April 13…Becker’s Chapters 6-7
Chapters 6 and 7 really dig in about some of the emotional/psychological aspects of writing difficulties. What I am looking for in your posts are some reactions to the chapters. Some possibilities include discussion fo whether you could related to what Richards was discussing about risk in Chapter 6 or where you see yourself tending to fit into Becker's Chapter 7 tension between "making it better" vs. "getting it out the door."
In Chapter 6, Becker shares the thoughts of authors who have a hard time sharing their first drafts with others for fear of appearing stupid. I think I felt that way when I first joined my Master’s cohort at VCU, though through years of peer editing and rewriting, I don’t feel that same anxiety anymore. I think that my mentality now is more about “getting it out the door” as mentioned in Chapter 7. I am currently team-writing an article with three other people, and have really only brainstormed and written an abstract. I was the first person to start the brainstorming list, and was also the first person to start writing the abstract. I prefaced all of what I shared with the group by saying, “This was what I came up with in one sitting - it’s not polished or pretty, but it’s a start.” I would hope that mentality would be inherent in what we are doing, but I said it anyway. That’s me dealing with the risk part, I guess.
ReplyDeleteWhat I have found in that teamwork so far is that the other three people in my group are VERY hesitant to start writing, even when they have good ideas. So the strength that I bring to the table in this case is my willingness to start the writing. While my ideas have been maintained through our edits, my prose has been edited immensely, which I truly have learned to appreciate! I don’t take the comments negatively at all, and can honestly see the improvements over time.
I am finding this experience very interesting because it is the first time I have written a paper like this as a group, rather than just an editing partnership. At the end of all of this, the paper is not MINE, it is OURS. I appreciate that immensely as well, because I feel like my group members are more likely to give it their best effort and not worry about offending me. Since all of our names are attached to the final product, everyone seems to be putting in a true effort in critiquing and editing - this is very different than what I experienced in peer review throughout the Master’s program.
As far as Chapter 7 is concerned - I really think I am more about getting it out the door than having a fully polished final product. I am very motivated by deadlines, and create self-imposed deadlines as well. I think this also comes from my Master’s cohort because of the many deadlines on our thesis sections, as well as the mentality that it was never quite “finished” until the end of the semester. I did not have a hard time submitting what I had that was “good enough” at the time - I knew that I still had an opportunity to fix it before the final deadline. Then, the final deadline came after SO MANY editing processes, I was confident that it was my ‘best work’. Could I have continued to edit? Probably. Was it perfect? No. But it was good enough, it got out the door, and I got my degree!
I also really identified with the idea that “equating time spent and quality may in fact be empirically false.” I am a classic overthinker in a LOT of ways, and I think that spending too much time on a paper would inevitably lead me to overediting and probably reducing the overall quality. I do really appreciate the peer review process for that reason though - I think if I am going to spend more time on a paper, I would rather do it reading comments/edits from a second set of eyes rather than doing it on my own.
-Chelsea
4/8/2020
DeleteKori Mosley
At the end of Chapter 6, Becker points out that Richards’ description of her experiences with risk/writing are complementary to situations/processes/feelings described in earlier chapters - and that they can all be read as personal and/or generic. While I assume widespread generalizability, I still felt as though this chapter (and 7 - really, the whole book so far) was written specifically for ME! When Richards described her dream scenario # 3 on pp. 112 - 113, I was SO there with her: “I am a fraud” - “I don’t want to be a scholar” - “I am too tired” - YEP, that’s ME. Even though I can easily say that to myself (and to you all via this blog), I still use the avoidance tactic of not getting started, as she describes on p. 117, to delay the inevitable exposure to others. Overall, her explanations of risk/writing make complete sense to me but embracing that double-edge sword is complicated… and painful. I am still not willing (vs. able) to take the chance.
