This
This
TRY THIS
Research Methods for Writers
TRY THIS
RESEARCH METHODS FOR WRITERS
Practices & Possibilities
Series Editors: Aimee McClure, Mike Palmquist, and Aleashia Walton
Series Associate Editors: Lauryn Bolz and Jagadish Paudel
The Practices & Possibilities Series addresses the full range of practices within the field of Writing
Studies, including teaching, learning, research, and theory. From Joseph Williams’ reflections on
problems to Richard E. Young’s taxonomy of “small genres” to Adam Mackie’s considerations of
technology, the books in this series explore issues and ideas of interest to writers, teachers, research-
ers, and theorists who share an interest in improving existing practices and exploring new possi-
bilities. The series includes both original and republished books. Works in the series are organized
topically.
The WAC Clearinghouse and University Press of Colorado are collaborating so that these books will
be widely available through free digital distribution and low-cost print editions. The publishers and
the series editors are committed to the principle that knowledge should freely circulate and have
embraced the use of technology to support open access to scholarly work.
Jennifer Clary-Lemon
University of Waterloo
Derek Mueller
Virginia Tech
Kate Pantelides
Middle Tennessee State University
WAC Clearinghouse
wac.colostate.edu
Fort Collins, Colorado
Names: Clary-Lemon, Jennifer, author. | Mueller, Derek N., 1974- author. | Pantelides, Kate, 1981- author.
Title: Try this : research methods for writers / Jennifer Clary-Lemon, University of Waterloo ; Derek Mueller, Virginia Tech ; Kate
Pantelides, Middle Tennessee State University.
Description: Fort Collins, Colorado : The WAC Clearinghouse ; Louisville, Colorado : University Press of Colorado, [2022] | Series:
Practices & possibilities | Includes bibliographical references.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021060203 (print) | LCCN 2021060204 (ebook) | ISBN 9781646423125 (paperback) | ISBN 9781642151442 (pdf) |
ISBN 9781642151459 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: English language--Rhetoric--Research--Methodology. | English language--Rhetoric--Problems, exercises, etc. |
Academic writing.
Classification: LCC PE1408 .C5227 2022 (print) | LCC PE1408 (ebook) | DDC 808/.042--dc23/eng/20220113
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021060203
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021060204
The WAC Clearinghouse supports teachers of writing across the disciplines. Hosted by Colorado State University, it brings together
scholarly journals and book series as well as resources for teachers who use writing in their courses. This book is available in digital
formats for free download at wac.colostate.edu.
Founded in 1965, the University Press of Colorado is a nonprofit cooperative publishing enterprise supported, in part, by Adams State
University, Colorado State University, Fort Lewis College, Metropolitan State University of Denver, University of Alaska Fairbanks,
University of Colorado, University of Denver, University of Northern Colorado, University of Wyoming, Utah State University, and
Western Colorado University. For more information, visit upcolorado.com.
iv
Contents
Preface. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii
Chapter 1. What are Research Methods? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
Uncertainty and Curiosity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Rhetorical Foundations of Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Research Example: Student Writing Habits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
Research Example: Access to Clean Water . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
Research Across the Disciplines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Using Research Methods Ethically . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
Developing a Research Proposal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
Focus on Delivery: Writing a Research Proposal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
Chapter 2. Making Research Ethical . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
Ethical Approaches to Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
Ethos is Collective and Individual . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
Ethics and Secondary Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
Establishing Ethos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Evaluating Texts and Authors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
Learning Citation Systems. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
Ethics and Primary Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
Focus on Delivery: Composing a Participation Form . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
Chapter 3. Working with Sources: Worknets and Invention. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
The Power of Worknets. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
Phase 1: Semantic Worknet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
Phase 2: Bibliographic Worknet. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
Phase 3: Affinity Worknet. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
Phase 4: Choric Worknet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
Branching Out—Taking Worknets Farther. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
v
Contents
vi
Preface
Writing is often heralded as one of the most—if not the most—important
skills one can hone in higher education. But we—three teacher-scholars in
Writing Studies—argue that it’s not just writing that matters. Composition is
about thinking alongside others, about problem-solving, about experimenta-
tion, about the excitement, curiosity, and unsureness that comes with seeking
questions to which we don’t know the answer. Composing asks us to approach
problems that are confusing, use tools we haven’t before, invent genres for new
rhetorical needs, and make texts using textual, audio, visual, and digital tools.
Composition is about knowledge-making, not just writing about knowledge.
This text invites students and faculty to approach composing at all levels with
an openness and a willingness to be wrong and/or to discover something new
and exciting.
There seems to be much agreement that writing also means researching.
Whenever we compose, we draw on both what we know and what we don’t
know to seek answers. Yet, sometimes we get stuck in a rut, circling around the
known, only using secondary textual research to answer our questions. In fact,
“the research paper” is a stalwart of most writing classes, but we suggest that
often, research papers don’t invite students and faculty to the exciting work of
not knowing, coming across new information, accessing primary data, and
selecting research methods beyond secondary-source research. Research proj-
ects should be primarily exploratory, sometimes conclusive, but more often
than not an opening-up of new unknowns, new spaces, and new questions.
Of course, we have to share findings at some point, but research is almost
always in progress, incomplete. In this text we offer multiple interdisciplinary
methods—often used in research in the field, but rarely drawn upon in under-
graduate courses—and suggest them for use at all levels. Such an approach to
composition has energized our own research and teaching.
In Try This: Research Methods for Writers, we ask students and faculty to
approach writing and researching differently than before. We invite you to rev-
el with us in the unknown, in liminality, in the excitement of primary research.
This shifts the approach from a standard model of knowledge delivery to a
vii
Preface
viii
TRY THIS
RESEARCH METHODS FOR WRITERS
Chapter 1. What are
Research Methods?
Like all research projects, this text begins with questions: What is research?
Who does research? Why do research?
Research is the systematic asking of questions and congruent use of meth-
ods to learn answers to interesting, important questions. Whether or not your
research has been purposeful in the past, you do research all the time.
When you try to decide which deodorant is most effective by trying dif-
ferent brands, you’re doing research. When you ask friends for recommen-
dations about where to go to dinner, you’re doing research. When you exper-
iment with different routes to find the best way to get to work, you’re doing
research. And why? Because you want to know. Because you want to try to
know. But such information-gathering often takes particular routes, requires
specific tools, and is measured very differently. That’s where research meth-
ods come in. If you buy deodorant, you test it on yourself, a human subject.
If you ask friends for dinner reservations, you might send a group text that
acts as a survey, see who weighs in, and find out if their opinions match.
When you drive a particular route, you are engaging with a particular site
and measuring time. Each of these ways of using particular tools to answer a
question you have are different kinds of research methods.
Research methods are the tools, instruments, practices, processes—in-
sert whatever making metaphor you prefer—that allow you to answer ques-
tions of interest and contribute to a critical conversation, or a grouping of
recognized ideas about that interest. The critical conversation comes out
of our preliminary discovery about a particular question or set of ques-
tions—discovery work known as rhetorical invention, or a starting place
for thinking, researching, and writing. Just as an entrepreneur might invent
an as-seen-on-TV product that comes out of months of consumer obser-
vations and materials testing, writers invent their ideas through gathering
data in particular and diverse ways. That gathering place is the locus of re-
search methods, which we separate out in this book as working with sources
3
4 Chapter 1
(Chapter 3), working with words (Chapter 4), working with people (Chap-
ter 5), working with places and things (Chapter 6), and working with visuals
(Chapter 7). Here, it’s important to note that the word “methods” is derived
from the Greek terms meta- (above, beyond) and -hodos (routes, pathways).
Try This: Consider Everyday Contexts You Have Engaged in Research (15 minutes)
Take a moment to think about the many occasions when you have gathered information to answer a
question outside of an academic context (i.e., What is the most effective deodorant? Where is the best
place to eat? What is the fastest route home?):
1. First, make a list of some of these everyday questions you have identified and the answers you have
come up with in your research.
2. Select one that is still interesting to you—one that you may have answered but suspect there are
more answers to or one that the answer you identified was only partial.
3. Note the method or tool you selected to answer the question.
4. Make a list of other methods you might employ to answer your original question.
5. Reflect on how identifying alternative research methods might lead you to different answers to
your original question, then make a new research plan.
What Are Research Methods 7
No matter where your research and writing take you—in terms of major,
interest, or profession—it’s useful to consistently reflect on what, why, and how
you’re conducting research at each step in the process. This attention to think-
ing about your thinking is called metacognition. This process may sound ex-
hausting, and it can be, especially at first, but being metacognitive about your
research will help you transfer your learning into new contexts. Having this
orientation toward your research ensures that you have intention in each step
you take. The more you practice this approach to research, the easier it gets so
that it eventually becomes instinctual.
light other research genres that may be more or less familiar to you: literature
reviews, coding schemas, annotated maps, research memos, slide decks, and
posters. Each time you encounter a new genre, we encourage you to place it
in its communicative context: What is the reason to compose this way? What
need does it fulfill for its audience? What situation is it most suited to? What
communication problem does it solve? We hope that working through re-
search genres in this way will also help you understand your own research
process more fully.
Try This: Go on a Scavenger Hunt to Identify Genres in “The Wild” (30 minutes)
With a partner or two, walk around identifying, photographing, documenting, and analyzing
genres in your midst. If you’re at a university, you might see posters, signs, and bulletin boards. If
you’re at home, you’ll see different genres, and if you’re at a coffee shop, you’ll see yet another set
of genres.
Consider this: one genre found in a coffee shop is a menu. It might be on a board, or there may
be paper menus that each customer can pick up, but this genre is reliably found in coffee shops
throughout the US. Wherever you are, be attentive to the genres that surround you by doing the
following:
1. Make a list of the genres (the kind of texts) that make up your immediate environment.
2. Choose one genre that interests you and consider its rhetorical situation:
a. What is the context in which it is written?
b. Who is its audience?
c. What is the genre’s purpose?
3. More broadly, consider the genre’s communicative context:
a. How is this particular example of the genre composed?
b. What communication problem does it solve?
How might such rhetorical knowledge about genre impact your approach to matching research ques-
tions to methods and delivery?
10 Chapter 1
extensive qualitative data than what you can gather through a survey. Your
interest might be not just when students start a project, but also why they start
at that specific time and if that starting time is a habit or if it depends on what
they’re writing about or in which class it is assigned. If these are your interests,
it might be more effective to work with people (see Chapter 6) to develop an
interview protocol or a case-study approach, methods that would require you
to ask fewer people about their study habits but would allow you to develop
a deeper understanding of each individual student’s writing habits. One isn’t
necessarily better or worse. Like all research methods, each approach provides
different data and different opportunities for analysis. It just depends on what
you want to know.
Surveys, interviews—these might be methods with which you’re familiar,
but there are lots of other useful methods for working with people. You might
want to understand student writing processes by looking at all of a particular
student’s writing for a given project. Instead of asking the student about her
habits and working with reported data, or information that someone has told
you, you might use a kind of textual analysis (we’ll detail some varieties of this
in Chapter 4) to read all of her notes and drafts for a particular project to better
understand not just what she reports about her writing practices but how and
what and when she actually writes in the lead up to a due date. Sometimes our
perceptions of our actions differ than what we actually do, particularly in re-
gard to writing habits, so collecting data that’s not reported can be helpful. Or
you might want to observe that student while she writes to notice how often
Try This: Plan Your Own Writing Research Project (30 minutes)
What are your research questions about writing? Consider the examples we’ve given and develop
your own questions on the topic, then think about possible methods you can use to investigate those
questions:
1. List your interests in and questions about writing and the research process.
2. Identify one area of interest on your list and develop it into an effective research question (a ques-
tion that does not have a yes/no answer, one that requires primary research to answer).
3. Consider what methods might be appropriate to help you answer the question you have identified.
What Are Research Methods 13
she takes breaks, if she texts while she writes, or if she listens to music. You
might ask her to take pictures of herself or her writing environment at differ-
ent points during the writing process, and you might develop a comparative
visual analysis of the images (see Chapter 7).
their uses of water fountains and bottle refill stations or their knowledge
about where their water comes from. You may learn that folks in your
community have not had consistent access to potable water.
• If you want to work with places and things (see Chapter 6), maybe
you’ll select site observation as a research method, and you’ll schedule
a visit to your local water treatment plant. You may discover upon
visiting that the plant is adjacent to a number of factories, or that it
is difficult to access, perhaps that there is no one to give you a tour,
or that much of the area is off limits. All of these on-site discoveries,
carefully chronicled, substantiate distinctive ways of knowing not
otherwise available.
• If you want to work with images (see Chapter 7), maybe you’ll visit
a local river, stream, or lake shore and photograph scenes where litter
and wildlife are in close proximity, or where signs communicate about
expectations for environmental care. A selection of such images may
stand as a convincing set of visual evidence and may accompany a
simple map identifying locations where you found problems or where
additional signage is needed.
The data you work with and the conclusions you can draw are dependent
on the research method you select. Each approach provides particular insights
into your topic and the world more broadly.
incorporate both survey and interview data. Ultimately the kind of data
that methodology values is related to disciplinary values, and as you select
a research project, a professional focus, and a profession, you will inherit
disciplinary values. For example, researchers in the humanities might espe-
cially value qualitative data, and researchers in STEM fields might especial-
ly value quantitative data. As you become a more ingrained member of a
disciplinary community (for instance when the major or job you take starts
to feel familiar) we encourage you to keep questioning the methodology
and values you inherit.
In Figure 1.2, we show how developing more questions along the way in all
parts of your research design may give way to more complexity in your project.
Critical conversations about research are both normative, in that they
usually bring together many scholars’ thinking about a particular issue,
and disruptive, in that new findings can up-end a particular conversation.
Much of these changes are attributable to developments in methodology,
such as updates in how we value a particular method or how we interpret
certain findings. Changes to methodologies often cause significant ruptures
in research communities. We are familiar with some of these large ruptures:
the earth revolves around the sun instead of the reverse, bleeding a patient
does not make her healthier, students learn most effectively through practice
rather than listening by rote, etc. It is not always easy to come across find-
ings that cause a rupture; however, as you examine the evolution of critical
conversations over time, you might notice that they change slowly as new
ruptures slowly become accepted in their associated communities.
Works Cited
Burke, Kenneth. The Philosophy of Literary Form. University of California Press, 1974.
Janack, Marianne. “Dilemmas of Objectivity.” Social Epistemology: A Journal of
Knowledge, Culture and Policy, vol. 16, no. 3, 2002, pp. 267-281. Taylor & Francis
Online, doi.org/10.1080/0269172022000025624.
Chapter 2. Making
Research Ethical
“[E]very methods-based decision is also an ethical decision.”
-Heidi McKee
He wrote a juicy memoir claiming the discovery of the DNA double helix
model as his own, casting aspersions on his long-time collaborators.
After she got the results back from her DNA testing kit, she learned of a
family predisposition for a genetic disorder that she had passed down to her
children unknowingly.
The ancestry software he purchased showed a direct family connection to
infamous slave-owners.
They named the genetically cloned sheep Dolly after Dolly Parton, for pret-
ty tawdry reasons.
Although she ran an organic farm, she often found that genetically modified
seeds made their way into her fields, distributed by winds from nearby farms.
The brief anecdotes that begin this chapter constitute just some of the ethical
quandaries resulting from what some have termed “The Birth of Molecular
Biology,” the development of the DNA double helix model. This important sci-
entific finding was peopled with unethical behavior and scandal, and the many
resulting questions that have arisen from the discovery continue to churn both
inside of and external to the scientific community: Should DNA be modified?
For food? For people? For sheep? What about ancestry software and genetic
testing? Who should have access to genetic data, and what should they be al-
lowed to do with it? Such ethical considerations are an important component
of this research project. Consider the following questions that help address
ethical issues when conducting research:
• How is research developed and by whom?
• How are data and participants treated and protected during the
research process?
21
22 Chapter 2
• Who claims credit for the work conducted? Who cites others as col-
laborators and forebears of their work?
• Is research written about intimately, distantly, in first person, in third
person?
• How is data stored? Who has access to data?
• Who benefits or is hurt by research?
All of these questions (and more!) make up the ethical component of re-
search design. Understanding research ethics and wrestling with the often
complex questions that the ethical component of research design entails are
essential elements of conducting effective, responsible research. Research
ethics address the evolving conventions, codes of conduct, and standards re-
search communities adopt to strive for ethical development and circulation of
research and to protect audiences, authors, and their research contributions.
tion, graduates from your university may gain a reputation for being partic-
Although we often ularly well-qualified for careers in communication. This could impact your
boil down questions prospects when you graduate, and your performance will impact students
of ethos to individ- who graduate after you as well. Your college or university impacts your
uals, they are just ethos.* And the network continues.
one access point in a
When you decide that a particular author is credible and has a reliable
network of ethos that
is largely collective ethos, it’s because a network of people have helped establish that—the journal
and constantly shifting in which they have published, the institutions and organizations to which they
and circulating. belong, their partners and families, etc.
Try This: Consider What Activities and People Impact Your Ethos (30 minutes)
You have had a long history as a reader and writer. The people, places, and activities with which you
have come into contact during this history impact your ethos.
Compose a drawing that illustrates the network of influences that collectively constitute your ethos.
You may hand-sketch or use clip-art, stick figures, and/or text to develop your composition. The goal
is to make tangible the collective nature of your own ethos so that you can consider how this principle
extends to other researchers. Consider the following invention questions to help develop your com-
position:
• What are your earliest reading and writing experiences? Who and what contributed?
• What was the first primary research project you conducted (think of “research” broadly—any
time you test a theory or answer a question for yourself, you’re doing a form of primary re-
search)? Who influenced the research?
