Tuesday, November 12, 2024

How to write papers more effectively

Essay writing season is about to start here at University College Roosevelt, the small liberal arts college in the Netherlands where I teach.  In one of the courses I’m teaching this semester about Religious and Philosophical Ethics, my students are already researching topics to write about, and at the end of this week I’ll meet with them to discuss which topics will work best. After that we go into full-fledged ‘research mode’ - no more group classes, but individual research time with me as a writing coach. 

I’ve discovered, over the years, that my number one job as a research and writing coach is trying to get my students to start on time with their project. We had a class last week in which I gave my students ‘the speech’. ‘Start on time!’, I told them. ‘You have enough time to write the paper, but don’t let that time go to waste! Help out your future self, and start writing and researching now!’

I know from experience, of course, that not all of them will listen to me. In a few weeks from now, as we approach the final deadline, some of them will not be writing or researching but – you guessed it - procrastinating. 😀 (If this sounds familiar, and like most students you also regularly have trouble finding the drive to get started with that big scary paper, why not begin by reading my blog post on procrastination from a few years ago).

Regardless of what kind of student you are, though  – an early starter or a procrastinator who only starts at the last possible moment - there will come a time when you need to start doing some actual work. And chances are that you will have far less time than you’d like. That’s a fact of life when you’re a student – at some point the clock starts ticking, and you’ll be under some kind of time pressure. Even if you started early, there will come a time when you discover that you have less time to finish the paper than you’d hoped for. If that sounds familiar, then this blog post is for you. Here, in no particular order, are the top tips I share with my students to help them stay organised and stay sane during the research process so that they can survive essay writing season and meet their deadlines - even if they started working on their project just a little bit too late.


1. Plan your week

In the final weeks of the semester, when things get busy but you still need to find time to work on your big final papers, you really ought to consider planning your time a bit more proactively. What I myself always do in such circumstances is to make a rough weekplan over the weekend. I strongly recommend that you do the same. During the weekend, look at the week ahead. Plan out your schedule, and then identify some gaps in your schedule where you can work in an undistracted manner for at least one or two hours on your bigger projects. For myself, I’ve found that I stay motived best if I make these chunks of time relatively short, and to plan them as early in the day as possible. It’s easier for me to stay motivated to actually make the most of these chunks of time if they’re short. If I tell myself I’m going to write all day, and I know the writing will be hard, guess what happens? It feels so painful in advance that I’ll put it off. But one or two hours early in the day, when I still have energy, and I can surf the caffeine wave of the first cup of coffee of the day? Works much better.

A good source to look at for more tips like this - how to plan your time better, and how to make sure you don’t get distracted when you actually sit down to write that important final paper - are the first two chapters of my own little book Make Lists Not Fists: A Student Survival Guide to Stress-free Productivity. You can download the first two chapters for free at bit.ly/listsnotfists.


2. Use Zotero for your references

Zotero is a free open-source app for Mac and Pc which is a real life-saver – it’s a database for all your references which you can also use to fully automatize your referencing in Word or Open Office. At the end of your project, it can then make a bibliography automatically for you, in the output style of your choice (APA, MLA, etc). At Masters or PhD level, you’d be a fool note to use something like Zotero – so why not start learning how to use it now, even if you’re only a Bachelor student? For a short video on how to install it and use it go here. 

One of the most useful features of Zotero is its integration with Microsoft Word - for that to work, you'll need to install the  Word plugin which comes with Mendeley. Instructions for how to do that are in the video. Make sure you use the stand-alone version of Word, not the browser version which Microsoft also provide you with. If the plugin doesn't work with your version of Word, then it will always work with the version of  Open Office available as a free download here. The text editor which comes with this suite of Open Office programs is just as good as Microsoft Office, works beautifully with Zotero, and is free!


3. Use digital sources

Being efficient at using digital sources is one of the best ways to save time during research, I find. You can go from discovering an article or book to reading it in five minutes. Also, you can do keyword searches in digital sources – which is especially helpful if you’re dealing with brick-sized books. Yes, these usually have an index, but a keyword search often brings up passages that you wouldn’t have found through the index, and at a speed which is far higher. Of course none of this means you shouldn’t also go to the library – do check out what they have, it might just be that they have books relevant to your research project. But in the first instance, relying on digital sources can be a real life-saver.

For me, the number one benefit of using digital sources is annotation. Most digital sources are pdfs, and most pdf reading software like Adobe Acrobat allows you to annotate your pdf, which means you can highlight key passages that you think are most important. What most pdf reading software doesn’t allow you to do, however, is to then export your annotations as a text file. Trust me, this is a feature you really want! If the software you’re using has this feature, you can easily create a helpful overview of what you’ve highlighted with just a few clicks. From this file, you can then copy-paste key quotes straight into your paper, without needing to search through the entire pdf to find them.

Guess what? You can do this with Zotero, mentioned in the tip above. And for free! Once you discover this killer feature of Zotero, you’ll be shaking your head and wondering how you ever lived without it. It’s explained in the Zotero video mentioned above at roughly 4 minutes. This feature doesn’t just work for pdfs - Zotero will also allow you to highlight epub files. Really, really useful.


