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Isoke Nia and others take you into elementary classrooms. You'll see how students learn to write like scientists.

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Session 8: Writing Across the Curriculum: Video 16: Writing in Science

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Teacher resources and professional development across the curriculum

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Links to blogs and websites of

respected writers about science

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Every now and then, I get an email from someone who's keen to get into science writing and wants to know how I started. Whenever I reply, and I always try to, I'm always left with the nagging feeling that my experience is but one of a multitude of routes that people have taken. Science writing (whether you want to call it journalism, blogging, communication and so on) is a diverse field, as are the people working in it. It would be far more illuminating for a newbie to see a variety of stories rather than just one.

This was the origin of this thread of origins. I will be asking science writers around the world to do what they do best - tell a story - about the thing they know best - themselves. This will be a perpetual thread that I hope will act as a lasting resource for the writers of tomorrow to take inspiration from.

Some kind individuals have already submitted their stories and I hope that many more will chip in. You can already see that they're a varied bunch. Some stumbled into it by accident. Some came from traditional journalistic backgrounds. Others were bitten by a radioactive Carl Sagan. The more the stories accumulate, the better this diversity reveals itself.
Who should contribute to this thread?
Anyone who regularly writes about science, and preferably has been doing it for a couple of years now. I originally wanted to focus on science journalists but because all these definitions are bleeding into one, I'm opening it to all manner of science writers. From blogger to book writer, beginner to veteran, Asimov to Zimmer, tell us your story.
What should I say?
You'll see from the existing entries (which are virtually unedited) that there's a lot of variety in content, tone and length. This is as it should be - science writers are a diverse bunch and it would be a shame to edit them into uniformity. But essentially, there are two basic questions:

how did you make your start

what advice would you give to people in the same position?

What do I do?
Just stick a comment in with your story, who you are and what you do. If there are multiple links, it'll be diverted to my spam folder, but just email or tweet me and tell me to rescue it. Alternatively, feel free to email your story and I'll put it up on your behalf.
How do I tell people about this?
Obviously, the URL is above, but you can also link to this page from tinyurl.com/sciwriters and bit.ly/sciwriters
What about regular comments?
I'm not going to restrict people from posting regular comments initially, but I'd ask that readers keep them to a minimum. The thread's value relies on the stories taking centre-stage.

Other than that, go for it.
Who has contributed?
I'll keep a running list here, with links to their stories:

1. Carl Zimmer - blog; website, Twitter

2. Tim Radford

3. Rowan Hooper - Twitter

4. Yudhijit Bhattacharjee

5. Emilie Lorditch

6. Apoorva Mandavilli - Twitter

7. Beth Azar

8. Anne Sasso - website

9. Sarah Webb - blog, website, Twitter

10. Charlie Petit - blog

11. Jim Handman

12. Martin Robbins

13. Richard Grant

14. Fred Furtado

15. Henry Gee

16. Brain Clegg

17. Eva Amsen

18. Simon Frantz

19. Allen Salzberg

20. Catherine Schmitt

21. Gianluigi Fillippelli

22. Wendy Barnaby

23. David Bradley

24. Daniel Stolte

25. Tuan Nguyen

26. Catherine Brahic

http://steffietomson.wordpress.com/

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Every now and then, I get an email from someone who's keen to get into science writing and wants to know how I started. Whenever I reply, and I always try to, I'm always left with the nagging feeling that my experience is but one of a multitude of routes that people have taken.

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Is dull prose necessary for academic writing? Should writers of history use writing strategies similar to what narrative writers do? Those are the questions this essay addresses.

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The writing of academic history seems to be in a crisis. Historical monographs pour from the university presses-at least 1,200 or so a year-and yet have very few readers. Sometimes sales of academic history books number only in the hundreds; if it weren't for library purchases, their sales might be measured in the dozens. Most people, it seems, are not interested in reading history, at least not the history written by academic historians. Although some blame this situation on the poor teaching of history in the schools, most critics seem to think that the problem lies with the academic historians themselves. They don't know how to write history, at least the kind of history that people want to read. After all, David McCullough and other popular historians sell hundreds of thousands of history books. If they can do it, why can't the academic historians write better, more readable, more accessible history?

Historians who sell lots of books have always thought that it was their ability to write well that made them popular. Samuel Eliot Morison, a historian who was that rare bird, an academic who was a bestseller during the middle decades of the 20th century, certainly believed that. Academic historians, he said, "have forgotten that there is an art of writing history." Instead of scintillating stories that move, they write "dull, solid, valuable monographs that nobody reads outside the profession." Barbara Tuchman, who was America's most popular historian in the 1960s and 1970s, likewise believed that academic historians did not know how to write. The reason the professors of history have so few readers, she said, is that they have had too many captive audiences-first with the dissertation supervisors, then with their students in lecture halls. They really do not know how "to capture and hold the interests of an audience." David McCullough agrees, though he is too polite to put it so bluntly. History is in trouble, he suggests, because most academic historians have forgotten how to tell a story. "That's what history is," he says, "a story."

Alas, if it were only that simple. Academic historians have not forgotten how to tell a story. Instead, most of them have purposefully chosen not to tell stories; that is, they have chosen not to write narrative history. Narrative history is a particular kind of history-writing whose popularity comes from the fact that it resembles a story. It lays out the events of the past in chronological order, like a story, with a beginning, middle, and end. Such narrative history usually concentrates on individual personalities and on unique public happenings, the kinds of events that might have made headlines in the past. Since politics tends to dominate the headlines, politics has traditionally formed the backbone of narrative history.

Instead of writing this kind of narrative history, most academic historians, especially at the beginning of their careers, have chosen to write what might be described as analytic history, specialized and often narrowly focused monographs usually based on their PhD dissertations. Recent examples include an account of artisan workers in Petersburg, Virginia, between 1820 and 1865; a study of the Republican Party and the African American vote between 1928 and 1952; and an analysis of the aristocracy in the county of Champagne in France between 1100 and 1300. Such particular studies seek to solve problems in the past that the works of previous historians have exposed, or to resolve discrepancies between different historical accounts, or to fill in gaps that the existing historical literature has missed or ignored. In other words, beginning academic historians usually select their topics by surveying what previous academic historians have said. They then find errors, openings, or niches in the historiography that they can correct, fill in, or build upon. Their studies, however narrow they may seem, are not insignificant. It is through their specialized studies that they contribute to the collective effort of the profession to expand our knowledge of the past.

The writing of these sorts of historical monographs grew out of the 19th-century noble dream that history might become an objective science-a science that would resemble if not the natural sciences of physics or chemistry, then at least the social sciences-economics, sociology, anthropology, psychology-that were emerging at the same time as professionally written history. Monographic history therefore assumes that history is a kind of science; that is, that historical knowledge is accumulative and that the steady accretion of specialized monographs will eventually deepen and broaden our understanding of the past. Although recent critics have mocked the "noble dream" that history resembles a science, the monographs written over the past century have gradually built one upon another to the point where we now know more, and more accurately, about more aspects of past human behavior than ever before.

All those scholarly monographs that Morison called "dull" and "solid" have advanced the discipline in extraordinary ways over the past century. Each of them may not have sold more than a few thousand copies at best, but, as Morison conceded, they were "valuable." In their multiplicity they are the reason we know much more about the histories of slavery, women, and hosts of other subjects than we ever knew before. They have opened up new areas of research and have penetrated into the most private, subjective, and least accessible characteristics of past life, including marriage, sexual relations, and child rearing. They have exploited demographic data and all sorts of popular nonverbal behavior to reconstruct the lives of masses of ordinary men and women who left no written record. Of course, all these gains have often come at the expense of traditional political or narrative history.

The dream of the historians who organized the American Historical Association more than a century ago has been more than fulfilled. Despite the sometimes gross presentism of much current history writing and despite some historians' efforts to use history as an ideological weapon in contemporary politics, most historians writing today still yearn to be as objective and as true to the past as historians of the late 19th century did, and most present-day academic historians still judge each other's works in accord with the standards developed by the generation that created the historical profession over a century ago.

But conceiving of history as a kind of science means that most academic history-writing will necessarily have a limited readership. Like papers in the other sciences, monographic history is written largely for people within the discipline. Since the monographs build upon one another, the writers of these monographs usually presume that readers will have read the earlier books on the same subject; that is, that they will possess some prior specialized knowledge that will enable them to participate in the conversations and debates that historians have among themselves. This is why most historical monographs are often difficult for general readers to read; new and innocent readers often have to educate themselves in the historiography of the subject before they can begin to make sense of many of these monographs.

So advising academic historians that they have to write more stimulating prose if they want to enlarge their readership misses the point. It is not heavy and difficult prose that limits their readers; it is rather the subjects they choose to write about and their conception of their readership as fellow historians engaged in an accumulative science.

The problem at the present is that the monographs have become so numerous and so refined and so specialized that most academic historians have tended to throw up their hands at the possibility of synthesizing all these studies, of bringing them together in comprehensive narratives. Thus the academics have generally left narrative history writing to the nonacademic historians who unfortunately often write without much concern for or much knowledge of the extensive monographic literature that exists. If academic historians want popular narrative history that is solidly based on the monographic literature, then they will have to write it themselves.

Gordon S. Wood is the Alva O. Way University Professor and professor of history emeritus at Brown University. His most recent book is Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic, 1789-1815 . This article was first published as a podcast on the web site of the Washington Post .

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In Defense of Academic History Writing | AHA

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The writing of academic history seems to be in a crisis. Historical monographs pour from the university presses-at least 1,200 or so a year-and yet have very few readers. Sometimes sales of academic history books number only in the hundreds; if it weren't for library purchases, their sales might be measured in the dozens.

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What about passive voice in writing about science?

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What about passive voice in writing about science?

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Duke University provides guidance

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Dig through this site to find tips for writing fiction, poetry, and non-fiction.

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Writer's Digest is the No.1 Resource for Writers, Celebrating the Writing Life and What it Means to be a Writer in Today's Publishing Environment.

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Use this Amazon preview to check out excerpts from this book.

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Even though this article focuses on reading, it has implications for writing instruction.

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Thinking Like a Historian

By Sam Wineburg

Historical Thinking: Memorizing Facts and Stuff?

When I recently asked Kevin, a sixteen-year-old high school junior, what he needed to do well in history class, he had little doubt: "A good memory."

"Anything else?"

"Nope. Just memorize facts and stuff, know 'em cold, and when you get the test, give it all back to the teacher."

"What about thinking? Does that have anything to do with history?"

"Nope. It's all pretty simple. Stuff happened a long time ago. People wrote it down. Others copied it and put it in a book. History!"

I've spent nearly 20 years studying how high school students learn history. Over the years I've met many Kevins, for whom the life has been sucked out of history, leaving only a grim list of names and dates. When confronted with the term "historical thinking," many students scratch their heads in confusion, stumped by an alleged connection.

Historians as Detectives: Searching for Evidence Among Primary Sources

The funny thing is that when you ask historians what they do, a different picture emerges. They see themselves as detectives searching for evidence among primary sources to a mystery that can never be completely solved. Wouldn't this image be more enticing to a bored high school student? It would, and that's one reason why thinking like a historian deserves a place in the American classroom, the sooner the better.

To historians, history is an argument about what facts should or shouldn't mean. Even when historians are able to piece together the basic story of what happened, they rarely agree about what an event means or what caused it. Historians argue about the past's meaning and what it has to tell us in the present.

But, you may ask, if history has already happened, what's there to argue about? Plenty. Was the American Revolution a fight against tyranny or an attempt by the well bred to maintain their social status? Was the Cold War really a conflict of democracy versus communism or a struggle between two superpowers for dominance?

Divergent opinions swirl around these questions and other matters of unsettled history - opinions that get students talking, and thinking, and learning. But while everyone is entitled to an opinion, not every opinion deserves to be believed. In history, a persuasive opinion is one backed up by evidence.

What is Historical Thinking?

It would be easy to conclude that historians simply know more about American history than high school students do. But this isn't necessarily the case. Beyond highly specialized areas of concentrations, even doctoral level historians don't possess factual knowledge about every topic. What historians do have is a "historical approach" to primary sources that is often taken for granted by those practiced in it. However, this approach unlocks a world closed to untutored readers.

For example, before approaching a document, historians come prepared with a list of questions-about author, context, time period-that form a mental framework for the details to follow. Most important of all, these questions transform the act of reading from passive reception to an engaged and passionate interrogation. If we want students to remember historical facts, this approach, not memorization, is the key.

Teaching Students to Think Historically

How can teachers help their students to begin thinking like historians? Teaching a way of thinking requires making thinking visible. We need to show students not only what historians think, but how they think, and then guide students as they learn to engage in this process.

Consider introducing students to several specific strategies for reading historical documents: sourcing, contextualizing, close reading, using background knowledge, reading the silences, and corroborating. Each strategy is defined below, followed by teaching ideas.

Sourcing: Think about a document's author and its creation.

Select a historical document, such as a diary entry, letter or memo, and provide students with copies. Model for students how to scan the document for its attribution, often at the end, as a first step instead of reading the text from beginning to end. Demonstrate how to begin questioning the source by posing questions to the class: Who created this document? When? For what purpose? How trustworthy might this source be? Why?

Contextualizing: Situate the document and its events in time and place.

Encourage students to brainstorm the document's historical context, piecing together major events, themes, and people that distinguish the era or period in which the document was created. List students' responses for the class to add to and refer to during close reading.

Close reading: Carefully consider what the document says and the language used to say it.