• Who has taught you about conducting research? What are the primary lessons you’ve learned?
• What formal school and learning experiences impact your approach to research?
• What experiences external to school impact your approach to research?
Making Research Ethical 25
for your research project, or what some refer to, in part, as prewriting or brain-
storming—and delivery—the ways in which your research project is commu-
nicated, or delivered, to an audience. An ethical approach to research should
impact both invention and delivery in relation to your project. A starting place
for many research projects includes the invention associated with identifying
secondary research that informs your project. Chapter 3: Worknets provides
a specific framework for reading sources deeply. In particular, we describe
four methods, or phases, for reading secondary research. The first phase is the
semantic phase, which asks you to be attentive to keywords in the text you’ve
selected. The second phase is the bibliographic phase, which asks you to trace
intersections between sources. The third phase is the affinity phase, which
invites you to consider how writers are connected to each other. And finally,
the fourth phase, the choric phase, asks you to consider the broader rhetorical
context in which an article is written. Before you delve into this framework
in detail, consider how secondary research that forms a critical conversation
about an issue is constructed. In this section we’ll also work to identify how to
establish ethos, evaluate texts and authors, and learn citation systems, process-
es associated with an ethical approach to secondary research.
Establishing Ethos
One of the primary ways that researchers demonstrate their understanding Although uptake
of research convention and establish ethos is by carefully citing the authors sounds nebulous, you
they’ve read who have contributed to the critical conversation they’d like to can see it in action
join. Ethos is an author’s credibility, or the trust an author establishes with an every time some-
audience, and it can be a measure of how much uptake,* or interest, influence, one on social media
and sharing, their work gets once they’ve completed a research project. When shares a particular
researching your area of interest, knowing what a particular community has message, meme, or
said about it and finding the niche or gap in the research about it provides an visual.
opportunity for you to make a contribution to this conversation. Thoroughly
reading secondary sources and genuinely representing others’ ideas is part of
an ethical approach to secondary research that helps establish your ethos and
that may pave the way for you to add your voice in ways that are important to a
26 Chapter 2
Try This: Making an Argument for Your Research by Identifying an Opening (1 hour)
Effective research proposals (Chapter 1) spotlight for readers how the researcher is connected to the
work of others. Such gestures can deepen the researcher’s ethos because they acknowledge that this
new work bears relation to what has preceded it. Based on his work examining how scholars introduce
research projects by demonstrating a gap in the critical conversation, John Swales developed a model
to show apprentice researchers to do the same. Swales observed that scholars make the following basic
moves:
• Name the critical conversation. This might include scholarly discussions of strategies for suc-
cess in university writing, ethical considerations for the research process, concerns about the
financial stability of a particular institution, etc.
• Identify threads or themes related to the research area. In this step, writers narrow their
focus and cite authors their work draws from and to which they hope to respond.
• Articulate what has not been said before and explain why it is important that we consider
this particular aspect of the issue.
• State their argument and demonstrate its importance in contributing to the identified open-
ing in the research conversation.
Try it out for the secondary research you do!
Making Research Ethical 27
project. Student researcher Zepher Barber developed a project about the best
ways for students to prepare for first-year writing and to acclimate to the uni-
versity. Because she was a successful, experienced, first-year student herself,
Ms. Barber was an especially effective researcher to develop such a project. By
claiming her status as a first-year student, and thus her privileged proximity to
the area of research that she was writing about, she helped establish her ethos.
Ethos is thus emplaced: it is related to the “where’”of a writing situation, the
“who” conducting the research, and the “when” that animates the experience.
Figure 2.1. The development and review process for this book.
they arguing something totally wacky and empirically wrong? If the editor
decides it is appropriate to do so, she sends the chapter to at least two experts
in the field, and any of the authors’ identifying aspects are removed so that
they are anonymous. The reviewers decide whether the article is appropriate
for publication and whether the authors should make any changes. This part
of the process usually takes at least a year.
So why bother? Why engage in such a long process? The time, multiple
perspectives, opportunities for revision and reflection, and multiple layers of
review help ensure that the ideas that are shared represent rigorous, effective,
and ethical research. Peer review ensures that there are multiple experts who
vouch for the ideas shared, and in this way the article shares the collective
ethos of the community who has engaged with the work. This is in contrast
to a newspaper article, which usually has at least one other person who has
Making Research Ethical 29
read the work, and a blog or independent website, in which the author may be
the only one who has read and reviewed the material. This doesn’t mean that
information from other sources is incorrect; it just means that you have to be
even more careful about considering the ethos of the author and article be-
cause the peer review process hasn’t helped do that for you. You are forced to
rely more on the author’s individual ethos rather than consider the collective
ethos that is communicated through peer review.
Especially if your project requires that you do research outside of peer-re-
viewed venues (and there are lots of good reasons for this!), you might ask the
following questions of the sources with which you engage (and make sure to
visit Chapter 3, which provides a framework for working deeply with sources):
• What are the authors’ relationship to the area of research?
• What credentials do they have that help establish their expertise in
this area?
• Do the authors have any subjectivities that might compromise their
ability to develop credible research?
Remember, providing an opinion or having subjectivities does not mean
that an author lacks credibility.* You just have to consider how honest an author
is about those opinions and subjectivities and whether they let their values and
beliefs compromise their ability to do ethical research. These considerations All people have opin-
function in everyday life, too. If someone invites you to a restaurant they own ions and subjectivities;
it is essentially the
and tells you that it’s the best restaurant in town, you might question their abil-
definition of being
ity to make an informed opinion. They have a vested, economic interest in you
human—subjectivities
visiting their restaurant. However, if a friend eats at that restaurant every week are inescapable.
and tells you it’s the best restaurant in town, you might take their opinion more
seriously. They have a clear opinion, and they’re subjective about the restau-
rant (they love it!), but their ideas aren’t compromised by their relationship to
the restaurant. If you hear from multiple friends whose opinions you respect
that it’s the best restaurant around, you’ll probably plan to go check it out. All
of this is to say, awareness of an author’s opinion or subjectivity doesn’t mean
that an article is not credible. Folks who are honest about their subjectivities
should actually be viewed as potentially more credible than others who aren’t
aware of how their experiences impact their approach to research.
30 Chapter 2
Consider the style variations in Figures 2.2, 2.3, and 2.4 of a single citation
that represents an article we read to inform the beginning of this chapter:
fought over ownership of the model? How might their interactions with each
other have changed ethical approaches to the treatment of DNA data? Nowa-
days, universities have Institutional Review Boards (IRB) that approve and
make recommendations about research with human subjects. If you do not
intend to publish your research, your research is not necessarily replicable,
or it won’t contribute to generalized knowledge—conversations about research
to which particular communities and bodies of research orient, then you do
not necessarily need to have your research plan approved by an IRB. When in
doubt, you can always ask a faculty member or contact your IRB representa-
tive to see if your work is exempt. Even if your research need not be approved
by IRB, it is useful to consider their recommendations for ethical research
with human subjects because these regulations were developed to protect peo-
ple. Unfortunately, all of these regulations were developed because researchers
have conducted incredibly unethical research. Joseph Breault and other schol-
ars have detailed how our current guidelines have come to be. In brief, many
of our guidelines are a version of the 1976 Belmont Report, a report developed
by a commission, the purpose of which was to ensure informed consent and
ethical treatment of research participants. Informed consent is required when
you are conducting research with human subjects. This just means that you
ensure that the person you are surveying or interviewing (see Chapter 5 for
detailed focus on research methods designed for working with people) fully
understands the research in which they’re taking part and that they agree to
participate. It is important to let participants know what the research is about;
if there will be any benefits, danger, or threat to them; and that they can choose
not to participate at any time.
Informed consent and recommendations for ethical treatment of human
subjects is a response to inhumane research conducted by Nazis on people
during World War II. There have been other problematic, unethical studies—
too many to mention here—but one particularly heinous, well-known study
is the Tuskegee Study in which African American men infected with syphilis
went untreated for forty years so that researchers could examine the impact of
the disease. Subsequent regulations ensure that research does not hurt partic-
ipants and that participants are fully aware of what a study in which they take
part fully entails.
34 Chapter 2
Try This: Learn About Your Institution’s IRB Office (30 minutes)
Every institution has their own IRB office, complete with their own guidelines and reporting struc-
tures. To get a sense of your institution’s ethical approach to research, find your IRB office’s website,
and consider the following:
• Who is on your institution’s IRB board? Are they faculty members? Staff members? What
disciplines do they represent?
• What is the process on your campus for conducting research with human subjects?
• Are there different expectations for undergraduate student, graduate student, faculty member,
and staff member researchers?
• How does your institution define research with human subjects? How does it define ethics?
You might also identify a nearby institution or a school you considered attending. Find its IRB office
website and compare it with the one at your school. Where are the overlaps? What is different? And
what is the significance of the comparisons you have made?
Making Research Ethical 35
consider whether or not people will end up in those images. And if so, do they
know they’re being photographed? If you’re doing textual research on a blog or
a Facebook community, even though the texts you’re considering are public,
folks might not think of that space as public. You’ll need to think through how
you interact with your potential research participants, data, and audience.
For instance, Kate is currently conducting a project that examines the im-
pact of plagiarism accusations on students and faculty members. All people in
her study are asked to consent to participate in the study. However, in talking
to research participants about their experiences, she has learned about other
students who have plagiarized. What is Kate’s responsibility as a researcher in
writing about these people who have plagiarized but who have not consented
to participate in her study? As a researcher, she needs to consider the expec-
tations for student privacy, the sensitivity of the material, and the potential
harms and/or benefits to the university community. Can she anonymize the
students in the stories she has heard, or would sharing any part of these narra-
tives cause the students to suffer? Key aspects to consider when making such
decisions are the relationship between the researcher and the research pop-
ulation—or proximity—and potential beneficence* of the research. In this
Beneficence asks
case, Kate is a faculty member, and her research participants are students, so whether the re-
although they all interact in the same sphere, there is a power differential that search is charitable,
complicates the relationship. The findings of Kate’s research have significantly equitable, and fair to
beneficial potential for the university, but not at the expense of outing students participants by taking
who have not shared their plagiarism stories publicly. into full account the
possible consequenc-
es for the researcher
Designing Writing That Does Ethical Work and the participants.
Hopefully you are already on board with the importance of approaching re-
search ethically, with ethics and fairness as your primary research objective
rather than objectivity. If you still have questions, or if you’re not sold on these
ideas yet, please don’t hesitate to talk to your instructor and colleagues (and
us!) about your questions, engage in your own research on ethics, and see
the end of this chapter for further reading recommendations. But if you are
ready to start designing ethical research, some important written products
to develop are research protocols, or your plan for research; scripts, or the
36 Chapter 2
If your research does not require IRB approval, your form may include many
of the same components that IRB templates include, but the structure may
change depending on your project needs and interests. Your participation
form should address the following aspects of the research project:
• What, in detail, does your research entail?
• What will research participants be asked to do?
• Are there any risks or potential benefits to participants? Risks are pret-
ty obvious for medical research, but don’t forget that research about
writing can also elicit discomfort and potential risk for participants.
Consider whether your research might make someone uncomfortable.
Might your research have the potential to reveal something personal
regarding their sexuality, gender, citizenship, religion, etc.?
• Explain what product will be created out of the research—who will the
audience for that product be and in what venue will the findings be
shared?
• Will the research participants remain anonymous? Do you want them
to have the option to be anonymous or not? Perhaps they’ll want cred-
it for the ideas they’ve shared with you.
• Will research participants have an opportunity to comment on drafts
of the research or view the completed project?
Finally, make sure to give your research participants an out, meaning—let
them know that they don’t have to participate and that they can choose to not
participate at any time. This includes after the research is complete! Any time
before research is published, participants should have your contact informa-
tion so that they can let you know if they change their minds.
Works Cited
Breault, Joseph L. “Protecting Human Research Subjects: The Past Defines the
Future.” The Ochsner Journal, vol. 6, no. 1, 2006, pp. 15-20. PubMed Central, www.
ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3127481/.
Halloran, S. Michael. “The Birth of Molecular Biology: An Essay in the Rhetorical
Making Research Ethical 39
Criticism of Scientific Discourse.” Rhetoric Review, vol. 3, no. 1, Sep. 1984, pp. 70-
83. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/465734.
McKee, Heidi. A. “Ethical and Legal Issues for Writing Researchers in an Age of
Media Convergence.” Computers and Composition, vol. 25, no. 1, 2008, pp. 104-22,
doi.org/10.1016/j.compcom.2007.09.007.
Rogers, Christine. New Family. www.cerogers.net/work/new-family.
Sánchez, Fernando. 2018. “Racial Gerrymandering and Geographic Information
Systems: Subverting the 2011 Texas District Map with Election Technologies.”
Technical Communication, vol. 65, no. 4, 2018, 354-370.
Shipka, Jody. “On Estate Sales, Archives, and the Matter of Making Things.” In Provo-
cations: Reconstructing the Archive. cccdigitalpress.org/book/reconstructingthear-
chive/shipka.html.
Swales, John. M. Genre Analysis: English in Academic and Research Settings. Cam-
bridge UP, 1990.
Chapter 3. Working with Sources:
Worknets and Invention
To work with materials successfully, practitioners in many fields study how
something is made. They may turn to instructions and diagrams, or they
may take apart and put back together equipment. They may follow steps
essential to understanding better how things fit together, which parts of
a system are dependent on which other parts, and how—when things go
well—the system operates.
For example, a materials engineer at a bicycle manufacturer may look at
other models or even collect samples of bicycles and take them for a ride.
The materials engineer might ponder, alone or in consultation with others,
alternatives for any individual part or material necessary to the bike’s func-
tioning. She might take notes, draw and scribble about connections, or make
mock-up prototypes.
In another comparable scenario, a pizza maker might follow a dough rec-
ipe several times before making a change to an essential component, such as
trying a new oil or yeast or flour, or perhaps modifying resting time or the
kneading process. The ingredients and process are both built up intricately
and periodically unbuilt to ensure great familiarity with how things work.
Writing researchers frequently read, study, and consult sources as a way to
stay apprised of new knowledge as well as long-established histories relevant
to their questions. Sources are tremendously important among the materials
writing researchers work with.
The reason researchers cite sources is simple: to establish credibility—build
their ethos—writers have to show that they are members of their academic
communities. They do this by pointing to other writers who have had, and are
having, the research conversation they are interested in joining. You’ll notice
as you read any academic article that it usually begins with a literature review,
or a synthesis of sources that shows explicitly that the writer knows the main
arguments, or critical conversation, circulating about a particular topic and is
41
42 Chapter 3
then able to carve out a space for their own research question. But what can
citing sources do for you? Here are some possibilities:
• It recognizes the history of how sources build on each other by re-
lating new research to past research (homage; timeliness of current
research).
• It lends credibility to the author—you!—who, by referencing sourc-
es, demonstrates care, ethics, rigor, and knowledge (authority;
credibility).
• It revisits claims, data, and key concepts that serve as a foundation to
the new research (build-up).
• It positions new research in relationship to the research gaps that it
highlights (differentiation).
It’s not enough, in working with a topic—say, climate change—to simply
know it is of interest to a variety of scholars. A writer needs to become fa-
miliar with the key terms used by the scholarly community working on cli-
mate research, such as greenhouse gas and carbon threshold, and the historic
data that is fundamental to that research. This might be represented by, for
example, how the measurements of carbon levels in the atmosphere that
have been taken by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration
at the Moana Loa Observatory since 1958 led to noticing that we have sur-
passed the 400 PPM, or parts per million, carbon threshold that is key to
human thinking about climate change. Learning these things allows you to
write your way into a complex topic and shows that you know enough to
join the conversation.
But how do you begin? This chapter helps you begin to invent ideas by
engaging deeply with sources. Seeking and finding appropriate sources and
knowing them well enough to incorporate them into your writing is slow
work. It can be especially slowed down when you are at the beginning, find-
ing your way into an unfamiliar conversation for the first time. It takes time
to trace even a sample of the relations that reach through and across sources.
In this chapter, we focus on one way that you can work with a text, or
source, through working with the webs of relationships that extend out
from it, or its web of connections with other sources. We call this kind of
Working with Sources: Worknets and Invention 43
working with multiple texts sourcework, and it can show itself in a variety
of ways—often through library research, keyword searches, paging through
a source’s bibliography or Works Cited page, or following a trail of online
links or even a hunch about a key idea. Yet sourcework takes time, and that’s
something many student writers don’t have a lot of when they are trying
to navigate a complex topic and key details of a nuanced argument—all
from one source! Given the time it takes to work with sources effectively,
here we introduce you to a method of sourcework that we call worknets, a
four-part model of working your way through one source such that it leads
you towards other sources and ideas that will be useful to the thinking and
framing of your project.
are a source-based way of helping you to generate a path for your research
In terms of delivery,
that points you toward a particular question, gap, or needed extension of
a complete worknet
what has come before. A finished worknet consists of four phases: a semantic
project can stand
alone, it can serve as phase, which looks at significant words and phrases repeated in the text; a
a useful building block bibliographic phase, which connects your central or focal source to the other
for an annotation that works the author has cited in her piece; an affinity phase, which shows how
is part of a larger an- personal relationships shape sourcework; and a choric phase, which allows
notated bibliography, researchers to freely associate historic and sociocultural connections to the
or it can function as central source text.* After developing a finished worknet, which involves all
a starting point for a four phases placed visually together, you will have many openings for further
literature review.
research, and you will have gained a handle on the central source such that in-
corporating it into your writing via direct quotation, paraphrase, or summary
is easier for you to achieve and more interesting for an audience to read. Wor-
knets can follow the proposal you developed in Chapter 1, or they can offer
you a method for reading sources that supports your drafting and refining a
research focus and related proposal.