4. Organize your notes in a systematic way

While working on your paper you’re likely to do quite a bit of brainstorming, especially in the early stages. You’ll probably end up doing quite a bit of writing that doesn’t necessarily end up in the project itself, but which is still helpful to jot down, and which you might want to look at at again at a later stage. There are many different ways to do this, of course. You could do it all by hand in a research journal, or you could create a large collection of word documents. No matter how you write down your thoughts, however, you’ll also need some way of organising them so you don’t lose track of what is where.

For this, I myself use a note-taking app called Evernote. I have digital notebooks in it for all my writing projects, and within those notebooks I store all the notes relevant to that project. Sometimes I even have several notebooks for a single project: one with ideas for sources, one with brainstorm notes, and one with ideas for things I still need to fix, to give some examples. I used to just write down ideas in word documents, but I would always lose track of what was where and never actually reread what I wrote. If I put my notes in Evernote, however, I actually remember where they are, can easily find them again, and then work with them as the project progresses.

Evernote used to be free, and I always recommended it to my students. Over the years, however, it’s got quite expensive. You can still create a free account, but then you can only create one notebook, which is pretty useless. And the cheapest ‘paid for’ plan is over a 100 euros, which is for most students too expensive. I still use Evernote: it’s simple, reliable and ‘just works’ for me. But if money matters, you might want to look at competing products that do roughly the same for very little or even no money.

A very obvious choice is Onenote, made by Microsoft. All UCR students have a Microsoft 365 account which will allow to download all of Microsofts software packages for free. This means you can always download the latest version of Word or Excel, for free, at office.com. Here you can also download Onenote. It’s a simple, elegant app, and works quite well. It has the same basic structure as Evernote: you create digital notebooks, as many as you want, and then you can store notes relevant to that notebook inside each of them. 

Another option to look at is Notion, an app which is highly similar to Evernote as well and that has got very popular in recent years. Unlike Evernote, however, it’s completely free: Notion will only charge you if you want to use it with an entire team, which for students isn’t a necessary option at all.

No matter which note-taking app you go for: make sure you can sync your notes across all your devices. It can be really helpful to have access to your notes on your tablet, or on your phone.


5. Use a to-do app at all times while researching or writing

I heavily rely on a digital todo app for almost everything in my life, not just research. I use Microsoft todo, which I strongly recommend. It’s free and extremely good. I have lists in this app for almost every area of my life: a list for each course I teach, a today list, a week list, a shopping list - you name it. Learning how to use a todo app properly is one of the best time management ‘hacks’ I can recommend. It took me many years to perfect my own system, and if you’re curious to see what it is, read the remaining chapters of my little book Make Lists Not Fists. I’ve shared chapters 1 and 2 with you already (which you can download for free), which deal with ‘offline’ tips for planning and making sure you work in a focussed manner. The remaining chapters explain how I use a todo app to organise my life. They describe a system that I’ve taught to many students, and although it’s not for everyone, I definitely have made a few ‘converts’ over the years. I still get the occasional email from alumni who write because they want to tell me that they’re still working with the system I’ve taught them. 

Perhaps, though, you don’t want to have your whole life in a todo app. Everyone is different. You might already have a time management system that works for you, and that is fine. Even if that is the case, though, I still strongly recommend that you use a todo app for your research process. I’ve discovered over the years that it’s the perfect tool to make sure you stay on task, and to prevent yourself from getting distracted.

Research is difficult. No matter what you are doing, you’re constantly going to get little ideas for different things you could be looking into as well. While you’re writing, you might suddenly remember another source that is relevant and that you haven’t looked at yet. While reading a journal article, you’ll come across references to other sources that also look promising. And when searching databases like Jstor to hunt down a very specific source, you’re likely to stumble across other articles that also look promising.

That’s what I’ve discovered over the years: it can be very challenging to stay on task while doing research. No matter what you are doing, there are always countless other avenues you could be pursuing. It’s almost never a good idea, however, to abandon ship and start doing such tasks the moment the idea for them comes up. Quite frequently, such ideas for other things you could also be doing are forms of ‘covert procrastination’, for example. While you’re writing that difficult introduction to an important chapter, suddenly you remember that there is one article you haven’t looked at yet. It’s not super important, and you don’t really need to look at it now. But doing so is easier than writing, and before you know it, you’ve dropped everything and have switched to that other, easier task.

Not good.

It’s very important to develop some ‘staying on task’ muscle when writing a large, difficult project like a final paper. But it’s also important to remember all those little ideas that come up while you’re working. For this a todo app is perfect. For each writing project that I work on, I always create one or two lists in my todo app in which I am constantly dumping these little ideas as I work. I usually tidy it up a bit at the end of the day, by deleting some ideas, prioritising some others, and making sure there isn’t anything still something in the list that I really wanted to do on that particular day. This, I’ve found, is a very healthy habit. Stay on task, and dump ideas for other things you could look into in your todo app, then look at the list you’ve created at a later stage. 


