Doctoral writing and decision-making in the first few months

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feedback on writing, research questions, thesis writing

By Susan Carter

I’m working with a promising new doctoral student and conversations are mainly around scoping her project. I’ll call her Angel, although she has kept her Chinese name. Our talk circles round the decisions that need to be made in the first year, and preferably in the first few months. It’s a process of thinking, choosing and writing. First, decisions are approached at several different levels.

We begin with identifying the problem that is driving the research. I want her to write that clearly. This leads to how her doctoral project might produce better understanding the problem with a goal to mitigating it. One set of considerations hovering through our talk regards methods and methodology.

What’s the formula for writing a thesis?

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CaRS, IMRAD, thesis formula, thesis writing

by Cally Guerin

Sometimes it seems that doctoral students attend workshops on thesis writing because they are seeking a nice, neat formula to follow. The primary question they want answered is: ‘What’s correct?’ Given all the other pressures on them – to finish on time, to be original, to get research published, etc., etc. – it’s easy to understand the desire to have a simple, straightforward set of rules to follow that will please examiners and journal editors alike. Part of the writing teacher’s job seems to be letting them down softly and helping them realize that it can never be that simple. The route to thesis submission always demands more complicated decision-making along the way; even more challenging, the environment in which those submissions occur is changing rapidly in unpredictable ways.

There is some comfort for those seeking these kinds of formulaic answers, however, in the traditional IMRAD structure of scientific articles: Introduction, Materials and Methods, Results, and Discussion. Unfortunately, this neat acronym neglects to mention the Abstract and Reference sections. And then, the apparently neat separation between different sections turns out to be rather messier for many researchers – is it okay to include some discussion in the Materials and Methods to explain why a non-standard procedure was adopted? Is there always a clear cut-off between Results and Analysis/Discussion if I’m reporting on qualitative research that has already been analysed in order to create some broad organizing themes? If you find yourself looking for useful strategies to work through such complex issues, try Carter, Kelly and Brailsford’s (2012) book, Structuring your research thesis.

Also very popular amongst those looking for instruction is the ‘moves’ approach developed by John Swales and Christine Feak (1996; 2004), otherwise known as the CaRS model (Create a Research Space). This model illuminates the reasoning behind Introductions in research and includes three main moves or positionings: establish a research territory (and make a case for why it matters); establish a niche (and point out a gap in the field); and occupy that niche (by explaining exactly what this new research will add to the field). These ‘moves’ or opening gambits do, of course, work very well in lots of ways, and should not be underestimated as a means to engage readers and demonstrate the value of the research. This approach has been picked up and developed further by many since (see, for example, Cargill & O’Connor 2009; Paltridge and Starfield 2007).

The structures mentioned above provide very useful guidance for novice writers, but will never be enough in doctoral writing. A thesis requires much more nuanced negotiation of the conventions of the discipline. In relation to this, I was greatly heartened to hear Anne Freadman speaking at the Writing Research Across Borders (WRAB) conference recently. Freadman, the doyenne of genre theory, is working at an enviably complex level. I can’t hope to capture the subtleties of her argument here, but one valuable message I took from her presentation was that, basically, writers need to conform to the ‘generic form’ only sufficiently for readers to recognize where their work fits in with the conventions and expectations of genre – they do not need to slavishly imitate or repeat that genre. The real achievement, it would seem, is for doctoral writers to find a balance between what they want to say and the conventions of their discipline that works well enough to communicate precisely the message they aim for. This is always a matter of judgement and can’t be dictated by adherence to strict rules.

Have you found yourself faced with doctoral students who seek easy answers? Or are you a doctoral candidate struggling with the same concerns? What other advice would you offer those trying to find their way through these questions?

Cargill, M. & O’Connor, P. (2009). Writing scientific research articles: Strategy and steps. Oxford UK: Wiley-Blackwell.