On p. 134, Becker describes the physical symptoms that accompany his anxiety when beginning a new paper: “dizziness, a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach, a chill, maybe even a cold sweat.” YES. For me, the sinking feeling is what we have most in common - it’s like my heart feels as though it might stop, like I am under a heavy weight and cannot move/cannot breath. I get physically sick. There are tears. This is all so weird to me because I *thought* I liked writing?! What I suppose I now know - 100% for sure - is that, while I do like writing, I don’t like scholarly writing. I think I came to this conclusion after completing my masters program but… that was 20 years ago… I guess I forgot?! Since I was able to do a lot of non-scholarly writing in that program, I missed out on the instruction/feedback/risk-taking that *may* have helped me to better understand and undertake what I am now being asked to do. I avoided risk: both on purpose and by default.
I wish that this book - and this course - had been part of my first semester coursework. “Foundations of Ed. Research and Doctoral Study” seems like something one would take at the start, no? Those coming to doctoral study with a masters degree closer in the rear view mirror may not feel the same way but it would have been helpful for me. I can’t say for sure, of course, but perhaps knowing how perfectly I fit into the “making it better” camp that Becker explains in Chapter 7 could have pulled me out from the weeds that I get so deep into with any kind of writing, even a seemingly simple facebook post (or homework blog!). Perhaps with more opportunities to get started (to “start swimming” as Becker puts it on p. 134) I might have learned to embrace the process and to fight the tendencies of my perfectionism. I am not at all like the musician, as per Becker on p. 124, who performs night after night, whether they want to or not - and whether they play well or not. I don’t know how performers do it but that repetition and responsibility certainly allows for adaptation to/benefit from risk. Ultimately, I have to come to terms with who I am - and if I really am not/do not want to be a scholar, then so be it. I can be assured that someone else will be - and that is fine. And if I decide otherwise, I will have to learn to get my writing “out the door.”
Whoops - didn't mean to post as a reply to you, Chelsea - sorry!
DeleteBut also, I also really liked the quote “equating time spent and quality may in fact be empirically false" - however, unlike you, I am not yet ready to embrace it!!!
I haven't done a lot of group work but I appreciate the ability in that situation to lean on each other's strengths and to generate a preliminary self-peer review process in that safe - and hopefully genuine and equitable - space before sending it out for wider review.
I empathized with chapter 6, especially as a sociologist who feels quite fraudulent; however, I felt more of a reaction to chapter 7. I felt the dissatisfaction and the disappointment for having worked for both a 'get it out the door' person and a 'take your time' person. Becker supposes in this book that we will be independent researchers, that we will be leading projects and making decisions, and I suppose that's the eventuality toward which we all strive, but, for me at least, the reality is that I am at the whim of other people's professional insights, decisions, and practices. I don't yet have the freedom, the privilege, or the luxury of knowing exactly which kind of writer I am.
ReplyDeleteI'll start with getting it out the door. One of the more disappointing aspects of graduate school was being told my ideas were too big. "Ask smaller questions." This always seemed adjacent in some capacity to the advice that, "The only good [thesis] is a done [thesis]." I've heard this sentiment so many times before. In this same vein, my supervisor often says, "Good is the enemy of done." I hear it often, both individually and on teams.
Like Becker, I am impatient, and I often want to know what others think early on in the process of writing, but I also like to know that what I've done is the closest possible version to the best possible version of what I can create. It doesn't have to take ages, but I balk at the idea that putting in effort for quality leads to unfinished projects.
(As I write this, the unfinished portraits around my apartment seem mocking.)
I push back against purely getting work out of the door because I am reacting to the sentiments that I've heard for so long. On the other hand, having worked for a person for whom time seems inconsequential, for whom the placement of a comma is of immense importance, someone hyper-focused on how the phrasing of an idea may alter its interpretation, I know how absolutely painstaking that can be.
When I get to a certain point in my career, I think I'll be a 'get it out the door' person. But maybe there will be times when I'll take my time getting it out the door, because it feels worth it.