To develop a worknet, begin by selecting a researched academic article
published since 1980.* This date may seem arbitrary, but we consider it a turn-
ing point because major citation systems shifted in the 1980s from numbered
annotations to alphabetically ordered lists of references or works cited. As you
read the article you select, you will, in four distinct but complementary ways,
focus on a different dimension of the source’s web of meaning, one at a time.
Worknets typically pair a visual model and a written account that discusses
the elements featured in the visual model. For the guiding examples that fol-
low, we have developed visual diagrams using Dana Driscoll’s “Introduction to
Primary Research: Observations, Surveys, and Interviews,” published in 2011.
Driscoll explains in her article the differences between primary and second-
ary research, details types of qualitative research methods, and provides stu-
dent examples of research projects to help readers conceptualize her advice
about conducting primary research. Because her article ties so closely to what
this book is about—research methods—we’ve selected it as a central source to
model the worknets process.
Keywords are
increasingly im-
Phase 1: Semantic Worknet— portant as part of
What Do Words Mean? knowledge-making. In
published academic
When creating a semantic worknet (Figure 3.1), you pay attention to words articles, keywords are
and phrases that are repeated throughout the central source (“semantics” is tracked and collected
the study of meaning in words). Because academic writers repeat and return so that we can easily
to concepts that they want readers to remember, by repetition we begin to un- find them through on-
line database search-
derstand the idea of a keyword or keyphrase*—those words and phrases that
es, telling us what
are doing the work of advancing a source’s central ideas. By noticing these key
central idea an article
words and phrases, we understand first where they come from and how they is forwarding.
have been initiated and second how they are being used to create a common
46 Chapter 3
quarter of them (or even less, sometimes) figure in substantial and sustained
ways throughout the article. Many others are light, passing gestures. The bib-
liographic worknet can help you differentiate between the two and begin to
notice which sources loom large and which are but briefly invoked.
Reading along and across the sources cited is akin to following leads and
accepting invitations to further inquiry, formulating new or more nuanced
research questions, and discovering influences that are intertwined, eclectic,
and complementary. Finding a source and reading it alongside your focus ar-
ticle, too, can yield insights into the highly specific and situated ways writers
use sources. For example, if you’re researching climate change and just read a
paraphrase or a brief quote from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Ad-
ministration at the Mauna Loa Observatory’s 1958 data, you’ll only have a part
of the story. However, if you find that data and read it yourself, you might find
that there are different parts of the data that you think are important to high-
light. You might have a different perspective on the research, or you might find
that you better understand the original article that led you to this text. Either
way, your understanding of the original article, the larger research area, and
the intersection between the two sources will deepen.
To create a bibliographic worknet, begin by reading the references list,
footnotes, and endnotes and highlighting the sources that pique your curi-
osity. Once you’ve sampled from the list, take your sources to your library
database to see what you can find. Try to locate three to five other sources
from the bibliography, noting to yourself how difficult or easy these sources
were to find. Once you’ve located your bibliographic sources, take a look at
the pages that your central source cited and how the ideas on those pages
were used in the focal source. Put the borrowed idea in context and try to
figure out how and why your central source chose the bibliographic source to
work with. Sampling from a bibliography, whether purposeful or random, can
lead to promising new questions and promising new sources that can inform,
guide, and shape your research questions. When you compose a 300-500 word
written accompaniment of the bibliographic worknet, it is in service to think- Believe it or not, a
ing through where sources come from, how history marks sourcework, how references list is a
findable sources really are, and how authors use other sources to create their gift from an author
key arguments.* to a reader and an
By the time you’ve collected three to five sources for your bibliographic invitation to follow
worknet and noted some emergent key terms from your semantic worknet, paths of inquiry that
are already well begun
you will be in good shape to begin to chart the major ideas, patterns, and dis-
and often many years
tinctions among a group of sources. This will help you determine which sourc-
in motion.
es hang together with a kind of “idea glue” that may help you, as a researcher,
figure out which sources best frame your research question and which sources
are less important in framing your research direction—this is how literature
reviews begin to develop.
Figure 3.3. An affinity worknet (third phase), added to Figures 3.1 and
3.2. In this phase, four new nodes extend from the center, reflecting ties,
connections, and relationships to the author: Adrienne Jankins, Reader
for Dissertation; Linda Bergmann, Dissertation Director; Indiana U of
PA, Current Appointment; and Sherry Wynn-Perdue, Collaborator.
the author has worked, what sorts of other projects she has taken up, and
whom she has learned from, worked alongside, mentored, and taught. Many
other authors are continuing research related to the article you have read. They
are also keeping the company of people who do related work, whose research
may complement or add perspective to the issues addressed in the article. You
can see these relationships illustrated in the affinity worknet for our sample
article in Figure 3.3.
As distinct from the first (semantic) and second (bibliographic) phases,
the affinity worknet moves beyond the text and citations in the article; it is
Working with Sources: Worknets and Invention 55
informed by activity and relationships in the world that may not be evident
in the article itself. It begins to explore insights into an author’s career and
the interests that have shaped it. The focal article, for example, may bear close
resemblance to other projects the author has worked on. Or her profession-
al experience may suggest interplay among work history, current workplace
responsibilities, and intellectual curiosities. Further, the people authors learn
from and mentor are interconnected, participating in what is sometimes called
an invisible college,* or a network of relations that operate powerfully and
with varying degrees of formality and that influence the behind-the-scenes For example, if you
ways knowledge circulates throughout and across academic disciplines. The research the three
affinity worknet traces provisionally some of the shape of the collectives that authors of this text,
have been a part of the author’s work life. When you trace these relationships, you’ll find that they
you’ll find that you have a much larger pile of sources to work from and direc- have all co-authored
tions for your work to follow—research centers, university programs, online other projects
forums, conference presentations, and multi-authored collaborations. As you together, worked at
compose a 300-500 word written record of the affinity worknet, you’ll get a the same institutions
sense that academic writers don’t emerge suddenly from isolation to compose at times, and collab-
orated on research
rigorous work. Instead, they—like you—are real people, with real friends, col-
presentations.
leagues, institutions, and collaborative relationships that sustain them. All of
those relationships are also places that you might look to in order to orient
your research project, as they offer you a glimpse into where your thinking
comes from, how it is sustained, and where it gathers in space.
she wrote the article. Each of the five nodes reflects your choice, something
note-worthy or intriguing.
The choices you make in creating the nodes can spark the beginnings of
researchable questions and may be reflected in your 300-500 word account
of the choric worknet. For example, the node for the “Honey Badger” video
going viral as it coincides with Driscoll’s article on primary research methods
Working with Sources: Worknets and Invention 59
Branching Out—Taking
Worknets Farther
With the four phases completed, as in Figure 3.5, the worknet introduces initial,
inventive branchings, a web of filaments, or trails, that invite further inquiry and
that may prime further questions. When experienced researchers read scholarly
sources, they usually do so to support, reinforce, or clarify claims they have al-
ready begun to formulate. In early stages of research, however, reading scholarly
sources oftentimes yields more questions, and these questions each set up further
inquiry. Worknets position scholarly sources as resources for invention, and after
Figure 3.5. A finalized four-phase worknet. The worknet primes yet more questions
from each peripheral node. Each node may prompt associations that motivate
database searches, online lookups, or ideas for promising new directions.
Working with Sources: Worknets and Invention 61
developing all four phases, you will begin to see that you have many more options
When we write with
for expanding your emerging interests than you initially realized. This approach copious questions—
resonates with the idea of copia,* or lists of possibilities, which suggests that hav- just as worknets
ing more than you need to continue research is a wonderful place to be. provide—we rarely
While a single worknet can engage us with new ideas entangled in a web of run out of things to
relationships extending from an article, a series of worknets—that is, worknets say. Allowing for this
applied to two or three or more related articles—can form the foundation for a wandering helps us
think more abundant-
substantial backdrop to a research project. In fact, a compilation of worknets pro-
ly about what there
vides you with the basis of a literature review, that portion of a researched project is to say on a topic,
that provides orientation to established research related to your area of inquiry. what is still unknown,
and how we can
follow the research
Really Getting to Know Your Sources paths that most ignite
Worknets provide a stepwise process to get to know your sources. The better our passions.
known and better read the sources, the more nuanced and precise will be the lit-
erature review that emerges from your work with them. Certainly there are oth-
er intermediate note-keeping options and less involved approaches to the phases
presented in this chapter. For example, an annotated bibliography might require
you to gather and write brief summaries of related sources, focusing on the rele-
vance of the source to your research question. Whether you take up the method
we introduce and produce a full, complete worknet for one source, or whether
you apply selections of the phases to one or more articles, perhaps adapting by
writing annotations or sketching worknets by hand, the approach introduced
here will help shape your own work.
Modeling Worknets
We have seen students do distinctive, innovative work with worknets, and
we’re spotlighting one such example to give you an idea of what is possible.
One undergraduate student at Virginia Tech applied all four phases to a 2015
article by Armond Towns, “That Camera Won’t Save You! The Spectacular
Consumption of Police Violence.” The article discusses issues related to body
cameras, social justice, police violence, and the presumed security bestowed
on technological devices. In this case, the worknet followed the steps intro-
duced in this article, culminating in all four phases layered into Figure 3.6.
Additionally, the student was invited to translate the visual and textual wor-
knet into a 3D model, using materials from a local art supply store. The model
materialized the worknet as a physical sculpture, conveying more fully an un-
derstanding of the article as entangled with the words, sources, relationships,
b. What changes when you move your sources into chronological or-
der from earliest to latest or latest to most recent? (bibliographic)
c. What happens when you group sources by relationships between
and among sources? (affinity)
d. Would your review benefit from adding historical and cultural
context? (choric)
5. Consider how these sources together lead up to your research ques-
tion. Why is it important, timely, and relevant to previous research?
6. Revise your annotations and put them together in such a way that
the connections between them are clear and the connections to your
research question are visible.
What’s important for you to know about literature reviews is that the
choices about what sources to use and what makes them go together are
not immediately clear for a reader, which means part of writing a literature
review is including that rationale within the review itself. By reading your
literature review, your audience should be able to figure out the “idea glue”
that holds all of the literature together, inclusive of your project’s purpose
and the main conversations taking place within your research area. A reader
should walk away from your literature review knowing exactly why you’ve
chosen these sources to go together, as opposed to millions of others that
could be chosen instead.
Works Cited
Driscoll, Dana L. “Introduction to Primary Research: Observations, Surveys, and
Interviews.” Writing Spaces: Readings on Writing, edited by C. Lowe and P. Zem-
liansky, vol. 2, WritingSpaces.org/Parlor Press/The WAC Clearinghouse, 2011, pp.
153-74. The WAC Clearinghouse, wac.colostate.edu/docs/books/writingspaces2/
driscoll--introduction-to-primary-research.pdf.
Glass, Ira, host. “Becoming a Badger.” This American Life, episode 596, WBEZ, 9
Sept. 2016, www.thisamericanlife.org/596/becoming-a-badger.
Johnson, Alonda. “3D Model of Worknet for Armond Towns’ ‘That Camera Won’t
Save You! The Spectacular Consumption of Police Violence.’” 14 Nov. 2018.
Working with Sources: Worknets and Invention 67
69
70 Chapter 4
stories they tell about social interaction and rhetorical contexts. These an-
alytical methods demonstrate the significance of word patterns we are able
to observe in texts all around us. Charles Antaki, Michael Billig, Derek Ed-
wards, and Jonathan Potter have worked together to suggest that the key
to success in such analyses is actually doing analysis. This may seem rather
common sense, but analysis is probably the hardest part of conducting effec-
tive research. By insisting that doing analysis means doing analysis, Antaki
and his co-authors mean that analytical tools are not equations in which you
can simply plug in a few variables and unlock a fixed meaning. They note
that analysis is not
• simply pointing out the weaknesses in someone else’s work,
• just sharing findings,
• summarizing the research, or
• stating an opinion.
Instead, analysis
• is a messy process,
• connects findings within a larger rhetorical context,
• describes significance of emergent patterns, and
• explains the “so what” component of the work to an audience.
Analysis helps us understand not just what words say but also what they
do, not just what they represent but also how they mean. Analysis is a foun-
dational activity for successful, effective research writing, and it is also the
starting place for production, design, and delivery—processes that we will
address in subsequent chapters. Delivery, in particular, is often the con-
cern with which people start—how will I write up my research? What will
it look like? What words will I use? But we encourage you to be patient.
Effective research takes time, and it can/should be messy along the way.
You can’t know what you’ll write until you have asked and answered your
research question by wholly engaging in the analysis, getting pulled into the
analysis, getting lost in the analysis! And then—when you’ve identified the
significance of your findings—turn to Chapter 8 and consider methods for
writing up your research.
Working With Words 71
Discourse Analysis
Discourse analysis is a qualitative research method, and the many varieties
of discourse analysis constitute the area of research called discourse studies,
which are practiced in social science and humanities disciplines. For our pur-
poses we will focus on discourse analysis (DA) that examines language in so-
cial interaction, which includes language communicated through talk, text,
and gesture. Since our focus in this chapter is on words, we will walk through
the following steps:
1. Considering how you select a discursive corpus, a group of texts for
analysis;
2. Exploring and identifying the rhetorical situation, or the context in
which communication takes place, for the corpus; and
3. Preparing or transcribing discourse, that is, moving from discourse in
interaction—the kind of talk that might happen with a friend during
the day, in an interview setting, or on a digital platform—to written
words on a page.
After you’ve selected a corpus, explored its development, identified its rhe-
torical situation, and prepared it for analysis, then the fun really begins: tag-
ging or coding patterns in the text and interpreting findings. We’ll save these
last two steps for the end of the chapter when we’ll ask you to develop a coding
scheme for the corpus and method of analysis that you select.
Identifying a Corpus
There are lots of starting places for word work. You might already have a
research question, so you might need to identify the corresponding corpus
that will help you answer your question. Or, you might stumble upon an
interesting text or idea, and though you may have questions, your thoughts
may not have crystalized into clear research questions as yet. Wherever you
are in the process, you will have to identify a set of meaningful words, the
data that will help you answer a research question. Some examples of cor-
puses include the following:
72 Chapter 4
proceeding, and the sermon” are all worthy of analysis (155). In fact,
“everyday” texts, such as greeting cards and menus, can be fascinating
corpuses. Paige Lenssen published her study of Enron’s “honest ser-
vices clause,” certainly homely discourse within the larger body of the
company’s corporate documents. Her work, published in the student
journal Xchanges, traces the company’s breaches of ethics before their
collapse.
In Chapter 1 we defined research as the systematic asking of questions and
congruent use of methods to learn answers to interesting, important ques-
tions. In selecting a corpus we once again encourage you to tap into your curi-
osities as a starting place for research.
Chapter 3* Consider our discussion of the components of annota- Note taking strategies
tions. often change from
Chapter 5 Think about the steps we suggest in composing a re- one research proj-
search memo. ect to the next. We
encourage you to try
Chapter 6 Peruse our recommendations about developing an these approaches and
annotated map. to ask your class-
Lists of questions Take a page from writing teacher Michael Bunn, who mates how they take
encourages us to “Read Like Writers,” asking questions notes.
of texts before, during, and after we read them.
Double-entry journal On one side of the page make notes about your research
experiences and specific steps in your process, and on
the other side reflect on those experiences in subsequent
considerations of your data.
Research log Create a log to catalogue your responses to the text and
your initial impressions - these will be helpful when you
begin coding your corpus.
Study formal features Consider the formal aspects of the text (how long is it?
how is it structured? does it have headings or images?)
as well as your thoughts, feelings, and analyses.
Experiment with these different methods, and don’t forget the material
components of annotation. For instance, selecting a particular pen, paper,
app, or digital format for creating your annotations can usefully change your
approach to a corpus. You can record your observations and analyses on the
text itself, in a separate document, in a journal, or using audio, video, or im-
ages. You might also combine some of these modes and create a multimodal
response or annotation. There are some digital platforms that allow you to
provide audio or image tags within corpora; such practice is a great way to
start coding a selected corpus.
working with print text that you’ll need to digitize to code more easily, or if
you’re working with an audio conversation that you’ll need to transcribe, you
may need to take some time to prepare the text for analysis. Be persistent if
you need to take this step. Preparing text for analysis is an interpretive act, and
it can be just as interesting as analysis. In fact, it may allow you a closeness to
the data that might make things easier as you begin analysis.
If you are examining print texts, you may want to copy or scan your cor-
pus and then preserve the originals. You may want to curate your archive
(see the discussion of working with archives and curating collections in
Chapter 6). Digitizing your corpus may be helpful, but it is not necessary.
You may instead want to work with print versions of your texts. Either way,
make sure that you can annotate and fully examine the corpus you’ve select-
ed without damaging the original.
If you are working with a spoken or gestural conversation, you will need
to transcribe the discourse. Transcription translates words from one mode
to another, and you can decide what level of detail you need for the work you
are doing. For instance, you may select a minimal level of detail for transcrip-
tion that simply records what has been said in a conversation. However, you
might want to capture much more—the way something has been phrased
or extratextual sounds that make up a conversation, including laughter and
sighs, emphasis, pauses, gestures, facial expressions. Analysts who practice
a version of discourse analysis called conversation analysis believe that for
analysis, you need all the components of a given conversation, so their tran-
scription is very detailed, and it might be hard to read for someone who isn’t
familiar with the method.
Many discourse analysts who study language in social interaction employ
an interim level of detail that includes text, pause, and emphasis. Figure 4.1
includes an extract of conversation between a writing consultant and a stu-
dent in the Writing Center. The number that precedes each line allows the
analyst to easily reference particular moments in the conversation for anal-
ysis. The capital letter with the colon following it indicates who is speaking,
in this case the “G” indicates the student, and the “T” indicates the tutor.