Monday, September 2, 2024

The four blueprints of argumentative writing

 Introduction
 
Most students, at some point in their undergraduate or graduate career, will be asked to write a paper which has a thesis. Such a piece of writing isn’t merely descriptive but has a final argument. It is ‘going somewhere’. It puts forward, quite literally, a thesis, an argument arrived at in a systematic manner based on research. 
    Making an argument: that usually scares students. Writing something descriptive, merely ‘mapping’ the opinions that are already out there, that is something most students feel comfortable doing relatively quickly. But putting forward a thesis? Making an argument, that even adds a something to the existing scholarship about a particular topic? That makes most students feel a little queasy. Still, it is what most students will need to do at some point in their academic career.
    So how do you do that? Needless to say, that very much depends on your field. An argumentative paper in sociology will look very different than one written in philosophy. Nevertheless, there are still some general things to be said about what criteria a sound final argument needs to meet, and which are likely to relevant in many disciplines. In this online article I will give four common ‘blueprints’ for argumentative research papers. By learning what the common categories of argumentative writing are, it becomes much easier to write one yourself. Before I describe each of the blueprints, however, I will highlight something that all of these blueprints have in common: they all allow the writer to pass, in some way, shape, or form, the famous ‘so what test’.
    What is the ‘so what’ test, I hear you ask?
    It is to that topic that we will now turn.

1 The 'so what' test

The litmus test of whether an argumentative essay has a proper thesis is whether the thesis passes the ‘so what’ test. This is a well-known criterium about which many papers and articles have been written. It also regularly makes an appearance in books about how to write a thesis (which is where I first ran across it).

When does a paper fail the ‘so what’ test? This happens when, after reading the final conclusion of your paper, a reader is led to cry out in frustration the famous ‘so what’ question: So what? Who cares?

An example of an argumentative paper that fails the ‘so what’ test: a paper in which the main argument is that there are several similarities between Gandhi and Mickey Mouse. Yes, this is an argument one could make. But it’s not an argument that most readers would find useful to take note of. ‘So what’ that Gandhi and Mickey Mouse have several fascinating character traits in common, most readers would ask? Who cares?

If you haven’t convinced your reader that your research findings are important, relevant or useful in some way, then your paper hasn’t passed the ‘so what’ test. Writing a good paper is not just about doing some research and arguing a point; you also need to do something with that research; you need to connect it to a larger context so that you can show that your findings are, in some way, shape or form, useful. In other words: in a good research paper the ‘so what’ question is already anticipated, and in the introduction and conclusion the author explicitly makes points which address it. You need to sell your paper topic in your introduction and conclusion; you need to convince the reader why it is useful to read what you’ve written.

Here is how Sherran Clarence, author of a blog about scholarly writing aimed at graduate students, discusses the ‘so what question’ in a recent blog post:

 

Writing papers […] means making and supporting strong arguments. This is hard work: making a firm, well-crafted and persuasive argument takes time. But this time is worth taking because this is the most important aspect of your paper. Without a strong argument, you do not have a contribution to knowledge. And if you don’t have that, you don’t have a [strong] paper.

Making arguments is not necessarily as simple as just saying ‘This paper will argue that’, and then making that argument. You also need to locate the argument within the field it is making a contribution to. You need to show your readers why your argument is relevant, or important, and worth their time and attention. This is what is often termed the ‘so what?’ question.

If you have ever tutored, lectured or coached other writers, where you have had to read and give feedback on drafts of their writing, you may have some experience of working with this tricky question, and its answers. You are reading a draft of a paper and you get to the end, and it has been full of interesting information, but you wonder ‘So what? Why have I read all of this? What’s the point?’

The first part of the answer to the ‘so what?’ question of this is the actual argument: ‘This paper is claiming that X is the case…’. It takes time to whittle down all the things you could write about to one tight, well-formed argument you can express in one or two clear sentences. But simply making your argument on its own is not enough. If all you do is make your argument, without considering why you are making it, you run the risk of locking your research into a potentially narrow context, and thus limiting your readership. You need to think about your readers, your audience: who are they? What do you need to consider in terms of making your (focused) argument relevant to them? What would they be able to learn, or gain in terms of their own potential research (or practice)?

In asking, and findings answers to, these questions about relevance you can find your way to answering the second part of the ‘so what?’ question: ‘Why am I making this argument? What is my contribution to my field?’ This is really important, and usually included firmly in the conclusion to your paper. It is important to make this clear, and argue for the relevance of your paper to the field, because this clarifies for the reader how you believe you are making a contribution to knowledge, and why you believe this contribution is relevant or necessary. You make this claim on the basis of your reading of the field, your identification of a gap that needs to be filled, and the research you have done to fill this gap.

Thus, there are two parts to the ‘so what?’ question and both need to be clearly answered in your paper. You need to state, and make your argument, and then you need to tell your readers why that argument needs to be made, and what your research is contributing to your field: a critique, an innovation in theory or methodology, an additional empirical case that explains a current problem in a new way, and so on. To answer both parts of this question in your own papers, then, make sure you ask yourself what am I arguing for (or against) in this paper, and why is this important to my field at this point? Answering both, clearly, will help you ensure that your contribution to your field is well made.