-Meagan
Meagan, I like how you phrased it that you don't have the "freedom, the privilege, or the luxury" to know which type of writer you are. I can relate to this wholeheartedly. I feel it most being the only part time student in my cohort. I watch them publish and spend all of their 20 hour work week dedicated to their academic career. For me, I write sparsely and feel stressed when I think of working the 40 hour week, taking classes, then dedicating additional time to write. I think this is where my anxiety lies, not within the writing itself.
DeleteSomething that Becker does not introduce with the tension of “making it better” vs. “getting it out the door” is the intersection of race, gender, age, and socioeconomic status. I want to recognize the level of second-guessing people experience due to their life experiences and the messages they receive. Sure, putting out a piece of work is scary. But what about putting out a piece of work for a first-generation college student? The amount of fear and self-doubt is supported by the lack of racial, ethnic, and demographic representation we experience in literature in academia. I want to highlight this additional layer of tension that exists between making something better and getting it out the door.
ReplyDeleteIt seemed like the message was to just write it anyway. Even though it won’t be perfect, even though it won’t be a masterpiece, just write. I think this concept really applies to any performance in a way that you are judged. Becker talked about art and music. I think it expands to every corner of actions. Any action we put out, we interact with the world and others. Others react to this and then we deal with the consequences of that. I think this energy exchange is even more relevant during the era of COVID-19. This echo of anxiety that always was there now seems have louder feedback. We are left to sit and stare at unfinished work, never started work, and wonder what other people are making of their abundance of time. Sometimes the vastness is overwhelming, but being paralyzed in fear inhibits us more than subpar work.
YUP. I feel that's where the previous chapter kind of fits into the conversation...she was writing from a place of *current* privilege (having attained tenure), but her journey was that of someone who didn't meet the criteria of "ideal" for her profession. I think reading his commentary in Ch. 7 with the somewhat contrasting lens of risk from the previous chapter almost sounds like two sides of the same argument. "Just get it done (Ch. 7)" vs. "But at what cost? (Ch. 6)".
DeleteAliza: Very salient points, and a great critique of the text!
DeleteWow Aliza! What an insightful and thought-provoking idea. Yet another instance of my privilege in not having fears like you described.
DeleteI personally struggle with writing when it doesn't feel perfect. I have a tendency to do one draft and expect it to be my final. When instead, piecemealing my work together is less stressful and ultimately more productive. For me, that looks like throwing down a skeleton outline then slowly adding in details and eventually turning it into a continuous, coherent paper.
I wonder how this fear of it not being perfect and up to par for the research field manifests differently in people - if there are trends based on gender, race, SES or family academic history, etc. It feels like it would be deeply personal but I'd be interested to know!
Two particular statements stuck out to me in Chapter 6, and they speak to the reputation of the writer:
ReplyDelete"...it is colleagues' responses that make it possible for me to trust myself," (p. 113) and
"Professional reputation is tied to professional position, and few of us have the power to say, "I don't care what you think,"" (p. 116).
I was also thinking about the recognition of power in this statement (as Aliza discussed above), but her concerns about the role of her profession in her life and the imposterism that plagued her were not surprising, but disappointing. I know that education, even academia as a part of that field, is a magnet for passionate people who are engaged in the work regardless of the menial rewards. But passion does not have to wrap itself up in your concept of self to the extent that I felt it did here. It's a dangerous trap to only identify yourself as your work, because work (as we're all seeing quite clearly in recent times) is precarious and can be unstable.
I also resonated with the "get it out the door" phenomenon HARD this week, as that was my mantra working on our discipline paper drafts..."A GOOD PAPER IS A DONE PAPER."