The bracket “[“ indicates overlapping speech, and the parenthesis indicates
a pause in the conversation “(.)”. The conversation is aligned so that it’s easy
Working With Words 77
Content Analysis
Content analysis is practiced in numerous fields; it is a systematic approach to
We may be able to examining patterns in data and provides a quantitative treatment of discourse.
discern a text’s focal For instance, you might consider how many times a particular term, phrase,
concerns by notic- theme, or, more generally, code, is mentioned in a text and then analyze its
ing the words and significance to the document’s purpose or context. Returning again to the se-
phrases that repeat
mantic phase of the worknets detailed in Chapter 3, patterns surfaced through
within it. Similarly,
patterns of omission
content analysis can be useful for understanding a text or corpus you’re an-
help researchers alyzing, and it can also be insightful when applied to your own writing. In
account for underrep- both cases—applied to your own writing or to the writing of others—content
resented, downplayed, analysis helps us develop an indexical awareness.* By indexical awareness, we
or altogether ignored mean that as writers or as readers, content analysis clarifies patterns of repeti-
matters. tion and omission, or patterns of what is and is not there.
Rhetorical Analysis
Whereas discourse analysis examines patterns, often of language in interac-
tion, and content analysis considers quantifiable, systemic patterns in dis-
course, rhetorical analysis considers the context, audience, and purpose for
discourse. Rhetorical analysis helps demonstrate the significance of a text by
carefully considering the rhetorical situation in which it develops and the ways
that it supports its purpose. There are lots of definitions of rhetoric, and the
definition that makes the most sense to you and your understanding of com-
munication will impact how you deploy rhetorical analysis. Here are a few
definitions of rhetoric:
The ancient Greek rhetor, Aristotle: “Rhetoric may be defined as the
faculty of observing in any given case the available means of persuasion.”
British rhetorician, I. A. Richards: “Rhetoric…should be a study of
misunderstanding and its remedies” (3).
Contemporary American rhetors, Elizabeth Wardle and Doug
Downs: “Rhetoric is a field of study in which people examine how
persuasion and communication work, and it is also the art of human
interaction, communication, and persuasion” (366).
Contemporary American genre theorist, Charles Bazerman: “The
study of how people use language and other symbols to realize human
goals and carry out human activities. . . . ultimately a practical study
offering people greater control over their symbolic activity” (6).
Rhetorical analysis helps us understand the various components that make
a communicative act/artifact successful or not. A key component to effective
rhetorical analysis is careful, active attention to what the author and her text are
trying to accomplish. Krista Ratcliffe calls such attention rhetorical listening.
Genre Analysis
Hopefully in trying out these methods you’re beginning to notice that there are
lots of overlaps. Although we’ve offered distinctions, at their core, all of these
methods are rhetorical, and they’re all discursive. They all value words and
suggest that they are meaningful, particularly when you consider them within
context. Further, you can mix and match methods to best meet your research
project. One method is termed “rhetorical analysis,” because it places the rhe-
torical moves that an author makes in the foreground. “Content analysis” is also
rhetorical, but it places a numerical accounting of certain words, phrases, or
rhetorical moves in the foreground. A final method (which is also grounded in
a rhetorical framing of language) to consider is genre analysis.* Genre is often
used as a synonym for type or kind, and most of us are used to thinking about
genre in terms of movies, music, and literature. For genre analysis, we’ll ask
you to turn your attention to the homely genres we find all around us, genres
in the wild, genres that develop because of a clear rhetorical need, or exigency.
Exigency and genre have a sort of problem and solution relationship. For ex-
ample, consider the relationships of these exigencies and genres:
Exigency Genre
You’re hungry and want to know what you can order and how Menu
much it will cost at a restaurant
It’s the beginning of the semester and you want to know what Syllabus
to expect in class
You might want to return the thing that you bought from the Receipt
store, and you need proof of purchase
You have been caught speeding, and you need to know how to Speeding Ticket In using genre analysis
pay for the penalty mindfully and con-
sistently, you work
Most of us practice genre analysis every time we compose something towards making
new. For instance, the first time that you write a resume, you probably look your writing and
at some examples, consider what seem to be the norms and expectations— research performanc-
or conventions—and then you choose how you might personalize or deviate es more consistently
from those in a way that is consistent with success in the genre. There are a successful.
84 Chapter 4
number of things to consider when you examine a genre. First, you might
pay attention to the conventions and deviations. Then, you might consider the
particular affordances, or what the genre allows, and constraints, the things
the genre doesn’t allow. For instance, if you’re excited to go to a new restau-
rant, but it doesn’t have an online menu, you will have to go to the restaurant
to find out what your options are. A restaurant that changes their menu on a
daily basis might purposefully choose not to put their menu online because
the affordances and constraints of an online menu are such that you’ll need
to constantly change what’s there to make sure that you aren’t misleading po-
tential customers. A menu on a blackboard has the affordance of being easy to
change for immediate customers who are in the restaurant, but it’s constrained
too in that it doesn’t share menu items with potential customers outside of the
restaurant as a digital menu might.
Genre analysis can be powerful in helping us understand the work words
do in our communities. For instance, together with a student we studied
the crime notices distributed through email at our university. By looking
at seven years of these warnings, we were able to see the way that the genre
changed over time; it transformed from a simple notice to a specific warning
Florian Schneider suggests that you might pay attention to the following kinds
of linguistic and rhetorical patterns in a text, and they may become your codes:
• Word groups: Be attentive to the vocabulary and syntax. Certain
groups of words may demonstrate connection to a particular commu-
nity, interest, or event.
• Grammar features: Consider pronoun usage, demonstrations of col-
loquial or vernacular language, and level of formality.
• Rhetorical and literary figures: Look for specific uses of language
such as allegories, metaphors, similes, idioms, and proverbs. If you’re
unfamiliar with these terms, take time to look them up and find some
examples.
• Direct and indirect speech: Identify the speaker(s) in the text. Do
some of the ideas or words come from someone other than the au-
thor? If so, when? What is the effect?
• Once you’ve coded your data, carefully write up your findings.
Then, it is time to make sense of what you have learned! Consider the
significance of the words you have examined, their rhetorical impact,
and the contextual meaning you have identified. Chapter 8 offers some
different recommendations for how you might write up your findings.
Works Cited
Antaki, Charles, et al. “Discourse Analysis Means Doing Analysis: A Critique of Six
Analytic Shortcomings.” Discourse Analysis Online, vol. 1, no. 1, 2003. Sheffield
Hallam University, extra.shu.ac.uk/daol/articles/v1/n1/a1/antaki2002002.html.
Aristotle. Rhetoric, translated by W. Rhys Roberts. Internet Classics Archive, classics.
mit.edu/Aristotle/rhetoric.1.i.html.
Bazerman, Charles. Shaping Written Knowledge: The Genre and Activity of the Experi-
mental Article in Science. 1988. The WAC Clearinghouse, 2000. wac.colostate.edu/
books/landmarks/bazerman-shaping/.
Elbow, Peter. Writing Without Teachers. Oxford UP, 1998.
Working With Words 87
Foss, Sonja K., and Cindy L. Griffin. “Beyond Persuasion: A Proposal for an Invita-
tional Rhetoric.” Communication Monographs, vol. 62, no. 1, March 1995, pp. 2-18.
doi.org/10.1080/03637759509376345.
Gonzalez, Jennifer. Cult of Pedagogy, www.cultofpedagogy.com/.
Lenssen, Paige. “The Ethics and Legality of Financial Regulation: What Enron
Revealed.” Xchanges, vol. 10, no. 2, xchanges.org/the-ethics-and-legality-of-finan-
cial-regulation-10-2-11-1.
Mckoy, Temptaous. “#IssaTrapDissertation,” Socratemp.com. 2021.
Miller, Carolyn R. “Genre as Social Action.” Quarterly Journal of Speech,
vol. 70, no. 2, May 1984, pp. 151-67. Taylor & Francis Online, doi.
org/10.1080/00335638409383686.
Ratcliffe, Krista. Rhetorical Listening: Identification, Gender, Whiteness. Southern
Illinois UP, 2006.
Richards, I. A. The Philosophy of Rhetoric, Oxford UP, 1965.
Royster, Jacqueline Jones. Traces of a Stream: Literacy and Social Change among Afri-
can American Women, U Pittsburgh P, 2000.
Schneider, Florian. “How to Do a Discourse Analysis.” Politics East Asia, 13 May 2013,
www.politicseastasia.com/studying/how-to-do-a-discourse-analysis/.
Smith, Dorothy E. “’K is Mentally Ill:’ The Anatomy of a Factual Account.”
Sociology, vol. 12, no. 1, 1 January 1978, pp. 23-53. Sage Journals, doi.
org/10.1177/003803857801200103.
Wardle, Elizabeth, and Doug Downs. Writing About Writing. Bedford/St. Martins,
fourth edition, 2020.
Chapter 5. Working with People
New to town, you notice a lot of activity at a skate park near where you live.
You walk nearby a time or two, noticing the activities, which involve small
groups of teenagers, some of whom talk with one another and others of
whom appear far more interested in attempting skateboarding feats while
friends and accomplices video record.
At a local coffee shop where you frequently go to study, you begin to notice
a pattern in the ways twenty-somethings sit at tables by themselves and
divide their time between paying attention to their phones and paying
attention to their computer screens.
You’ve started a new job at a local restaurant where the managers, kitchen
team, and front of the house staff gather for weekly meetings. By the fourth
meeting, you notice the same people talk, some of them saying the same
things almost verbatim each week.
In each of these scenarios, you begin to wonder why and how people do what
they do in these contexts. Questions begin to form. In this chapter, you will
learn more about how researchers work with people and how they might ap-
proach such contexts.
Just as working with archives requires that we build careful stories of those
who lived in the past, choosing to do research by working with people in the
present requires a great degree of care. In Chapter 2, we suggested that ethi-
cal research with people begins with following your university’s practices for
working with human subjects. In this chapter, we discuss different research
methods that can be helpful once you’ve determined that your research ques-
tion is best answered through writing with, talking to, or observing people. As
we discussed in Chapter 3, there’s a lot of information already out there in sec-
ondary forms of research—literature that has already been read and reviewed,
surveys that have already been conducted, sources that have already included
ethnographic research in their design so that you don’t have to. Ethnography
(from the Greek ethno-, meaning “people” and -grapho, meaning “to write”) is
a common research methodology, a way of thinking and doing that includes
many kinds of methods put together as data in the humanities and social sci-
89
90 Chapter 5
ences. It uses a variety of research practices that work with people in order to
come to some kind of conclusion about a societal or cultural phenomenon. In
order to study societies, of course, you have to work with people, which is why
ethnographers use a variety of methods in their research that we cover here,
like interviews and surveys, as well as some of the methods that we’ve talked
about in earlier chapters, like coding schemes.
While you may or may not be ready to become an ethnographer, it helps
to think about your research question a bit in order to determine if it might be
Because working with best answered by working with people rather than in some other way.* When
people also frequently we conduct research about writing in particular, our first impulse may be to
takes into account talk to those who are already engaged in the practice we are interested in:
their positions and those who write! However, it’s important to remember before we decide to
situations, there may
work with people that many researchers who study writing have already pro-
be connections worth
exploring between duced a lot of knowledge on that subject by working with human subjects,
people and places whether by using focus groups to figure out if what students learn in university
or people and things writing classes transfers to other classes (Bergman and Zepernick), interview-
(see Chapter 6). ing students to see if there is a link between reading and identity (Glenn and
Ginsberg), or surveying students to see how they really feel about buying a
plagiarized essay online (Ritter). Lots of excellent people-based research has
already been done about a variety of research topics. It’s important to do some
preliminary reading (this is where your worknets come in!) to figure out if
you should go through the careful process of working with people or if your
research question can be answered by another means. It’s also important to
know when the benefits of working with people outweigh any potential draw-
backs. Some questions you can ask yourself as you decide if you want to work
with people in research that might span a semester are:
Should I work with people?* Likely YES if Should I work with people? Likely NO if
• I want to replicate a prior study with • the research question has already The decision about
people on a smaller scale to see if it is been answered by many other stud- whether or not to
still true; ies and does not need replication; work with people
• I want to build on prior studies by • I already know what I think people should be made with
working with people; will answer; care. If possible, ask
other researching
• I have insider insight into a particular • I don’t know anyone from the
writers why they
group; population of people who would be
decided to work with
• I want to help preserve someone’s knowledgeable about my research
people (or not).
story or memory; question;
• there is information about people’s • I won’t have the time to transcribe or
behaviors, feelings, sensations, knowl- code a lot of data;
edge, background, or values about my • I have definite opinions about how
topic that I don’t know and cannot people should behave or respond
find out any other way; while I work with them;
• my ethics review and research can be • my work will be with vulnerable
completed in the time I have allotted people—for example, under the age
for this work; of 18—or about sensitive content;
• I want to gather pilot information on • my work will put people in physical
a topic rather than generate definite or emotional discomfort; or
conclusions; or • I have some kind of power over the
• working with people might help prove people I might work with.
or disprove a theory.
Once you’ve decided that you want to work with people in order to gather
data to try to answer your research question, it’s important to think about the
kind of method you want to use. We’ll be talking about surveys, interviews,
and case-study approaches to research design in this chapter, and each meth-
od has its own distinct advantages and disadvantages (often related to how
much time a researcher has to work with large amounts of data). We like to
think of these as differences in the proximity—closeness—of a researcher
to her research question and how it might be best answered. A survey is an
eagle-eye, overhead view of a group of people that gathers big-picture and
multilayered information, often about a breadth of knowledge, behaviors, and
opinions. Interviews allow for a much closer, intimate, in-depth view of one
92 Chapter 5
Surveys
One of the ways we collect data about numbers of people that are too large
to interview—depending on your time frame for data collection, this might
be 20 people or it might be in the thousands—is a survey. A survey is a series
of carefully-designed questions, sometimes called a questionnaire. In the
context of a research project, surveys are put together with the intention of
The word “vari- gathering information that will answer a bigger research question. Whether
ables” is also used working with smaller or larger populations of people, surveys can help you
to describe quantita- determine both countable, or quantitative, information about your respon-
tive data. Much like dents (how many people answered yes or no on a question, for example)
qualitative variables, and descriptive information, or qualitative data, about their opinions, habits,
variables in those cas-
and beliefs—what we might call variables.* In the following examples, we
es are items that you
can measure, such as discuss how a researcher might go about research design and considerations
time, height, density, when working with small and large groups as well as with one or more vari-
distance, strength, ables. However, when it comes to survey question design and survey im-
and weight. Such plementation (getting your surveys out to intended respondents), there are
variables are usually resources that you can access that will help no matter how large or small a
those that come with population you study.
measurement mark-
Example 1: You get your most recent paper back from your instructor, and
ers—pounds, inches,
on it you’ve received a B+. All in all, you’re pretty happy, since you’ve always
centimeters, microns,
moles. gotten Bs on high school writing assignments. You get into a conversation
after class with someone next to you who is very upset that he got a B+ on
Working with People 93
his paper. “I’ve only ever gotten As on high school English papers,” he says.
Because of this conversation, you’ve become curious about how being graded
on writing in high school affects people’s perception of themselves as “good”
writers by the time they are in college or university. A well-designed survey
might look at a small relevant population of people (say, a classroom’s worth.
Your classroom’s worth!) that would help determine both the answer to that
research question and even the future pathway of a research project—perhaps
after surveying 25 students, you are so interested in some answers that you’d
like to follow up more closely by interviewing four or five of them. A research
project of this size benefits from convenience sampling*—finding survey par- What are some
ticipants by who you know. ethical implications of
convenience sam-
Once you know who you are going to survey, you might think about
pling?
the kinds of information that would be helpful to know about the two vari-
ables you’re interested in: people’s feelings about themselves as writers and
their feelings about grades. You might survey respondents with open-ended
questions, which allow students to write (or say) their responses in short
statements or sentences, or with closed-ended questions, in which stu-
dents would choose among a finite set of answer choices (like “yes” or “no”).
Open-ended questions better allow you to report descriptive data, while
closed-ended questions allow you to get a quick snapshot of a large number
of responses. Question design depends on the kind of information you need:
if you need to determine what you mean by a “good” writer, you’ll need
to be able to define it—or determine if that’s something you’ll want your
survey respondents to define for you. You may want to know about what
kinds of grades or comments students received on high school papers and
what kinds of grades or comments they’ve received on college or university
papers. These kinds of information are well-suited to open-ended questions.
However, you might also want to know how happy students are with par-
ticular grades. In order to get that information, it might be best to ask stu-
dents closed-ended questions, assessing people’s feelings about writing on an
ordinal scale—an ordered set of numbers that correspond to a variable, like
how happy or unhappy a student is with a particular grade on a paper. The
people you’re surveying should be able to distinguish between the kinds of
modifiers you use to describe that variable.
94 Chapter 5
For example:
I just got a B back on my last paper. On a scale of 1-5, I am
1. Extremely happy
2. Very happy
3. Somewhat happy
4. Not so happy
5. Not at all happy
Most people can figure out that in the order of things, “extremely” is higher
than “very,” and “not at all” is lower than “not so.” The easy part about this kind
of survey is that you can distribute and collect the survey in class. After you
collect your survey data, you can begin to put together a picture of how the
small sample group you’re working with feels about the relationship between
high school and college or university paper grades and how the group mem-
bers feel about their writing performance. However, it would be important to
compare what you find out with other studies that have been done about your
topic in order to synthesize as much available data as you can in order to draw
conclusions from it.