Carter, S., Kelly, F. & Brailsford, I. (2012). Structuring your research thesis. Houndsmills UK: Palgrave MacMillan.

Paltridge, B. & Starfield, S. (2007). Thesis and dissertation writing in a second language: A handbook for supervisors. London: RoutledgeFalmer.

Swales, J.M. & Feak, C.B. (1996; 2004). Academic writing for graduate students. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

 

When writing a PhD dissertation in English is “like knitting a sweater without knowing whether there is enough yarn”

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bilingual writers, Danish PhD students, English language writing skills, thesis writing

By Tine Wirenfeldt Jensen, Gitte Wichmann-Hansen and Stacey Cozart, Aarhus University, Denmark.

The globalization of higher education can sometimes be a very abstract concept, a term we keep repeating without it having any real implications for our personal lives in academia. But one aspect of this trend towards globalization does involve one of the most personal areas of all – our language and thereby our very identities. More and more doctoral students are writing their dissertations (as monographs or journal articles) in English – the language of globalization. In Denmark as well as in other Scandinavian countries, this development is often not thought of as an issue: after all, Danish doctoral students generally have such excellent oral skills in English that some are perceived as being bilingual. And when doctoral students interact with their international – non-native English-speaking – peers, their own belief in their superior skills in English is confirmed. But what happens when they take on the task of writing a dissertation in academic English? Does having excellent oral communication skills necessarily mean that writing a dissertation in a foreign language, in a genre that is new to them, is smooth sailing? And if they do encounter difficulties, how are they able to frame and experience these difficulties as doctoral students?

We looked into this question as part of a two-year multi-institutional research seminar focusing on critical transitions in writing in higher education. Our case study focused on the writing experiences and challenges of PhD students at the faculty of Arts at Aarhus University, Denmark. It shows that writing a dissertation in English is, in fact, not without difficulties for PhD students. Even though lots of the students writing in English confidently rate their writing skills as very good or good, almost half state that they do have concerns about writing their dissertation in English.

We asked the students to complete the sentence “Writing in English is like…/Writing in Danish is like…”. Their answers point to the difficulties and insecurities experienced in connection with writing in English. This student answer is an incisive example: While writing in Danish is like “playing a grand piano based on 30 years’ experience”, writing in English is like “beating on a little tin xylophone without any guidance. In the dark.”

Other examples of metaphor pairs for writing in Danish and English are: Writing in Danish is like “…driving on a freeway while my supervisor occasionally tells me to switch to the academic lane”, while writing in English is like “…driving on a freeway with holes in the asphalt”. Writing in Danish is like “…shaping clay”, while writing in English is like “…knitting a sweater without knowing whether there is enough yarn”. Just like the majority of the students’ metaphor pairs, these examples underline the students’ difficulties transitioning from Danish to English, in particular their sense of alienation, inadequacy and lack of creativity in connection with writing in English.

In order to handle these issues, the doctoral students need to be able to assume an identity as “language learner”, but the structural framework of the doctoral programs does not offer a legitimate space for them to do so. There are no mandatory courses in academic English, no formal or informal assessments of students’ writing skills in English, nor any frameworks for discussing students’ writing issues or concerns about writing in English in the doctoral supervision context. No institutional space is made available for discussing these quite complex issues, and if the students want to do so, they must carve out this space individually.

What the institution is communicating to the PhD student who pictures writing in English as ”knitting a sweater without knowing whether there is enough yarn” is that there should be enough yarn – that doctoral students are simply expected to have the ability to write a dissertation in English with little or no support. And – in a sense – that if this is not the case, the students’ “doctoral student” identity is somewhat flawed.

What is striking is how unfounded this expectation is. More than two thirds of the students in our study who stated that they are writing their dissertation in English had never attended a course in academic English, and one third had virtually no experience of writing academic texts in English when they began their PhD studies.