But I think that my writing this week is different from the type of work he was discussing, and just as Aliza said above, it reeks of privilege. Yes, we can observe and remark and laugh at the weird dynamics of a company's staff trying to balance the needs of the company with the desires of the "creatives," but what is overlooked in that dynamic is the reality that a failing company means jobs lost, families facing unemployment and income insecurity, and actual cost to the humans involved. There HAS to be a balance, because the consequences that he was talking about vary much more widely than I think he was willing to acknowledge (again from his perspective as successful faculty and author).
In her letter to Howard Becker, Pamela Richards described risk in a simple way, and I related to her assessment. She wrote, “sitting down to write is risky because it means that I have to open myself up to scrutiny.” I can identity with this feeling wholeheartedly as I am transitioning from practitioner to scholar-practitioner and entering a new world of writing that is new to me. As I’ve explained in earlier posts, I have a background in journalism from my undergraduate work and early career, but I have been out of practice for some time now. I am not a stranger to editorial critique. However, there is a struggle to find your place and this struggle can lead to self-doubt about whether you belong in this world of scholarly research and writing. I agree with Richards’ assessment that there is a natural fear to be vulnerable to peers (to ask for critique) in a highly competitive marketplace. You can find yourself competing for the same grants and fellowships. While I do believe that the fear (and sometimes anxiety) that comes along with scholarly writing will come to past, as with repetition and practice, you will likely get better at it, it is difficult to see early on. There is perceived risk in making mistakes and making a bad first impression. The feeling of tarnishing your professional scholarly reputation the first time out of the gates is horrifying. I like concept of writing a “working draft”. This may help me relax and focus on pushing the words onto the paper without overanalyzing every thought out of fear of it not being “right”. I am personally good a brainstorming, so this is a good concept for me to practically grasp.
ReplyDeleteGetting It out the Door
In reading both Becker chapters, I can’t help but to compare the fear and risk associated with writing to stories that I’ve read about a couple of my favorite musicians/composers. One story that comes to mind is that of arguably one of the best hip hop albums of all time, The Low End Theory by A Tribe Called Quest which released in 1991. This album is a unique blend of hip hop, jazz and samples from 1970s soul classics. The album, which granted the group a great deal of mainstream acclaim, was nearly not released at all. The lead rapper/composer/producer of the group Q-Tip is a well-known perfectionist. His record label and management begged for the album for more than a year, but in Q-Tip’s opinion the album “wasn’t ready”. Legend has it that the head of the record label literally broke into the studio and “stole” the album to keep from pushing the release date back another month. The label wanted to get the album ‘out of the door’. I would imagine this same struggle relates to scholarly writing to some degree. There is a fear of being judged on work that is not your best. You must be okay with your work constantly being in progress (a working draft).
Artis, great point about calling it a "working draft" as it does take that perfectionist pressure off of your writing, hopefully allowing for some more confidence and fun to flow instead.
DeleteChapters 6 and 7 were very fitting for me today, especially after working on the draft of my discipline paper. Let’s just say, “getting it out the door.” While it is out the door, I feel like I am in this space of vulnerability as I handed it over to my peer review buddy, who, luckily for me, is also someone I consider a friend and is by far one of the smartest people I know. Draft 1 of my paper is done. Is it great? No, but it is done. As I submitted it, I wanted to accompany it with a host of disclaimers and the reasons why this may be considered horrible. Still, it all was just coming from a space of vulnerability (and it is still a working draft). It resonated with me when Richards asked the question, “who can you trust?” Not just someone who you will be nice to protect your feelings and to make sure you do not feel like a complete idiot, but someone you can trust to tell you the truth in a kind and trusting way. I appreciated when Richards said: “If I can’t trust them to tell me the truth, then their feedback will not help me trust myself. I will always wonder whether my ideas are really good, or whether they’re just trying to be nice” (p. 118). The truth will set us free, as they say, but it does not mean it will be a comfortable journey along the way. I enjoyed these two chapters. They were honest, and I could genuinely relate to them both.