Example 2: Let’s say you’ve been thinking a lot about a conversation you’ve
had with your father recently. In it, he talked a lot about unpredictable weather
and how it’s been affecting his gardens. When you brought up the idea of glob-
al warming, he got a bit flustered and insisted that it was just a matter of weath-
er variability. Since then, you’ve been thinking a lot about whether the kind of
words people use to discuss climate change impacts whether or not they be-
lieve in it as a proven scientific phenomenon. After doing a bit of reading, you
come across an article that talks about the kinds of questions climate-change
surveys ask their respondents—Tariq Abdel-Monem and colleagues’ “Climate
Change Survey Measures: Exploring Perceived Bias and Question Interpreta-
tion.” At the end of that article, you notice the authors mentioned that often
survey respondents did not have a clear consensus about the definitions of the
terms used to describe climate change. The authors call for more research on
that issue in particular, which fits well with the thoughts you’d been having
about the conversation with your father.
Working with People 95
You decide to design a survey to help clarify how people interpret cli-
mate-related terms, like “weather variability,” “climate change,” “global
warming,” “greenhouse effect,” and “arctic shrinkage.” Because you’re in-
terested in how lots of people define these terms, you’re not limiting your
sample only by the convenience of who you are immediately near but on a
more random sample of groups of people that begin with who you know but
snowball, or grow bigger, from there: you might make a list of all possible
people you could send a survey to, such as people in all of your classes, your
instructors, your friends, your parents and grandparents and their friends,
clubs you and your family belong to, members of a church, organization, or
extracurricular activity. This list might make you decide that you are only
interested in a certain demographic (or particular slice of the population,
such as those between the ages of 18-25), in which case you might narrow
your list to one or two groups and make sure that you have the people you
survey identify their age groups in a survey question. If you just want large
numbers of responses and are only mildly interested in demographic data,
you might design a survey that can be distributed online and circulated
widely—posted on social media, for example, or to online classroom mes-
sage boards. Perhaps you would aim, in this case, to survey 100 people about
their interpretation of climate-related terms.
In this example, you’ll want to think about the best way to answer a specif-
ic research question about how people interpret climate-related terminology.
Because there has been a lot of survey research already done in this area, your
best place to start designing your survey is to look at surveys that have been
conducted before—which brings us to some good advice about survey design,
no matter the research question!
• With closed-ended questions, people often choose the first option they
read (if reading a survey) and the last option they hear (if a survey is
read aloud). Vary the order of your answers to avoid this, if you can.
• Try to avoid loaded (or unloaded!) language that might persuade
your respondents to answer a certain way: there is a perceived differ-
ence between, for example, the words “climate change” and “global
warming.” Be sure you use the terminology you mean, and be ready to
explain your choices in your analysis.
Once your survey is ready for distribution, it’s important to know that a
good research process should result in a high survey response rate. The larg-
er your sample size or the less you know your targeted audience (such as in
the climate change example), the lower your response rate is likely to be. In a
large survey, a good response rate is about 30 percent. So, if you really wanted
to survey 100 people, you would want to send your survey out to at least 300
people to try to reach that number. However, a high response rate for a small
survey, such as our first example of a 25-student classroom, is about 80 per-
cent—the smaller, more personal, and more targeted an audience, the higher
the response rate.
Now, let’s say you successfully surveyed 25 people in your classroom, but
after looking at your survey results, you decide you want more information
from just a few of those people. An interview might be an excellent method to
achieve that purpose.
Interviews
Interviews allow a researcher a real-time environment that allows for things
that surveys don’t, like being able to ask follow-up questions or asking some-
one to clarify an answer. Yet interviews also generate a lot of data because
conversations need to be recorded and usually transcribed or written down
(and it takes about three hours to transcribe every one hour of talk). A bene-
fit to interviews is that there are different types, depending on your research
question. You might sit down with a small group of people, called a focus
group, and ask one question to see how people respond and negotiate their
answers in groups, since usually one person’s response provokes agreement,
disagreement, or room for follow-up. A focus group might enable you to
get a general sense of consensus or understand divergent attitudes about
a particular variable. You might develop questions for 1-on-1 research
interviews, in which you sit down with one person at a time and ask them
a series of carefully-designed questions that help you answer your research
question (you might repeat the same set of questions with each interview for
consistency, in this case). If your purposes extend beyond only answering a
Working with People 99
research question and you are trying to preserve a sound recording of sto-
ries or memories for future generations to listen to, then you would conduct
an oral history interview with either one person or a group of people, in
which you would design an interview script with topics about a particular
area of interest and a long list of questions that you may or may not ask,
depending on your participant’s memory and willingness to talk. Unlike a
research interview, an oral history interview does not seek to replicate the
same questions for each interviewee but instead trusts the process of pro-
ceeding through topics and questions that result in the best outcome: an oral
history of a person, place, or group.
they know about campus resources that help students revise their work. All
of these topics are about plagiarism without developing an accusatory tone
about serious academic misconduct, and they would probably help you es-
tablish a more interesting angle for your own research question once you’ve
spoken to a few people.
Try This: Designing Interview Questions from the Side (30 minutes)
In order to design an interview question from the side, you’ll need to know your research question.
(Note that Chapter 1 introduces research questions and the ways they expand and shift throughout a
research process.) Once you have that, you’ll need to figure out what exactly it is you’re hoping to learn
to be able to answer that research question. Then, you’ll need to determine who you might ask to get
at what you want to learn. Finally, you’ll generate a list of interview questions that would help you get
at what you’re trying to learn—from the side! Here’s an example of how this process works:
• Research Question: What matters more in the workplace: “hard skills” (technical skills) or
“soft skills” (communication skills)?
• What I’m hoping to learn: Do employers value technical skills more than communication
skills or vice-versa? Are college or university graduates being given the tools they need in
technical and communication skills to get a job when they graduate? Which kind of skill is
the more difficult to learn?
• Who might have this information: Employers/employees at any company, recently employed
college or university graduates, instructors in both technical and communication-based fields
are all likely to have insights.
• Interview questions from the side that will help me learn what I want to know:
◉ For an employer: What is the most important skill an employee can have?
◉ For a student: What is the hardest assignment you ever had to complete? What made it so
hard?
◉ For anyone: Think about a recent problem that came up in your workplace. What do you
think caused it?
Based on this example, come up with some interview questions from the side for your own research
question.
Working with People 101
is often good practice to share the interview questions or interview script (in
A Deed of Gift is a the case of an oral history, which might be more loosely configured) with your
separate and special participant(s) so they know what you plan on asking and thus can be prepared
document from other with thoughtful answers. This isn’t always possible, especially if you don’t have
consent forms. In a a way of contacting your interviewees beforehand. The day of your interview,
Deed of Gift, the oral you should make sure that your participants know the details of where you’ll
history participant be meeting and at what time. Right before your interview, you should dis-
“gifts” the interview- cuss with your interviewee the ethics protocol of the interview in order to get
er (or institution, or
their informed consent, as we discussed in Chapter 2. If you’re undertaking
library, or archive)
their story so that an oral history interview, you will also want to discuss a deed of gift* with
other people may lis- your interviewee, in which they agree to release their story both to you and to
ten to it or use it for a larger public repository of other stories like theirs. This is unlike a research
research purposes. interview, in which it is likely that only you will ever listen to the recording
Try This Together: Research Interview vs. Oral History Interview (45 minutes)
Because a research interview is very different in its purpose (to help answer a research question) than
an oral history interview (which records and preserves stories and memories and sometimes helps to
answer a research question), it’s important that interview questions are designed with the appropri-
ate purpose in mind depending on the type of interview you’re conducting. Because they emphasize
storytelling, ways of seeing the self or the community, and memories of historical events, oral history
interviews often need fewer specific questions and more prompts than research interviews.
First, choose one of the following topics:
• Changes in telephone technology since its patent in 1876
• The best cake you’ve ever eaten
• The “millenium” or “Y2K” bug
• The development of a local community center in your region
• The increase in diabetes since 1980
• The price of gasoline over the last 100 years
Then, generate with a partner four different interview questions (one of which needs to be a follow-up
question) for both a research interview and an oral history interview. When you’re finished, discuss
the differences between the two sets of questions and what accounts for these differences.
Working with People 103
or read a transcript. After any kind of interview, you’ll want to follow up with
your interviewees with a brief note of thanks that reminds them of what will
happen with their data as well as how they might reach you if they have ques-
tions about the interview process.
When you’re interviewing, it’s important to keep track of your main re-
search question, as responses may stray from what you expect and you might
get caught up in what your interviewee is saying. It’s important to be prepared
with follow-up interview questions that might piggy-back off of a prior ques-
tion. Similarly, you might also want to be prepared to ask “Why?” or “Tell me
more about that,” after an answer you receive (especially if you get an answer
that is shorter than you expect). Sometimes the best questions simply ask for
clarification (“Could you tell me what you mean by that?” or “Could you give
me an example of what you mean?”) or are constructed on the fly (“Can we
go back to that example you talked about earlier?” or “How did you feel about
that?”). Oral history interviews benefit from mocking up an outline of topics
and then generating a list of many possible questions in each section of your
outline and letting the interview organically emerge from whatever series of
questions are appropriate.
Finally, it is important to take into account that, as the interviewer, you
develop and ask the questions. This places you in a position of power (even if
you don’t feel particularly powerful, such as if you are a student interviewing
an instructor). When you interview someone, you enter into a relationship
with them for a brief time, and it is important that everyone feels as comfort-
able as possible.
broader details than any one method, like an interview with one person, might
tell you. Looking at cases is particularly helpful when researchers are trying to
gain some insight about the nature of a particular environment in more detail;
however, it’s important to note that the limitation of a case study is that one
single, detailed instance of a phenomenon cannot be used to generalize to all
instances of that kind of activity everywhere. Case studies offer us a snapshot
of an individual unit, a glimpse as comprehensive as we can get, that helps us
understand or know systems of the world—and its people—a bit better.
To undertake a case study, you will need to gather one or more kinds of
data that we have already discussed and then analyze or code it to find catego-
ries or patterns. Once you have those preliminary analyses or codes, you might
compare what you’ve found with other, similar cases. Finally, you’ll work to
interpret your research notes to come to some conclusions about how the case
you’ve chosen offers up an understanding of your research question.
For example, let’s say commencement is right around the corner and you
are interested in the rules and regulations that govern graduation—what peo-
ple can (and cannot) wear, what freedom they have to decorate their mortar-
board hats or wear culturally significant accessories, how honorary degrees get
conferred and taken away—and what graduation signifies in terms of a major
life event for college or university students. In other words, you are seeking an
answer to a broad research question, “What does commencement mean to a
college or university community?” Because most colleges and universities en-
gage in this activity, choosing to look at one—at the college or university you
emergent patterns for analysis of their research question. Because all of the
small parts of a case-study—field notes, transcriptions, documents, coding
sheets—can add up, taking time out to review and reflect is necessary.
Unlike the observant, real-time detail that is required of field notes, re-
search memos are instead a place for analysis, which means they are a place for
freewriting, thinking on paper, noting patterns and anomalies by comparing
one kind of data with another, assessing your progress or noting problems
with your research, planning for a future stage, and noting your feelings about
your research. You might think of a research memo as a working paper about
the major data points of your case study—this may mean one interview or a
series of interviews, one site visit or multiple visits, one coding sheet or ten
coding sheets. Regardless, it’s important to keep up with your research memos,
as they will simplify the process of interpreting multiple kinds of data.
As you write your research memo, it is best if you have with you the data
you’ve already collected (the interview transcript, field notes, coding sheet,
document, or artifact).
In your research memo, you should
• include relevant dates and data types (e.g., “June 14 research memo on
interview with Sonja Notte, May 31”) and bibliographic information if
a textual source;
• include relevant quotations (for interviews or surveys), quantities (for
surveys), observations (for fieldwork), words and phrases (for coded
documents), or descriptions (for material artifacts) that stick out to
you from your data collection;
• record why you think these chosen details are important, relevant, or
stick out;
• reflect on how the data contributes to clarifying your research ques-
tion or helps to define or refine the scope of your research question
(this can help you revise your research proposal); and
• comment on what you think of the data: What questions do you have?
What patterns or trends are emerging when you consider this data
in light of others you’ve collected? What connections can you make
across data sets? What confuses you?
Working with People 107
Works Cited
Abdel-Monem, Tariq, et al. “Climate Change Survey Measures: Exploring Perceived
Bias and Question Interpretation.” Great Plains Research, vol. 24, no. 2, 2014, pp.
153-68. Project Muse, doi.org/10.1353/gpr.2014.0035.
Bergman, Linda S., and Janet S. Zepernick. “Disciplinarity and Transfer: Students’
Perceptions of Learning to Write.” WPA: Writing Program Administration, vol.
31, no. 1-2, 2007, pp. 124-49, associationdatabase.co/archives/31n1-2/31n1-2berg-
mann-zepernick.pdf.
Glenn, Wendy J., and Ricki Ginsberg. “Resisting Readers’ Identity (Re)Construction
across English and Young Adult Literature Course Contexts.” Research in the
Teaching of English, vol. 51, no. 1, 2016, pp. 84-105. National Council of Teachers of
English, library.ncte.org/journals/rte/issues/v51-1/28686.
Ritter, Kelly. “The Economics of Authorship: Online Paper Mills, Student Writers,
and First-Year Composition.” College Composition and Communication, vol. 56,
no. 4, 2005, pp. 601-31.
Chapter 6. Working with
Places and Things
So far in this book, we’ve been paying close attention to words and how to
do things that are ethical, meaningful, and methodical with them. In Chapter 2,
we learned about how using citation systems and institutional reviews are ways
of ethically planning for and representing the people and ideas we are working
with. In Chapter 3, we talked about affinity and choric worknets, how words on a
page can form relationships between people over time, and how words can con-
struct inventive worlds we hadn’t thought about before. In Chapter 4, we intro-
duced coding and analysis and worked on developing a methodical research de-
sign that helps us understand the patterns that develop in language. In Chapter
5, we considered how and when to include people in our research. In this chap-
ter, we focus on the where* of working with words and people: where you might Whether working in
find words that matter, where you might go to understand that words happen archives, observing
in particular places and are used by particular people with particular materials, specific sites, or map-
ping individual spaces,
and the wheres you can create in your own primary research that are worth
considering the places
exploring. This chapter will give you some options for deciding if archives, site-
where language hap-
based observing, or mapmaking are good choices for you to use to answer the pens and the things
research question(s) you began working with in Chapter 1. Considering these we use to understand
methods might also give rise to new questions you want to work with. those activities is a
You might be wondering why place matters in writing, or why we should central part of being a
care about things if we are primarily working with words. The short answer is researcher.
because where people are, and the things they are surrounded by, matter to the
kinds of writing they produce and the subjects they care about. Places and things
help build a particular rhetorical situation, and those situations create knowl-
edge problems that we, as researchers, might solve. The longer answer might be
imagined with a few examples of interesting knowledge problems that emerge
when we consider how words are complicated by places and things:
• How safe is the place you live? How does the ability to walk in your
neighborhood at certain times of day reinforce or detract from feeling
safe? [working with places]
109
110 Chapter 6
• What happens when we look for a source using the library’s online
catalogue compared to walking around and navigating the stacks?
[working with places]
• What is the experience of reading an ebook or PDF compared to a
printed book? What sights, sounds, feelings, and smells do you associ-
ate with each one? [working with things]
• How does it feel to read a recipe and then join a family member or
friend in making your favorite dish the way you’ve always eaten it?
[working with things]
• What might be the experience of reading love letters between two
people who lived a hundred years ago compared to reading a roman-
tic textual exchange on someone’s phone today? [working with places
and things]
• What changes when you use a nature identification app to learn
about local plants or animals and then try to identify the nature
around you on a walk to campus or in your neighborhood? [working
with places and things]
• How does reading a job preparation manual differ from being on a job
site? How are experiences, equipment use, and safety changed by going
to a job versus reading about work? [working with places and things]
Each of these situations ask us to consider words in conjunction with plac-
es and things—how words are shaped by our experiences with places; how our
bodies feel at a desk or perusing shelves; or how a walk in the woods, a meal in
a kitchen, or a visit to a job site might impact our feelings about the words we
use or the words we read.
In this chapter, we pay special attention to the way places invoke our sens-
While we can’t
es—sight, sound, touch, smell, taste—and the way involvement of our senses exactly put rhetoric
shapes our research. We also look at the role things play in our research ques- on a scale to know
tions and research designs as well as the kind of rhetorical weight* they lend what it weighs, we
to our data as we fully examine our research question. can think of rhetorical
weight as a metaphor
for significance, or
the ways that our
Methods Can Be Material focus on important
concepts may be
If we remember the definition of research methods from Chapter 1, that changed by the way
is, that they are the tools, instruments, practices, and processes that help us data is considered or
answer our research questions, it’s important to recognize that some meth- presented.
ods that help us think through and answer those questions are actual things
themselves, whether we make them ourselves or use instruments to help us
collect our data. Researchers from a variety of disciplinary backgrounds use
the process of making using things as a vital part of their research methods.
Take, for example, the way that making a textile, like a basket or a quilt, helps
give our bodies a particular kind of touch knowledge. When we engage in
sharing that basket or quilt with others and observe their reactions to our ef-
forts, that gives us a certain kind of affective, embodied, or feeling-knowledge.
It is possible that the only way to really answer a research question about how
baskets or quilts make us feel or what significance they have for a community
is by engaging in the material making. Thus, even seemingly ordinary practic-
es like basket making or quilting can be a research method if they help provide
knowledge about a research question.