Teachers can model this strategy with a brief (90 seconds) "think-aloud" while reading the document to students. Try to verbalize every thought that comes to mind, no matter how trivial, as you try to make meaning of the document's account. For example, you may notice interesting words or phrases ("I've never heard that expression before"), consider contextual clues about time, place or people ("Hmm, that may be a reference to...") or question facts, opinions and perspectives ("I wonder if that's what really happened?").

Using Background Knowledge: Use historical information and knowledge to read and understand the document.

Encourage students to practice this strategy by pausing to ask as they read: What else do I know about this topic? What other knowledge do I possess that might apply?

Reading the Silences: Identify what has been left out or is missing from the document by asking questions of its account.

After reading the document, ask students to think about what they did not hear. Prompt class discussion with questions: What is the document's author not mentioning? Whose voices are we not hearing in a particular document or historical account? Which perspectives are missing?

Corroborating: Ask questions about important details across multiple sources to determine points of agreement and disagreement.

Ask students how they could proceed with this historical investigation: What questions arise, after careful reading and interpretation of the document? What other primary sources might corroborate or refute this interpretation? Have students discuss their responses in pairs and then share with the class.

You can also apply these strategies to reading textbooks. Textbooks offer an interpretation of history, but none gives us the final word. For example, textbook authors try to combine perspectives but they can never escape the fact that textbook is written by people living in a particular time and place. As such, textbooks record our contemporary (and unrecognized) assumptions, biases, and blind spots. One way to teach for historical thinking using a textbook is to have students compare its story of a historic event with evidence from primary sources. Another idea is to compare a current textbook's account of, say, the Spanish-American war with a textbook version written fifty or hundred years ago. Get students thinking with this question: "If history already happened, why does it keep changing?"

Any teacher's goal (and his or her students' goals) in reading and thinking like a historian should be to treat with skepticism any account that claims to present a full story of the past. Achieving this goal requires students to:

Question the source

Evaluate the evidence it offers for its assertions

Read and consider the source more carefully than any historical account read before.

Why Teach Students to "Think Like Historians?"

Students need to be taught to "think like historians" not because they will become professional historians but precisely because most won't. The goals of school history are not vocational but to prepare students to tolerate complexity, to adapt to new situations, and to resist the first answer that comes to mind.

When a video uploaded from a cell phone in Tehran can be transmitted to San Francisco in half a second, history reminds us to start with basic questions: Who sent it? Can it be trusted? What did the camera angle miss? There's no shortage of forces telling students what to think. In this daily avalanche of information, students have never been in greater need of ways to make sense of it all.

Kevin's right: Without thinking, history is meaningless. But when you add thinking, especially the specific skills of "thinking historically," the past comes to life. In the end that is what reading, and thinking-and I would add, teaching-like a historian is all about.

Sam Wineburg, Stanford University, is the author of Historical Thinking and Other Unnatural Acts: Charting the Future of Teaching the Past, winner of the 2002 Frederick W. Ness Award for the "most important contribution to understanding the liberal arts" by the American Association of Colleges and Universities. He also directs the Library of Congress Teaching with Primary Sources (TPS) program at Stanford University. Learn more at http://sheg.stanford.edu.

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By Sam Wineburg When I recently asked Kevin, a sixteen-year-old high school junior, what he needed to do well in history class, he had little doubt: "A good memory." "Anything else?" "Nope. Just memorize facts and stuff, know 'em cold, and when you get the test, give it all back to the teacher."

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On this padlet, you'll find ideas for writing to learn, the more informal style of writing designed to help students explore, refine, and develop ideas.

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Yale has provided student models of writing in a variety of disciplines, including Bio-Ethics, English, History, Philosophy, and others

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Writing | Center for Teaching and Learning

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Advice on how to propose WR courses, design assignments, comment more effectively, and many other elements of teaching writing.

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University of Richmond's advice to writers in a variety of disciplines -- contains multiple links to disciplines such as anthropology, business, music, and dance.

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Writer's Web: Writing in the Disciplines

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Writing in the Disciplines Site design by Amanda Haislip, Athena Hensel, Kathleen Lietzau, Kelsey Shields, and Megan Venable

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Principles of historical writing: thinking like a historian

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Principles of historical writing: thinking like a historian

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Tips from the University of Richmond's Writing Center

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Principles of Historical Writing: Thinking Like an Historian
( printable version here)

As Richard Marius and Melvin E. Page attest in their book A Short Guide to Writing About History, "history and writing are inseparable." How would we know of past events if it they had never been documented? Even the stories and myths of ancient cultures, many of which relied heavily on the oral tradition, were subject to intense transformations after years of repetition. Writing, therefore, is what propels information and ideas into permanence, or what are customarily referred to as 'the annals of history."

A representation of the Gutenberg Printing
Press, 15th century, which forever revolutionized the
dissemination of information.

Still, writing about history requires careful scrutiny. This is not to say that historical writing is particularly difficult or complicated, but it does require thought processes that some may be unaccustomed to. Indeed, unique questions must be considered, and the first step to answering such questions involves thinking as an historian. Outlined below are seven principles of historical thinking and writing that, if followed, will ensure that your mind is on the right track.

1. Take the time to think and prepare
2. Place yourself in the times
3. Careful consideration of evidence and viewpoints
4. Focus your topic
5. Be open to the possibility of having to change your topic
6. Mind your audience
7. Avoid restating others' ideas--add personal value

When preparing to write for a history course, do not simply rush into the writing process! Dr. Hugh West, chair of the history department, finds that many students underprepare for their writing assignments. When considering an idea or ideas that you'd like to explore, think ahead. Ask yourself, is my proposed idea or argument feasible? What obstacles might I encounter during the writing process? Should I research more about my topic?

As you consider such questions, be sure to organize your thoughts on paper before you begin writing. Different strategies work for different people--some prefer writing complete and detailed outlines, while others prefer 'blocking' their ideas together in a web of interrelated concepts. However you would like to approach this, be sure to write down new and useful ideas as you think of them. Don't let them escape your immediate attention by turning to another point...write them down!

On the home page of this writing handbook lies a quotation from Francis Parkman which stresses the importance of being aware of the contemporary context of the time period about which you are writing. For example, when rationalizing or explaining the actions of past individuals, it is important to take into account the standards of thinking and prevailing ideologies of the times. As Parkman suggested, a writer must become a "sharer or spectator of the action that he describes."

Be sure to keep in mind the essential questions

Who? Who were the principal actors in a given event or time period?

What? What was being acted upon? What was at stake?

When? When did it occur? More importantly, in what order did things occur? What events led to others?

Where? Where did it occur? What groups of people were involved and where did they reside?

Why and, more importantly, How? These are the classic and ultimate questions that historians ask. Why and how did things happen as they did? In the words of Dr. John Treadway, the analysis of history is analogous not to a simple description of 'the watch', but of the 'watch mechanism'.

This principle also concerns the use of voice. In general, when writing in history, the use of the past tense is preferred.

Evidence is what legitimizes your prose. In acquiring such evidence, be sure to:

Consider a variety of resources, including both primary and secondary sources

Always consider opposing viewpoints. Consider which arguments could be used against yours, and how you can refute them.

Avoid being selective; be open to whatever discoveries you may find when acquiring evidence; don't pass up an argument simply because it does not follow your previous ideas.

Document evidence as you acquire it...you never want to have to go back through your paper after the fact and search for the page numbers for which you need citations.

Explain the significance of the evidence that you present. Dr. West notes that the use of evidence in history differs from the social sciences--it is often spotty, does not speak for itself, and requires careful explanation.

The consideration of evidence, and the best ways of approaching it, will be discussed in further detail in the next section.

There is such a wealth of knowledge throughout history that focusing your topic is essential to performing reasonable historical analysis. Often, historians utilize specific, focused research to answer broader topics.

For example, you might be interested in researching Winston Churchill, but entire books have been published analyzing Churchill's life and actions. Instead, you might narrow your focus toward Churchill's leadership during World War II. Even then, you may find that your topic is too broad. You might narrow it even further by focusing on Winston Churchill and his policy towards a particular country or region in World War II. You might be surprised to find the wealth of information that would be available to you.

In the course of performing your research, keep in mind that you may have to refocus or realign your topic or thesis as you delve further into sources. If you find evidence that seems to contradict the argument that you intend to make, it would be better to alter your argument to take that new information into account than it would be to ignore it and move forward with your original argument.

This principle is particularly true in cases where personal biases might tend to dictate one's aims in writing. Attempt to rid yourself of partial or biased opinions when approaching a topic for research. Dr. Treadway stresses that the goal of a historian should be to tell, ostensibly, what happened objectively. Objectivity, therefore, is of paramount importance when considering evidence.

Historians must keep their audience in mind when writing. In the case of undergraduate students, in particular, keep in mind that you are writing a paper to be turned into a professor who has likely outlined very specific expectations. If you are ever unsure of something regarding an assignment, contact the professor, don't simply assume that one way is to suffice over another. Keep the following ideas handy when "minding your audience":

Often professors will frown upon a simple 're-telling' of an event or time period. Unless specifically stated otherwise by the professor, your analysis and interpretation should take precedence over your re-telling of a sequence of events.

Despite the above point, always be certain to define particular terms. Although you are often writing for a professor that will be familiar with such terms, you will reinforce the logical progression of your paper by defining important terms and ideas as you write.

Pay particular attention to your professor's expectations for citing and referencing sources; improperly cited work can result in allegations of plagiarism and, if accused at the University of Richmond, to be brought before the Honor Council.

While the consideration, and sometimes reiteration, of the thoughts and ideas of other authors is extremely useful, a history student should always strive to add a personal element to their argument. This may seem like a daunting task... you may ask, "how am I to come up with an idea which professional historians have not yet written of?" Yet this process is not as difficult as it may seem. Take the time to acknowledge the arguments that others have made, but also look for new connections, relationships, or subtleties that may be relevant to the topic about which you are writing.

Dr. Eric S. Yellin offers particular advice with regard to this principle:
"Be creative. Look over your sources and then find interesting or surprising connections among them. Never regurgitate or summarize: look for the hidden truth or the unusual thread. Historical interpretation can be a creative endeavor if you learn to combine facts and evidence with imagination."

Other Disciplines | Writer's Web | Copyright Info Writing Center | Make an Appointment | Library | History Department

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Writing in the Disciplines: History - Principles of Historical Writing: Thinking Like an Historian

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Principles of Historical Writing: Thinking Like an Historian ( printable version here) As Richard Marius and Melvin E. Page attest in their book A Short Guide to Writing About History , "history and writing are inseparable." How would we know of past events if it they had never been documented?

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University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's advice on writing about literature

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University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's advice on writing about literature

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What this handout is about

This handout describes some steps for planning and writing papers about fiction texts. For information on writing about other kinds of literature, please see the Writing Center's handouts on writing about drama and poetry explications.

Demystifying the process

Writing an analysis of a piece of fiction can be a mystifying process. First, literary analyses (or papers that offer an interpretation of a story) rely on the assumption that stories must mean something. How does a story mean something? Isn't a story just an arrangement of characters and events? And if the author wanted to convey a meaning, wouldn't he or she be much better off writing an essay just telling us what he or she meant?

It's pretty easy to see how at least some stories convey clear meanings or morals. Just think about a parable like the prodigal son or a nursery tale about "crying wolf." Stories like these are reduced down to the bare elements, giving us just enough detail to lead us to their main points, and because they are relatively easy to understand and tend to stick in our memories, they're often used in some kinds of education.

But if the meanings were always as clear as they are in parables, who would really need to write a paper analyzing them? Interpretations of fiction would not be interesting if the meanings of the stories were clear to everyone who reads them. Thankfully (or perhaps regrettably, depending on your perspective) the stories we're asked to interpret in our classes are a good bit more complicated than most parables. They use characters, settings, and actions to illustrate issues that have no easy resolution. They show different sides of a problem, and they can raise new questions. In short, the stories we read in class have meanings that are arguable and complicated, and it's our job to sort them out.

It might seem that the stories do have specific meanings, and the instructor has already decided what those meanings are. Not true. Instructors can be pretty dazzling (or mystifying) with their interpretations, but that's because they have a lot of practice with stories and have developed a sense of the kinds of things to look for. Even so, the most well-informed professor rarely arrives at conclusions that someone else wouldn't disagree with. In fact, most professors are aware that their interpretations are debatable and actually love a good argument. But let's not go to the other extreme. To say that there is no one answer is not to say that anything we decide to say about a novel or short story is valid, interesting, or valuable. Interpretations of fiction are often opinions, but not all opinions are equal.

So what makes a valid and interesting opinion? A good interpretation of fiction will:

avoid the obvious (in other words, it won't argue a conclusion that most readers could reach on their own from a general knowledge of the story)

support its main points with strong evidence from the story

use careful reasoning to explain how that evidence relates to the main points of the interpretation.

The following steps are intended as a guide through the difficult process of writing an interpretive paper that meets these criteria. Writing tends to be a highly individual task, so adapt these suggestions to fit your own habits and inclinations.

Writing a paper on fiction in 9 steps

1. Become familiar with the text

There's no substitute for a good general knowledge of your story. A good paper inevitably begins with the writer having a solid understanding of the work that he or she interprets. Being able to have the whole book, short story, or play in your head-at least in a general way-when you begin thinking through ideas will be a great help and will actually allow you to write the paper more quickly in the long run. It's even a good idea to spend some time just thinking about the story. Flip back through the book and consider what interests you about this piece of writing-what seemed strange, new, or important?

2. Explore potential topics

Perhaps your instructor has given you a list of topics to choose, or perhaps you have been asked to create your own. Either way, you'll need to generate ideas to use in the paper-even with an assigned topic, you'll have to develop your own interpretation. Let's assume for now that you are choosing your own topic.

