|‘Writing is never general’
Specifically, Wardle (who writes from a US Composition Studies perspective) claims that (pages 31-2, bold added):
Donald Judd also argues (from a US perspective), drawing on Critical Realism, that writers always need a reason to write, a reality to write about. He therefore encourages writing teachers who have the task of teaching ‘writing in general’ (school teachers, first year composition studies (in the US) or general EAP (in the UK), to design tasks that engage their student writers meaningfully. He has some well thought-through, generalisable and educationally-sound suggestions that don’t necessarily require writing to be discipline-specific (but they do require caring about a topic and having an audience in mind).
From an EAP perspective, I think this quote from Huckin, 2003 (abstract, p.3) more or less sums up my own stance on this:
In commenting on Huckin, Hyland (2016, p.18) claims:
So, this got me thinking, as usual, about how we teach writing on a general EAP course. I know there are many who think EAP should not be general (I have references for this, sorry – I just don’t have them to hand, it’s late, it’s Saturday, I have food in the oven), but the fact is, most EAP is taught ‘in general’. And given that it is, how can we turn this to our advantage, make it a meaningful experience for our students and ourselves, and perhaps even give it an added edge over and a separate remit from English for Specific Purposes, which seems to attract far more sympathies and favourable arguments than English for General Academic Purposes?
I have several ideas, including ideas on giving general EAP an interdisciplinary identity and focus (but more on this another time and in another post/article). In the meantime, I have proposed the following summer staff development session where I work. It still hasn’t been accepted by my department, but regardless of this, I wanted to share my thinking on how to meaningfully go about teaching general EAP with my wider #tleap community.
And the reason I wanted to do this is because I want to know what you think – what should and could we be teaching on ‘general’ EAP, given Wardle’s and Judd’s, and those who favour ESAP (English for Special Aademic Purposes), consensus on the non-feasibility of teaching writing ‘in general’?
Academic Writing, Conventions, and ‘Who Has the Right’
Received wisdom continues to hold that you have to know the rules before you can break them. This is evident in a recent book (2016) on genre innovation by Christine Tardy:
intentionally departing from norms requires an understanding of those norms (p. 39)
From the perspective of fairness and access, Tardy also recognises (with reference to Bourdieu’s notion of ‘legitimate authority’ and ‘cultural capital’) that this can lead to an imbalance of power:
What emerges from this complicated web of authorial identity is something of a vicious cycle marked by power and access: Experienced authors gain access to the resources that allow them to produce legitimate language in legitimate forms and situations; in doing so they accumulate symbolic capital; their capital then allows them to exploit the system and perhaps stray from norms in ways that those with less capital cannot; through their distinctive uses of language they may accumulate further legitimacy and power within the market (p. 36)
I like Tardy’s book because it is both theoretical and pedagogical. It fully acknowledges the influence and importance of well-established scholarship on genre and academic writing (eg Swales, Halliday, Martin, Devitt, inter alia), yet also foregrounds the less visible work (in mainstream EAP, at least) of sociolinguists like Jan Blommaert and semioticians like Gunther Kress, as well a critical language theorists like Widdowson and Pennycook, who have invoked the importance of play, creativity and non-linguistic ways of thinking and representing knowledge. Tardy further provides classroom approaches to raising students’ awareness and choices when it comes to their own writing.
But what happens when there are no obvious rules to be broken, no ready-made templates to fall back on, and you have to literally invent your own genre?
This is where Tardy’s book panders to my interests. She acknowledges the importance of interdisciplinarity when it comes to thinking about genre innovation and moving beyond convention in academic writing:
Adopting an interdisciplinary approach is also valuable for understanding genre innovation in ways that are inclusive of diverse writers and writing contexts (p. 2)
Adopting an interdisciplinary approach to writing matters to me for three reasons: 1) my PhD is interdisciplinary, and I am forever trying to get the balance right between sounding like an educationalist and behaving like a philosopher (an analytical one, at that!); 2) I teach general EAP; and 3) I’m drawn to the Finnish approach of phenomenon learning.