The consequence of these implicit expectations is that the students are very much left to themselves – left to decide what language to write their dissertation in, to assess their own language skills, to seek out courses and other kinds of support on their own. And they are also left alone with the task of negotiating the impact on their self-perception when faced with difficulties writing a dissertation in English – this context can’t allow them to legitimately occupy the space of being a doctoral student and an advanced language learner at the same time.

Importantly, the difficulties these students experience are not the result of a personal shortcoming but of an institutional blind spot toward the idea that even the nearly bilingual Danish PhD students may only be beginning to develop their English academic writing skills. Our study has made it clear to us that understanding the role played by the different identities available to young scholars is crucial. We as institutions, researchers, supervisors and language teachers must work towards making it legitimate for students to assume the identities of advanced language learner and doctoral student at the same time – without the one identity undermining the other.

We would be very interested to hear about similar dilemmas in other contexts.

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All three of our guest authors this week work at Aarhus University in Denmark. They are educational developers within Higher Education, and have extensive experience working with students’ writing processes, text feedback, and doctoral supervision. Together they compose a research team on Doctoral Writing. Tine is a part-time lecturer and PhD student at the Centre for Teaching Development and Digital Media in the Faculty of Arts. Gitte is an associate professor and research manager at the Center for Teaching and Learning, School of Business and Social Sciences. Stacey is a senior consultant with the Centre for Teaching Development and Digital Media at the Faculty of Arts.

Thesis writing: the paradox of same, same but different

Tags

Doctoral writing, thesis writing, writing skills development

By Deborah Laurs

Irrespective of institution, the definition of a PhD is universally recognised as ‘a body of independent and original research,’ generally evidenced by a dissertation of ‘up to 100,000 words’. Hence, while the research is original, the form in which it is presented is, inevitably, a ‘cookie-cutter one-size-for-all approach’. Any Google search of ‘thesis structure’ pulls up the same ingredients—Introduction, Lit Review, Methodology/Research Design, Findings, Discussion, Conclusion.

Doctoral writing, then, by and large, entails a process of presenting original ideas in a markedly unoriginal form. Sure, the actual packaging may differ, depending on whether you’re within the Humanities, Sciences, or creative arts, but the basic ingredients, and—more importantly—the expectations of your audience (read: ‘examiners’) are identical. Even though Hugh Kearns succinctly summarises the thesis chapters as ‘what I know,’ ‘what I’ve read,’ ‘what I did,’ ‘what I’ve found’ and ‘what I reckon,’ it may be difficult for students to sustain confidence in the merits of their research and writing abilities when surrounded by exemplars that are ‘same, same but different’.

‘How to write’ handbooks offer firm guidelines about the requisite ingredients and ‘moves’ each section of the thesis requires in order to lead the reader (the not so gentle examiner) logically through to the conclusion. Yet, frequently, issues associated with attempting to reproduce an original version of a pre-ordained format crop up in the very first tasks, typically the Literature Review and Methodology chapters.

Clearly, surveying the existing body of knowledge is crucial in order to justify the ‘gap’ that the student’s original research seeks to fill. However, the task in itself is highly formulaic, requiring students to appraise a body of knowledge that every other scholar in the field has already reviewed, but to do so from the fresh and unique perspective of how it relates to their own research. Similarly (particularly in the social sciences) a student must establish her ontological and epistemological positioning, rejecting (or espousing) assorted research paradigms in the process. This intellectual journey is likely to result in writing that closely mirrors the writings of the likes of John Cresswell or Yvonna  Lincoln and Norman Denzin, and takes on different voices, usually awkwardly, like an unconvincing ventriloquist.  It is very difficult for emerging researchers to find their own authoritative voice in their writing.

The imitative nature of these tasks is exemplified by the existence of resources such as ‘academic phrase banks’, which contain pre-packaged expressions such as ‘It was decided that the best method to adopt for this investigation was to ….’ or  ‘Previous research tended to suffer from limitations/weaknesses/disadvantages/drawbacks [take your pick] such as…’ Although undoubtedly a useful tool, such templates reduce the thesis to the equivalent of a cloze test, with students needing only to ‘fill-in-the-blanks’ appropriate to the discipline.