After reading your story, a topic may just jump out at you, or you may have recognized a pattern or identified a problem that you'd like to think about in more detail. What is a pattern or a problem?

A pattern can be the recurrence of certain kinds of imagery or events. Usually, repetition of particular aspects of a story (similar events in the plot, similar descriptions, even repetition of particular words) tends to render those elements more conspicuous. Let's say I'm writing a paper on Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein. In the course of reading that book, I keep noticing the author's use of biblical imagery: Victor Frankenstein anticipates that "a new species would bless me as its creator and source" (52) while the monster is not sure whether to consider himself as an Adam or a Satan. These details might help me interpret the way characters think about themselves and about each other, as well as allow me to infer what the author might have wanted her reader to think by using the Bible as a frame of reference. On another subject, I also notice that the book repeatedly refers to types of education. The story mentions books that its characters read and the different contexts in which learning takes place.

A problem, on the other hand, is something in the story that bugs you or that doesn't seem to add up. A character might act in some way that's unaccountable, a narrator may leave out what we think is important information (or may focus on something that seems trivial), or a narrator or character may offer an explanation that doesn't seem to make sense to us. Not all problems lead in interesting directions, but some definitely do and even seem to be important parts of the story. In Frankenstein, Victor works day and night to achieve his goal of bringing life to the dead, but once he realizes his goal, he is immediately repulsed by his creation and runs away. Why? Is there something wrong with his creation, something wrong with his goal in the first place, or something wrong with Victor himself? The book doesn't give us a clear answer but seems to invite us to interpret this problem.

If nothing immediately strikes you as interesting or no patterns or problems jump out at you, don't worry. Just start making a list of whatever you remember from your reading, regardless of how insignificant it may seem to you now. Consider a character's peculiar behavior or comments, the unusual way the narrator describes an event, or the author's placement of an action in an odd context. (Step 5 will cover some further elements of fiction that you might find useful at this stage as well.)

There's a good chance that some of these intriguing moments and oddities will relate to other points in the story, eventually revealing some kind of pattern and giving you potential topics for your paper. Also keep in mind that if you found something peculiar in the story you're writing about, chances are good that other people will have been perplexed by these moments in the story as well and will be interested to see how you make sense of it all. It's even a good idea to test your ideas out on a friend, a classmate, or an instructor since talking about your ideas will help you develop them and push them beyond obvious interpretations of the story. And it's only by pushing those ideas that you can write a paper that raises interesting issues or problems and that offers creative interpretations related to those issues.

3. Select a topic with a lot of evidence

If you're selecting from a number of possible topics, narrow down your list by identifying how much evidence or how many specific details you could use to investigate each potential issue. Do this step just off the top of your head. Keep in mind that persuasive papers rely on ample evidence and that having a lot of details to choose from can also make your paper easier to write.

It might be helpful at this point to jot down all the events or elements of the story that have some bearing on the two or three topics that seem most promising. This can give you a more visual sense of how much evidence you will have to work with on each potential topic. It's during this activity that having a good knowledge of your story will come in handy and save you a lot of time. Don't launch into a topic without considering all the options first because you may end up with a topic that seemed promising initially but that only leads to a dead end.

4. Write out a working thesis

Based on the evidence that relates to your topic-and what you anticipate you might say about those pieces of evidence-come up with a working thesis. Don't spend a lot of time composing this statement at this stage since it will probably change (and a changing thesis statement is a good sign that you're starting to say more interesting and complex things on your subject). At this point in my Frankenstein project, I've become interested in ideas on education that seem to appear pretty regularly, and I have a general sense that aspects of Victor's education lead to tragedy. Without considering things too deeply, I'll just write something like "Victor Frankenstein's tragic ambition was fueled by a faulty education."

5. Make an extended list of evidence

Once you have a working topic in mind, skim back over the story and make a more comprehensive list of the details that relate to your point. For my paper about education in Frankenstein, I'll want to take notes on what Victor Frankenstein reads at home, where he goes to school and why, what he studies at school, what others think about those studies, etc. And even though I'm primarily interested in Victor's education, at this stage in the writing, I'm also interested in moments of education in the novel that don't directly involve this character. These other examples might provide a context or some useful contrasts that could illuminate my evidence relating to Victor. With this goal in mind, I'll also take notes on how the monster educates himself, what he reads, and what he learns from those he watches. As you make your notes keep track of page numbers so you can quickly find the passages in your book again and so you can easily document quoted passages when you write without having to fish back through the book.

At this point, you want to include anything, anything, that might be useful, and you also want to avoid the temptation to arrive at definite conclusions about your topic. Remember that one of the qualities that makes for a good interpretation is that it avoids the obvious. You want to develop complex ideas, and the best way to do that is to keep your ideas flexible until you've considered the evidence carefully. A good gauge of complexity is whether you feel you understand more about your topic than you did when you began (and even just reaching a higher state of confusion is a good indicator that you're treating your topic in a complex way).

When you jot down ideas, you can focus on the observations from the narrator or things that certain characters say or do. These elements are certainly important. It might help you come up with more evidence if you also take into account some of the broader components that go into making fiction, things like plot, point of view, character, setting, and symbols.

Plot is the string of events that go into the narrative. Think of this as the "who did what to whom" part of the story. Plots can be significant in themselves since chances are pretty good that some action in the story will relate to your main idea. For my paper on education in Frankenstein, I'm interested in Victor's going to the University of Ingolstadt to realize his father's wish that Victor attend school where he could learn about a another culture. Plots can also allow you to make connections between the story you're interpreting and some other stories, and those connections might be useful in your interpretation. For example, the plot of Frankenstein, which involves a man who desires to bring life to the dead and creates a monster in the process, bears some similarity to the ancient Greek story of Icarus who flew too close to the sun on his wax wings. Both tell the story of a character who reaches too ambitiously after knowledge and suffers dire consequences.

Your plot could also have similarities to whole groups of other stories, all having conventional or easily recognizable plots. These types of stories are often called genres. Some popular genres include the gothic, the romance, the detective story, the bildungsroman (this is just a German term for a novel that is centered around the development of its main characters), and the novel of manners (a novel that focuses on the behavior and foibles of a particular class or social group). These categories are often helpful in characterizing a piece of writing, but this approach has its limitations. Many novels don't fit nicely into one genre, and others seem to borrow a bit from a variety of different categories. For example, given my working thesis on education, I am more interested in Victor's development than in relating Frankenstein to the gothic genre, so I might decide to treat the novel as a bildungsroman.

And just to complicate matters that much more, genre can sometimes take into account not only the type of plot but the form the novelist uses to convey that plot. A story might be told in a series of letters (this is called an epistolary form), in a sequence of journal entries, or in a combination of forms (Frankenstein is actually told as a journal included within a letter).

These matters of form also introduce questions of point of view, that is, who is telling the story and what do they or don't they know. Is the tale told by an omniscient or all-knowing narrator who doesn't interact in the events, or is it presented by one of the characters within the story? Can the reader trust that person to give an objective account, or does that narrator color the story with his or her own biases and interests?

Character refers to the qualities assigned to the individual figures in the plot. Consider why the author assigns certain qualities to a character or characters and how any such qualities might relate to your topic. For example, a discussion of Victor Frankenstein's education might take into account aspects of his character that appear to be developed (or underdeveloped) by the particular kind of education he undertakes. Victor tends to be ambitious, even compulsive about his studies, and I might be able to argue that his tendency to be extravagant leads him to devote his own education to writers who asserted grand, if questionable, conclusions.

Setting is the environment in which all of the actions take place. What is the time period, the location, the time of day, the season, the weather, the type of room or building? What is the general mood, and who is present? All of these elements can reflect on the story's events, and though the setting of a story tends to be less conspicuous than plot and character, setting still colors everything that's said and done within its context. If Victor Frankenstein does all of his experiments in "a solitary chamber, or rather a cell, at the top of the house, and separated from all the other apartments by a staircase" (53) we might conclude that there is something anti-social, isolated, and stale, maybe even unnatural about his project and his way of learning.

Obviously, if you consider all of these elements, you'll probably have too much evidence to fit effectively into one paper. Your goal is merely to consider each of these aspects of fiction and include only those that are most relevant to your topic and most interesting to your reader. A good interpretive paper does not need to cover all elements of the story-plot, genre, narrative form, character, and setting. In fact, a paper that did try to say something about all of these elements would be unfocused. You might find that most of your topic could be supported by a consideration of character alone. That's fine. For my Frankenstein paper, I'm finding that my evidence largely has to do with the setting, evidence that could lead to some interesting conclusions that my reader probably hasn't recognized on his or her own.

6. Select your evidence

Once you've made your expanded list of evidence, decide which supporting details are the strongest. First, select the facts which bear the closest relation to your thesis statement. Second, choose the pieces of evidence you'll be able to say the most about. Readers tend to be more dazzled with your interpretations of evidence than with a lot of quotes from the book. It would be useful to refer to Victor Frankenstein's youthful reading in alchemy, but my reader will be more impressed by some analysis of how the writings of the alchemists-who pursued magical principles of chemistry and physics-reflect the ambition of his own goals. Select the details that will allow you to show off your own reasoning skills and allow you to help the reader see the story in a way he or she may not have seen it before.

7. Refine your thesis

Now it's time to go back to your working thesis and refine it so that it reflects your new understanding of your topic. This step and the previous step (selecting evidence) are actually best done at the same time, since selecting your evidence and defining the focus of your paper depend upon each other. Don't forget to consider the scope of your project: how long is the paper supposed to be, and what can you reasonably cover in a paper of that length? In rethinking the issue of education in Frankenstein, I realize that I can narrow my topic in a number of ways: I could focus on education and culture (Victor's education abroad), education in the sciences as opposed to the humanities (the monster reads Milton, Goethe, and Plutarch), or differences in learning environments (e.g. independent study, university study, family reading). Since I think I found some interesting evidence in the settings that I can interpret in a way that will get my reader's attention, I'll take this last option and refine my working thesis about Victor's faulty education to something like this:

"Victor Frankenstein's education in unnaturally isolated environments fosters his tragic ambition."

8. Organize your evidence

Once you have a clear thesis you can go back to your list of selected evidence and group all the similar details together. The ideas that tie these clusters of evidence together can then become the claims that you'll make in your paper. As you begin thinking about what claims you can make (i.e. what kinds of conclusion you can come to) keep in mind that they should not only relate to all the evidence but also clearly support your thesis. Once you're satisfied with the way you've grouped your evidence and with the way that your claims relate to your thesis, you can begin to consider the most logical way to organize each of those claims. To support my thesis about Frankenstein, I've decided to group my evidence chronologically. I'll start with Victor's education at home, then discuss his learning at the University, and finally address his own experiments. This arrangement will let me show that Victor was always prone to isolation in his education and that this tendency gets stronger as he becomes more ambitious.

There are certainly other organizational options that might work better depending on the type of points I want to stress. I could organize a discussion of education by the various forms of education found in the novel (for example, education through reading, through classrooms, and through observation), by specific characters (education for Victor, the monster, and Victor's bride, Elizabeth), or by the effects of various types of education (those with harmful, beneficial, or neutral effects).

9. Interpret your evidence

Avoid the temptation to load your paper with evidence from your story. Each time you use a specific reference to your story, be sure to explain the significance of that evidence in your own words. To get your readers' interest, you need to draw their attention to elements of the story that they wouldn't necessarily notice or understand on their own. If you're quoting passages without interpreting them, you're not demonstrating your reasoning skills or helping the reader. In most cases, interpreting your evidence merely involves putting into your paper what is already in your head. Remember that we, as readers, are lazy-all of us. We don't want to have to figure out a writer's reasoning for ourselves; we want all the thinking to be done for us in the paper.

General hints

The previous nine steps are intended to give you a sense of the tasks usually involved in writing a good interpretive paper. What follows are just some additional hints that might help you find an interesting topic and maybe even make the process a little more enjoyable.

Make your thesis relevant to your readers

You'll be able to keep your readers' attention more easily if you pick a topic that relates to daily experience. Avoid writing a paper that identifies a pattern in a story but doesn't quite explain why that pattern leads to an interesting interpretation. Identifying the biblical references in Frankenstein might provide a good start to a paper-Mary Shelley does use a lot of biblical allusions-but a good paper must also tell the reader why those references are meaningful. So what makes an interesting paper topic? Simply put, it has to address issues that we can use in our own lives. Your thesis should be able to answer the brutal question "So what?" Does your paper tell your reader something relevant about the context of the story you're interpreting or about the human condition?

Some categories, like race, gender, and social class, are dependable sources of interest. This is not to say that all good papers necessarily deal with one of these issues. My thesis on education in Frankenstein does not. But a lot of readers would probably be less interested in reading a paper that traces the instances of water imagery than in reading a paper that compares male or female stereotypes used in a story or that takes a close look at relationships between characters of different races. Again, don't feel compelled to write on race, gender, or class. The main idea is that you ask yourself whether the topic you've selected connects with a major human concern, and there are a lot of options here (for example, issues that relate to economics, family dynamics, education, religion, law, politics, sexuality, history, and psychology, among others).

Also, don't assume that as long as you address one of these issues, your paper will be interesting. As mentioned in step 2, you need to address these big topics in a complex way. Doing this requires that you don't go into a topic with a preconceived notion of what you'll find. Be prepared to challenge your own ideas about what gender, race, or class mean in a particular text.

Select a topic of interest to you

Though you may feel like you have to select a topic that sounds like something your instructor would be interested in, don't overlook the fact that you'll be more invested in your paper and probably get more out of it if you make the topic something pertinent to yourself. Pick a topic that might allow you to learn about yourself and what you find important.