The reason I am keen on framing general EAP writing as interdisciplinary is summed up in Judd (adapted from page 126 of Judd, D. (2003) Critical Realism and Composition Theory, London, Routledge):
The traditional lack of a subject matter in writing courses is both a strength and a weakness. Sophisticated writing cannot be divorced from a degree of sophisticated understanding of a concrete subject matter. Even if you apply formal logic to your writing and detect logical fallacies and conflicting assertions in an argument, while important, this will not necessarily lead to a more sophisticated understanding and, thus, to more sophisticated writing. “How could someone learn”, asks Frank Smith (1990: 97) “to detect conflicting assertions in a chemistry text, an article on chess, or to estimate for repairs to an automobile, without an understanding of chemistry, chess or automobile mechanics, in which case contradictions would be immediately apparent?”. The answer of course, is that one cannot […].
It may be unrealistic to expect that your writing will get progressively better when you are writing about several unrelated topics over the course of an academic term because little opportunity is given to you to develop a more sophisticated understanding of those topics. When there is no traditional subject matter in writing courses, we are free to select topics that are of interest to us and that lead us to understand ourselves by understanding the world and our place in the world […]. Good writing is not guaranteed by good understanding, but poor understanding almost certainly inhibits good writing.
My solution to this ‘lack of traditional subject matter’ and to the need ‘to understand what you are writing about’ has been to draw on students’ own and emerging disiciplinary knowledge with a view to interacting and collaborating with the knowledge of others. This creates an interdisciplinary writing context and raises the question of how to negotiate rules and transgress genre boundaries whilst still being recognisibly academic.
But now, the question of ‘what genre should my students write in?’ looms large.
Tardy’s book is providing me with ways to build on traditional genres in order to innovate and move beyond traditional conventions in academic writing. I am asking my students to create innovative genres because neither they or I know what knowledge will be brought to the classroom each term and what knowledge will emerge from their collaborative research. I have no template for them to follow. I rely on them to create writing that brings together content knowledge, audience awareness and modalities that effectively get their message(s) across.
Is anyone else grappling with these issues?
Why blogging matters (to me)
Amidst suggestions that they still don’t quite hit the academic ‘G’ spot – see here and here – below is my impulsive, knee-jerk (ergo non-academic) celebration of the blogs that are having a HUGE academic impact on my research, thinking, and teaching.
In fact, I’d argue that they are all ‘academic’ on the grounds that they have meaningful impact: they are transformative because they are engaging a wide-ranging academic community of teachers and researchers, including me, who would otherwise not be aware of these ideas. If this kind of impact is not ‘academic’, then why is it not?
Since I work across several inter-weaving domains (education-philosophy-EAP (English for Academic Purposes), the following collection of blogs may seem random to you, but it makes perfect sense to me.
I list my regular fixes/fixtures (i.e. ones I have set up alerts for) in no particular order and off the top of my head (mainly from memory or a as a result of those I have read most recently), but if you know of other blogs that you think should also be on my radar, then do let me know:
- Understanding Society: Prof Dan Little on the Philosophy of Social Science
- Critical Realism Network: posts, webinars and podcasts on the Philosophy of Critical Realism
- The Sociological Imagination: Dr Mark Carrigan on Sociology
- BERA UK: on Education
- WonkHE: on Higher Education as a sector (policy, politics, economics)
- Philosophical Disquistions: Dr John Danaher, a philosopher and philosophiser
- Patter: Prof Pat Thomson on Research Writing
- Explorations of Style: Dr Rachel Cayley on Research Writing
- Thesis Whisperer: Dr Inger Mewburn on Research Writing
- Doctoral Writing SIG: a collective on Research Writing
- Write4Research: Prof. Patrick Dunleavy on Research Writing
- Tactile Academia: Dr Alke Groppel-Wegener’s embodied approaches to Academic Writing
- Spin Weave and Cut: Dr Nick Sousanis on Visual Literacies, Comics, Education, Science, Maths
- Impact of Social Sciences: a range of thinking on Academic Publishing, Social Policy, Academia
- Teaching and Learning EAP: Dr Alex Ding on the EAP industry
On practising what we preach
The following twitteration caught my eye the other day, and since I have given three talks this year, I wanted to take a moment to reflect with a view to improving my practices and to sharing with students:
I don’t know the full context of this conversation, but since Alex and Tyson are both involved in language, literacy and teaching English for Academic Purposes, I imagine they were having a bit of a rant about colleagues who probably teach presentation skills to their students but are not necessarily great presenters themselves (Alex, Tyson – forgive and correct me if I am wrong …).