Similarly, working with instruments as things helps us extend our knowl-
edge to answer research questions in different ways. Perhaps, after trying to
identify trees on your campus using all of your senses, you are interested in
trees and the different ways they make us feel about the environments we
live in. As a continuation of the “Try This” that invites you to explore campus
grounds with particular attention to trees, you might move forward in such
an investigation with a campus tree survey, even using satellite maps to locate
where all of the trees are on your campus and visiting and taking pictures at
each of those places to count how many trees exist where you spend so much
112 Chapter 6
time each day (see Chapter 7). Following your making of a campus tree survey,
even if limited to a small section of campus, you might then, as part of your
research design (see Chapter 5), create a questionnaire about how people feel
about nature on campus. You also might look at the way researchers have used
a variety of instruments and tools to measure this same phenomenon, for ex-
ample through the use of small microphones and surface transducers (speak-
ers) embedded in the bark of trees to give rise to projects like the ListenTree
project (listentree.media.mit.edu/), in which people can listen to the sonic vi-
brations trees make in forests, or the Danish Living Tree project (airlab.itu.dk/
the-living-tree), in which researchers placed small, hidden speakers in trees
to allow people around them to listen differently to the life of trees represent-
ed sonically: the sounds of insects crawling, or the tree “breathing” as people
get closer to it. In those particular cases, things—both instruments (micro-
phones and speaker) and non-humans (trees)—help us understand different
facets of the research question in ways that reading a literature review about
the coniferous and deciduous trees in our area might not. It’s important to
recognize that research methods engage places, things, and texts in sometimes
complicated ways and that sometimes texts themselves may be things: images,
recordings, and ephemera—those things we never imagine might be collected
and given meaning, like ticket stubs, receipts, flyers, buttons, and letters.
Archival Methods
Whether located One of the ways that writers conduct primary research is by going to original
online, in campus sources*—sources unlike the secondary sources discussed in Chapter 3, such
buildings, or in your as books and articles, that we usually find at the library or through a database
own house, archives search. Original sources are singular (one-of-a-kind) and provide first-hand ac-
are important places counts of events. They are also known as primary sources. One of the main plac-
where writing hap- es a researcher can find original sources are in archives—collections of materials
pens and where we
such as images, texts, or audio and video recordings that are housed in one place
can uncover voices
and artifacts from the
and usually catalogued and ordered in a way that helps researchers locate the
past. sources they want to work with. Thus, archival research methods are shaped by
considering history and how it can be built out of a collection of things.
Working with Places and Things 113
There are a few different kinds of archives, and some of them are accessed
easily and from the comfort of your own home. Internet or digital archives are
growing daily: a quick search will tell you that archival materials are available
in their entirety about subjects as varied as literacy narratives (www.thedaln.
org/), nature images (desertmuseum.org/center/digital_library.php), or AIDS
activism (www.actuporalhistory.org/), to name a few. There are a number of
websites devoted to putting many portals of digital archives in one place, no-
tably the Digital Public Library of America (dp.la/).
What distinguishes a digital archive from a physical one is often access:
some archives only digitize some content rather than all content, and some
digital archives have no real physical home. Physical archives, or traditional
archives, are usually housed in brick-and-mortar places: public libraries,
universities and colleges, corporations, governments, museums, or histori-
cal societies. When they’re grouped together, the sources located in archives
are called fonds (pronounced fon), which tells you they are grouped in a
specific way by the people—archivists—who put them together. Navigating
the fonds is some of the most difficult (and rewarding!) work of archival
research, and it often takes more time than other kinds of research. Much as
working with a new computer program isn’t intuitive unless you’ve made the
program yourself, often you either have to think like someone else to nav-
igate the fonds or let a bit of serendipity lead the way. The most important
things to know about conducting archival research are the following: every
archive is different and comes with different rules (which are useful to know
ahead of time), most archives utilize some kind of finding aid—a descrip-
tion that places the material in context—to help researchers use them, and
most archives are staffed with archivists—people who can help you navi-
gate the archives so that you can find what you think you’re looking for. We
say “think you’re looking for” because in many cases, archival work is more
about what you don’t find when you’re expecting to, or what you do find
when you aren’t!
Archival research isn’t an exact science: often materials are labeled differ-
ently than you would label them or filed in one of any number of ways (for ex-
ample, a letter about the Old Faithful geyser between two rangers in a historic
Yellowstone Park archive might be filed under the rangers’ names, under “Old
114 Chapter 6
allow you to engage more deeply with the contexts and places that artifacts
have emerged from in ways that reading about them in a textbook would not.
To that end, what separates an archive from a pile of stuff is the meaning that
we give it by curation—the way we select, order, and label items in a way that
gives shape to the significance of the collection.
One part of working with archives is caring for the people you come in
contact with, even if you have never met those people who were involved with
the artifacts you’ve found—or even if they are long gone. How might you rep-
resent in an ethical way an image, a set of correspondence, or a relationship
that appears in the archives? It’s important to think of uncovering the primary
research of the archives that others may or may not have looked at closely as a
way of honoring stories that have been there before we get to them. Whether
this means we tell partial stories (perhaps we leave the part about our aunt’s
baseball boyfriend out of our archival story), spend time carefully construct-
ing the contexts for artifacts (as in the case of marginalized groups, such as
prison inmate records in the New York State Archive, or those records in Ire-
land’s National Archive of women forced to give babies up for adoption by
the Catholic church in the late 1960s), or reflect on our own connection with
those we learn from in the archives, it is important to remember that what we
find in the archives brings a past place into a present one—and that you are the
person responsible for handling those places with care.
Site-Based Observations
Although archival work with artifacts, materials, and things asks that we pay
special attention to understanding and piecing together a historical past, site-
based observations, often called fieldwork or field methods, emphasize how
close reading of sites helps us more deeply engage with a particular present.
Site-based observations are an important part of qualitative research because
they depend on a researcher’s experience to explain a phenomenon and re-
sult in thick description—detailed notes—that help emplace a reader in the
research while providing evidence about a particular activity or situation that
the researcher has experienced.
Working with Places and Things 117
Central to site-based observations is selecting a site that will give you more
information about your research question than only reading the literature
about it will tell you. For example, if you are curious about how often tex-
ting gets in the way of a person’s everyday life, you could read studies about
technology and distraction to gather some preliminary ideas about it. But if
you wanted to generate your own primary research that could help answer
that question, you might select a busy campus spot for a certain amount of
time—say, two hours—and observe how often texting impacts people’s ability
to walk, multitask, cross a street, or interact with others. By writing down what
you see in detailed field notes, you will also have observational data that will
help you answer your research question.
However, site-based observation isn’t just sitting down and recording what
you see. Selection of a site, subjects (or people), activities, and things that you
record should have some definable reason behind why those and not others,
and it’s important to spend some time thinking about your choices of site be-
fore you begin fieldwork. From the example above, where is the best spot for
learning about texting and walking? Who is most likely to be engaging in the
behavior you wish to observe? Why is the activity and site you’ve chosen the
best representative of what you’re trying to explore—for example, why use
site-based observation when you might instead survey people about texting
and distraction? What assumptions do you already have about texting and
distraction that could impact how you represent it in your field notes?
Once you’ve generated some ideas about your chosen site and research
question and gathered the permission you need (if you’re working with human
Field notes can also
subjects; see Chapter 5), it’s time to keep field notes*—detailed observations
include sketches and
about your chosen site that will help others have a rich view of a particular
hand-drawn maps,
which are meant place. Field notes depend on your ability to be a close observer of what you see:
to capture fields of detail people, places, and things; document sounds, smells, textures, feelings,
vision, orientations to weather conditions, tastes, colors; and define as closely as you can elements
space, and measurable that others might not understand or share (for example, instead of “she wrote
distances. slowly” you might write “it took the writer ten minutes to compose her first
sentence”). There are a few different ways to keep field notes, but we encourage
you to keep a special notebook that is lightweight and portable and that you
use only for site-based observations.
Many site-based observations take the form of a double-entry journal (see
Figure 6.1) that in some way splits your notes into two columns, one side that
documents an informational record of what is happening, and the other side
that contains a more personal response to what is happening. These might be
split and labeled “information” and “personal” or “record” and “response,” and
they are a good way to begin to think about the difference between what is
happening and what you feel about what is happening around you.
But once you delve into a site, especially if you return to the same site more
than once, you’ll need to develop your own system for detailing, documenting,
and defining what you see. Often there is so much happening in a place that it
is difficult to know where to begin notetaking: Which conversation soundbyte
is important? Does the weather or the time of day matter? What happens if
you’re feeling sick that day on the site? Because every site is filled with rich
detail, and every researcher might take different field notes about the same
moment, it’s important for you to develop a system for your note taking that
will help you later connect your observations to your research question. We
suggest that whatever form your field notes take, you aim for the following:
• Accuracy: record the same kinds of information during every obser-
vational visit (date, time, location).
• Detail: record the who, what, where of every visit (conversation bits,
room or site conditions and description, length of time it takes for
something to happen).
Working with Places and Things 119
You may well end up with more observational data than you need—but
as you go back through your notes, you will begin to see patterns and trends
emerging from your observations, much like when you developed your cod-
ing scheme for discourse in Chapter 4. As you compose research memos
from each site visit (see Chapter 5), certain details will become important
as you group similar things together, examine outliers from what you ex-
pected, or reflect on your own reactions and feelings to what you saw. All of
those ways of assembling information provide evidence for answering your
research question and for understanding the way that places shape what
happens within them.
us to view the world from a bird’s-eye view. For this reason, researchers in
many disciplines rely on maps to help them understand, explore, and answer
their research questions.
Making maps helps us see differently. Maps can be used to help us plan
information, as in an idea map during pre-writing stages, or they can help us
step back from a phenomenon so that we can see patterns and relationships at
a distance, as word cloud maps do. Mapping may be part of how we compose
field notes in order to orient ourselves or others to our places of research. Map-
ping as a method is a way of generating data visually and spatially that helps us
understand focal points, themes, and hierarchies.
Mapping can also be a way of visualizing location and movement of peo-
ple and things over time. For instance, let’s say that you’re working with the
research question we raised in the beginning of the chapter about the differ-
ences and similarities between reading love letters between two people who
lived a hundred years ago and reading a romantic textual exchange on some-
one’s phone today. While you might begin your project with worknets and re-
searching what has been written about the genres of letters and texts, mapping
the location and movement of specific letters and texts might give you some
different insight about the function of each that could help you answer your
research question.
Let’s say you’re working with the publicly published letters of lifelong part-
ners Simone de Beauvoir (who lived from 1908-1986) and Jean-Paul Sartre (who
lived from 1905-1980), whose correspondence spanned from 1930-1963. Let’s
also say you’ll be working with a series of a three-month-long text exchange
between you and your romantic partner. There are many ways you could begin
to try to answer this research question. On the one hand, you could use some
quantitative methods to help you understand these genres of exchange—you
might count how many letter exchanges each participant had in each genre and
compare the counts, or you might count how many letters were exchanged in
three months’ time and compare that number to the number of text messages
exchanged in the same amount of time. Or, you might use a qualitative method
by reading a sample of letters and texts and creating a coding sheet for discourse
analysis (see Chapter 4) that suggests some common (or uncommon) themes
that appear in both kinds of exchanges. On the other hand, you might map out
these exchanges. You might place each letter in a mapped location of the place
where they were at the time they were mailed, which might reveal interesting
points of comparison and contrast. Based on your knowledge of where de Beau-
voir and Sartre lived between 1930 and 1963, you might find that their corre-
spondence covered the time period of the Second World War and spanned loca-
tions throughout France and Germany when Sartre was a prisoner of war. You
might also chart where you and your partner lived in the three-month timespan
of your exchange, accounting also for the location of text messages in space,
pinging off of satellites. In this way, you are creating a location-based, or spatial,
map of time travel, distance, and discourse that might help you draw some dif-
ferent kinds of conclusions about letters and texts in the context of a romantic
relationship and in the context of the past and present.
Maps not only help us see differently—in both words and images—but
they also can lead us to different kinds of realizations about our research and
can exist as important research methods to help us consider elements of dis-
tance, scale, scope, and movement. To that end, they should be seen as a com-
plementary method to site-based observations and hold much potential for
being included in your field notes. Maps can also help us recognize patterns,
themes, or focal points, and they can be created for audiences to help them
understand, navigate, or replicate a particular research site or process.
Focus on Delivery:
Curating a Collection
Whether you are working with a personal collection, a library archive, or a
collection of field notes or maps, inquiry into places and things frequently re-
quires assembling and curating a collection. Curation explores various group-
ings and patterns, and it often assigns numbering or naming systems so all
items in the collection can be referenced. Curated collections aid in making
research materials accessible and making patterns discoverable. To help places
and things become meaningful in a research context, curate a collection fol-
lowing these steps:
1. Select: choose the artifacts you will curate, or identify an existing
archive—this can be an old box of stuff, a journal, letters, a drawer of
old things, field notes, maps, a digital collection (of pictures, of social
media artifacts, of writing, etc.);
2. Preserve: take care of your archive—reinforce the box, clean old pic-
tures, back up digital work, label artifacts, and edit the components of
your archive;
3. Present: collect the work in this archive in a way that will allow you
to present it to the class—mount artifacts on a poster, in a book, in a
shadow box, etc.; although you’ve selected a personal archive, make
sure not to share parts of the archive that you do not want to be public
(within the class);
124 Chapter 6
Works Cited
Beauvoir, Simone de. Letters to Sartre. Translated and edited by Quintin Hoare,
Arcade Publishing, 1993.
Blichfeldt, Malthe Emil, Jonathan Komang-Sønderbek, and Frederik Højlund West-
ergård. The Living Tree. Air Lab, IT University of Copenhagen, 2018. airlab.itu.dk/
the-living-tree/
Dublon, Gershon, and Edwina Portocarrero. ListenTree. MIT Media Lab, 2015. lis-
tentree.media.mit.edu/
Sartre, Jean Paul. Witness to My Life: The Letters of Jean-Paul Sartre to Simone de
Beauvoir 1926-1939. Edited by Simone de Beauvoir, Translated by Lee Fahnestock
and Norman MacAfee, Penguin, 1994.
Chapter 7. Working with Visuals
In the spring of 2020, the world was hit with an outbreak of novel coronavirus,
the likes of which had not been seen since the Spanish flu of 1918. What were
your reactions to the news of this global pandemic? Perhaps you were some-
one who didn’t pay much attention to the news until it reached the United
States. Perhaps you had been tracking the outbreak of COVID-19 as it spread
country to country. Perhaps you cancelled a vacation or had graduation plans
derail. Perhaps you made decisions based on what the news media was show-
ing you. Many political messages at first were quick to try to enforce social
distancing—staying home, keeping at least six feet between people when out
in public—to try to decrease the chances of infection. Social media was quick
to follow, propagating messages of best practices of handwashing and shelter-
ing-in-place. One of the primary things that both kinds of messaging depend-
ed on was a particular graphic, shown in Figure 7.1, that showed the spread of
the COVID-19 virus with and without the practice of social distancing.
Figure 7.1. Infographic created in 2020 by Esther Kim and Carl T. Bergstrom:
Flatten the Curve. Epidemic infographic created for the coronavirus
disease 2019 epidemic, but generally applicable for any pandemic.
125
126 Chapter 7
This visual led both politicians and media professionals around the world
to circulate the call to “flatten the curve,” referring to the change in shape of the
parabola that represented the number of cases of COVID-19 with and without
controls like social distancing in place. The hashtag #plankthecurve was used
on social media by heads of state to try to encourage these safety measures.
After a certain point, the visual itself no longer needed to be used to back up
this call, and “flatten the curve” itself became the calling card for engaging in
social distancing behavior to slow the pandemic.
This is just one example of the ways that visuals help us think and persuade
differently and shows why they are a central method to helping us work with
and think through data. Due to an ever-expanding variety of digital technol-
ogies for supporting the production of visuals, contemporary scholarly re-
search tends to make greater and greater use of elements such as photographs,
graphs, tables, and data visualizations. Photographs are realistic images cap-
What does it mean
tured with the aid of an instrument (camera) that translates light to a repro-
to slow down in the
context of research
ducible inscription. Graphs and tables are devices for visually rendering sets of
for you? What areas numerical and textual data. And data visualizations is the term used to name
of your work can other visual readouts or ways of presenting data through visuals, usually with
afford to move slowly, the assistance of a computer.
and at what cost? Generally, as guiding principles, this chapter reinforces the following tenets:
How might you plan
for slowing down
1. Slow down in the production and reproduction of visuals.*
parts of your research Whether finding and selecting visuals made by others or produc-
process? ing your own, the choices we all have include common rhetori-
cal considerations—such as audience and purpose—and design
tioned in the text. But we regard this as a judgment call that ought to be
made in each situation. When image and text are used together, their
arrangement and proximity are important to readers engaging with and
ultimately understanding how they fit together.
5. Consult design experts when possible or seek resources on spec-
ifications for the best possible display of visuals for print and for
screens. Many experienced artists, designers, and photographers have
taken the time to share their wisdom online, preparing and circulating
articles and modules on adjusting image size and resolution, position-
ing the subjects in images for desired effects, working with appropri-
ate file types, and more. We mention this because, when beginning
research, many decisions involving visuals you will make have already
been made by others, and they can help you. We encourage you to
search online for how-to guides, video tutorials, and workarounds for
whatever you might encounter.
6. Give images the same credit-giving citations that apply to textual
sources. When working with images, regard them as the property of the
person who created them. Give credit where it is due (see Chapter 2 on
ethics), usually in the caption or by-line, but if not, then in a works cited
or references entry. Every image you re-use in your own work, whether
you found it online or in printed form, must be accompanied by an at-
tribution. While it’s true that such attributions require time and atten-
tion to detail, they perform an important ethical function, honoring the
source of the image and showing regard for the originator.