Of course, your topic can't entirely be of your choosing. We're always at the mercy of the evidence that's available to us. For example, your interest may really be in political issues, but if you're reading Frankenstein, you might face some difficulties in finding enough evidence to make a good paper on that kind of topic. If, on the other hand, you're interested in ethics, philosophy, science, psychology, religion, or even geography, you'll probably have more than enough to write about and find yourself in the good position of having to select only the best pieces of evidence.

Make your thesis specific

The effort to be more specific almost always leads to a thesis that will get your reader's attention, and it also separates you from the crowd as someone who challenges ideas and looks into topics more deeply. A paper about education in general in Frankenstein will probably not get my reader's attention as much as a more specific topic about the impact of the learning environment on the main character. My readers may have already thought to some extent about ideas of education in the novel, if they have read it, but the chance that they have thought through something more specific like the educational environment is slimmer.

Works consulted

We consulted these works while writing the original version of this handout. This is not a comprehensive list of resources on the handout's topic, and we encourage you to do your own research to find the latest publications on this topic. Please do not use this list as a model for the format of your own reference list, as it may not match the citation style you are using. For guidance on formatting citations, please see the UNC Libraries citation tutorial.

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein: Or, The Modern Prometheus. New York: Signet, 1965.

Barnet, Sylvan. A Short Guide to Writing About Literature. 9th ed. New York: Longman, 2003.

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Literature (Fiction) - The Writing Center

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What this handout is about This handout describes some steps for planning and writing papers about fiction texts. For information on writing about other kinds of literature, please see the Writing Center's handouts on writing about drama and poetry explications. ... Continued

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This site provides tips for writing about literature at the college level.

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This handout provides examples and description about writing papers in literature. It discusses research topics, how to begin to research, how to use information, and formatting.

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A professor shares an essay he wrote for his undergraduate students on how to write an effective essay for political science

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Below is an essay that I wrote for my undergraduate class last semester, providing them with my (doubtless idiosyncratic) ideas about how to write good political science essays. It's also available under a CC license in , as well as MultiMarkdown (its native format), LaTeX and in case someone wants to play around with it. Feel free to suggest improvements, point out grammatical errors or typos etc in comments, or indeed to comment generally on good and lousy writing in undergraduate papers.

UPDATE: Some small improvements made

Good Writing in Political Science: An Undergraduate Student's Short Illustrated Primer

By Henry Farrell

Version 1.01

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Leo Tolstoy famously observed that "happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." 2 Tolstoy, happily for all of us, was not a teaching political scientist. Had he been, he might have observed that undergraduate political science papers are subject to a different logic. Really good papers are unique - each has its own particular thesis, style of argumentation, body of empirical evidence and set of conclusions. Really bad papers, in contrast, tend toward a dismal uniformity. They draw on the same evidence (garbled versions of what the professor has presented in class), are organized according to similar principles of incoherence, and all wend their eventual ways towards banal conclusions that strenuously avoid making any claims or positive arguments whatsoever.

This short set of guidelines cannot make you into a really good essayist. For that you need time, practice, and native genius. What it can do, however, is help you avoid some of the most common pitfalls of undergraduate essay writers. You can surely avoid being a very bad essayist, and you can very likely become a better essayist than you are already. What follows is a short set of suggestions, accompanied, where available, with cautionary examples drawn from online essay mills.

Read the Requirements for the Assignment

This suggestion may be taken as insulting because it is so obvious; still, it is commonly ignored in practice. The professor usually drops some very strong hints about what she is looking for when she assigns a piece of writing. It is best to pay attention to those hints. For example, if you are asked to write a term paper on a problem of international cooperation, you should ensure that your term paper explicitly focuses on a topic that (a) involves cooperation, (b) has, at the least, some international aspect, and© is potentially problematic.

Sometimes, assignments are ambiguous. Professors too may err. The assignment may be inexactly worded or involve contradictory requirements. In these cases it is obviously best to ask the professor what she is looking for (it is often better to ask via email, to ensure that you have a written explanation of what the professor wants that you can refer to later). Where this is not possible (e.g. if you are trying to write an exam answer), you may want to be quite clear in saying how you are interpreting the question. For example, you might want to start by saying "In this answer, I interpret the phrase 'international cooperation' to mean ..." If your interpretation is a reasonable one, this places the onus on the professor to either read the essay according to your interpretation or to justify (at least to herself) why not.

Avoid Data Dumps

Poor essays very often ignore the question asked in a quite specific way. The student spots some topic in the assignment that seems familiar, and immediately sets about writing an essay which tells the professor everything they know about that topic, in no particular order. For obvious reasons, such essays rarely receive high grades. Universities encourage (or, at least, they should encourage) students in the social sciences and liberal humanities to criticize, to analyze, and, ideally, to think. Mere demonstration that one possesses a disorganized body of knowledge on a topic, and is prepared to inflict this jumble upon the professor in printed or (worse) handwritten form, suggests that this encouragement has fallen on untilled ground.

Cut to the Chase

Undergraduate essays frequently begin with an extended session of throat-clearing irrelevances and vague generalities. They talk about everything except the question that has been asked. Take this example (drawn from a free term paper).

This, like many other essays that I have corrected on the political consequences of the Internet (I sometimes teach a course on this topic) begins with a paragraph that has nothing whatsoever to say about the politics of the Internet. Instead, the paper's author sees the word 'Internet' and grabs desperately for banalities that he associates with this word.

Alternatively, students sometimes state and re-state the question in a manner intended to suggest that they understand it, without ever providing anything so provocative as an actual answer.

This essay starts off well. It sets out a short, pithy question that the reader might hope will be answered in the paper. But then it goes horribly, horribly wrong. The second sentence restates the first, garnished with a couple of irrelevant commonplaces. The third sentence suggests that there is controversy surrounding the topic of Internet censorship (a safe guess, given that the writer has been asked to write a paper about this controversy). The fourth sentence repeats the third. And so on. The writer evidently knows little or nothing about the essay topic, and is trying to conceal that fact. Unfortunately, he or she is failing.

These are the beginning sections of very bad essays. Most undergraduate essays are not nearly as bad as that. Still, many essays do begin with weak and meandering introductions that do not address the topic of their paper. This is a shame. It is important that you get the introduction right. This is your best opportunity to grab the reader's attention and to persuade her that you have something interesting to say. Don't waste it.

By the time the reader has finished reading the first two sentences, she should know which question the essay addresses. By the time the reader has finished reading the first five or six, she should have a pretty good idea of how the author is going to tackle the question. The following provides one example of a punchy beginning (nb: this is not taken from an essay mill):

This is, in my opinion, a good opening paragraph (since I wrote it myself as an illustration, it is perhaps unsurprising that I like it). It immediately states the question that the essay will try to answer. Shortly afterwards, it provides the reader with the proposed answer, and briefly describes the kind of evidence that it will use to support this answer. The introduction also acknowledges that there is a strong opposing case (that banning 'harmful' speech will hurt other kinds of speech), and promises that it will try to answer that case. The essay will not necessarily convince its readers (it takes a quite controversial stand), but it does signal to the reader that it has a clear question, a clear answer to that question, and a willingness to address the best arguments against the case it is making. That is all that any professor may reasonably ask for; not that she agree with the writer's argument and conclusions, but that she recognizes them as well written, well structured, and well supported by the evidence.

Organize, Organize, Organize

Many student papers are badly organized. They wander from point to point. They tack an introduction and conclusion onto a main body that does not have any internal system of order. Or they do not have a distinguishable introduction, body, and conclusion at all.

Some excellent essayists can get away with apparently disorganized writing. It is usually a very bad idea to try to emulate them. Very often, apparently disorganized work is in fact highly organized. The author has merely kicked away the essay's supports and scaffolding (e.g. an explicit introductory section and so on) as soon as it was strong enough to stand on its own. Sometimes, apparent disorganization is instead the product of a highly subtle mind, or of an elliptical writing style that approaches its topics indirectly rather than directly. Unless you are very confident indeed (and have evidence in the form of past work, print publications etc to justify this confidence) I strongly recommend that you avoid overly clever and non-linear approaches to writing. They require a lot of practice (usually at the more traditional sorts of writing) before they can be carried off well, and when they are carried off badly, they are very bad indeed. Genius may do as it will; mere intelligence and talent should be appropriately modest in their ambitions.

Thus, the need for structure. You should structure your essay at three levels.

Macro-structure

This is the broad structure of the essay itself. Unless you feel very comfortable that you are an excellent writer, it is usually best to stick to the traditional frame of an introductory section, a main body, and a conclusion. The introduction tells the reader what you are going to say. The main body tells the reader what you are saying. The conclusions tell the reader what she has just read (perhaps adding some thoughts as to its broader implications if you are feeling adventurous).

This not only helps the reader understand your argument, but disciplines your thought and prose. It forces you to begin your essay with a clear, concise account of your major claims. When you write the main section of the essay (or re-write it, as needs be) the introduction will provide you with a roadmap of what you need to do. Your conclusions, in contrast, should draw the threads together, showing how the facts and arguments you have laid out in the main body actually speak to the broad themes discussed in the introduction, and drawing the threads of your narrative together into a proper whole. Of course, for this to work it is necessary that the main body of your essay actually speak to the arguments laid out in your introduction, that your conclusions relate to the main body, and so on.

Meso-structure

This is perhaps the most commonly neglected element of structured writing. It concerns the paragraphs into which your prose is organized. Each paragraph should focus on one main point. The point of each paragraph should build on that in the previous paragraph, and create the foundations of the next. Each paragraph should be a necessary part of the overall structure of your essay.

I find that a useful mental exercise is to boil down the arguments of each paragraph, one after the other, into single sentences. Then, put all these sentences together into a consecutive narrative, looking to see whether each sentence can be made to flow naturally from the sentence previous to it, and into the sentence following. This will highlight any major structural problems. If you are not able to boil down each of the paragraphs into a single sentence summary (however simplistic), then the offending paragraphs most likely need to be rewritten more clearly. If there are gaps or non-sequiturs when you put the one sentence summaries together, then the meso-structure of your essay needs to be re-organized, by cutting and pasting paragraphs, or by introducing new paragraphs to fill the gaps, or deleting old paragraphs that detract from the flow of your argument.

Micro-structure

What is true of the paragraph is also true of the sentence. Each individual sentence should flow in a logical and obvious way from the sentence before, and into the sentence after. Consider the following paragraph, taken from a term paper on global warming which is available for free online.

This is quite wretched writing. The first sentence is a vague generality that does not mean very much. The second sentence does not flow in any obvious way from the first. What does the greenhouse effect have to do with unpredictable weather? No explanation is provided for the reader. The third sentence merely repeats the argument of the second, with greater rhetorical alarm. The fourth does a little better, but loses force because it is so badly written (the claim that 'several species' may struggle to survive suggests that only five or six species are in danger, which sits awkwardly with the previous sentence's suggestion that global warming causes "massive concerns" for the entire earth). The fifth sentence seems to build a new set of claims, and should be at the beginning of a new paragraph. However, it never goes anywhere. Instead, the sixth sentence warns that global warming is "an inevitable issue" (whatever that means), while the seventh sentence wrings its hands in despair over yet another new claim - that there is an "inconceivable amount" (sic) of causes "that connect" to global warming. These sentences are not only bad in themselves - they are not connected in any logical or orderly way. The result is that they do not add up to a coherent argument.

Exercises in Style

Political science is not a discipline notable for lovely prose. The best historians often write beautifully; the best political scientists rarely do. Good political science writing does not require striking metaphors or clever verbal constructions (while these are not precisely discouraged, they are not commonly regarded as necessary). Instead, it requires simple, direct writing, which communicates its arguments and evidence as clearly and unambiguously as possible.

The implications for prose style are straightforward.

First, use direct language when at all possible. This not only reads better; it communicates clearly who is responsible for what. For example, the sentence

not only reads much better than

but it conveys more information in fewer words. It tells the reader who is responsible for censoring information (the government). The alternative version provides less information (the reader may guess that the government is responsible for censorship, but she cannot be sure). It also sounds cumbersome and laborious. Students sometimes use indirect constructions or the passive voice rather than direct language and active verbs because they think this will make their writing more sophisticated and 'academic.' They are wrong. Even worse, they sometimes prefer indirect language because they believe that it allows them get away with knowing less, by fudging their argument so that it can be interpreted in more than one way. Neither are good reasons. Indirect language often sounds weak, uncertain, and bureaucratic, and experienced readers will recognize when it is being used to bamboozle them. Sometimes, passive and indirect writing is appropriate, but it should be used with caution. It is usually better for students to err

Second, prefer simple words to complex words, and plain language to jargon. Sometimes it will be impossible to avoid jargon or obscure terms. However, it will usually be possible to use simple terms to convey your meaning. When you can do so, do so. Plain language makes life easier for the reader. It also makes it harder for the writer to get away with nonsense. If you use flowery language, you can sometimes persuade yourself that you understand topics and debates which you really do not. If you use plain language you will be forced to confront your areas of weak understanding and to rectify them.

Third, prefer straightforward sentence structures to complex ones. Again, simple sentences usually read better. Some writers (the historian Edward Gibbon is a fine example) can use complex sentence structure to convey irony and secondary meaning. You - unless you have grown up conversant with a prose tradition like Gibbon's, in which case you have no need whatsoever to read primers like this - probably cannot. You should typically prefer simple sentences with the bare minimum of sub-clauses needed to convey your argument. Formless and incoherent sentences usually suggest formless and incoherent thought, and indeed they may plausibly cause intellectual incoherence. If you reduce your language down to plain, simple sentences with clear structure then you will again be less likely to hide any lack of understanding from the reader and yourself.