So, I thought I’d put my money where my mouth is and reflect on how I fare in the presentations department.
I’m going to list some negative and positive feedback that I have received over the years and add a few comments/justifications. My aim is twofold: to become a better presenter myself AND to show students that like them, I get nervous, mess-up, but survive.
Below are a few recurring things that audiences have said to me after a presentation.
- you talk too fast and too much – yes, this is something I haven’t yet cracked. Like with word-counts, I struggle to keep to time limits. I need to follow my own advice here and actually rehearse the whole thing a couple of times beforehand, using the ‘record’ facility on PowerPoint so I can play it back to myself
- you use big words – I know there is a fine line between using too much or too little jargon, but if you count ‘philology’, ‘semiology’ and ‘ontology’ as big words for an academic conference, then I make no apologies. Firstly, I assume that many in my audiences are familiar with this terminology; and secondly, if they are not, we almost always have internet access in a conference, so look it up and be glad you’ve learnt a new word! That’s exactly what I do when I come across new words and what I expect my students to do, too.
- you have really wordy slides – yep, I do. I use a lot of quotes in my presentations so not sure how to get round this one. I think I need to develop a less ambitious approach to presenting, i.e. saying just enough and leaving the rest to post-talk conversations …
- you are inspirational – I’ve been told this often and I feel really, really happy when someone says this because the best talks I have been to are ‘inspirational’, even though they don’t follow all the conventions
- you’ve taken an interesting angle – this happens quite often, too, and it paves the way for then having really good conversations
- you’ve made me think – when someone comes to look for you after the talk, this is such a good sign! It means they want to know more, carry on the discussion, share references, examples, insights. If this didn’t happen after a talk, I would feel defeated because it would mean no ideas were sparked
I’m taking a huge risk here, but if you have ever been to any of my presentations over the years, will you tell me what you thought? Honestly … You can comment on the blog or email me directly. I need honesty not diplomacy, please, because I genuinely do want to improve and genuinely want my students to see how all of this works.
Fingers crossed …
It’s not about cheating, it’s about care, passion and taking responsibility
Ghostwriting. A rotten issue that is not going to go away unless universities profoundly change their attitude to and understanding of what academic writing is, why it matters and how we learn to do it.
I have also drawn attention to unfairness in our academic writing expectations, the ethics surrounding essay mills, and the problem with not recognising academic writing as an actual subject or discipline .
What these stories on essay mills have in common (including reader comments) is that they often forefront the behaviour of the students as cheats, of the essay mills as moral corruptors and of the universities as upholders of standards and integrity, the sorry victims of an army of lazy, conniving, quick-fix customers who are undermining their credibility and who need to be punished and shamed.
I so profoundly object to the discourses surrounding ‘academic misconduct’ that I am compelled to point out a number of alterantive perspectives, all of which forefront the conditions that allow misconduct to fester and essay mills to profit.
Clearly, I do not condone cheating and I am not so naive as to believe the world is full of do-gooders who are hapless victims of an unfair system. But nor do I condone what I consider to be unhealthy academic writing cultures within universities which seem to be fundamentally and irresponsibly ignorant of a rich and established tradition of scholarly research on academic writing and how you learn to do it.