As novice thesis writers put their literature reviews together, it’s no wonder that first drafts of lit reviews more often resemble summaries of ‘what I’ve read’ than ‘what these works mean to me’ and research design chapters sound unconvincingly stilted.  In many cases the plethora of voices—and jargon—within the literature overwhelms the student entirely, further exacerbating the paradoxical expectation that their writing demonstrates original thought.

Similarly, the spectre of plagiarism looms large. Early attempts to assimilate other people’s ideas and a sense of being overwhelmed often result in the student not daring to claim any ideas as her own. Prefacing each sentence with ‘According to …’ or ‘Research by …’, or over-reliance on quotations may seem the only safe way to demonstrate sources have been correctly acknowledged. Often first drafts are overly tentative.

Paraphrasing and synthesis are higher order cognitive skills, requiring a thorough understanding of the concept. For many students, this understanding may not transpire until well into the analysis stage, several years hence, which frequently necessitates an associated overhaul of the initial ‘kitchen-sink’ lit review chapter.  Setting novice writers a largely formulaic task with the aim of producing original thought requires careful scaffolding. Original writing requires original thinking, which in itself requires considerable confidence and a clear sense of direction, preparatory to entering into conversation with the biggest names in the field.

As with all writing matters, the main solution is talking—with one’s supervisor, fellow students; even better, talk with family and friends as far removed from the project as possible in order to help the student find her own voice because outsiders will have respect for her expertise compared to their own. But I wonder if others have ways of dealing with the writing tension underpinning the ‘same, same but different’ genre of the thesis.

Deborah Laurs is a senior learning advisor at Victoria, University of Wellington, New Zealand, where she runs research skills seminars and thesis-writing workshops, as well providing one-to-one support to students at all stages of their doctoral journey. In 2010, she was recognized as ‘most influential staff member’ by her university’s postgraduate students’ association, and in 2011, received a  ‘staff excellence’ award. She is co-author of Developing Generic Support for Doctoral Students (in press, due April 2014), Routledge.

Creative arts, supervision and writing the practice

Tags

creative practice degrees, exegesis, thesis writing

By Claire Aitchison

My February started with a two day symposium at Queensland University of Technology, in an impressive high tech building adjacent to the tropical oasis of the city’s botanical gardens. But I digress – I really wanted to share my enthusiasm for the symposium with the clunky title of Effective Supervision of Creative Arts Research Degrees (ESCARD).

The event was for supervisors, administrators and academics of practice-led creative arts higher degree research. Its purpose was to share evolving practices, challenges and rewards of supervising creative practice research. ESCARD is part of an OLT grant from the Australian government’s Office of Learning and Teaching http://www.olt.gov.au/grants-and-projects  led by Associate Prof Jillian Hamilton and Dr Sue Carson from QUT.

The creative arts disciplines (eg visual arts, performing arts, design, creative writing and media) have experienced a tenfold increase in higher degree enrolments in Australia since 1998. The newness of these degrees and their rapid growth has led to some great innovations – and some unique challenges.

The symposium showcased the vibrancy and diversity of creative arts practices being researched, but also of the diversity of form, intent and execution of creative arts research degrees.  (Doctoralwriting will advertise the website with the symposium presentations as soon as it becomes available.)

The two days were characterised by frank and open discussion about the sometimes prickly, sometimes contested and often challenging relationship between artistic practice and academic scholarship.  What was of particular interest to me, was how, right from the first presentation, ‘writing’ featured as the site where this contestation was played out for the student and the supervisor. Irrespective of the integrity of the creative practice component, the envisioning and execution of the written component so often seemed to be the locus where the expectations of the academy and the creative industry, needed to find resolution.  What a big ask of the text – and its author!