Conclusion

Writing good political science essays is not as hard as it seems. It does not require verbal creativity so much as an ordered and disciplined mind. Most obviously and simply, you should read and understand the essay assignment. You should begin by grabbing the attention of the reader with a clear statement of the question that you wish to answer, and how you wish to answer it. You should ensure that your essay is structured and well organized, so that each part does its part, and fits together well with the other parts. Finally, you should ensure that your prose style does not get in the way of clear thinking and clear exposition. If you adhere to these simple rules, you are not guaranteed to write a good essay. No set of mechanical rules can provide such a guarantee. You will, however, avoid the basic mistakes that have plagued 80% of the bad political science essays that I have read over my nine years of teaching.

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Good Writing in Political Science - The Monkey Cage

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Below is an essay that I wrote for my undergraduate class last semester, providing them with my (doubtless idiosyncratic) ideas about how to write good political science essays. It's also available under a CC license in PDF format, as well as MultiMarkdown (its native format), LaTeX and RTF in case someone wants to play around ...

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This article from American Scientist was written in 1990, but the advice for writing in an academic, formal manner is still relevant. Warning: this is a long, complex article.

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The Open Notebook: The Story Behind the Best Science Stories

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The Open Notebook: The Story Behind the Best Science Stories

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Listen to what science writers say about how they approach writing about science. Even though these are primarily journalists who focus on science, their advice is also worthy of considering as teachers think about having students write.

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Storygram: Anna Maria Barry-Jester's "Surviving Suicide in Wyoming"

Suicide. Guns. Mental health. Not exactly light fare. Yet with thorough reporting, careful structure, and a compelling lead character, a story about such serious social issues doesn't have to read like a white paper or a variant of the same opinion piece on gun deaths you've seen 20 times. In her measured and thoughtful piece "Surviving Suicide in Wyoming," FiveThirtyEight 's Anna Maria Barry-Jester delivers an informative, sensitive, and nuanced look at a difficult issue.

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Suicide. Guns. Mental health. Not exactly light fare. Yet with thorough reporting, careful structure, and a compelling lead character, a story about such serious social issues doesn't have to read like a white paper or a variant of the same opinion piece on gun deaths you've seen 20 times.

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Interesting to think about what is unique to science writing and what is common to all good writing....

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I blame a rattlesnake for my career.

Fifteen years ago, my brand-new college biology degree qualified me for a series of minimum-wage jobs looking for strange animals in strange places. The work was temporary, itinerant and, as soldiers say of war, alternately boring and excessively thrilling. But the scenery was unbeatable. During a stint with a university research project in the desert near Tucson, Ariz., I got to hike through saguaro forests from dawn to sunset. Most of my co-workers, biologists all, lived for the sight of a tortoise scraping slowly over a granite boulder, or a pack of javelinas snuffling peacefully as they napped in the shade. In the evenings, eager to see even more critters, my friends cruised empty back roads, looking for snakes that had slithered on to the asphalt for warmth.

I often rode along with them, and one night we came upon a diamondback rattlesnake, resting in a fat and perfect coil. My friends were thrilled, and they leapt out of their pickups to circle the snake like REI-clad matadors. I stood back, away from the headlight beams, and watched. The snake was gorgeous, even regal in its growing annoyance, but I found myself paying more attention to the scientists around it. What had brought them to this particular place and this very odd hobby? What inspired them to draw closer and closer to the snake, cameras poised, even as it raised its head to strike? The snake, I realized, was interesting. The people, dubious habits and all, were fascinating.

Science writing has a reputation for bloodlessness, but in many ways it is the most human of disciplines. Science, after all, is a quest, and as such it's one of the oldest and most enduring stories we have. It's about searching for answers, struggling with setbacks, persevering through tedium and competing with colleagues all eager to put forth their own ideas about how the world works. Perhaps most of all, it's about women and men possessed by curiosity, people who devote their lives to pursuits the rest of us find mystifying or terrifying - chasing viruses, finding undiscovered planets, dusting off dinosaurs or teasing venomous snakes.

In its crudest form, science writing simply translates the latest results from the academy: Coffee is good for you, bean sprouts are not, and your sex life is much, much worse than you thought. Better science stories put new results in context, synthesizing and analyzing what came before, what might come next, and why you should care.

The most memorable science writing also puts humans back in the equation, introducing the reader to both the people behind the science and the people affected by it, for better and worse. It transcends the genre, becoming not just good science writing but just good writing, and as such it unlocks entire fields of research to the rest of us. It's what Richard Preston did for virology with the fast-paced drama of "The Hot Zone," what Rebecca Skloot did for cell biology in "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks" and what John McPhee did for geology in "Annals of the Former World," a collection of books that spans a generation.

It's essentially what Dr. Watson does for Sherlock Holmes: By reacquainting the head with the heart, we science writers tell the story of the frustrations, false starts, triumphs and breakthroughs that lead to the solution - or, in many cases, to even more questions.

Which is not to say we science writers are sidekicks. Like the scientists we cover, we're driven by curiosity, and we too are trained to observe and investigate. It's our job to point out the fallibility of science as well as its fascinations.

And while some scientists are themselves fine writers, science writers are seldom experts in the fields we write about. Most of us have dabbled a bit in science ourselves, but we're more or less professional amateurs, best at explaining complicated things with both maximum simplicity and maximum accuracy. "The goal is to show how some new discovery looks to an interested outsider, writing for other interested outsiders, using metaphor instead of mathematics," writes George Johnson in "A Shortcut Through Time." Doing so is an absorbing puzzle, one whose solution is always just out of reach. There's always more to learn about the science at hand, and there's always a more graceful way to communicate it.

That night in the Arizona desert, my friends eventually backed away from the rattlesnake, leaving it curled in peace on the pavement. They rolled down the road in search of their next cold-blooded quarry, still talking about the beauty of the diamondback. They felt they'd gotten a secret glimpse of a unique creature in its element, and they were elated. I felt the same way.
Michelle Nijhuis, the co-editor of "The Science Writers' Handbook: Everything You Need to Know to Pitch, Publish and Prosper in the Digital Age," writes about science and the environment for National Geographic, Smithsonian and other publications.

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I blame a rattlesnake for my career. Fifteen years ago, my brand-new college biology degree qualified me for a series of minimum-wage jobs looking for strange animals in strange places. The work was temporary, itinerant and, as soldiers say of war, alternately boring and excessively thrilling. But the scenery was unbeatable.

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Be realistic about the issue you are covering - does it have enough dimensions to hold a reader's interest for a long feature? If the story can be summarised in 180 words, you don't need to write a 1,800-word feature. And anything beyond 4,000 words is a very long read.

Be realistic about the issue you are covering - does it have enough dimensions to hold a reader's interest for a long feature? If the story can be summarised in 180 words, you don't need to write a 1,800-word feature. And anything beyond 4,000 words is a very long read.

2. Have a plan

Make a list of all the points you want to cover in the article, then put them into an order that allows you to move with the most ease from one point to the next. Remember to pepper fascinating points throughout the article - if you put all the juicy stuff in the first 500 words, why would a reader continue to the end?

3. Come back to the intro again, and again, and again ...

Writing introductions is always a tricky business. The best introductions conjure up a clear, compelling scene, an unusual conundrum or a stark situation. Avoid rambling opening paragraphs and remember that if a sentence doesn't sound quite right, it isn't right. Move on to the body of the piece and come back to it. The introductions that seem the most effortless have probably taken the most work.

4. Get on the phone, or better still on the road

A good feature is not an extended essay, a regurgitation of undergraduate topics, or a stream of consciousness. Don't indulge in covering too many historical aspects of the issue - use them only where strictly relevant. The same goes for technical details. Remember, your audience may not have the burning interest in genetics you do, or be familiar with what an allele is.

A feature should be alive with the voices of those involved in the issue you are focusing on. Speak to researchers, speak to those affected by the issue and speak to people with different viewpoints. Record your interviews - when you listen back you may be surprised at the gems you find.

5. Get building

Once you have your transcripts from all your interviews, make one document with the quotes you want to use and the points you want to make. Then shuffle these around to create the skeleton of your feature. Then you can add detail and refine paragraphs as you go along.

6. Choose your structure carefully

A feature could take many forms, for example a long "write-through" or continuous narrative, a Q&A format, or a series of distinct sections. Would a detailed explanation of how mitochondria work be better in a separate, pull-out section, suitable for a tinted box on the printed page? Would a graphic save you 300 words? Use such furniture wisely and it will improve your feature.

7. Know what you are trying to say - don't waffle

No feature can cover every aspect of an issue. There will always be other points or angles. Make sure you have a clear idea of what is relevant to the overall thrust your piece and don't try to shoe-horn in tangential information.

8. Get your facts straight

Double check everything. If someone gives you a figure for the cost of a medical procedure, check it in the literature and ask the experts. Make sure your sources are up to date and accurate and remember to differentiate between facts and opinion. If your piece will be published online include links so that readers can easily access your sources, if it's in print give enough information for them to track it down for themselves.

9. Change the pace

Employing a single, uniform style throughout your article will make for a tedious read. Change the pace throughout - switching between emotional experiences, sobering facts, funny quotes and informative sections will keep your reader engaged to the end. Like a good play, a feature can also move backwards and forwards in time and be set in different scenes.

10. Kill your darlings

Your hilarious sentences and painfully crafted metaphors may seem like works of genius, but they are probably too esoteric to appeal to anyone else. Write them, love them, cut them.

Do ...

* Interview a variety of people

* Have a clear angle

* Get your facts straight

Don't ...

* Put all the interesting stuff in the first 500 words

* Write in a monotone
The Wellcome Trust Science Writing Prize, in association with the Guardian and the Observer, is open for entries. The closing date is 11 May 2014.
Coming up in this series

How to ...

* establish a successful science blog

* report from a science conference

* set up a science podcast

* avoid common writing mistakes

* pitch your articles to editors.
Topics

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How to write a science feature | Nicola Davis

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Be realistic about the issue you are covering - does it have enough dimensions to hold a reader's interest for a long feature? If the story can be summarised in 180 words, you don't need to write a 1,800-word feature. And anything beyond 4,000 words is a very long read.

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Want some mentor text for writing about history? Check this link out!

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By Britney Wilkins

If you're a history junkie, you surely know by now that the Internet is a great tool for finding information. But did you know that blogs are some of the most useful resources out there? Here you'll find blogs about periods in history, genealogy, war, and lots more.
Periods
Read about specific periods, like the Victorian era and the American Revolution on these history blogs.
Art
These blogs highlight the history of fine art.

1. Dracula vs. Eisenstein: This graphic design blog takes its inspiration from art history.

2. Ponder & Dream: Ponder & Dream is all about graphic designs inspired from military history.

3. Shorpy: This "100-year-old photo blog" highlights history in high resolution.

4. The Philatelic Database: This blog offers a look at stamp archives.

5. Food History: Learn about holiday customs and classic recipes on this foodie history blog.

6. Cycling Art: This blog explores the history of cycling through art.

7. Prima la Musica: Check out this blog to get the official word from Mozart.

War
Read these blogs if you're interested in the Civil War, soldiers, and World Wars.

1. Civil War History: Read Civil War History to learn about the Civil War, as well as new developments in Civil War history.

2. Out of battle: Read anecdotes and articles about the first World War, specifically the 8th Battalion, AIF.

3. Military History Blog: The Military History Blog blogs about the battlefield.

4. Civil War Memory: Read what a high school history teacher and Civil War historian has to say.

5. Old Virginia Blog: Richard Williams, Jr.'s blog is all about the Civil War.

6. WW1: Experiences of an English Soldier: Read Harry Lamin's letters from the first World War, posted exactly 90 years after they were written.

7. Australian War Memorial: Learn about official records, animals in war, aircraft, and lots more in this Australian war blog.

8. World War II History Blog: In this blog you'll find news, photographs, "today in history," and more.

9. Frontier Battles: Frontier Battles is all about wars for and against empire in America from 1607 to 1815.

10. Blog 4 History: Read about American and Civil War history on this blog about the American experience.

11. American Civil War Stories: Revisit the stories of the American Civil War in this blog.

12. 9th Btn Y & L War Diaries: Read the official war diary of the 9th Battalion of the York and Lancaster regiment.

13. What Passing Bells: This blog follows three different families through the first World War.

14. TOCWOC: The Order of Civial War Obsessively Compulsed is a blog about the civil war written by informed amateurs.

Day in History
These blogs offer a daily look at historical events and people.
Religion
Read about historical churches and church history in these blogs.

1. Looking at Sussex Churches: In this blog, you'll find photos and history of Sussex churches.

2. Church History: Read this blog to learn about the history of the Christian church.

Genealogy
These genealogy blogs share their family history and offer tips for researching your own.

1. iPentimento: Read about the family history of William Livingston Holmes, the first sheriff of Clackamas County in Oregon Territory.

2. Genea-Musings: Get tips, news, humor and more from this genealogy blog.

3. Searching for Family Branches: This blog discusses the importance of genealogy and legacy.

4. Know Your Family History: Check out this blog to get encouragement and tips for genealogy studies.

5. Irish Roots Cafe: The Irish Roots Cafe is dedicated to Irish family history, genealogy, heritage, and more.

6. A Somerset Family History: This researcher shares interesting findings from genealogy studies.

7. Lord and Lady: Visit this blog to follow the blogger's family genealogy and get access to a large name database.

Cities, Regions, and Countries
Check out these blogs that highlight a specific area of the world.