Some anecdotal evidence
Firstly, I have been teaching university students for 25 years in the UK and in Italy and I like them, trust them, find them interesting, learn from them, respect them. A very small number of these students cheat for no other reason than laziness and lack of interest, but some cheat because they are consumed with anxiety or lack self-esteem; others because they simply do not understand what is expected of them.
Secondly, I have recently become involved in an initiative to support home students with their academic studies – ie those students who have been through the British education system (as opposed to international students who have not). This is because, surprise surprise, home students also struggle with understanding the expectations of academic writing! This initiative is part of a wider university strategy to provide drop-in student services: with the huge amounts students pay in fees, universities need to be seen to be helping. Whether they are or not is contentious.
I have read some published work on how home students struggle with the transition from A-Level writing or Access courses (see for example Lillis 2011 and other work by academic literacies scholars) and on who is/should be responsible for helping these students: their departments, EAP centres, student services, writing centres, library staff? But talking to the students allows me to hear and see first hand what feedback their subject tutors are giving them and to glean insights into what is worrying these learners.
Here is a representative example of what I hear (from an undergraduate):
I got 48% in my midwifery essay and I don’t understand why. I got distinctions in my access course and when I was writing this essay, I thought it was good. I put in references, I looked at different aspects of the research question, my sister, who is really good academically, advised me to start with some context and give some definitions, but my tutor said I had too many ideas and they weren’t really connected to the main question. I also don’t really know what a paragraph is or how long it should be and what should go in the introduction and conclusion? Is the conclusion just a summary? I need to start writing my second essay and I just don’t know where to start now. I want to do it right, but I don’t know how. How do you write an academic essay? How is it different to what they taught me on my access course? I know people who have done A-Levels and they also say it is completely different to an A-Level essay
There is so much to unpack here. As an EAP teacher and academic writing researcher, this is my daily bread and it makes my heart sink to hear this. In a 30-minute drop-in session, I cannot possibly address systemic historical and political dysfunctions in how Further Education and Higher Education join-up, especially now that the UK has roughly reached its university widening participation targets of 50% of 18 year-olds (which means a huge range of students from diverse scholastic backgrounds). Nor can I single-handedly change each academic department’s perception of its own responsibilities when it comes to essay writing. But I can blog about it so let’s see who else out there shares some of my perspectives on this.
Some academic evidence
Much has been written on the issues raised by the student above. I’ve already mentioned work being done by academic literacies scholars. However, there are deeper and wider contexts in which all of this takes place. For example, ongoing work by researchers at Lancaster University on The Dynamics of Knowledge Creation is drawing attention to how academics themselves struggle to write and to meet the demands of an ever increasing marketisation of writing which requires them to publish in some journals and not others or to privilige some genres (eg the academic journal article) above others (eg the monograph or audiovisuals, and other multimodal texts). This leads to what Les Back has called a culture of ‘absenteeism’ because academics can’t meet their own writing targets if they have to be in their university offices, and therefore available for students, during the day. Consequently, universities are full of empty offices and the “smooth running of universities depends on those who are left behind. Usually referred to as ‘support staff'”(p. 104 of Academic Diary).
And there is the influential work of Charles Bazerman who draws attention to the ways in which writing shapes disciplinary epistemologies. This means that we cannot divorce writing from the socialisation processes that create it and this, in turn, means that academics and students alike need to be socialised into writing by their departments and not be palmed off to drop-in sessions like the ones I am doing or forced to resort to essay mills (see also this impressive collection of Open Access research on academic writing which, when taken together, provides ample evidence that writing is a highly complex cultural activity, not a transferable skill).
These, first and foremost, need to rein in some of the more legalistic and accusatory tones that end up stigmatising students as cheats when some are are genuinely struggling through no fault of their own. Yes, of course some cheat because they are lazy, but that is so far removed from the issue at stake that it shouldn’t even enter into the debate (yet it always manages to and ends up skewing the whole problem).
