‘Academic writing equals chaos’

Piles of books covering all available desk, floor and chair space. Scribbled pages of notes whose meanings are only decipherable to graphologists. Numerous tabs open on my creaking laptop. Word files with names like “to go in”, “new structure November”, “newest structure November”, “Final draft”,  “To submit” and “To submit FINAL”.

For me, academic writing equals chaos, and the bigger the project, the more chaotic it is. I wish it were different, I really do, but 10 books and dozens of articles deep into my academic writing “career”, I fear the die may be cast. So, on I go. 

Why? Because at the end of all the disarray, the final draft goes into the “sent” file of your emails and there is the payoff. The pleasure of opening the box with your books inside. The chapter you proudly post on LinkedIn with “I did a thing” written under it. And aside from personal satisfaction, the benefits of publishing your work can include recognition, career advancement and contribution to your field. 

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Along the way I’ve learned a few things that have helped me get to that delicious payoff (relatively) intact. And here they are.

1. Think ‘eggs and baskets’ when it comes to big projects

Having something else on the go at the same time has always helped me when I am tackling longer pieces of writing; smaller projects serve as palate cleansers between the entrée and the main course. These can range from articles like this one, or something for general-interest websites, magazines or newspapers, or coming up with new article, chapter or book ideas, even if they don’t end up going anywhere. Doing this has always made me feel that the current book isn’t the absolute centre of my universe, and putting it into perspective takes a lot of the pressure off. Just make sure you don’t take on too much at once, or the pressure will increase. You don’t want to end up drowning in a mess of deadlines and regret. 

2. Don’t suffer in silence 

As an academic, I’m full of good advice. I tell my students to stay well hydrated, avoid leaving things to the last minute, and learn to accept rejection as part of the publishing process without taking it personally. 

What I’m not good at is following my own advice. So, ashamed as I am to admit it (especially in black and white), I’m often guilty of doing the opposite of what I espouse. However, one area where I most certainly do practise what I preach (these days, at least) is when I tell the students that the worst thing they can do when they’re struggling with a project is to suffer in silence. 

We’ve all been there, staring at the screen day after day, unable even to get words to make sense, let alone our ideas. Then, over a cup of tea, we get chatting to a friend and the conversation turns to what we’re working on. If we resist the urge to respond to questions with: “Ah, nothing much”, “Ugh – I don’t want to talk about it”, or “I don’t want to bore you” and start talking over the idea, a strange alchemy occurs where it all starts to make sense again. 

This, I think, is because we stop trying to be intellectual heavyweights and start talking in plain English again, describing the nuts and bolts of the idea without frills or fluff so our friend doesn’t get bored or confused. And, in doing so, we reconnect with the idea, hit the “reset” button, and remember why we wanted to write it in the first place. 

One caveat is to choose your audience carefully. New ideas can be fragile – you want a supportively critical friend who won’t derail your efforts.

3. Love what you do

The advice to love your writing, or your process, sounds almost ridiculously obvious, but I think it’s the most important point of the three. Something I say to my dissertation students from my seemingly bottomless pool of wisdom is that when they’re deciding on their project idea, they need to be head over heels in love with it. And if they’re not, they should think of something else.

With all the goodwill in the world, if we spend enough time with a project, we’ll end up resenting it. And the less love we had for it when we started, the larger the resentment will be when we finish grinding out the words and cursing ourselves for taking on this torment. 

OK, that’s a bit of an exaggeration (maybe), but I’m a firm believer that we do our best work when we’re enthusiastic and energised, not when we’re world-weary and deflated. So, the pressure of publishing notwithstanding, if the project doesn’t feel right when you’re designing it, pitching it or signing that contract, then you’re setting yourself up for very difficult months.

So, yes, academic writing can seem like an unrewarding experience at times. It can be something we feel we have to do rather than want to, but with a bit of organisation, support and enthusiasm, you will finish your project and reap the rewards. 

Glenn Fosbraey is the associate dean of humanities and social sciences at the University of Winchester. His next book, Reading Song Lyrics: An Interdisciplinary and Multimodal Approach (Anthem), is due out in August.

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