16 – Introduction
the properties of their timbers. The forms we are concerned with
operate on two levels – that of the sentence and that of larger units
of discourse like the paragraph and the essay as a whole. There are
ways in which we use words, grammar and discourse to organise our
diverse ideas into a coherent unity. Every piece of academic writing
should strive for this unity.
A well-organised piece of writing reveals that the writer has
established a pattern of relationships between the individual parts
and between the parts and the whole composition. When we read, we
are often dimly aware that the author of our book has achieved this
formal balance without our being able to say exactly how. When we
write, we are often uncomfortably aware that we haven’t achieved it.
Sometimes we begin to realise that our thinking and writing are just
‘going round in circles’. We start to repeat ourselves unnecessarily,
contradict ourselves or fail to show the connections between ideas.
We become aware that, whenever we arrive at the end of a section of
the essay, or of a paragraph or even of a sentence, we do not know
where to turn next or how to establish a connection between what is
written and what is to be written. We become more and more unable
to decide between what should be included in the essay and what
should be left out. Paragraphs become very, very long or very, very
short. Sentences become long and convoluted, such that the end has
quite forgotten the beginning. More or less random mistakes in some
aspects of grammar begin to creep in. Overall, we get that feeling
that our writing does not ‘flow’, that some aspect of its structure has
collapsed.
The first difficulty we face is in learning to recognise when
these symptoms are present. Sometimes they are not particularly
apparent to us while we are writing, only revealing themselves when
we read the piece over later. Sometimes our own sense of form is not
sufficiently developed to enable us to see aspects of our problem at all.
We learn these things by having our writing criticised by others, and
by absorbing gradually from our reading a sense of what good writing
‘feels’ like. It is therefore often only a vague sense of discomfort, in
the first instance, that alerts us to the situation in our own writing.
When this discomfort is felt, we may be able to go back over
our work and describe in some detail what is going wrong – perhaps
the properties of their timbers. The forms we are concerned with
operate on two levels – that of the sentence and that of larger units
of discourse like the paragraph and the essay as a whole. There are
ways in which we use words, grammar and discourse to organise our
diverse ideas into a coherent unity. Every piece of academic writing
should strive for this unity.
A well-organised piece of writing reveals that the writer has
established a pattern of relationships between the individual parts
and between the parts and the whole composition. When we read, we
are often dimly aware that the author of our book has achieved this
formal balance without our being able to say exactly how. When we
write, we are often uncomfortably aware that we haven’t achieved it.
Sometimes we begin to realise that our thinking and writing are just
‘going round in circles’. We start to repeat ourselves unnecessarily,
contradict ourselves or fail to show the connections between ideas.
We become aware that, whenever we arrive at the end of a section of
the essay, or of a paragraph or even of a sentence, we do not know
where to turn next or how to establish a connection between what is
written and what is to be written. We become more and more unable
to decide between what should be included in the essay and what
should be left out. Paragraphs become very, very long or very, very
short. Sentences become long and convoluted, such that the end has
quite forgotten the beginning. More or less random mistakes in some
aspects of grammar begin to creep in. Overall, we get that feeling
that our writing does not ‘flow’, that some aspect of its structure has
collapsed.
The first difficulty we face is in learning to recognise when
these symptoms are present. Sometimes they are not particularly
apparent to us while we are writing, only revealing themselves when
we read the piece over later. Sometimes our own sense of form is not
sufficiently developed to enable us to see aspects of our problem at all.
We learn these things by having our writing criticised by others, and
by absorbing gradually from our reading a sense of what good writing
‘feels’ like. It is therefore often only a vague sense of discomfort, in
the first instance, that alerts us to the situation in our own writing.
When this discomfort is felt, we may be able to go back over
our work and describe in some detail what is going wrong – perhaps