ReplyDeleteI don't like to write. Truthfully, I identified with Pamela Richards' dream described in Chapter 6, where she's speaking her ideas, the words flowing with strength and elegance. I've had this dream myself.
ReplyDeleteI love to talk. To discuss. To respond. I like to develop my ideas in relationships with others', together constructing (a word I use on purpose) a way of knowing. Writing seems one-sided, creatively dead. It's a demand that I wrangle my ideas into a proscribed format, and present them to be passively consumed by the reader. I don't find it intellectually stimulating in the slightest. But I get how the academy works.
So, I tend to fall into the "getting it out the door" camp of writing. In fact, I had the opportunity to read a colleague's now-completed dissertation this past weekend. He emailed it to me with the caveat that "it's trash" and that I shouldn't read the final chapter, since he wrote it in twelve hours before submitting the draft. In my discussions with historians, it's generally acknowledged that the best dissertation is a done dissertation. And, honestly, I think the genre of a dissertation needs to be re-thought anyway. Who wants to read it? Articles, chapters, books -- these products have currency in the academy. But what good is a dissertation?
Philosophically, as well, I fall into the "getting it out the door" camp of writing because I don't see any written work as final. It's an expression of a scholar's ideas at a moment in time. A snapshot. And isn't the point of writing to promote new knowledge? To contribute to an ongoing conversation? The consequence of this is that, as soon as your article or book comes out (and, often, if we're honest, before that) new things are being said. I think to get hung up "making it better" misses the point. It can't *get* better until it's out the door, and other people have had the opportunity to wrestle with it.
Also, after I read chapter 6, I had to look up the history of the concept of impostor syndrome. Apparently the term "impostor phenomenon" first appeared in a 1978 article about high-achieving women in the journal Psychotherapy. Since Becker's book was published in '86, I wonder how prevalent the concept was.
Jonathan
Pamela Richard's essay hit home when she said: "Yes, I produce an appalling amount of crap, but most of the time I can tell it's crap before anyone else get's a chance to look at it. And occasionally I produce something Lillian Hellman might have written, something that capture exactly what I want to say" (p. 119) As a part time grad student, and full time procrastinator that doesn't do much long form professional writing, I normally don't afford myself the times to have multiple swings/approaches at an idea. So, if I am writing something that I know to be absolute trash I normally have put myself in a situation where I have to plug my nose, hit spellcheck and avoid my Blackboard page. Am I affording myself enough time and energy to get the crap out of the way for the moments where I can actually produce something good and useful?
ReplyDeleteThis isn't a writing problem, this is an Andy problem. If I gave myself the time, and the structure, to run up multiple approaches or idea of a concept I'd probably still have the same number of terrible ideas if not more. HOWEVER, I at least will have have the opportunity to trash it as opposed to having to present a bad premise. While I'm still growing as a writer, giving myself time to grow as a thinker will help that as well.
I like Jonathan's idea from a blog post above: any piece that I work on isn't going to be the lasting testament of my scholarship. It's one discrete idea from a (hopefully) list of ideas/thoughts/arguments. One of the few ideas that have stuck with me from my underutilized Economics undergrad degree is "diminishing marginal returns". If I didn't have the great idea that I spoke about earlier, and I've gotten the good faith criticism that Pamela speaks about, at what point will my tinkering do more harm than good? Am I REALLY going to get something out of these hours that I hem and haw vs. the value of getting it out the door so I can work on other things? John Rawls spent 20 years writing "A Theory of Justice" but that is a treatise on liberty and equality in society. For anything I'm looking to address in my work (at this point in my life) if anything I work on is still in production after 10 years I need someone to do a wellness check.
On page 111, Donna discussed the feeling of receiving her friends tough feedback, and the feeling that she may have let her down, or not measured up to what she thought her friend expected of her. I have felt that way in the couple of doctoral courses that I have taken. Not that i’ve received feedback that has made me feel like I’m not good enough, but just an internal anxiety that my professors are going to tell me I don’t belong in these classes. I don’t let that get to me, as I still write my assignments and submit them, but that feeling is familiar.