 

2 The four main paper concepts

There are four common paper concepts which, if applied properly, will allow you to anticipate, and pass, the ‘so what’ test:

 

1.     A paper which argues a point within an existing debate (section 2.1)

2.     A paper which critiques a commonly held position (section 2.2)

3.     A paper which sheds new light on a topic by outlining or analyzing the topic in a new way (section 2.3)

4.     A paper which researches something no one has ever written about (section 2.4)

 

2.1 Arguing within a debate

One of the most common research paper concepts that will allow you to address the ‘so what’ question is arguing a point within an existing debate. A debate is simply a topic about which differences of opinion exist. In order for it to be an academic debate, these opinions must be put forward by scholarly experts on the topic. The experts don’t even have to be aware of each other (although often this will be the case). ‘Debate’ here doesn’t mean folks literally crossing scholarly swords. It just means that, for a certain topic, there are differences of opinion. Sometimes papers which express such an opinion do ‘cross swords’ with other papers. But this doesn’t have to be the case.

As a rule of thumb, if you’re looking for debates, start with scholarly papers. Books can be used by scholars to put forward an opinion on something too, but not all academic books defend a clear point of view, often they’re used more to convey information about a topic rather than to make a precise, clearly identifiable topic, or they make dozens of tiny separate arguments. Papers, however, almost always a have a single clear argument or thesis, and then a debate is simply something about which several of such arguments exist. If you find two papers about the same topic but with different conclusions, that is already a debate, even though the authors might not even be aware of each other’s existence.

If a debate about a certain topic exists, that’s almost always a very strong clue that the topic will be suitable for an academic research paper that can pass the ‘so what’ test. Because a debate exists about the topic already, the research done in the paper is likely to be relevant to a group of people other than the author. If a debate exists about why Gandhi slept with his young niece naked in a bed frequently (yes, this appears to have happened, and yes, a debate about why he did this exists), and you argue for a particular position in this debate (Gandhi did this but not that, and he did these things for such-and-such reasons) then your research will probably pass the ‘so what’ question. You’ve researched a topic (Gandhi, celibacy, what he did and did not do with his niece and why) and you’ve connected this research to a larger debate. If you’ve then argued a point based on proper research which isn’t 100% identical to someone else’s, then your research passes the ‘so what’ test.  Researching Gandhi and Mickey Mouse, on the other hand, is a topic about which no one already cares. It’s very hard to argue why this research is useful, therefore. Perhaps you could do it, but it would be hard.

If a debate exists about the topic you’ve chosen to write about, you always need to prove that it exists, by giving examples of scholars who have argued for a particular position within the debate. The more examples, the stronger. I recently published an academic paper in which I mapped several debates in the introduction. In the draft I sent to the journal, I gave six examples scholars who had taken up a position in one such debate in the introduction. The proof-reader was critical, though, and rather testily wrote that I had not given enough examples – I had overlooked at least two papers, which he insisted I also mention in the introduction.

Many students find the notion of making an argument within an existing debate daunting. They don’t see themselves as experts, whereas the published scholarly material on their topic is probably written by authors who are. This fear is easy to address: it’s an irrelevant concern. An undergraduate paper is an exercise to write in a particular form – it does not have as its goal to write something at the same level as the existing material. I often explain this point to my Senior Project students by using the analogy of a flight simulator. An undergraduate paper is a flight in a flight simulator. You get used to the rules and expectations of a particular genre by doing a ‘trial run’ in a safe environment. Don’t mistake it for the real thing!

Another aspect of making an argument within a debate that students find problematic is the idea of an original contribution. How new and innovative should your argument be? The key point to take note off here is that you can’t make an argument that is 100% the same as someone else’s, and which you also base on the same evidence: that is plagiarism. However, you don’t have to argue a point which runs counter to all other positions in the debate for 100% either. In all likelihood you’ll end up agreeing with some of what other people say, and disagreeing with some of it too. You’ll find yourself drawn, probably, to one or two authors with whom you agree most. Find something to distance yourself from them as well, and you have your ‘original contribution’. In another paper I recently published, I did exactly that in my conclusion. I first showed which authors had completely failed to see the point, in my opinion, and then addressed an author who I felt came pretty close to what I saw as the correct position. I then outlined, based on the research presented in the middle part of the paper, in which way I felt that this author had still made some errors, thus outlining my own original contribution. It was therefore quite a subtle point – not something that no one had ever written about before at all, but a more nuanced way of looking at something that had already been written about[1].

You can argue a position within a debate about a virtually endless list of different topics: debates about the proper interpretation of a theory, book or concept, debates about historical events, debates about how to classify a particular religious movement, debates about rituals, debates about how to interpret certain passages in religious texts, debates about important religious leaders, debates about how to translate something properly.

However, there are also debates which are not really appropriate for an academic paper. In an academic paper, you should always engage with a debate about something that is somewhat provable and not completely subjective. In the context of religious studies, this means that you cannot engage with debates that are completely faith-based. So ‘does God exist’ or ‘Who is better, Shiva or Vishnu’ are not appropriate debates for a religious studies paper, as it’s hard to prove anyone right or wrong. ‘Does the soul exist, and what is its nature’ is a question which philosophers and theologians have written about, certainly, but it does not make for an appropriate debate to engage with in an academic research paper, as any conclusions about the topic are unprovable and too subjective. Although Plato wrote about the nature of the soul, you would not write a paper in which you argue that the soul is structured differently – on which research findings would you be able to make such claims? However, you can engage with debates about how to interpret Plato’s writings on the soul. For example, a debate exists about whether Plato really believed that the soul consists of three parts (as most scholars claim that he does), because there are texts by Plato in which he puts forward a different view of the nature of the soul. How does Plato describe the soul? is therefore an appropriate debate to engage with, not Is plato right about the soul’s nature?