This chapter introduces working with visuals primarily through the use
of photographs, reserving some discussion of graphs, tables, and data vi-
sualizations for the end, and concluding with guidance for developing an
information graphic.
Photographs
With the rise of digital photography over the past two decades, high quality
images have become a swift, everyday form of communication. Consider how,
Working with Visuals 129
from the start of the twentieth century until the rise of digital photography,
film cameras required their users to very selectively take photos, carry the film
to a development counter or send it to a processor, then wait a couple of days
to see whether the photos yielded the desired results. Much scholarly contem-
plation of the medium of photography took place during the film-based era
when development was slower and when photographs were costly and scarce.
But contemporary digital photography now makes it possible to swiftly and
relatively easily create photographs and incorporate those photographs into
written research in mere minutes. This ease raises important questions about
the ethics of photo manipulation (touch-ups), cropping, and a growing variety
of image-based fakes, though practices of full disclosure head off these con-
cerns for researchers who work with visuals.
Although much has changed for photography, many useful ways of think- Rhetorical circulation
ing about photography have endured. For example, in his well-known book names the movement
on photography, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography, Roland Bar- of discourse, taking
thes examined a series of photos that could be grouped generally into two into consideration
materials, timing, and
sets: press photos and personal photos. Press photos were those circulating
audience uptake. Such
widely on the front pages of major newspapers. Personal photos circulated circulation is often-
very differently in that they were oftentimes treated like family heirlooms, times mixed and un-
privately stored for safekeeping and only occasional viewing. Barthes’ dis- even, occurring across
tinction between press photos and personal photos is still applicable today digital and physical
as a way to begin thinking about circulation. Many photographs hold value media, immediately
for the person who took them, but they don’t bear out the same rhetorical and also with delay,
circulation,* a phenomenon you might uncover in a visit to the archives. and among intend-
An important point to consider in this context is that just because you value ed and unintended
a photograph personally doesn’t necessarily mean it will be meaningful in a audiences.
research context. Writers (revising with input from audiences) establish that
significance, usually with direct explanations.
As an analytical framework for describing photos and accounting for
their meaning, Barthes introduced a useful vocabulary in his discussions of
the terms studium and punctum. Studium is, generally, what many viewers
of a photograph see. It may describe what the photo is generally about. The
Big Picture blog from The Boston Globe (www3.bostonglobe.com/news/
bigpicture) is an excellent resource for noticing studium. Consider, for ex-
ample, a press photograph of a state fair. The studium, generally, would
convey an impression of carnival games, regional agriculture, and festive
crowds of people. Punctum, on the other hand, is a highly personal intensi-
ty, that which stings or captivates the viewer. Again, in the case of the state
fair photograph, punctum is idiosyncratic. It could be the acute noticing
of an especially pleasurable (or terrifying) ride, a memory of cotton candy,
or a fixation on a mud puddle in the background that someone associates
with a childhood visit to a local fairgrounds. In Barthes’ influential work
on photography, studium and punctum were terms he offered that were
helpful for distinguishing between what is generally viewable (shared) in
the experience of a photograph and what is only noticed in the visual field
(mine alone). We have recalled these terms in part to remind you that ter-
minology used to describe film photography can still be applicable to digital
photographs.
Theoretical frameworks like the one Barthes introduced can be helpful as
you begin thinking about how photographs connect with research projects.
Among your first decisions about photographs will be whether you will be
working with your own photographs or using photographs taken by others.
Each scenario leads to a related set of questions and considerations:
If You Are Taking Your Own If You Are Using Photos Taken By
Photographs* Others A photograph’s
orientation refers to
• Consider technical features: lighting • In addition to considering technical its longest dimension.
and positioning, orientation, size and features, make careful note about If vertical, the long
file format, and number of photos. who took the photograph. dimension is up and
down the page. If
• Will the photos need to be resized for • Where did the photograph come
horizontal, the long
print or for display on a screen (or from? Is it part of a larger archive?
dimension is side to
both)? Will they need to be cropped? Is it part of a series? Be sure to keep
side.
careful records about its context.
In certain cases, the subjects of the photos must give permission to be pho-
tographed, though this is not the case for what has emerged as a popular type
of digital photography, the selfie. With a growing body of academic research
about selfies and an ever-expanding trove of examples available online, it is
increasingly clear that photographing oneself is a popular practice.
Memory (Recall)
Photographs can help researchers remember details, collect visual samples,
and build a record of the context for the samples they collect. For an every-
day example, consider the research involved with finding an apartment. Sure,
rental companies may provide generic photos online, but taking photos as you
look at a series of three or four apartments can help you recall and distinguish
their key features. Which one had the purple front door? Which one had an
accessibility ramp still being built? These are not usually photos that will be
featured in published research, but they nevertheless operate as a potent form
of note-keeping. Such photos can also be paired with field notes to help create
a more detailed picture of a field site. In addition to being useful for note keep-
ing, photographs can be an aid to invention, helping us notice phenomena in
the world that help us generate researchable questions.
For example, consider Figure 7.2, a photograph taken at the edge between
the forest and the dunes in Ludington State Park along Michigan’s western
coastline. The photograph documents a well-trafficked transition point where
the wooded overgrowth changes to an open, rolling vista of sandy grasslands.
The photograph records this location as data, aiding the recall of a hiker who
will want to find the trailhead again on the return hike.
Scene-Establishing (Locative)
As an extension of the field work and site-based observations introduced in
Chapter 6, on-location photographs can reveal surrounding factors affect-
ing a great variety of people and issues in the world. A simple photograph
of a roadway, for example, can reveal to civil engineers key features of a
site study for a prospective project. The same photo can spotlight for an
environmental biologist the profile of plants and animals in the immediate
vicinity of the road project. It can also pinpoint other seemingly mundane
but highly relevant details about signage, sign placement, and visibility.
Scene-establishing photographs help us list and record what is at a des-
ignated location. Paired with other instrument-oriented information, such
as soil sample analyses or surface slope measurements, scene-establishing
photographs can provide insights into a wide variety of problems, from
road hazards to environmental impact.
134 Chapter 7
Figure 7.3. Lake Michigan’s changing coastline. At what rates do the water,
sand, and foliated ground shift, and which encroaches on the other over
time? This view facing north from atop the Big Sable Point Lighthouse
in Ludington State Park in Michigan sets in relationship landform
variations where water and land meet. (Image credit: Derek Mueller)
Schematic/Technical
In research contexts, schematic photos provide plain views useful for assembling
complex objects. Schematic photos may help explain the relative sizes of one piece
136 Chapter 7
of equipment and another device, or they may, with labeling, provide a guide for
quickly reconnecting something like a portable sound system, a desktop tele-
phone, or a computer. Schematic photos are especially common as aids to tech-
nical illustration and user documentation for technical and professional writers.
The schematic/technical photo featured in Figure 7.4 (on the next page)
includes in it crucial details about a specific product made by Sealite, a marine
equipment company, complete with model number and inspector decals. The
image shows a highly technical device essential to waterway shipping safety.
Artistic/Aesthetic
An artistic or aesthetic use of photographs is usually chosen because they look
appealing, because they attract attention to a project, or because they set a
Artistic/aesthetic
mood or elicit a particular feeling, association, or desire. Artistic/aesthetic*
photographs can
also be selected and photos are commonly featured in the slide decks used to present research. For
incorporated into example, a presentation about research on the uptake of ideas, or how ideas
research publications catch on and spread, might use as a metaphor for such a process a photograph
to focus the audience of a mature dandelion about to be carried off in the wind.
on a particular asso- To decide on appropriate artistic/aesthetic photos, consider making a list of
ciation and to impart concepts or themes that resonate with the research you are doing. These can be
a lasting impression—
metaphors, but you should be careful not to choose metaphors that are overly fa-
whether by interest-
ingness, color scheme,
miliar. Doing so can create an impression that the ideas illuminated by this work
or subject. rely on tired or long-established commonplaces rather than introducing new and
distinctive ways of knowing. The list of concepts or themes you generate provides
you with keywords to search for photographs online. Notice how the meaning
of Figure 7.5 would change if the image were paired with a tired pun (“Life’s a
beach”) rather than a catchy and inviting tourism catchphrase in a public rela-
tions campaign context (“Wander specific”) or a more stark and ominous forecast
in an environmental sustainability context (“Michigan’s vanishing shoreline”).
Figure 7.4. New LED lighting technology in use. Although the Big Sable Point
Lighthouse located in Ludington State Park in Ludington, Michigan, was built
in 1867 and has illuminated night skies at Michigan’s western shoreline for
more than a century, the sources of light are smaller today than they once
were due to light emitting diodes, or LED lighting. Here, atop the lighthouse,
the mismatch of new, smaller technology and older infrastructure is visible only
up close; freighters navigating the coastline after dark experience the light’s
guiding twinkle much as they did before. (Image credit: Derek Mueller)
138 Chapter 7
Figure 7.5. Big Sable Point Lighthouse, Ludington, Michigan. The lighthouse is
framed in this case as an attention-getting device, and an aesthetic photograph
like this one could be used to express everything from serene themes—such as
summertime recreation, beaches, and hiking—to more serious themes—such
as historical restoration, the disappearing coastline due to climate change,
and the environmental impact of tourism. (Image credit: Derek Mueller)
Interaction
Interaction photographs seek to capture moments or events where interaction
is visible and observable. We welcome you to consider a great range of possible
interactions that are relevant for a research project. For example, an interac-
tion photograph could feature two trees, thereby calling into question how
they interact, share resources, and connect underground where their root sys-
tems and fungal networks make contact. Another example of an interaction
photograph could be a picture of a pair of barn swallows, a species of birds
noted for their distinctive relationship patterns and habitats. Perhaps most
obviously, interaction photographs can also feature humans. In the social sci-
Working with Visuals 139
Time Series
Photographs have also been used in conducting and presenting research to in-
dicate a time series, or changes in a variety of subjects over time. Perhaps the
best-known example of this comes from advertising, where before and after
photographs of human subjects attest to the validity of some product, usually
a diet plan or anti-aging cream. Aside from these commonplace examples,
however, researchers have used photographs to study change at intervals. For
example, as Marta Braun detailed in her book, Picturing Time, French physiol-
ogist Étienne-Jules Marey used time series photography to study the phase by
phase movements of several subjects, such as a pelican and a human runner.
His inquiry into physiological time series also led to early instrumentation
now used for measuring heart rate, a development that created a foundation
for modern Western medicine. Time series photographs can also illustrate
environmental change, showing, for instance, how farms fluctuate over time,
how forests manage their shared resources (with and without human involve-
ment), or how rivers change course due to flooding, drought, and irrigation.
Photographic evidence can powerfully augment written accounts of a partic-
ular question or phenomenon. In the case of Figure 7.7, the photograph is not
yet paired with a before or after shot, but as a form of data, it lends time and
location-specific evidence of trail flooding in late June at Ludington State Park.
How long does this inland flooding last? How many of the last five or ten years
has the trail been flooded during the tourism season? A time series photo-
graph would establish data connecting the location to different moments in
time, thereby helping us inquire into patterns of interest to park rangers, legis-
lators, tourists, taxpayers, environmental biologists, and more.
short-form reference that makes it possible to refer to the image from the text.
Images lacking a figure reference, or handle, lack an address and therefore can
lapse into a faint, inexact relationship with what’s written about them.
Try This: What are Other Uses for Photos? (30 minutes)
Research contexts vary greatly, and we recognize there are uses for photography in research beyond
the six types we have sketched here. This observation lends itself to a researchable question: How do
researchers use photography or photography-related instrumentation (e.g., video, satellite imagery) in
an area of study that interests you? How could you learn more about the possibilities or limitations of
photography in your area of research interest? Having followed these lines of inquiry, even provision-
ally, are there any types of photographs you think should be added to the six types we have introduced?
Working with Visuals 143
accessible. We’ve already mentioned that every figure should begin with a
figure reference, or handle, such as Figure 1, which is one of these elements
needed for accessibility. After the handle, the caption should include a brief
description. The language from this description is also appropriate for the im-
age’s alternative text when developing online materials, websites, and so on.
After the brief description, an additional sentence or two can detail what ap-
pears in the image and address the image’s purpose. Think of this as an elab-
orated description and rationale. Finally, depending on the style manual you Many contemporary
are following, you might need to include an image credit. With these four el- photos online in
ements (figure reference, brief description, elaborated description and ra- various places (social
media, blogs, some
tionale, credit)* captions will reflect the ethical regard of a researching writer
news sites) fail to
who has honored every reasonable standard for this essential element. All of include all four of
the captions up to this point include each of these essential elements. these elements in
Although we have focused primarily on the use of photographs and their their captions. What
relationship to words in a text, we invite you to consider other multimodal do these absences tell
elements that might enhance your composition, such as graphs and tables. you about the ethos
Although figures and tables require different in-text citation, similar recom- of the photographer?
mendations for considering the image-text, graph-text, or table-text relation-
ship apply. A final consideration when working with figures, graphs, and ta-
bles is organization and file naming. Usually original image files are stored
separately, outside of the document where you are writing. With this in mind,
we recommend creating an online folder for the entire research project where
you can store figures and tables in their original format. Research writing with
images or tables usually doesn’t become too snarled with complexity when
there are only one or two visual elements. But because projects like these can
course in statistics can help researchers in all fields understand more compre-
hensively a wide variety of ways of knowing along a complementary, contin-
uous spectrum. It is important to note that though they may portray similar
kinds of data, graphs and tables are often handled differently in style manuals.
For example, in MLA style, tables are numbered and include a title above the
table, while figures, including graphs, are numbered and include a caption be-
low the figure.
Graphs and tables have in common a basic orientation to numerical and
arrayed (or list-like) data. Tables, such as the one shown in Table 7.1, show data
sets as labeled rows and columns convenient for specific look-ups. Note also
how the title precedes the table, while graph titles are located below, as with
other figures. Graphs, such as the one in Figure 7.9, organize such data into
models that lend themselves to discerning comparisons using basic lines and
shapes positioned on a grid. Graphs typically rely upon a strict system of ref-
erence (the grid) so they can present with accuracy and consistency positions
of values (i.e., addresses) and proportions of geometrical shapes or lines indic-
ative of value. It is quite common for tabular, or table-based, data to also be
presented as a graph. Why? The varied forms alter perspective and can thereby
heighten attention to meaningful, significant dimensions of the data. Which-
ever form the data takes, graphs and tables are different possible expressions
of data designed with an interest in effective communication. Researching
writers who rely upon graphs or tables oftentimes pair these graphical ele-
ments with textual accounts in the form of captions and textual passages. This
premise is vitally important for researching writers who work with visuals:
the image (photograph, graph, table) and text (caption, surrounding discus-
sion)—when developed effectively—are complementary and interdependent.
Each needs the other to compel understanding, assent, and action in response
to the research.
Extending from the example of the campus tree inventory in Chapter 6,
Table 7.1 presents a series of three annual tree censuses from one Midwestern
public university. The table shows accurate quantities in rows and columns
that aid quick reference. It also raises questions it does not answer. For exam-
ple, although the adjusted figures (in parentheses) show a net gain, the table
does not include details about how many trees were planted or removed.
146 Chapter 7
census stands in 2021. A graph like this might be useful for a presentation to a
decision maker about the goals for the next three years.
When you choose to work with graphs and tables alongside textual ac-
counts, we recommend seeking a balance between the explanatory power of
each. In certain situations, it may be best to adopt with purpose an imbalance,
whereby the textual account leads into the graph or table, or, perhaps the op-
posite is better, whereby the graph or table leads into the textual account.*
Whichever the arrangement, you should notice this as a deliberate design, be-
cause you, as a researching writer, have command over the sequence.
Data Visualizations
Data visualizations is a term used for a large set of graphical forms for display-
ing data, usually (but not always) with the assistance of computers. Technically,
the graphs and tables featured in the previous section are long-established and
relatively stable types of data visualizations. Tables visualize data, relying on la-
beled rows and columns to aid the lookup and cross-referencing of multivari-
able datasets. Graphs also present data visually, translating numbers into shapes,
plots, trend lines, and more. As online tools bloom for presenting data visually,
researching writers are presented with a vast number of possibilities for using
programs, platforms, and applications to elicit patterns. We urge care and cau-
tion when adopting data visualization processes. They can add value, but they
can also downplay key details or bury the processes by which they are made.
When using a computational process to visualize data, it is the responsibility of
the researching writer to learn about how the visual is made and to disclose that
process before celebrating what can be a spectacular readout.
Think of the growth of data visualization tools today as motivated by the
same questions that inspire tables and graphs. What patterns are brought to
light by a particular treatment? Why and for whom are these patterns mean-
ingful? In effect, data visualizations should bridge data and the stories you, the
researching writer, consider to be at the heart of insights into your research
questions. Data visualizations can help writers tell their stories, either deep-
ening patterns or revealing anomalies (breaks from patterns) and their signif-
icance. Let us illustrate through three examples ways data visualizations have
influenced how we think about specific research questions.
Figure 7.10 is the work of three researchers who collected and coded 154
timely warning crime bulletins circulated at one university over eight years. As
required by the Clery Act, also known as the Jeanne Clery Act, all United States
Figure 7.10. Night and Day. A radial diagram displays eight three-hour blocks
of time using differently sized circles at the tip of each to indicate the number
of crime-reported instances corresponding to each marked off timespan.
Working with Visuals 149
working with visuals this way adds a striking visual impression to quantitative
data. In Figure 7.12, two types of tree icons are color-coded to reflect the percent-
age of deciduous and coniferous trees on campus, as well as the proportion of
diseased trees and newly planted trees corresponding to each major type.
