Writing an Academic Paper

March 8, 2006

I recently came across an interesting document on the web, written by a classicist named Nita Krevans. It is fascinating for its introductory narrative about the genesis of a specific paper, early in her career, on the topic of "First Appearances in the Odyssey." It is a bit like those cartoons I remember seeing as a kid on how a bill becomes a law, only this time is is how an idea becomes an academic paper.

As this article traces the narrative of an academic paper, it inadvertently points up what I think is a blind spot in academic publishing—namely, the lack of consideration concerning the ultimate goal of academic publishing.

The first idea for this paper came to her while teaching:

Each time I introduced the epic by pointing out that the first time we see the suitors and Telemachos through the eyes of Athena, we learn a great deal about their characters just by noticing what they are doing and how they react to the appearance of the goddess. I would then add that they should be alert each time a new character is introduced to see what could be discerned about his or her character.

Nothing wrong there, of course. An important part of being a critical reader is formulating ideas and theories about a work.. thinking creatively about internal patterns and generic distinctions.

The next step we might think of as a forced rough draft.. an essay prompted by an opportunity:

I was invited to the University of Kentucky and one facet of my visit was to meet with a graduate seminar on Homer. Here was the chance to try out my ideas, so I quickly wrote up about twenty pages and sent them off two weeks before my visit.

After a new draft incorporating new ideas, and having a friend proof-read that new draft, there comes the inevitable application to deliver it as a paper at a major conference.. and only after that does she write up her paper and send it in to an academic journal. But that was not the end of the story:

After three months, the reports came back. Referee A rejected it for cogent reasons: I offered no rationale for including some examples and excluding others; I had not clearly defined what constituted a "first appearance" rather than, say, an introduction. Referee B was guardedly optimistic. She or he liked the overall idea, but found the execution inadequate. I was, of course, devastated.

It really does start to seem almost as hard to remember as that cartoon of how a bill becomes a law.. This story has a happy ending, and the academic paper is accepted by the sought for academic journal.

The general idea seems to be that a person develops an insight about a text and then inevitably starts working that insight up to the level of an academic paper.. with exceptions as an idea proves wrong or something. But is our goal really that everyone with an insight carries that insight to a publication? And what would that lead to?

What it leads to is easy to see: rows and rows of academic journals. I happened to be in the library today looking for an article, and came up against a sturdy wall of academic journals. Theoretically, I guess everyone will have their contribution to that wall. And as those insights add up, each field will advance, and the next generation of scholars will start off already knowing about the "first appearances" in the Odyssey, and build from that new platform.

This seems like a model more fitting for the sciences, where each generation really does start from the insights of the last generation. In the Humanities there have been some real breakthroughs that change the way people think.. like (in Classics) the connection of Homer to the techniques of oral poetry, or the re-discovery of Greek lyric meters in the last century. But pass over these and the scholar is left with an enormous wall of insights and good ideas to be mastered.. and pretty soon those insights become too ungainly for any one person to master, and so a field develops sub-fields.

Writing is of course a necessary part of being a scholar. But academic publications and presentations have more of a social function than is often allowed. That wall of journals does not represent pure knowledge, but the efforts of many many people to connect and exchange their insights. I guess I wish this social aspect of scholarship was more broadly recognized. And although the article by Krevans is all about adding another insight to the wall, she also manages to give a vibrant portrait of all the social interaction that comes with scholarly work. Each stage in the journey of an insight to an academic publication involves interactions with other scholars (read again each of the three brief quotations above).