2.2 Critiquing a common position

Another paper concept which will allow you to address the ‘so what’ question is by using your research to critique a common position, for example one expressed frequently by journalists and politicians. An example of such a position is the following: Islamic state is not ‘Islamic’ because it is so violent. If you critique this position based on research (for example by looking at the history of Islam and violence) your findings pass the ‘so what’ question, because you are able to show that your research is useful. For this to be the case, however, the position you critique needs to be defended by people who carry some weight. So not a group of random bloggers, but journalists for quality newspapers, or scholars, or influential politicians. Even Barack Obama at one point argued that Islamic state is not Islamic; therefore, this is an opinion which carries some weight and is appropriate to critique. An often-found scholarly opinion also works – and perhaps makes for an even stronger topic. In my PhD, I critiqued the commonly found scholarly opinion that Joseph Campbell is a Jungian, by showing that he was not always in favour of Jung (although he was highly favourable of Jung in the final phase of his career, he was very critical in an early book from the fifties).

            It is very rare to find an opinion which has not been critiqued at all. In other words: most ‘critiquing a common opinion’ papers are secretly about debates. What sets them apart from ‘arguing within a debate’ is the ratio between pro and con. If the vast majority of voices express a certain opinion, and the counterpoint is quite rare, then you can write your paper as a ‘critiquing a common opinion paper’. This was the case for my PhD topic, for example. Almost every scholar who had written about Cmapbell had simply stated, without much evidence, that he was a Jungian scholar. Only one person before me had argued against this. I was thus able to pitch my PhD argument as a ‘critiquing a common opinion paper’. I did address the other critical ‘lone voice’, but for the most part I simply argued against the common opinion. The same goes for the Islamic state topic. When Islamic State was still in existence, the vast majority of voices stated that their violence was unIslamic. One of my senior project students was thus able to pitch her senior project about this topic as a ‘critiquing a common opinion’ paper. Another example: ‘Western yoga is based on a centuries old tradition and has been done in this way for centuries’ is quite a common opinion / perspective. Only one or two scholars have countered it. This allowed one of my students to write a ‘critiquing a common opinion’ paper about this topic, in which she showed this perspective was flawed.

 

2.3 Shedding new light on a topic

Another way to address the ‘so what’ question is by presenting descriptive research that doesn’t necessarily argue for a particular point within a debate, but which is presented in a new or innovative way, so that new light is shed on a topic. Examples of research which does this:

 

-Research in which a theory or model is applied to a case-study that hadn’t been applied to this case-study before;

-Research in which the author analyzes information and sets up his/her own model to analyze and clarify the data.

 

In both cases, the research only passes the ‘so what’ test if the author can show in the introduction of the paper that the approach is new and innovative, and also that it is useful to take this novel approach – for example because it helps to see a topic in which there is scholarly interest in a new light. In other words: you have to know the approaches used in the existing literature so that you can show that your approach is new. This doesn’t mean you need to have read everything in-depth, but it does mean you need to have looked at a lot of books and articles briefly to see what their approach is.

An example of research like this is a senior project which I supervised a number of years ago. The student wanted to do research on the Jewish Sabbath, but found it hard to find debates about the topic which felt right to engage with. After doing a lot of research, she discovered a ‘gap’ in the available literature: no one had written about the history of the Sabbath in such a way that the most important time periods were covered. There was research on particular time periods, but no overview which analysed and compared several time periods. The student ended up presenting a model of the history of the Sabbath, arguing that there were three key time periods to look at. She then did research on each time period and wrote a chapter about each of them. The conclusion was an overview of the changes from time period to time period. In the end, most of the thesis was quite descriptive and not so much argumentative. However, because she could show that her descriptive research was organized in a way that was new and innovative (i.e. she looked at three key time periods and traced the development through all of them, which surprisingly no one had done before) she could still address the ‘so what’ question in her introduction and conclusion. If she hadn’t done that, it could have easily come across as quite a weak, descriptive piece of writing. However, because she could show that her approach was novel and argue why this new approach was useful ,she could address the ‘so what’ question and connect her research to a larger context. In the end, I believe it was this particular aspect of her senior project which led to the high grade it received.

            You can also apply an existing model or theory to a particular topic. Religious Studies is very interdisciplinary, and it is common for scholars to use theories and models from fields such as psychology, literary theory, sociology and anthropology. In such cases, however, it is usually a lot harder to address the ‘so what’ question. You’ll have to really show that it is somehow useful to look at a particular topic through the lens of your chosen theory. What does it allow you to clarify about the topic that wasn’t yet clear? This can be hard to show – for example because your chosen theory is not agreed upon anymore by the majority of scholars (i.e. a Marxist analysis of the caste system, although possibly interesting, is hard to sell to the reader). These kinds of papers, therefore, can very easily feel a bit arbitrary, and still lead the reader to ask so what? at the end.