Like many others, I was intrigued and frustrated in equal measure when I began working with researchers in creative practice doctorates. The challenges these scholars faced were typical of many humanities and social science scholars. They include for example, the need to find the best methodology and theoretical frame, to connect with the right literature, and to construct a textual structure that best enables the story of the research to be told. But, unlike many other scholars, these students (and often their supervisors too) struggled to find useful models of how others had achieved these objectives. The creative practice research scholar not only has to find their way with the writing, they have to find a way to connect that writing to the practice component. The absence of a body of creative practice doctoral writing due to the brief history of this kind of scholarship, made the doctoral journey doubly hard.

It’s better now, but in the early days, there were few guidelines about what was, and wasn’t, acceptable regarding the kind of text (form, style, format, size), the content and purpose of the written component and its relationship to the practice component (to explain, theorise, mirror, deconstruct?). Frequently creative arts researchers were professionals in their field with little or no experience of the academy, academic research or research writing. Other students came with undergraduate experiences (e.g. visual arts, dance, drama) with little no academic writing or research scholarship. Sometimes the same could be said of their research supervisors.  All of this made for a wonderfully rich and explorative experience of doctoral study, but these uncertainties also created some very stressful situations for students, supervisors, administrators and those of us who work with student texts.

There’s some fabulous literature and research emerging from this field. Brian Paltridge, Sue Starfield and Louise Ravelli have done some really wonderful work investigating the written genres of practise-based doctoral theses in the visual and performing arts  http://www-faculty.edfac.usyd.edu.au/projects/writing_in_academy/index.php?page=home.  And of course if you’re working in this field, you can’t go past Estelle Barrett and Barbara Bolt’s fabulous book Practice as Research: Approaches to Creative Arts Enquiry  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Practice-Research-Approaches-Creative-Enquiry/dp/1848853017  I’ve also enjoyed Robert Nelson’s The jealousy of ideas: research methods in the creative arts:   http://www.writing-pad.ac.uk/photos/21_Resources/08_The%20Jealousy%20of%20Ideas/04_jealousy1.pdf

Love to hear from others on writing and practice-led doctoral research.

PS I also attended the extraordinarily fantastic Australian Pacific Triennial of contemporary art (PPT) at the Queensland Art Gallery and Gallery of Modern Art.   If you can get there, you should; http://www.qagoma.qld.gov.au/exhibitions/current/apt7_asia_pacific_triennial_of_contemporary_art

Welcome to the first post of the DoctoralWritingSIG – A message from Claire, Cally, Susan and Inger

Tags

Doctoral writing, research writing, thesis writing

We thought this first post should serve the purpose of introducing ourselves and outlining how we envisage this space might work. (See also the ‘About’ page.)  As a group we have been working together learning, or trying to!, the technology and the genres of blogging.  It’s most likely you’ve already realised that Inger has been thrown into the role of teacher, mentor, problem solver… We’re very grateful to her for her enthusiasm, her time and expertise -and especially for your patience, Inger! Since we first came up with this idea in April 2012 we have been chugging along sometimes smoothly, often in fits and starts, deciding on what is needed and how we might go about learning, making and creating a forum for people who are interested in conversations about doctoral writing.

It’s been a fabulous journey – and although none of us are yet ‘experts’, and we concede to considerable nervousness … we’ve decided to launch DoctoralWritingSIG now; to treat it as a work in progress and to iron out problems as we grow and develop. Let’s hope we don’t trip up over the technology too often.

Blog management

Our plan is to share responsibility for the site and for posting blogs on a monthly basis. So you will see the style and flavour may change according to who is in the driver’s seat at the time. What will be constant, however, is our focus on doctoral writing and our desire to engage others with this similar interest.

We hope you will engage with us  by responding to posts; sharing your work, and the work of others, on the topic of doctoral writing; authoring a post and sending it to us to be posted here–and telling us if there is more that you would like to do or feel someone should be doing. 

Best wishes C, C, I and S