1. The Bowery Boys: In this blog, the Bowery Boys will explore New York City history.

2. Sparkletack: Sparkletack is a history podcast that celebrates San Francisco.

3. US History Blog: Read American history thought from an independent scholar on this blog.

4. Our Great Southern Land: The blog of Our Great Southern Land follows the history of Australia.

5. History Rhymes: This blogger offers a discussion on American history.

6. Appalachian History: Find stories, quotes, and anecdotes about Appalachia on this blog.

7. Vanishing New York: Vanishing New York looks at pieces of New York City history that are slipping away today.

8. Chicago History: This amateur historian and student shares her findings about Chicago history.

9. The Virtual Dime Museum: This blog discusses Brooklyn and New York City history, including geneaology, pop culture, Victorian news items, and ephemera.

10. Everest by climbers: Learn about Everest history from climbers and beyond on this blog.

11. Kinetic Carnival: The Kinetic Carnival blog is all about the past, present, and future of Coney Island.

12. Local History: This blog takes a look back at the local history of New York City.

13. Lost City: Lost City investigates Old New York as it's threatened by new development.

Academic
These blogs offer an academic look at history.

1. History News Network: George Mason University's History News Network shares breaking news about history.

2. History is Elementary: Read about this elementary school teacher's take on teaching history.

3. Clio and Me: A teacher of European history and researcher of war and society in modern Germany, this blog's writer has a lot to offer.

4. The Bell Rang: The Bell Rang explores education throughout history.

5. wig-wags: This blog is written by a graduate student in military history.

Antiques
These antiques blogs will show you interesting items from the past.
Women
Learn about important female figures in history on these blogs.
Entertainment
Read about entertainment through the years on these history blogs.
People
These blogs take an in-depth look at specific people through history.

1. The Abraham Lincoln Blog: Read this blog to learn about Abraham Lincoln's life and legacy.

2. American Presidents Blog: The American Presidents blog is all about presidents and first ladies.

3. Beloved Eleanor: Beloved Eleanor highlights Eleanor of Castille, a medieval queen and wife of King Edward I of England.

4. Tattered Fabric: Fall River's Lizzie Borden: In this blog, you'll read about Lizzie Borden's life and crimes.

5. Lincoln Studies: This blog offers a look at Lincoln and the American Civil War.

6. What would Lincoln do?: This blogger considers how Lincoln would handle today's world.

Odd & Interesting
If you're interested in history that's a little offbeat, check out these blogs.
Documents & Literature
You'll find literature, writings, drawings and more in these blogs.
General History
Read these blogs to see a wide variety of highlights through history.

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100 Awesome Blogs for History Junkies - BestCollegesOnline.com

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By Britney Wilkins If you're a history junkie, you surely know by now that the Internet is a great tool for finding information. But did you know that blogs are some of the most useful resources out there? Here you'll find blogs about periods in history, genealogy, war, and lots more.

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Ten Essential Qualities of Science Bloggers

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Ten Essential Qualities of Science Bloggers

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How to break into science writing through blogs and social media

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How to break into science writing through blogs and social media

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Yesterday I skyped into Czerne Reid's science journalism class at University of Florida to talk about breaking into science writing as a profession, and especially the use of blogs and social media as tools for accomplishing that goal.

Just a few days before that, as a part of our regular Question Time in preparation for our panel at WCSJ2013 in Helsinki, we tackled the same question:

What does a new science journalist do to get noticed? How do you get people to read your work, give you assignments, follow you on Twitter, and generally just know who you are?

Rose Eveleth collected and organized the responses we received on Twitter (using hashtag #sci4hels), but here I'd like to provide, all in one place, a bunch of links to resources, other people's thoughts about it, and a few brief thoughts of my own.

Ways of becoming a science writer

There are two basic trajectories: one more traditional, which I like to call "vertical", and the other one I call "horizontal" which, though it happened with individual writers for a long time, seems to be a much more frequent, if not dominant trajectory these days.

The vertical trajectory is the one taken by people who, perhaps from a very early age, knew they wanted to become writers or journalists, perhaps specifically science journalists. They major in journalism in college (perhaps double-major in a science as well), work on their school paper, start internships early in their local papers (or radio or TV stations), then go to a Master's program in science journalism. By the time they graduate from that, they already have lots of experience, several internships, many clips, perhaps some local awards, and are ready to start making a living as staff writers or freelancers.

The horizontal trajectory describes people who start out in science, with every intention of making a career in research. But, as tenure track is now an alternative career in science, most science students need to find other options. Some of them - those who always liked to write, wrote diaries as kids, etc. - will explore the option of becoming science writers. The most direct horizontal trajectory involves starting a science blog while still doing research, becoming known for good writing there, then start pitching stories for online (and later print) magazines, and gradually leaving the lab bench and starting to make a living by writing alone. Brian Switek, John Timmer and Ed Yong are probably the best known examples of people who took this path. Heck, I am one of those examples, too. Many more are somewhere along that trajectory right now.

Of course, those are extremes, too neatly cut apart. Many people will do something in the middle, combining the two approaches in some way. For example, they may pursue a career in research while also taking summer internships at science magazines, or editing the science section of the college newspaper. Some may major in science, then go to j-school for Masters. Also, not all of the new entries into science writing are young. Sure, some make the switch after college or Masters in science, but others make the switch later, after getting a PhD, or finishing a postdoc, or after years of teaching as adjunct faculty with no hope of ever getting a tenure track position, or even after many years as full faculty, once grant money dries out and there are no more resources to keep running the lab.

Either way, there comes a time when one becomes a professional science writer/journalist and has to make a living that way. What does one need to do to succeed?

Understanding the new media ecosystem

It is important to be aware that 20th century media ecosystem is a very unusual aberration in the way people communicated throughout history. Means of production were expensive. Very few people could afford to own printing presses, radio and TV studios, etc. Running all that complicated equipment required technical expertise and professional training. Thus media became locked up in silos, hierarchical, broadcast-only with little-to-none (and then again centrally controlled) means for feedback. There was a wealthy, vocal minority that determined what was news, and how to frame it, and the vast majority was consuming the news in silence.

Today, all one needs is some source of electricity (e.g., a small battery in your smartphone) and some means of accessing the Internet. The act of publishing is reduced to clicking on the "Publish" button. Yes, this still leaves some people out of the media, especially in the developing countries, but compared to just twenty years ago, vastly larger numbers of people now have access to the means of production of news. The obstacles to access - money, technical skills for running the machinery - are now much, much lower, almost free.

This turns everything on its head! Silos are breaking down, economics of media are severely disrupted, former gatekeepers are squealing in distress, old hierarchies are broken down (and replaced by new hierarchies), and now everyone has to learn new "media hygiene" practices: who to trust, how to filter the information, how to organize it for one's self. The new ecosystem now contains both the traditional outlets and the individuals, " people formerly known as the audience", as equal players.

There is only so much time and energy anyone can invest into consumption of the media. In the flood of information coming out every second, how does one get science to the audience? Specialized science media outlets cannot see each other as competition any more - they are now collaborators, helping each other toward the same goal: trying to, at least occasionally, displace trivia, Hollywood gossip, and dangerous pseudoscience with good science news. Individual science writers, as equal participants in the media ecosystem, should do the same: replace the notion of competition with the idea of cooperation.

How does a new science writer succeed in this new ecosystem? In the 20th century, one would try to ingratiate oneself with the gatekeepers, the editors. As they are still part of the ecosystem and probably will be for some time in the future, this strategy is still valuable, but it is only one of many. More important, if anything, is to build support networks with your colleagues, peers and buddies. The concepts of 'Friends in Low Places' and 'Horizontal Loyalty' are not just theoretical - put them to practice.

You may think of two potential career routes: getting hired as a staff writer somewhere (getting harder with each passing year), or to freelance. But there is a third way now: start and build your own media empire.

Huffington Post, DailyKos, Talking Points Memo, BoingBoing started out as unknown person's personal blogs - after turning into group blogs, then adding functionalities that let readers contribute, today they are media organizations that make money, hire and pay editors, and more. Perhaps your own blog can turn into something like this. But teaming up with your own Friends In Low Places may make such a start-up more successful.

First you have to write

People who want to become professional writers are, I assume, people who always liked to write. Childhood diaries. LiveJournals filled with teenage angst. Long Facebook updates. It's time to take this seriously and do your writing in a more serious, organized, professional manner. Start a blog. This is your writing laboratory. Start blogging about science. Nobody will know about your blog until you start promoting it, so don't worry that your early posts are clumsy (you can even delete the first few embarrassing posts later, once you are happy with your blog and start promoting it).

Practice the usual journalistic forms - the feature, the interview, the brief news story with inverted pyramid. You will need to demonstrate that you are capable of writing in such forms and styles. But don't limit yourself to traditional forms. Experiment with new forms. Explain animal behavior by letting animals have a dialogue. Explain science in the form of a fairy tale, Science Fiction or a poem. Try your hand at photography. Draw or paint or graph your own art, illustrations, infographics, cartoons and comic strips. Put some effort into making a video or animation every now and then. Record a podcast sometimes. Give data journalism a try. Try your hand at learning to code ( but see). See what works for you.

Try to figure out your beat (or obsession) - what is it that excites you the most? Write about that. Try to find your own niche. Become a "go to" person on a particular topic, become an expert (or at least a temporary expert) on that topic.

Ignore the "professional" advice about having to blog daily. It was a necessity a decade ago, not any more. In the days of RSS feeds and social media, it does not matter for your readers any more - they will find your posts no matter how infrequently you post. It only matters for you and your own writing habit that you blog with some regularity.

Also ignore the "professional" advice about writing relatively short blog posts. Leave that for brief news articles. Blog posts are longform, at least most of the time. And longform works online much better than short articles - the traffic keeps on giving for years, as people rediscover long posts, see them as resources, and share with their friends.

Also important to remember: You're A Human, So Write Like One. How do I write? First I read and study the topic. Then, I compose text in my head (usually during dog walks, often over a number of days, sometimes even months), imagining I am explaining something to a good non-scientist friend. Then I sit down and quickly transcribe that. Quick proofread. Click "Publish".

Like every other skill, writing needs practice. Write every day, something, anything. That's what makes the blog useful - you have a platform for your words every day. You'll get better. When you write something for publication, watch carefully what the editor changed in your manuscript and learn from it. Read a lot of good writing, paying attention to how other writers accomplish their goals.

The hard-line "never write for free" slogan is a hold-over from some old, outdated times. Early on in your career, you will write for free quite a lot, especially on your blog. Your blog becomes your portfolio, your PR material. As you become a professional, you will learn how to reject offers to write for free, and will mostly write for pay. But even then, there will be times when you will want to write for free - on your own blog (or your Mom's neighborhood newsletter). You will want to experiment with a new form, or a new topic. Or you will want to write something that would be hard to sell. Or you wrote something on commission, got rejected, got paid your kill-fee, and now want to see your work out there, meeting the readers.

Or, if you are a natural born writer, every now and then there will be a story inside of you, fighting to burst out of your chest and get expressed in words or visuals, and you won't care if it's paid or not, you want it out, and your blog will be there waiting for just such pieces.

Getting started with your blog

It's easy. Go to Wordpress.com (or some other platform, but Wordpress has recently become a standard and is probably your best bet) and start one. Pick a name (and a URL) that is catchy, memorable yet informative about the main topic of the blog. Make at least some minimal effort to make it look pretty. Fill out the 'About Me' page, put buttons for your various social media accounts on the sidebar, and provide a method for readers to contact you. Start posting.

Get in a rhythm - decide you will post something on your blog every day or every week and stick to it. Sometimes, it will just be a few links or a YouTube video. Other times, you will write something more substantial. Start with book reviews - those are relatively easy. Do Q&As with scientists. Cover new papers in " ResearchBlogging" fashion. One day a seriously good post will come out of all your daily thinking in the shower and during dog walks.

Learn about science blogging, its theory and history. Learn about best blogging practices. Learn about the ethics of online writing and blogging, including the ethic of the link and the ethic of the quote.

If you make a statement, link to the source or to additional information. If you quote somebody, provide the link to the original context (including audio file or transcript if you yourself did the interview). A quote with a link increases your trust with the readers. A quote without a link decreases your trust with the readers - it's a red flag that you are trying to manipulate them. And always try to link to the scientific papers you write about, even if they are behind paywalls.

Decide if you want to have commenting on your blog or not, and what kind of (technological and human) comment moderation you need. Come up with your moderation policy. Be prepared to be present in your own commenting threads in order to keep them constructive.

Another option is to join a group blog. Double X Science, Last Word On Nothing, Deep Sea News, Southern Fried Science, Science-Based Medicine, Real Climate, Biofortified and Panda's Thumb are a few examples of excellent group blogs with high visibility, which authors can use as springboards for their writing careers. This reduces the pressure on any individual blogger to post with high frequency, as collectively they will produce plenty of new material on the homepage every day.

It is also OK to just write guest posts on other people's blogs. A number of science blogging networks have designated guest blogs for just such occasions. We here have two such blogs - Guest Blog and MIND Guest Blog - but other bloggers on the network may also sometimes accept a guest post.

Even if you run your own blog, it is not a bad idea to occasionally write a really good one for a Guest Blog on a media-owned network. A post on our Guest Blog counts as a clip in your portfolio, is highly visible, will show up high on Google searches for your name, and thus will serve you well as your promotional material when you start pitching or applying for jobs.

You can find a number of good links about getting started, and about running your blog, on this wiki page.

Get some professional training

If you are further along in your career (e.g., research career) you may feel too old to waste another year or two of your life by going back to school. But if you are younger, e.g., just out of college, you may want to consider getting a Master's at one of the specialized Science, Health and Environmental Reporting/Writing programs. There are several excellent programs to choose from, e.g., NYU, UCSC, MIT, UGA, UNC, USC, City University (London), UW-Madison and several others.