 

2.4 A paper about something no one has ever written about

The most common form of academic writing is probably writing which, in some shape or form, engages critically with already existing positions. Arguing a position within a debate does that very explicitly, as you’ll need to show what in the existing research you don’t agree with, and offer something new. Critiquing a common position does that very explicitly as well. You can write a great research paper which passes the ‘so what’ question about something completely new, however, and without referring to any already existing positions. If you find a topic that no one has ever written about at all, you’ve hit the scholarly jack-pot: in that case, you simply describe the topic as you’ve come to see it, without referencing the point of view of other scholars. If you’re the first author ever to write about the new religious movement inspired by Jediism from the Starwars movies, then your job is simple: research the phenomenon and present your findings. Finding such a topic is very rare, though. For almost all topics, your research will not be done within a social vacuum; almost always, you will make an argument against the backdrop of other people’s positions. Mapping these positions and then making your own point is the most common form of academic writing. Writing in this way also means that you can ‘sell’ your topic in the introduction and show why your research passes the ‘so what’ question.

 

3 Structure

A common structure for an ‘arguing a position within a debate’ paper is the following:

 

1.     Introduction
The concept of the paper is explained. A debate is introduced, and evidence is given for its existence – you do this by listing all the sources you’re aware of which argue for the respective positions within the debate. It is explained in which way the paper will engage with the debate. The paper structure (road map) is given.

2.     Research
Research findings are described.

3.     Argument
An argument is made based on this research. The argument is made in reference to the debate identified in section 1.

4.     A conclusion is given, in which the argument is summarized. Usually, the conclusion really drives home the ‘usefulness’ of the argument. In short: it tries to prevent the reader from asking the ‘so what’ question.

 

An example of a paper which follows this structure is the example paper already mentioned above. In this example article (a paper I published in the Journal of Analytical Psychology a couple of years ago) a debate is introduced in the beginning, but not a lot of words are used to map it. The paper just introduces the different sides and give examples of scholars who have defended it. The reason this works is because the different sides in the debate don’t need a lot of explaining; they are relatively simple to grasp for the target audience.

In some cases, though, describing the different positions in the debate needs more words because the positions are complex and need to be explained properly in the paper itself. For example: if you are writing about the different sides in the debate about possible evolutionary explanations for the origins of religion, then this is probably a more suitable structure. You would not assume that your target audience already knows these positions intimately, and therefore you need to summarize them in some detail. In such a case, the paper structure would look more like this:

 

1.     Introduction.

2.     Summarizing the positions in the debate in details (research)

3.     Making an argument against the backdrop of this debate (argumentative writing, perhaps combined with, or proceeded by, more research)

4.     Conclusion

 

Both structures are common, but it depends on your topic which one is appropriate. Before you start writing, it’s always to make a make a paper outline of the different sections. When you are doing this, ask yourself the question which of these two structures would be most appropriate for your paper. These are not the only possible structures, of course – feel free to discuss your thoughts about the paper structure with me at any time.

 

A common structure for a ‘critiquing a common position’ paper is the following:

 

1.     Introduction.

2.     Mapping the common position

3.     Research
New information about the topic is presented

4.     Argument: the common position is critiqued

5.     Conclusion: a summary of the argument, and a reflection on its usefulness.

 

4 On the difference between descriptive and argumentative writing.

Students often think that an argumentative paper constantly needs to be in ‘argumentative’ mode. This is not true. Parts of the essay need to engage with your arguments, either by introducing the position you will critique (introduction) or by doing the actual critiquing. Large parts of your paper, however, can be descriptive. When you write about the research question ‘Is Islamic state Islamic’, you would introduce a common position in the introduction and critique it in the final sections of the paper. The heart of the paper, however, would be descriptive writing about your research – for example into the history of Islam and violence. Mapping these research findings in the body of the paper would be largely descriptive. This is absolutely fine, as long as you use this descriptive writing to make an argument later on. In the final section of this paper, for example, you could use your research findings (there is a large history of Islamic violence similar to that of Islamic state) to make an argument (it is nonsense to call Islamic State un-Islamic). It is fine if large chunks of your paper are descriptive. A division between descriptive writing and argumentative writing of 50/50 is fine; even 60/40 or 70/30 is not unheard of.

 



[1] You can read the paper here. No need to read it in its entirety, but reading the introduction could be helpful to see what I mean.


Friday, November 24, 2023

Make Lists Not Fists - opening chapters

I'm making the first two chapters of my book on time management for students (entitled: Make Lists Not Fists - A Student Survival Guide to Stress-Free Productivity) available for free as a digital download. You can download and/or read them here.

The content of these chapters covers the basics - what I feel everyone should be doing to get organised. It's what I talk to my students about when they come in complaining of missing deadlines, or struggling to start on time with bigger projects. For most people, just putting the advice from these two chapters into practice will make all the difference. If you're really motivated to become better at time management, you could choose to read the rest of the book too, which will teach you how to set up a to-do list system so solid that nothing small will ever slip through the net anymore. Most students I advise, however, read chapters 1 and 2, apply what they learned, and find that that covers their basic needs. So start with those. If you want to go deeper (and I think you'll enjoy doing so): the whole book is available on Amazon

If you feel that you're already pretty organised - I still think that you'll get some tips that you can use from these chapters, especially chapter two. The rest of the book is also warmly recommended, of course - it describes how I myself work, and what I do to stay sane, and keep my stress levels at a manageable level. 




