Step Through the Door to Wonderland
This is the door connecting the Deanery and Cathedral gardens of Christ Church College at the University of Oxford. It provides the Christ Church dean a shortcut for getting to services at the Cathedral. But more importantly, it is also the door to the garden where a girl named Alice Liddell used to play; she’s the young lady who inspired Lewis Carroll (real name Charles Dodgson, a Christ Church mathematics lecturer) to write about Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
Like Alice’s door, I argue that thinking of yourself as an academic storyteller opens the way to a Wonderland garden of tools and techniques that enrich and enliven your academic writing, making it more interesting to read and increasing its influence. This is why I’ve written a book on how to use storytelling in academic writing. Storytelling is what we do in every article, book chapter and book we write; in every presentation we give; and in every class we teach. Data does not speak for itself; authors have to set the context for interpreting it, ensure readers understand and accept the importance of the question motivating their studies, and frame the implications of their results in ways that give them meaning, leading readers to reach the conclusions the authors intend.
One of the most enduring and pernicious falsehoods perpetuated in academia is that being boring equals being rigorous. I cringe whenever I hear someone refer to their article as a “research report.” The most successful and influential scholars treat their research as a drama, and use the structure and tools of storytelling to make their academic writing more accessible, influential and easier to read, without “dumbing down” or reducing the rigor of their argumentation and work. They use analogies and metaphors to make abstract concepts accessible, and connect with readers’ lived experiences. They also employ examples to put a human face on their stories, and pay attention to their stories’ motion and pacing, moving readers along at a brisk but sustainable pace, so that, as New York Times editor Francis Flaherty quipped “they feel the wind in their hair.” I hope this is a garden where you also like to play.
However, like any garden, your writing garden needs tending. And as any gardener will tell you, the job is never done, so you better enjoy the journey. I argue that writing is a practice, which means that rather than seeking a specific endpoint, or destination, writing is an ongoing journey that provides unending opportunities to continue refining your abilities. Further, different kinds of gardens, for example ornamentals, vegetables, succulents, or a Zen rock garden are tended in different ways. Learning how to tend them well, and developing the tacit knowledge about each type of gardening, takes time and focus. Writing different kinds of works, and for different audiences, also represents distinct disciplines. Writing peer-reviewed empirical articles, theoretical articles, or articles geared towards practitioner audiences similarly share common roots, but also require developing different bases of tacit knowledge, and mastering distinct skills and forms. I hope you are also interested in understanding and making the most of this journey, and learning a bit about the different forms.
In this short inaugural post I have tried to articulate some of my beliefs about academic writing, because they will shape my future posts. I will delve more into the structures, tools and techniques academic storytellers can employ; air my pet peeves about tendencies and practices I see that inhibit good writing; and expound on various aspects of the writing process. I will also discuss a variety of other writing related topics, and hope you, the reader, will suggest topics I can cover. Blogging has its own distinct forms and requirements, and this is my first foray into the medium. I hope you will continue to join me as I work to learn its forms and “sound.”