Here is what Paul Greatrix, Registrar at the University of Nottigham, has to say and why I find it problematic, despite it being well-intentioned (my reactions are in red):
- “Companies like this are profiting from students cheating. This is their raison d’être. The approach they take makes it very difficult to detect, but the sector has to find a way to deal with this corrupting activity. Legislation is not the only way forward – we do need a multi-faceted approach as the QAA suggests including:
- educating students better about the importance of submitting their own work
students know about the importance of submitting their own work. The question is how to foster their passion for writing and their engagement with their discipline, and to raise their awareness of how the two are related. We need to inspire students to write their own work and to care about it, and we need academics in each discipline to do this
- improved study skills provision
no, writing is not a skill, it is an embedded disciplinary social practice. See, for example, Ursula Wingate here and Joan Turner here. This is why it can’t be outsourced to somebody who is not socialised in the academic discipline that the student is learning to engage with. Students who already come from academic backgrounds, both in terms of family life and in terms of schools, adapt more quickly to university writing, but even they need nurturing once at university because they are unlikely to have written essays in the disciplines they are now studying
- ensuring more assessments are designed to prevent plagiarism opportunities
this I agree with but not if the rationale is to ‘prevent plagiarism’. The rationale should reflect what counts as academic writing and the values we place on it, including process writing, multimodal writing, writing for different audiences.
- working together across the sector, with the QAA and other agencies, to take on the cheating companies profiting from our students
- ensuring university regulations specifically address essays procured in this way, including listing companies to be avoided, and stressing the punishments that will be fairly and rigorously applied to those who cheat
There would be far less need for law enforcement strategies if universities took a bit more responsibility for how their sector approaches the representation of knowledge. I urge students to speak out about this. What do they think is going on and what are they doing about it?
And to finish, here is Les Back again on how we should re-evaluate what academic writing means (p. 64, my emphasis):
More than any other measure the value of what writers do, even academic ones, is to provide companionship for further thought. Writing here is less an achievement that is measured extrinsically than an invitation to imagine beyond its own terms of reference. Books and essays here befriend and encourage thinking with interlocutors that remain anonymous. This value cannot be audited or cheapened through the mechanisms that aim to judge, measure and distribute repute and ultimately money.
What counts as an academic discipline matters to me on two fronts: firstly, because my research on academic writing is allowing me to reflect on why academic writing is not classed as a discipline (in the UK, at least) given its rich history and scholarly identity; and secondly, because I teach EAP (English for Academic Purposes), and over the years the issue of whether EAP is a discipline or not resurfaces, mainly because its recognition within and without the academy remains contested (debates surrounding this contention can be found here).
Moreover, academic disciplinary boundaries also matter when it comes to justifying and establishing the remit of current and future disciplines. For example, the dicipline of Science evolved from Natural Philosophy; Psychology came into its own once its links with Philosophy and Medicine were scinded; Anthropology and Sociology clearly overalp, but what has traditionally distinguished them is their methodology (ethnography in the former case, statistics in the latter; yet, more and more Social Scientists are using ethnography as their preferred methodology, including Educationalists); and current university degree courses on Peace, War and Terrorism are new: do they count as ‘disciplines’ and if so, on what grounds?
As universities increasingly have to vie for custom, academic departments are opening and closing their doors on the basis of ‘student demand’. As a consequence, academics are increasingly having to re-negotiate their own identities and scholarly remits at a time when job security, the purpose of higher education and ‘post-truth‘ politics are being hotly debated and are likely to be having an impact on how academia is being understood. Research funding is also linked to how secure and recognised an academic discipline is. All of this, therefore, raises legitimate questions about ‘what counts as an academic discipline’ and to what extent do current affairs determine this.