Census pictographs such as Figure 7.12 blend conventional graphing formats,
such as bar graphs or pie charts, with icons to create a layered visual readout at
the juncture between the abstract and the concrete. They communicate neither
purely numbers nor purely objects. Instead, in the blended format, quantitative
data is brought nearer to the world in which it matters tangibly or in which it
applies. This connection between the abstract and the concrete can help us notice
important patterns, put a fine point on the implications of research findings, and
generate new research questions. Census pictographs can be applied extensively,
but they are especially impactful in the context of surveys (see Chapter 5), such as
when collecting results from a social media survey, a poll of your classmates, or
set of questions you develop that are IRB-approved and that you circulate.
Because time management and accountability for time is a great challenge
upon your arrival at college or university, our third and concluding form of
data visualization relates to time use diaries. An example of this sort of visu-
alization is show in Figure 7.13.
Figure 7.13. Time use diary of a science major. Weekly time is divided and
color-coded by class subject, meal times, study time, and personal time.
152 Chapter 7
A time use diary enables a bird’s-eye view of how a person spends time
that does not depend on the same level of detail as found in a daily to-do list
(which might include exactly which books you have to read as you study or
which food items you ate for breakfast) or a yearly calendar (which might
block out special days like holidays, birthdays, or anniversaries). Time use di-
aries show a snapshot of time and allow you to code and understand, from a
middle view, where your time goes.
Try This: Developing a Time Use Diary (60 minutes plus 1 week)
For this activity, begin with a simple spreadsheet or table for recording hours of the day and days of the
week. Then, complete the following steps:
1. Develop a system for entering into each cell how you plan to spend the time. What labels will you
choose, what colors, what symbols, and what will they mean?
2. Using a copy of the same grid, enter into each cell a note or symbol accounting for how you
actually spend time as the week proceeds. Color-code the cell to indicate simply whether your
planning matched with the actual activity.
3. Write vignettes about the system, noting particular hours that were or were not harmonious with
your planning.
Over a week, you will have developed an insight into how well-aligned, or felicitous, are your plans and
your activities throughout the week.
Working with Visuals 153
Works Cited
Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. Translated by Richard
Howard, Hill and Wang, 1981.
Braun, Marta. Picturing Time: The Work of Étienne-Jules Marey (18230-1904). Univer-
sity of Chicago Press, 1995.
“The Jeanne Clery Act.” Clery Center, clerycenter.org/policy/the-clery-act/.
Pantelides, Kate, Derek N. Mueller, and Gabriel Green. “Eight Years a ‘Wooden
Opponent’: Genre Change (and its Lack) in Campus Timely Warnings.” Present
Tense: A Journal of Rhetoric in Society, vol. 5, no. 1, 2016, www.presenttensejournal.
org/volume-5/eight-years-a-wooden-opponent-genre-change-and-its-lack-in-
campus-timely-warnings/.
Rogoff, Barbara. Apprenticeship in Thinking: Cognitive Development in Social Context.
Oxford UP, 1991.
Chapter 8. Research and the
Rhetorical Forms It Takes
• Your 5th grade science fair experiment
• A viral video of high school math students rapping the quadratic
formula
• A five-minute conversation with a family friend about a summer co-
op position at their company based on your community service
These are all ways that research circulates over time, in different locations,
through interactions among people and things. This chapter takes into ac-
count the ways that research, oftentimes research-in-progress, circulates. Cir- Effective research
culation* is a contemporary reframing of the rhetorical canon of delivery. moves into and
Delivery, in a classical Greco-Roman rhetorical tradition, was primarily con- throughout the world.
cerned with speakers who, in real-time, stood before reasonably attentive au- Delivery and circula-
diences to speak persuasively about matters of civic concern. Over two millen- tion pinpoint how this
nia, as writing systems gained legitimacy and as digital media expanded and movement happens.
flourished, so too did the means of delivery multiply. In today’s mediascape,
delivery remains relevant, but the mechanisms of delivery have shifted be-
cause audiences are themselves producers of recirculation and uptake. That
is, someone may read an article and re-post it, watch a video and send it on.
Secondary circulation is not a new phenomenon, but it has intensified with the
rise of social media and the everyday documentary impulses that proliferate
streams of social media. People have their mobile devices out, capturing and
relaying the richness and wonder (and also ordinariness and banality) in their
surroundings.
To put a finer point on this phenomenon of secondary circulation (i.e.,
uptake and recirculation), Jim Ridolfo and Dànielle Nicole DeVoss introduced
the concept of rhetorical velocity. As they explain, rhetorical velocity goes
beyond delivery to offer “strategic theorizing for how a text might be recom-
posed (and why it might be recomposed) by third parties, and how this recom-
posing may be useful or not to the short- or long-term rhetorical objectives of
155
156 Chapter 8
the rhetorician.” For a researching writer, this means sharing research in such
a way that encourages others to do things with it, including to recirculate it.
When others take up the work and continue its circulation, rhetorical velocity
increases. The reach and influence of the research stands a greater chance of
making a difference in the world.
With the goal of setting research in motion, this chapter begins by ac-
knowledging and then challenging two powerful myths connected with
research writing. The first myth is that researchers should only share their
work with audiences at the end of a research process. The second myth is
that beginning researchers should circulate their work only in small circles,
to limited audiences, such as the confines of a class and a teacher. Of course,
myths emerge from the world around us. These myths in particular about
research writing prevail because there are strong cases to be made for cir-
culating research after the study is fully formed and the work completed.
Furthermore, circulating research-in-progress to small, supportive, attentive
audiences, such as are customarily available in association with a writing
class, also makes sense. These myths prevail, in other words, because there
are kernels of long-established wisdom etched into them. And yet, we seek
here to open these myths with the goal of acknowledging what becomes
available when we share about works-in-progress and when we engage audi-
ences broader than the classroom.
Our aim in challenging these myths is to expand perspectives on the po-
tential of rhetorical delivery to clarify and activate research activity as it un-
folds. Toward this goal, consider our counter-principles:
1. You can, as a writing researcher, share about your work at any mo-
ment in the process. You can write a pre-proposal in which you sketch
possible lines of inquiry. You can prepare and deliver a three-minute
presentation to your class or your research group at the moment when
you are beginning to gather, read, and annotate sources. You can devel-
op for a gallery crawl a draft of a poster that displays decisions you have
made about research design, including the questions that interest you
most and the potential complications you foresee. With each of these
(and many other) possibilities, research is kept social, and the interac-
tions can be generative for you, for your research team if you are collab-
orating, and for others who are probably working through comparable
research processes themselves.
Delivering the beginning stages of a work-in-progress early and
often can help you refine your sense of audience and purpose. The
questions you receive will help you make decisions about where to
expand, what context to fill in, and what is missing or perhaps un-
derstated. It’s also possible to revisit a research project long after you
believe it was finished and sent off into the world. Five and ten-year
retrospectives—look backs—at a research project and asking of it
freshly—Why did this work matter? What would I have done differ-
ently? How would a comparable study need to be done now, were it
to be undertaken again?—these and other reflective questions help
researchers focus on the longevity of a study’s significance, setting it
in relationship to time as well as opening new possibilities for con-
tinuing or renewed research.
2. You can, as a writing researcher, share about your work widely,
even while it is in-progress or otherwise unfinished, generating
and circulating status updates that invite audience engagement.
It may feel risky, yet writing about in-progress research can open
your work to outsider feedback, lead to potential collaborations,
and build confidence in how you give language to specialized con-
cepts. This is not quite the same as saying you should share every-
thing about the research with other people or that you should post
everything about it online. But some measure of practice with deliv-
158 Chapter 8
ery and circulation while a project is underway can help you see it
as rhetorical work, connecting it with people who are curious about
it. When this happens, research writing can become connected to
other stakeholders.
We also want to stress the careful consideration that must go into
sharing in-progress work, as this ties in with the discussion of ethics in
Chapter 2. Ethical delivery of in-progress research may be focused and
invitational, such as by selecting a narrow issue in a study and invit-
ing perspective. It may also proceed with a goal of keeping your work
public facing, or aimed toward an external audience, and accountable
to people who are not researchers but whose lives may be improved
The rhetorical ap- by the questions you are asking and what you are learning about those
proach to research questions. Ethical delivery of in-progress research seeks to emphasize
inquiry we have mod-
the value of audiences who can participate in the work. We would cau-
eled seeks to keep
porous and open the
tion you against disclosures of frustration or complaint about your re-
seemingly bounded search process or findings, though missteps, failures, and complications
limits of the writing certainly do happen in research and warrant acknowledgement when
classroom and the we are sharing about our work. Finally, a leading goal for wide delivery
arbitrary time frame of in-progress research is to refresh perspective on the classroom as a
of a semester or temporary scene. Research activity often exceeds the length of a semes-
quarter. ter or quarter.*
lay out the study’s methods and findings, and discuss its consequences, which
can include applications, proposed action steps, and prospects for additional
research. The scope, or length, of research reports can vary, ranging from ab-
breviated reports of a few pages, sections, or installments, to larger reports of
a few pages, to elaborate accounts of 25 pages or more. What we hope to make
clear is that there is no one-size-fits-all research report. Research reports are
often similar to one another; however, as rhetorical situations change, often
reports do, too. It’s important to note conventions are a starting place from
which your research writing can adapt to specific situations.
As a general framework for research reports, or what are sometimes called
research papers, consider the IMRAD research report as one common model.
In many STEM-oriented disciplines, the IMRAD report stands out as a basic
form. Some have argued it is too basic or too reductive. It is crucial to ap-
proach the IMRAD report as an exceedingly basic structure onto which other
more nuanced choices should be applied. Many IMRAD research reports will
include the four basic sections of introduction, methods, results, and discus-
sion as subheadings, as this can aid readers in finding their way. Here we de-
scribe what goes into each of those sections:
• Introduction: The opening section of a research report establishes
the purpose, or rationale, for the research that follows. It can do this
by stating an opportunity (or gap in the research), a problem the
research responds to constructively, or a question or series of ques-
tions the research answers or deepens. Opportunities, problems, and
questions work differently from one field to another, yet they can mo-
tivate research in any field. Given this situation, researchers should
introduce their work by orienting it to discipline-specific contexts
and problems.
• Methods: Methods sections account for research design, detailing the
choices that go into the ways the researcher has worked. Methods may
note timeframes, techniques for recording and coding data, and the
methodology—the values backdrop that makes your approach trans-
parent to your audience and to yourself (see Chapter 1). Discussing
the methodology signals an understanding of disciplinary values, con-
necting your choices to choices that have been made by others in related
Research and the Rhetorical Forms It Takes 161
Since the early 2000s, short form presentations have caught on in a wide
range of fields, from engineering and computer science to rhetoric and de-
sign. Short form presentations are sometimes called pitches. Perhaps the best-
known type of pitch is the elevator pitch,* named for its duration approxi- When preparing and
mating the time it takes to tell someone on an elevator about something you delivering an elevator
are doing, selling, or working on. Even the longest elevator ride is only a few pitch, or a short form
minutes. Elevator pitches, then, are purposefully bound at only a few min- presentation, rhetor-
utes. Presenters delivering elevator pitches have a short timeframe to get to ical considerations
of audience, purpose,
the point, deliver a key premise or two, or pose a couple of questions, perhaps;
timing, and context
ultimately, they must keep it short and sweet. are paramount.
Several other short form presentations have gained notoriety in recent
years. The PechaKucha presentation, a model devised by engineers who were
impatient with needlessly drawn out presentations, is usually made up of 20
slides, each set to automatically rotate after 20 seconds. This makes for a 6
minute, 40 second presentation. Ignite presentations work similarly; these
are five minute presentations with automatically advancing slides. Twenty
slides advance after 15 seconds each, making for a five minute pitch. And the
Three Minute Thesis presentation, popularized first at Queensland University
in Australia, comes in at strictly three minutes using one slide.
Whatever the specifications for a short form presentation, we urge an
awareness of the rhetorical considerations consistent with other forms of com-
munication—audience, purpose, timing, and context. Effective short form
presentations focus only on one or two major ideas; they are spare in that they
are long enough to offer only a provocation or provide only a slice of a research
study, which then stages the possibility of more expansive discussion.
We want to highlight a few additional considerations as you undertake a
short form presentation yourself in order to highlight the idea that research
can be shared or circulated at any moment in its development:
1. Slide decks for digitally-enhanced presentations are composed.
They are written, assembled, arranged, and configured with regard
to specific audiences and purposes. Because slide decks are written,
they should be developed with rhetorical consideration and care that
reflects the choices of the presenter and an awareness of audience. This
means paying close attention to the number of words, to the spare and
164 Chapter 8
Try This: What Makes an Effective Short Form Presentation? (30 minutes)
Look into the short form presentations listed here: PechaKucha, Ignite, and Three Minute Thesis
(3MT). See if you can find online one presentation adhering to one of these formats that you consider
to be effective for any of the following reasons:
• the clarity of its main point or central idea
• its use of typeface and spacing
• its use of color and images
• the relationship between the language of the speaker and the language on the slides
• the question or questions posed in the presentation
Identify one of these qualities and describe why you think the presentation is rhetorically effective on
this basis.
Try This,Too: Presenting Visuals (45 minutes)
As you consider possibilities for focusing and developing your own short form presentation, return
to Chapter 7: Working with Visuals. Which visuals do you think would align well with your presen-
tation? Why? Identify up to three visuals and write rationale statements for why they would make a
worthwhile addition to the short form presentation you are developing. If you choose photographs,
what are some advantages in taking or choosing to work with your own photographs rather than lo-
cating and incorporating images you find online?
Research and the Rhetorical Forms It Takes 165
Research Posters
Research posters are yet another common rhetorical form used for delivering
and circulating research. Research posters can put on display central claims
and assertions, questions or lines of inquiry, and provisional findings and
snapshots or slices of data. They might pick and choose among data presented
in words or presented visually, such as in graphs, charts, tables, and infograph-
ics (see Chapter 7). They may even re-format IMRAD report findings visually.
Posters reflect design choices that impact typeface and size, spacing and posi-
tioning, figures and captions, and references.
In some disciplines, posters reflect a widely shared grammar, or pattern. This
means that a sample of posters will reflect similar features. In other disciplines,
however, design choices reflect greater variety, and, as such, no two posters ad-
here to the same formula. Research posters can be designed for a great range of
shapes and sizes, from minimalist formats, like 11x17-inch flyers, which don’t
allow for much content, to 48x36-inch posters, which can feature greater num-
bers of images and higher word counts. It is hard to generalize about all posters.
Some research posters, for example, have been remediated for digital environ-
ments, which means there are so-called digital posters in circulation that blur
distinctions between large PDF documents, web sites, and slide decks.
Many posters are put on display during what are called poster sessions, or
scheduled events during which presenters stand or sit nearby the poster while
attendees browse as if making their way through a gallery. One advantage of this
model is that the researcher who created the poster is nearby for talking con-
versationally about the research. But this real-time interaction also means that
166 Chapter 8
posters should be designed thoughtfully with regard to legibility (large text and
understandable images). Posters browsed in a gallery setting should also be direct
about questions or provocations, even highlighting the takeaway for those who
are interested in learning about the study, its status, and its prospective insights.
Expanding Forms
In addition to research reports, short form presentations, and research post-
ers, many other rhetorical forms have extended the reach and circulation of
research beyond classrooms and campuses. Some universities host research
fairs where researchers share their work using mixed forms—websites, pod-
casts, dioramas, brochures, pamphlets, short documentary videos, handouts,
games, and zines. Working across these rhetorical forms is called multimodal
transformation, for it recognizes and takes seriously (and sometimes play-
fully, too) the principles that research should circulate widely and also that
the widest possible circulation benefits from recompositions between one
form and another. Making good use of a wide array of choices for present-
ing research, both in-process and finished, can help researchers discover new
audiences and connect with prospective stakeholders and can also generate
rhetorical velocity for researchers as others reformulate their findings as well.
Works Cited
Ridolfo, Jim, and Dànielle Nicole DeVoss. “Composing for Recomposition: Rhetorical
Velocity and Delivery.” Kairos: A Journal of Rhetoric, Technology, and Pedagogy, vol.
13, no. 2, 2009, kairos.technorhetoric.net/13.2/topoi/ridolfo_devoss/index.html.
169
Try This: Research Methods for Writers
Try This explores interdisciplinary research methods employed in research in writing studies but rarely
drawn upon in undergraduate courses. This shifts writing instruction from a model of knowledge delivery
and solitary research to a pedagogy of knowledge-making and an acknowledgment of research writing as
collective, overlapping, and distributed. Each chapter is organized around methods to approach a particular
kind of primary data—texts, artifacts, places, and images. Accompanying “Try This” invention projects
in each chapter invite readers to “try” the research methods. Some projects are designed to try during
class time and take 5 to 15 minutes, while others are extensive and will take days to accomplish. Each
research writing opportunity introduced in a “Try This” invention project is designed to scaffold a research
project. Each chapter offers different genres that allow research to circulate and connect meaningfully with
audiences, including digital research posters, data visualizations, and short-form presentations.
Jennifer Clary-Lemon is Associate Professor of English at the University of Waterloo. Her research interests
include rhetorics of the environment, theories of affect, writing and location, material rhetorics, critical dis-
course studies, and research methodologies. Derek Mueller is Professor of Rhetoric and Writing and Director
of the University Writing Program at Virginia Tech. He explores questions concerning digital writing plat-
forms, networked writing practices, theories of composing, and discipliniographies or field narratives related
to writing studies. Kate Pantelides is Associate Professor of English and Director of General Education English
at Middle Tennessee State University. Her research examines workplace documents to better understand how
to improve written and professional processes, particularly as they relate to equity and inclusion.
ISBN 978-1-64215-144-2