ReplyDelete“Every piece of work can be used as evidence about what kind of a sociolo- gist (and person) you are. Peers read your work and say, "Hell, that's not so bright. I could do better than that. She's not so hot after all.”’ (pg. 114) This is relatable to where we are at right now in the process of our discipline papers. I know that it’s not my place to make anyone feel belittled or as if they’re not good enough through critique in my first year of doctoral classes (or any year). As a reader, as discussed later on page 114, I may be looking for something in the writing that the writer didn’t think of including. That doesn’t make them a bad writer, it just means we view writing differently. Overall, chapter 6 discusses the idea that “it’s not all-or-nothing” (pg. 120) and I feel that writing doesn’t deserve to hold this stress over my head.
As for chapter 7, and like my classmates above, I am at a “get it out the door” place right now. Usually it doesn’t take too much convincing for me to get myself to sit down, read, write, and complete assignments before their due date. Recently, it’s been a lot harder, and I do feel proud when I get things out the door.
Maggie Brocklebank
As I read Chapters 6 and 7, I identified with certain aspects of both Richards and Becker. I have navigated through the waters of insecurity when it comes to taking the risk of being vulnerable when sharing my work with others for feedback. While I love writing, I have been hindered in the past by wondering whether those who will read my writing will consider it "worthy" or under par. Yet, in order to grow, we all must be willing to open ourselves up to criticism. The key, as Richards points out, is with whom we choose to take that risk. We must intentionally develop honest and open relationships with our colleagues based on integrity and a sincere desire to help each other grow. We must develop relationships with those who care enough about us and our field to tell us what we need to hear and not just what we want to hear. Constructive criticism given in love is easier to hear.
ReplyDeleteWith regard to Becker my general mode of operation is a balance between "get it out" and "wait a while" when it comes writing. I believe that there has to be a healthy balance between the two.
One of the things that resonated with me in Chapter 7 is that we get to decide "what part we want to play in the world in which would like [ours] is done" (p. 126). It has become clear to me during this first year of doctoral studies and that there are two purposes for which educational researchers write: professional advancement or inform/impact practice. That purpose dictates how we write and whether we lean more heavily towards getting our work out quickly or waiting a while to see how to improve it. My purpose is to inform/impact teaching and learning in K-12 classrooms. Doing that effectively necessitates that I take risks to ensure that the writing I produce makes sense to and is applicable for practitioners and it also necessitates that I maintain a healthy balance between waiting and getting my work out.
In another life, I write fiction, which as an act has always been something that comes naturally to me. The act of writing fiction is freeing and indulgent on a more creative level (I imagine academic writing could feel similarly if I got over some hang ups).
ReplyDeleteThe acts of writing fiction and writing research or academic papers are obviously wildly different though. There are different constraints and expectations.
With academic writing, at least for me, the act is usually marred or tainted by imposter syndrome - a personal problem mostly, but also one that in part is inspired by some very real things in the world of academia. I guess where I see a lot of similarities between my more natural venue and academic writing is in the revision and completion stage.
Revision and completion is always a repetitive process, stretched out over time, and for good reason. Time allows some distance, which in turn allows for a more honest lens for what your writing needs. But there are real-world constraints, which are what I see Becker talking about when he discusses “making it better” versus “getting it out the door.” We can only circle the drain for so long with our writing. Or how about this one, if we chase our tails too much we end up not actually improving a piece or allowing the world the opportunity to experience it.
In some ways moving it out the door is part of a larger revision process when it comes to our work as a whole. After you’ve moved on from a work to try and get it published, it’s still with you, and then its reception is with you too, and all of that informs you as a writer and researcher. So in that sense, “getting it out the door” is part of the larger experience of “making it better” in that the “it” is you and your work as a whole.
- Peyton B.