Friday, September 11, 2020

Digital Minimalism: experiments in distraction-free living



I’m a big fan of Cal Newport’s book Deep Workin which he makes an impassioned argument for the value of doing creative and meaningful work in a distraction-free manner. Newport (a computer scientist at Georgetown University, and author of a blog about productivity called Study Hacks) defines deep work as follows:

Deep Work: Professional activities performed in a state of distraction-free concentration that push your cognitive capabilities to their limit. These efforts create new value, improve your skill, and are hard to replicate.

The book is full of tips and strategies on how you can embed more deep work in your life, and I use its first chapter as a reading assignment in one of my undergraduate courses. I purposely make it the very first reading of the semester, as it’s a great way to get my students to reflect on their own study habits and have them discuss with each other whether they’re open to changing these habits so they can embed more deep work in their schedule. Without fail, our discussions gravitate towards a single subject: the constant distractions they face from the digital world. “I would like to do more deep work,” my students tell me, “but it’s just too hard. I get distracted. I check my Facebook. I get lured into a Whatsapp conversation with a friend. I go on Youtube after fifteen minutes of reading my textbook and get sucked into a black hole of endless cat videos.” Especially last semester, when for a large part of the semester all educational activities shifted to digital platforms because of the Corona virus, my students reported a losing battle with digital procrastination. They were behind the computer for hours on end, which meant that all their favourite digital distractions were never more than a mouse-click away. As the day wore on and they got more and more tired, the temptation to procrastinate often proved too strong for them.



Newport’s latest book, which is called Digital Minimalism, is about exactly this topic: how to make sure your digital addictions don’t get the better of you and live life on your own terms. I read it with great interest over the summer, and consider it the perfect follow-up to Deep Work. My own students are usually won over by Newport’s argument that doing more deep work is a good thing, but they get side-tracked far too easily because of digital distractions, all their noble intentions of doing a deep work session constantly shipwrecked on the rocks of Netflix, Youtube or Instagram. Digital Minimalism, in which Newport argues that our lives will be infinitely better and more rewarding if we filter out most of our online addictions, is the perfect book for these students. What I discovered as I read it - and this surprised me somewhat - was that it was also a bit of wake-up call for me. I didn’t really consider myself a digital media junkie. I check Facebook for maybe ten, fifteen minutes a day, I hang out on Youtube for maybe an hour a day, I watch some Netflix occasionally but don’t binge, and I hate Whatsapp groups with a passion and leave as soon as someone adds me to one. After reading Newport’s book and experimenting with some of his practical suggestions, however, I’m now convinced that I really, really want to make some further changes to my online behaviour, especially in these strange times where the corona virus is forcing me to spend more hours behind the computer than I’d like to and my eyes often hurt at the end of the day from staring and squinting at a screen for far too long. Here are some of the most important takeaways I got from the book, which explain why, now that the summer is over and the semester has started again, I have every intent of becoming a digital minimalist. 


Insight #1: Many digital tools were intentionally build to be hyper addictive


Newport spends quite a lot of time explaining why many apps and media platforms are so addictive, and points out that almost all of them were designed after a careful study of principles used in the gambling industry. For me, this insight - that many apps and social media platforms turn your smartphone into the equivalent of a slot machine - really hit home. The apps that I use the most all offer what Newport calls intermittent positive reinforcement, or - in simpler English - unpredictable feedback. Just like a slot machine, it’s hard to predict what will come up when you open an app like Facebook or Youtube: something good, something mediocre, or something dreadfully boring? As Newport points out, it’s exactly this unpredictability that makes these apps so addictive. Our brains are hard-wired to find an environment with unpredictable feedback irresistible. We love playing the ‘what did I get?’ game that such an environment provides us with. Youtube - which, until I read Newport’s book, I spent quite a bit of time on - is built exactly according to this principle. The homepage refreshes every day, and serves up a new selection of clips that are all tailored exactly to what youtube’s algorithm thinks you will like. But here’s the thing: they’re not all good. Quite a few of them are duds. Almost every day, however, there are one or two clips that are pure gold. After careful reflection, I can now see that it is exactly this unpredictability that I found irresistible. When given the choice between reading a book in the evening or going on Youtube, Youtube almost always won. I can now see why: I simply love playing the ‘what did I get?’ game just a little bit too much. Same with Facebook: almost everything in my feed is dull, dull, dull. Every once in a while, though, something fantastic and worthwhile will show up. It’s exactly this mixture of boring, mediocre and exciting, all stirred together with an touch of randomness and unpredictability, that keeps us coming back to these apps. Once I saw that mechanism, I couldn’t un-see it, and I didn’t like what I saw.