If that is too long (or expensive) for you, spend a summer at a science writing workshop, e.g., Banff or Santa Fe.

Or, if you are still in school, take some writing or journalism classes despite not needing them officially for your major.

Try to get an internship, perhaps in one of the popular science magazines. Nothing prepares you better than learning on the job.

Attend meetings with professional writing and journalism workshops, talks, panels and discussions, e.g,. ScienceWriters (NASW/CASW), ScienceOnline (either the annual flagship meeting in Raleigh, or one of the growing number of satellite events), AAAS annual meeting, SpotOn, or WCSJ. Use the opportunity to get to know (and get known by) editors and others whose careers are well in advance of yours, but also to meet your own peers and start forming your own posse of 'Friends In Low Places'. Many of those events also have "Pitch sessions" where you can pitch your story ideas directly to editors.

Start reading, regularly and closely, sites that discuss journalism (especially science, environmental and health journalism), provide writing tips, provide media criticism, or provide information about unreliable scientific papers. These should probably include KSJ Tracker, CJR Observatory, NASW, Nieman Journalism Lab, The Open Notebook, The Science Writers' Handbook, Embargo Watch, Retraction Watch, HealthNewsReview, SpotOn Blog, Communication Breakdown, and right here - The SA Incubator (I'd have listed the NYT Green Blog here, but sadly, it is now dead).

Read good science blogging by setting up ScienceSeeker as your homepage. Find out which blogs you like, subscribe to them, post comments, perhaps start out your own blogging by emulating their style until you develop your own.

Shameless Self-Promotion

If a blog post is published in a forest,....?

OK, you've been blogging for a while and now you are happy with your posts. You are ready for readers and their feedback. How do you get the readers to your blog? Good readers, with relevant interests and backgrounds, those who can provide valuable feedback?

First things first. Make your blog an official science blog by applying to have it aggregated at ScienceSeeker. ScienceSeeker is a portal for science writing and blogging, a result of fusion and then further development of Scienceblogging.org and Researchblogging.org (COI: I am one of the founders of ScienceSeeker, which is a ScienceOnline project). It keeps getting developed and adding new features.

Neither Google Blogsearch nor Technorati are good at filtering science blogs. They pull in spam blogs, blogs with a science tag that have no science content whatsoever, as well as blogs that push pseudoscience, anti-science, medical quakery and other silly or dangerous nonsense. As only approved science blogs can be found at ScienceSeeker, it has unofficially become a 'stamp of approval', a way to filter out the noise and focus on the quality content that one can filter in various ways, from topical filters, to only posts covering papers, to 'Editors' Picks'. A number of journal publishers and media organizations are now using ScienceSeeker to get metrics on how much their articles were blogged about. In its effort to preserve science blogs for posterity, Library Of Congress is using Science Seeker as the filtering mechanism guiding their decisions what to preserve. So get your blog on there. It will bring you reputation, traffic, and just the right kinds of readers to provide you with feedback.

Nominate your posts for various awards and collections, e.g., Open Laboratory, 3QD science prize, ScienceSeeker Awards, Science Studio ( podcasts and videos) and others. This will give them visibility as people check out all the nominations.

Register and become a respected user on sites like Reddit, Digg, Slashdot, Stumbleupon and/or Fark. Be sure you know their policies well (e.g., Reddit will let only a small proportion of your links be to your own work). Don't waste too much time on those sites, but you can use them to find interesting links to share, to share other people's work, and to occasionally share links to your own posts and articles. If one of your posts catches fire on one of those sites, make sure your server can take it, and be present - you will be busy for a few hours moderating comments, deleting especially obnoxious, snarky, nasty or idiotic ones. But some comments will be good, and a small proportion out of those tens of thousands of visitors will bookmark you, keep coming back and will become your regular readers.

Have a nice-looking homepage (you can make it with Wordpress, or use a specialized platform like About.Me, or pay a designer friend to make you one). Your homepage should have a short, easy to remember URL so you can shout it out on the street and people will be able to spell it, remember it, and find it later when they go online that night. This is your single most important URL that you will place everywhere - on your business cards, and on profile pages on all the social media and other sites that let you have a profile. Everywhere you are online should link back to your homepage. And your homepage should link to everywhere else you are online.

Your blog can serve as your homepage, or be a prominent and central part of your homepage. If not, make sure your homepage prominently links to your external blog. Make sure your homepage has a well written and accurate About/Bio page, contact information, link to your CV, and your Portfolio with links to all of your published work (perhaps your photography or videos or art on separate tabs). And of course, provide links to all the social media where you have accounts.

If you are lucky, you will be invited to join a blogging network, which makes your blog even more visible. If you are VERY lucky, you will be invited to move your blog to a media site as a blogger/columnist, like Ezra Klein at Washington Post, Nate Silver at NYTimes, or the Phenomena quartet at National Geographic.

If you are just embarking on the professional career in science writing, we can help right here at The SA Incubator. Khalil and I post our weekly "Picks" - if you have written something you are proud of, don't be shy to send the link to us. If we like it, we'll link to it. Then we may ask you to do one of the "Introducing" Q&As, a great opportunity to present your past career, skills, links and goals that will turn out very high on Google searches once potential employers start googling you.

The necessity of social media

There are many social networks out there, some general some specialized, as well as platforms which include some social media elements. Twitter, Facebook, Google Plus, LinkedIn, Wordpress, Tumblr, Flickr, Picassa, YouTube, Vimeo, DeviantArt, Instagram, Pinterest, FriendFeed, Branch, Quora, Goodreads, MySpace, LiveJournal, Orkut, Diaspora, SoundCloud, Slideshare, Storify, Academia.edu, ResearchGate, Mendeley, FigShare, CiteULike, and many more. Which ones to use? I suggest you use one or two that fit you best, but also take a few minutes to set up profiles on many other networks. That way, people who find you on those sites can click on the link and find themselves on your homepage, where they can see where you are really active.

This wiki has a lot of great resources for starting out and using a number of those sites professionally, as a scientist or a science writer. Pay special attention to the pages about Twitter, Facebook and Google Plus, as those are the three biggies you should probably pay most attention to.

Let's focus on Twitter now. It is essential for a journalist. Not having - and using - a Twitter account today is like not having an email address ten years ago (and yes, some cutting-edge people are completely abandoning email and doing all of their communications over social media).

Big companies have suffered losses because their old-timey PR teams were unaware of the backlash on social media, and then incapable of responding correctly on social media. Businesses can lose money if they are missing key information that appears only on social media. Academia is especially horribly insulated and way behind the times. But nowhere is use of social media as important as in journalism. Don't be this guy who was completely oblivious that his newspaper was in the center of national maelstrom of harsh criticism, because "I only deal with what's on paper".

When an airplane skidded off the runway in Denver, I knew it, along with 100,000s of other people, 12 minutes before everyone else. A passenger tweeted about it, and it spread like wildfire, including his updates, blurry photos, etc. CNN had a brief piece 12 minutes later. The accidental "citizen journalist" scooped them. Sometimes, for some news, these 12 minutes may be crucial for you.

Twitter and Facebook were key methods of communication not just between participants, but also to the outside world, during the Mumbai attacks and the Arab Spring.

People got jobs and gigs on Twitter that started their careers.

Journalists on deadline quickly find expert sources for their stories.

Journalists who observed the massive, instant, intense and scathing reactions of experts to #arseniclife or #Encode did not make the mistake of filing their positive stories and then having to backpedal later.

If all you see on Twitter is garbage, you are following the wrong people. You have to carefully choose who to follow, and then learn how to filter. Unfollowing is easy, and polite. You are not dissing your Mom, as if you would if you unfriended her on Facebook.

Don's use Twitter.com. Use an app. There is a lot of outcry right now (by myself as well) about the imminent demise of some Tweetdeck apps (version 0.38.2 is by far the best, if you can have it and keep it indefinitely - other apps are OK on smartphones, e.g., HootSuite or Twitterific). It is important to me not to have Twitter/Tweetdeck as yet another tab in my browser, a place where I have to go and spend time. Twitter is not a site to go to and spend time on. Twitter should be a part of the workflow, silently running in the back, behind my open browser.

Tweets show up in the corner and 99% of the time I do not even notice them. I am busy with something else, and I mentally block them out. But I have a "search image" (a term from ethology - a bird does not systematically scan every inch of tree bark, instead it has a search image for the shape and color of its prey insect and automatically homes in on it). If a tweet shows up with my name in it, or a specific word in it, or by a specific person, I will notice and take a glance. If there is nothing important, I only lost 1/10th of a second and can go back to what I was doing. If it seems important, I will Favorite the tweet (if unsure of the quality of content) or Retweet it (if it comes from a trusted source), so I can have it saved to read later. If it seems important and urgent, I will click through and investigate. Perhaps this is information that is more important to me than whatever else I happen to be doing at the time. And even then, I will probably spend only a few minutes on it before returning to whatever I was doing before.

In Tweetdeck (or any similar app), one should have a number of columns - move them around: the default position may not the the best one for you (I move "All Friends" far away to the right so I don't have to see it almost ever). Mentions and Direct Messages are your more important columns, but also make several that follow Lists (your own, or other people's), or display tweets that contain particular words or hashtags (your "Saved Searches"). I will add a column for an event hashtag while the event is on, then delete the column afterward. Play around until you refine your filtering this way.

Here are some good lists to get you started - follow them, and also follow some of the listed people directly - you decide who is useful to you:

ScienceSeeker Members

Best mindcasters I know

Young Smart Newsies

Top Journalism Linkers

Young science writers

ScienceOnline 2013 attendees

Blogs and bloggers on the Scientific American blog network

SciAm Contributors

If there is something I'd like to tweet out, that is easy, too. No need to go to Twitter. Get some kind of Bit.ly or AddThis bookmarklet for your browser and you can tweet any link in two clicks (perhaps with a little editing, to add/remove stuff from the tweet so it's just the way you want it).

What kind of stuff you can - and perhaps should - do on Twitter? There are several different things. First, you can just use it to find information, to pick up good links, or to eavesdrop on conversations. Treat it as a river of news - sometimes you dip in, sometimes you go away. You won't miss much while you are away. If information is really important, it will have staying power - many people will still be linking to it, retweeting it, and discussing it next time you log in. If you missed it - it's not important.

You can, of course, post your personal musings, but if you are going to use Twitter like a professional, keep that to the minimum. I bet less than 1% of my tweets are in this vein.

You can retweet others. Your followers do not see everything tweeted by everyone you follow. Twitter is very asymmetrical - you don't follow those who follow you, not automatically. You follow those who are useful to you, and you are followed by people who find you useful. Thus, if someone tweets, and you retweet, this will be fresh to many of your followers. If they RT in turn, they will spread it to their followers and so on, in concentric circles, spreading the message out further and further. A tweet can go a long way.

You can engage in conversations. It's OK to butt into other people's conversations, but be polite and be useful and constructive. If you know the answer to someone's question, provide it. If you are at a University and have library access, you can help your freelance colleagues in search of papers - they will use the hashtag #Icanhazpdf (but first carefully read the comment section of this post to understand the legal, moral and etiquette aspects of it).

You can be a useful filter for others. Post links to good articles and blog posts. Everyone tweets links to NYTimes, BBC and The Guardian - you don't have to. Instead, set up Google (and Google News and Google Blogsearch) alerts for the keywords in the domain of your expertise and interest. It can be "watersheds" or "science+superheros" (one of mine is "circadian", naturally). Some of those links in the alerts will be very interesting, yet from obscure publications. People will soon realize you are the "go to" person for that topic. Follow a few good by less-well-known blogs. Tweet out links to their posts.

Broadcast links to your own posts. But do it politely and judiciously. Tweet once in the morning. Then again that day "for the afternoon crowd", then once next day "for those who missed it yesterday". That should be sufficient. DM (direct message) the link to a few people with more followers than you have but who are aware of you and know who you are. Ask them to take a look, provide feedback, and they are likely to retweet it if they like it.

Here are some quick rules you should memorize on how to be a useful and respectable contributor to social media.

And finally, if you are really well organized and dedicated, you can truly use Twitter as a part of your journalistic flow - from individual tweets, to aggregations of tweets - both your own and replies you got (e.g., on Facebook or Storify), to longer blog posts, to magazine articles, to books.

Moving on to Facebook, the strangest animal of them all, undergoing a metamorphosis every year or so, often abruptly changing people's privacy settings, expectations and experiences. That makes many people uneasy about it.

You have to be sensitive that there are two main styles of Facebook use. One is personal, the other is professional. It is perfectly OK to keep settings to 'Private' and to friend only family and best friends, share vacation pictures and not much else. It is perfectly OK if you prefer to use it that way. But perhaps you should set up another Facebook Page for your professional outreach. This is where you post interesting science links, urge other scientists, writers, journalists and bloggers to follow your page. Keep the two worlds separate.

Many people, including myself, do not separate the two worlds. Yes, I occasionally post personal stuff, but I mainly post links to science stories on my personal profile, which is set completely on 'Public'. I have many FB friends, and of them many are not inherently interested in science. By being my FB friends, they get served their daily dose of science anyway. Many are thankful for this. This is the so-called "push" method of science communication, where you push science onto unsuspecting audiences. The reverse is "pull" method, in which people who are already interested in your stuff will know how to seek you and find you if they know your stuff is good (people interested in science know where to look for Scientific American).

