do, and who we are. For me, at least, writing is the familiar activity that reassures me that I know what I’m doing, that allows the jumbled thoughts to find clear expression, and that reminds me this is a central focus of my job. It tells me that I’m the kind of person who can find the words to write about ideas; I can do it in grammatical, correctly punctuated sentences; and this is partly what I get paid for. When I’m writing I feel like I’m an academic — and it feels surprisingly good.
We should encourage doctoral students to enjoy this birthing of identity that occurs in parallel with writing the thesis, allowing plenty of space for them to actually enjoy the process of writing, rather than perpetuating the notion that it’s an agonizing process undergone by a tortured genius. Instead, remind these developing scholars that there’s nothing quite like the buzz one gets when the writing goes well. I genuinely believe that this equals any pleasure one can have in academic life, with its intense concentration and heightened sense of awareness. Does any of this echo your own experience?
Melanie Miller said:
yes I so agree, I went on campus for the first time in many months and its was good to see colleagues and have their warm welcome, but boy did it feel refreshing to get back and huddle down glowingly afresh to my writing and nvivo-ing!
doctoralwriting said:
Glad you can enjoy both parts of the job!
silgtavares said:
Thanks for sharing your thoughts about it. I am approaching the submission of my PhD. Writing now and aiming to finish around March/April. But this question of identity is still SO persistent in my mind. I changed my research area after my Masters and I am much happier where I am now, but I think I could still combine some of the current topics with some of the past ones. I have ideas for the future, but they are not clear yet in the sense of which will be the predominant focus of my future research… Sometimes I feel like I am still “all over the place”. But although many career aspects still feel like a mess, I share with you the feeling that “when I’m writing I feel like I’m an academic — and it feels surprisingly good”… The rest will find its way of being, I hope!
doctoralwriting said:
Being ‘all over the place’ seems to be part of academic life too, at least in my experience. I’m trying to learn to think about this as being flexible — ‘fluid’ identities might be more useful in the long run than anything too fixed and rigid. Good luck for the final writing phase!
HSH said:
Thanks for this post. It makes perfect sense. But I’d like to offer a slightly different perspective on the risk forming an academic identity can pose. I suppose it’s slightly off tangent from the intention behind your post, and even your understanding of “academic identity” but I think it’s still relevant.
The risk is that for many of us, our academic identity can easily become our only identity. And becoming good at knowledge generation, through mastery of writing, can feed this. But there aren’t clear limits where to stop, so you keep going because you’re “good” at it. Being in academia can be all consuming. Expanding the field of knowledge, by definition, is never-ending. Many of our research projects are many months in the making. More often than not, each project merely contributes to a larger one – expertise in a particular field – which again, by definition, will be of infinite size. As such, it’s typically very difficult to let go and stop thinking about work. It’s very easy to go to bed and wake up thinking about a research project. Or spacing out when friends talk to you because your mind’s on your research. Mastering life skills to manage this, to switch off, is probably as important as learning skills to be productive in academia.
When academia becomes you, you can suffer tremendously when you’re no longer able to do it well. I speak from personal experience. I had worked as a researcher for three years before I was diagnosed with cancer. During those three years, I formed my academic identity along precisely the lines you’ve so very well described. I enjoyed writing. I enjoyed being able to churn out polished reports. Unfortunately, cancer and its treatment hit my brain hard. I developed a mild cognitive impairment (known as “chemobrain”). I was still able to function well in regular tasks, but I struggled with the mental demands of academia. Everyone thought I looked OK because I could “live a life”, but I stopped enjoying academia because I couldn’t read, write or think as well as I had been able to. Unfortunately, because my identity was my academic identity, I crashed and burned hard. I felt worthless, useless, and people couldn’t understand why. I became depressed … sort of a smiling depressive, because I went about my work with a brave front, resigned to the fact that no one would really understand.
I’m beginning to dig myself out of the hole. I’m still working in the university, partly because of obligation (employers treated me very well during my sickness), partly because I still find some joy in some of the work I do. But I’m learning to set boundaries. Academia isn’t me, I have to draw lines, I have to know when to stop thinking and working. I can’t let my academic identity, which is important, to dominate.
The upside of my experience is I’ve been forced to learn all the valuable writing skills you’ve blogged about. I can no longer go at it without a plan because all the challenges you’ve highlighted are now multiplied many times over. I have to have a system. I have to have tools. So thanks very much for your blog!
doctoralwriting said:
Thank you for sharing this powerful reminder of how much more there is in life, HSH. You are quite right to point out that our identities as academics are only one part of who we are. Your personal take on this is inspiring in its demonstration of how we need to be capable of reinventing ourselves and not be too caught up in just one element of our lives. I trust other readers will also take some useful lessons from this.