Insight #2: Doing a digital detox is clarifying


Apart from analysing why we’re so drawn to digital distractions in the first place, Newport also gives advice on how to do battle with these distractions. One  of his most extreme pieces of advice is this: doing a full-fledged ‘digital detox’, during which you cut out all your digital addictions for a whole month. Completely. Yes, that sounds radical. Perhaps it is. Newport argues rather convincingly, however, that it’s also necessary. The idea behind the detox is that for many of us, our favourite digital toys have become associated with deeply ingrained habits. It’s very, very hard to get rid of habits through sheer will-power alone. The way to start from scratch again, then, is to first get rid of the habits altogether. That means using your favourite addictions only sparingly, or better yet, not at all, for a sustained period of time (Newport suggests a month). Check your Whatsapp and email only a few times during the day instead of incessantly, turn off your lock-screen notifications on your smartphone so you don’t see incoming messages, and completely give up on non-essential apps such as Facebook and Youtube.
    I didn’t think I needed a detox before I started reading the book, but once I was halfway through, I figured I might as well try it. The results were surprising. I discovered how much Facebook, Youtube, and ‘random Googling’ had become deeply ingrained habits. I found myself constantly taking out my phone during moments where I would normally have checked Facebook, a pattern of behaviour which lasted more than three weeks. Same with Youtube: I’d find my finger hovering over the app symbol only to remember that my intent was not to use it. 
    It’s this realisation - that these apps got under my skin, and had undermined my free will to a certain extent - that’s probably been the biggest eye-opener for me. I was forced to admit that yes, even I - who considered myself a proto digital minimalist - had grown into just a little bit of an addict as time wore on.  That insight - that I’d become an addict - was a real eye-opener for me. I just don’t like the idea of being addicted to anything, unless it’s to coffee. Coffee addiction is fine in my book. Don’t you dare call my coffee addiction a problem - I will unfriend you faster than you can say ‘Iced latté frappuccino’ 🙂. But addiction to anything else? Count me out. 


Insight #3: If you’re going to succeed at digital minimalism, you need to replace digital with consciously chosen off-line activities


I was somewhat surprised to discover that Newport devotes an entire chapter in the book to the concept of leisure. How should you spend your free time, if you’re not going to spend it binge-watching The Crown or watching a five hour Joe Rogan interview on Youtube with some guy who used to be a journalist but now believes that aliens build the Aztec pyramids? At first the fact that Newport spotlights this topic puzzled me a little bit, but it now makes complete sense to me. As soon as you stop being a digital junkie, you’re going to have a whole lot of extra free time on your hands, and if you don’t consciously make a plan for something rewarding to do with all those extra hours, you’re going to be back on social media within the blink of an eye. For me, the most obvious way to spend this extra free time would be to read more. I always notice when I go on holiday that I find reading for hours on end  infinitely more rewarding than watching youtube clips. Newport’s book has made me adamant that after this year’s summer holiday I’ll be staying offline much more, and that I will read much, much more. Newport, however, gives great advice about what else to do with your time apart from reading. Above all, I was inspired by his suggestion to do more ‘analogue’ creative work. Build something. Fix something. Do hard manual labour. As human beings, we’re hard-wired to find working with tools rewarding. So we should do more of it - simple as that. 
    This is a forgotten art - the art of fixing things. When I compare myself to my father, who grew up in a time long before there were any digital distractions to speak of, I see such a difference. My father has spent a lifetime of trying to fix things. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty and will have a crack at trying to fix any piece of equipment which stops working as it should.  My father calls me when his iPad stops working, and I can fix that for him. But when a machine in my own household stops working which is not digital? Well, in such cases my first hunch is to call an expert. Most often, the expert is my father. If he can’t fix it, my inclination is to bin whatever stopped working and buy a new one. I think most of us are like that these days. Newport’s convinced me that I could do things differently - not for the sake of it, but because doing manual work is highly rewarding. This rule doesn’t just apply to fixing things that are broken - making something from scratch will do just as nicely. Knit a sweater. Paint. Draw. Play a musical instrument. Anything goes - as long as you’re using your hands. Your life will be all the better for it.

Postscript:

“Your life will be all the better for it” - that was originally going to be the sentence with which I was going to end this blog post. Now that I’ve had a chance to live according to my new ‘digital minimalism’ philosophy for a while (I wrote this blog post a couple of weeks ago, and am only now polishing it up) I have to say that I”m no longer one hundred percent convinced about this statement. My wife has - somewhat unexpectedly -become just a little bit too enthusiastic about the project, and has taken to suggesting ‘analogue’ projects that will tie in neatly with my new digital minimalist philosophy with a devilish look of glee in her eyes. Without fail, these ‘suggestions’ are all in the category ‘chores around the house that need doing but which will give no one in full possession of all their mental faculties any kind of satisfaction whatsoever’, such as putting up shelves, doing the dishes, or - worst of all - gardening. Needless to say, this is not what I envisioned when I embarked on my digital detox. I pictured myself doing romantic ‘old world’ projects such as building a guitar from scratch or fixing my coffee roaster when it breaks down with nothing but a screw-driver and a pair of pliers (it did, and I did, thank you very much). I’ve tried to explain that there is an important difference between ‘chores’ and ‘projects’ to my wife at multiple occasions but she is yet to be convinced of the validity of my arguments. 🙂
    All joking aside, the sailing has been pretty smooth, actually. I don’t miss Youtube and Facebook at all, am giving Netflix a wide birth, and have instead watched several complex and overly long documentaries on the BBC which normally I’d have avoided like the bubonic plague. Much to my surprise, I enjoyed them tremendously. I’m reading a lot, and I’m also writing much more than I normally would have. It’s the beginning of the semester and things are hectic right now, yet I’m managing to find little pockets of time and brainspace to work on projects that I thought would have to go on the back-burner. I hadn’t planned on completing this blog post this early on in the semester, but here it is - hopefully you enjoyed it. I do apologise for having to deliver it to you through digital means, though. Last time I checked, using carrier pigeons or telegrams were not highly effective ways of reaching a large audience. 🙂