There is a lot of scientifically incorrect information floating around Facebook. One of your roles can be as a "downer" - the person who brings in a link to the scientific information that corrects the pseudoscience. And yes, your aunt may get really angry at you because of it, but at least some of aunt's FB friends will learn something from your link, perhaps share it elsewhere.

And now the elephant in the room - Google Plus. It is not easy to figure out what it is and how to use it and how to find good stuff on it. But if you are using any Google product (e.g., Gmail) you are already on G+ even if you are not using it. Thus, it has tons of people on there already. And unlike some past Google experiments (like Google Buzz and Google Wave), this one does not appear to be going anywhere - it is here to stay, and it's a monster. I have more G+ subscribers than Twitter followers or FB friends. Most of them have zero background in science. The least you can do is throw some science links at them, even if you do not have time to engage further. Lots of traffic comes from there, so it's worth a second or two to plop in a link.

What is important to know is that scientists, science bloggers and writers were some of the early invitees to the Beta version of G+ before public launch. They have explored the platform from the very early days. There are many of them there, and many are active. They are experimenting with new functionalities, especially cool uses for Google Hangouts. Find "Scientists" circles and start following people. Even if you don't engage with it fully now, keep an eye on it, keep your presence on it, I would not bet against Google that this will wither and die.

Next step

You are writing every day. You are blogging regularly. After six months of regular Twitter use, you now have some followers and interaction. Perhaps you joined a popular group blog or even a blogging network. You have a few guest blog posts elsewhere, perhaps a few clips from school or local papers, or when you did an internship. It's time to start pitching.

Different editors have different preferences for pitches. But many will explore your blog, your prior clips, your social media activity (potential employers for staff jobs will do that very thoroughly).

If you pitch me for the Guest Blog, for example, and I have never heard of you before, you need to write me a longish, polished pitch. Show me that you can write, that you can write a pitch just as perfectly as you will write the article itself later on.

But if I know you from your blog, from Twitter, perhaps some previous work, you don't need to do that. You can DM me on Twitter with a very brief pitch and I am likely to say Yes.

Now go and write.

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How to break into science writing using your blog and social media (#sci4hels)

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Yesterday I skyped into Czerne Reid's science journalism class at University of Florida to talk about breaking into science writing as a profession, and especially the use of blogs and social media as tools for accomplishing that goal.

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This strand provides a developmental model for incorporating writing into a math class. The strand includes specific suggestions for managing journals, developing prompts for writing, and providing students with feedback on their writing. In addition, the site includes two sample lessons for introducing students to important ideas related to writing about their mathematical thinking.

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Steve Peha's site is a wealth of information. Be sure to scroll down to the document on writing across the curriculum.

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TTMS: Services -- Education Technology Professional Development Consulting Workshops Curriculum Testing Software Internet

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Teaching That Makes Sense offers tools, training, and technology support for K-12 schools in reading, writing, math, test preparation, and assessment.

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Ideas and rationale for writing in the math class

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How We Write about Biology by Randy Moore

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7 ways to write your blog so you sound like a journalist

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7 ways to write your blog so you sound like a journalist

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More people are blogging than ever, but the blogs that really stand out feature good writing and storytelling. Bloggers can look to journalism for some tips that improve the quality of their posts.

1. Start with the most important information. If you've been taught to write academic papers, you learn to write an introduction - sometimes a lengthy one - that explains what you're going to write about. Instead, write like a journalist and put the most important information in your first sentence or paragraph.

In some cases, such as telling an anecdote or using a quote to start your post, you may not get the "who, what, where, when, why, how" all laid out in your first paragraph. But make it as close to the top as makes sense, so readers quickly grab the point of what you're communicating.

2. Look for the news. Readers will be most interested in something new or different. You don't have to be radical in each blog post, but look for what's dynamic even in more run-of-the-mill news items. Why should a customer care about your news? Tie it in to your customer interests. Is there a trend happening in pop culture or your industry? What are people talking about right now and how does what you do tie in?

Let's take the example of hiring a new employee. That's not earth-shattering, but it's something new in your business that you want to inform your readers about. Write about what makes that new person qualified for the position, the special talents or knowledge he or she brings to your business, and a few fun tidbits (does he like to do woodworking? does she have a horse?) that will make your customers feel more comfortable talking to and working with the new employee.

3. Use quotes. Putting important thoughts in the words of someone else can be powerful. And using the ideas and opinions of other people can make your blog more interesting.

When you quote others, be sure to get it right. Journalists usually don't let their sources review their quotes, but here's where you can differ. Offer to let the people you quote review what they've said by email. This should be for accuracy - you don't necessarily want them to rewrite what they've said.

Another idea is to conduct "interviews" by email. You'll get back quotes that can be easily integrated into your posts and you know you're getting the words right. Do correct misspellings or grammar errors in your sources' quotes - it's OK to make sure they don't look bad - just avoid introducing any mistakes.

4. Avoid jargon or vague wording - at least, not without an explanation. Aim to strike a balance in writing for people who know everything about your business and industry and those who know nothing. Often, a short phrase or description or a link to another, previous post can inform readers of the background related to your topic.

As a business blogger, you want to include the words your potential customers might use to search for you. So sometimes jargon needs to be included. But make it as obvious as possible what you're talking about. Give a short explanation if you can work it into the flow of the story, or link to a definition. Write out any acronyms in the first reference.

5. Don't make it longer than it needs to be. Journalists are trained to keep their stories short and to the point. That stems from the need once upon a time to not waste newsprint, and even though story length doesn't matter in a blog, it's best to keep stories short and fast moving. Don't limit yourself to a certain number of paragraphs; instead, write your post and then go through with an eye to what can be cut out or removed without changing the story.

6. Don't worry too much about the ending. In the days of typesetting, sometimes the final paragraph or two were left off a story in order to make it fit. Even today, the last part of a story may be cut for space. So journalists put the most important things first and don't stress as much about the end.

Also, studies show that the way people read online is to skim. They often aren't reading word for word, especially the ending. Use a short summary, or perhaps a quote that sums up your topic.

7. Always check for spelling and grammar. Blogging often uses an informal style, but it doesn't have to be sloppy. When you're communicating with potential customers, you don't want to turn anyone off with an error. If spell check doesn't catch all your mistakes, have a co-worker or friend review each post before you publish.

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7 Ways to Write your Blog Posts Like a Journalist | Visual People

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More people are blogging than ever, but the blogs that really stand out feature good writing and storytelling. Bloggers can look to journalism for some tips that improve the quality of their posts. 1. Start with the most important information. If you've been taught to write academic papers, you...

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Check out the preview of this ebook:

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Mumbai Fables

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February 2011

How to Write Like an Historian

(Note: The philosopher Denis Dutton (1944-2010) was a founder of the website Arts & Letters Daily but a part of his fame, or notoriety, was attached to his stewardship of the Bad Writing Contest. Dutton declared that his interest was in finding the "most egregious examples of awkward, jargon-clogged academic prose." The Contest awarded its "prize" to such writers as Fredric Jameson, Homi Bhabha, and Judith Butler. There is much to complain about academic writing but there is also a great deal of anti-intellectual angst directed at such prose, especially if such prose is deemed "theoretical." My task here is neither to praise Dutton, nor to bury him, but to bring to attention academic writing that is difficult to categorize, or is challenging in a new way, or is noteworthy for its inventiveness.)

Here is a partial list of sentences that open the chapters in a new book, Mumbai Fables:

It is just before two o'clock in the afternoon in April, the hottest month of the year.

Bombay is now officially Mumbai. The colonial era is abolished, dismissed as history.

Marine Drive is no ordinary place.

On October 9, 1947, a young Muslim woman committed suicide in Bombay.

It was April 27, 1959. As the day wore on, the oppressive humidity hung like a pall over the city.

On the night of Friday, June 5, 1979, Krishna Desai was stabbed to death.

A jeep careens recklessly through Bombay's streets. It is filled with ruthless goons of the notorious Panther gang.

"Haay Haay Haay Haay..." On the pavement by the sea, a dark thin man is smacking his blood-spattered naked back with a whip made of rags.

Mumbai Fables is the work of Gyan Prakash, who teaches at Princeton and has long been a member of the Subaltern Group of historians. These chapter openings are drawn from the following sources: a novel in English and another in Hindi, a now-defunct tabloid, a book of history, also one from urban studies, and an ordinary news-report. This eclectic range of materials is one indication of the nature of history-writing that Prakash is doing, but these openings also convey a point about form. They tell the reader right away that the author is interested both in story and in history.

This is a split discourse. The chapter pushes into the narrative waters with sentences like "It is just before two o'clock in the afternoon in April, the hottest month of the year" and sooner rather than later the engine is churning through a different order of turbulence: "Urban theorists contend that capitalist globalization has also overwhelmed the modernist city of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Prototypical political movements and ideologies nursed in the heyday of modernist cities have lost their appeal, and new informational networks and 'pirate modernity' have marginalized older urban solidarities. As globalization produces different kinds of legal regimes and citizens, new hierarchies of cities and urban dwellers, it poses a new set of questions for citizenship, identity, and politics." When I asked him about it, Prakash wrote to me in an e-mail that he had been interested in doing two opposed things: tracking and explaining what was found on the street and was situational, but also in examining the archive and analyzing how the historical document had been produced by historical forces. He added, "In one sense, the difference is that between the account of the everyday that one encounters in a novel, and the picture of broad forces and institutions that social sciences draw. I wanted to be able to do both, that is, read one in the other. For this reason, I did both kinds of research."

How does this method work?

While writing about Mumbai's Chor Bazaar (Thieves' Market), Prakash recounts the story told by a shopkeeper about the way in which the market acquired its name: "'You see, the name goes back to the time when the Gateway of India was built, when Queen Victoria visited Bombay.' He continued with a tale about a theft. 'When her ship docked, she discovered that her violin was missing.' It was the queen who ordered that the market be rechristened Chor Bazaar after the stolen violin was found on sale on Mutton Street. 'This is how the place got its name.'"

Having presented this story, the historian steps in. "Of course, Queen Victoria never set foot in Bombay. The Gateway was built to commemorate the visit of the Prince of Wales in 1911 and was completed only in 1924." (I love the historian's "Of course" almost as much as I love the "stolen violin" in the shopkeeper's story.) But Prakash quickly insists that he didn't correct the shopkeeper's inaccuracies. "To be sure, the story is apocryphal, and yet it contains a representation of the past, one that is very different from that which appears in the archives. Like the bazaar, which exists on the margins of the mainstream markets, this historical representation lurks outside the shadows of disciplinary history. There are no documentary records or commemorative plaques to substantiate this expression of the past; instead, it survives precariously in recycled stories as a faint impression, imperfect and obscure."

This is writing that reveals history itself to be a fable. In such lyrical passages, you notice the historian's achievement of high style. However, let's be clear about what is happening here: Academic writing is shown to be less of a storytelling, and more of a poetic exercise in offering interpretation. I'd even go further and say that the journey from one to the other is neither seamless nor always desirable. But that is where we are located in the contemporary academic moment: we have been freed to tell stories, but we are labor under the imperative to fix the stories in authoritative interpretation. Fables are fine, but they are trumped by disciplinary history.

Scholars and analysts have their particular approach to storytelling. Who are Prakash's models? The cover of the U.S. edition of Mumbai Fables shows a painting by Atul Dodiya, "Bombay Buccaneer." The artist has painted a self-portrait relying on fragments and radical reinvention. Dodiya has used the poster from the Hindi film "Baazigar" (1993) as his inspiration. The poster had shown the film's two female protagonists reflected in the antihero's sunglasses. In "Bombay Buccaneer," those women are replaced by the artists David Hockney and Bhupen Khakhar. When I looked at Dodiya's painting, I thought a similar picture could be painted of Prakash. In this new painting, Hockney and Khakhar would be replaced by Walter Benjamin and Sigmund Freud. Like Benjamin, Prakash is committed to recording the subjective experience of the urban dweller; and like Freud, he is invested in investigating the dream-life of his subject, trying to find out what has been repressed, disguised, and displaced.

Uncannily, as in the case of "Bombay Buccaneer," the inspiration behind Mumbai Fables is Hindi cinema. The book's energy comes not from the author's wide-ranging erudition and research; rather, it lies in the book's ambition, at times faltering and at other times successful, to stay close to films. (After all, Mumbai is the film-making capital of India.) I asked Prakash about it and he sent me the following response: "Hindi films enter your sensibility. At least, they have entered mine. Cinematic imagination influences your writing. For example, when I was writing the chapter on Krishna Desai's murder and the rise of Shiv Sena, I couldn't help but view it also as a cinematic narrative, one that moved through powerful visual images. So, I tried to write it that way. Amitabh Bachchan's 'Angry young man' helped me make sense of Bal Thackeray in the 1960s, although, as I say in the book, it was the Sena chief who carved out the role that Bachchan made famous on the screen. In general, I found the directness and economy of cinematic representations very useful in disciplining my writing, in sticking to the essential and the most important."

I recommend you read Mumbai Fables. And then, crack a beer and watch a Hindi film. Maybe, a film like "Satya."

Amitava Kumar is the author, most recently, of A Foreigner Carrying in the Crook of His Arm A Tiny Bomb. He teaches English at Vassar College.

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How to Write Like an Historian (Note: The philosopher Denis Dutton (1944-2010) was a founder of the website Arts & Letters Daily but a part of his fame, or notoriety, was attached to his stewardship of the Bad Writing Contest. Dutton declared that his interest was in finding the "most egregious examples of awkward, jargon-clogged academic prose."

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Guide for writing in the disciplines

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Writing in the disciplines

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Ways of doing...writing in the disciplines

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Ways of doing...writing in the disciplines