I’ve come across this helpful and clarificatory resource which contextualises the above debates surrounding disciplinary boundaries (the document has further references on (inter)disciplinary issues). Below, I’ve copied the 6 criteria for establishing ‘what counts as an academic discipline’ that Dr Armin Krishnan lists on pages 9 and 10 of his report:
The term ‘academic discipline’ certainly incorporates many elements of the meaning of ‘discipline’ discussed above. At the same time, it has also become atechnical term for the organisation of learning and the systematic production ofnew knowledge. Often disciplines are identified with taught subjects, but clearlynot every subject taught at university can be called a discipline. There is more todisciplines than the fact that something is a subject taught in an academic setting.In fact, there is a whole list of criteria and characteristics, which indicate whethera subject is indeed a distinct discipline. A general list of characteristics wouldinclude: 1) disciplines have a particular object of research (e.g. law, society,politics), though the object of research maybe shared with another discipline; 2)disciplines have a body of accumulated specialist knowledge referring to theirobject of research, which is specific to them and not generally shared withanother discipline; 3) disciplines have theories and concepts that can organisethe accumulated specialist knowledge effectively; 4) disciplines use specificterminologies or a specific technical language adjusted to their research object;5) disciplines have developed specific research methods according to theirspecific research requirements; and maybe most crucially 6), disciplines musthave some institutional manifestation in the form of subjects taught at universitiesor colleges, respective academic departments and professional associationsconnected to it.Only through institutionalisation are disciplines able to reproduce themselves ‘from one generation to the next by means of specific educational preparation’. A new discipline is therefore usually founded by the way of creating a professorial chair devoted to it at an established university.Not all disciplines have all of the aforementioned six characteristics. For example, English literature has the problem that it lacks both a unifying theoretical paradigm or method and a definable stable object of research, but it still passes as an academic discipline.Generally it can be said that the more of these boxes a discipline can tick, the more likely it becomes that a certain field of academic enquiry is a recognised discipline capable of reproducing itself and building upon a growing body of own scholarship.
Are you dealing with any of these issues? If so, I’d love to know your thoughts, especially on whether academic writing should be classed as an academic discipline!
When ‘real’ writers break the rules
Many writing guides provide detailed instructions on how to write a paragraph. But the instructions are misguided, because there is no such thing as a paragraph. That is, there is no item in an outline, no branch in a tree, no unit of discourse that consistently corresponds to a block of text delimitated by a blank line or an indentation. What does exist is the paragraph break: a visual bookmark that allows the reader to pause, to take a breather, assimilate what he has heard, and then find his place again on the page. (Pinker, 2014, p.145)
Advice on how to write academically abounds, especially when it comes to style, and we all have writing pet favourites, sources we turn to for composition guidance. If we read too much advice, though, we soon start to see that it can conflict, so generally we choose one writing guru, and stick with him/her.
Sometimes, this advice verges on the prescriptive, mainly because it needs to be assertive rather than reflexive, and because we need quick fixes to our ‘numb de plume‘ (aka writer’s block) so that we can get back to our manuscripts or so that we can teach.
The advice I am thinking of includes such rules/guidelines as: paragraphs must contain around 5 to 6 sentences; they must be signalled by a clear topic; they need to wrap-up in order to pave the way for the next paragraph. Or: avoid brackets and footnotes because if what you are saying is important, it needs to be prominent, not hidden behind bars or relegated to solitary confinement; in other words, if it’s not important, don’t write it. However, not everyone in academia agrees with such rules…
I confess to finding all this advice confusing, both as a student who has to write academically, and as a teacher who has to teach this stuff, because I don’t always see it happen in practice. Maybe I’m exaggerating. It’s not that it is ‘confusing’ – I get a) why this advice exists (e.g. widening participation has opened the doors to academic discourse for many people who have not been brought up on a (Western) diet of academic writing/composition); and b) why it is like it is (e.g. readership has also widened but the time to actually read/concentrate has shrunk, ergo, everything needs to be signalled and standardised so that busy assessors, reviewers and editors don’t get lost in unwieldy and complex ideas written in non-standard forms).
Nevertheless, I also confess that I prefer a process approach to teaching writing rather than a prescriptive one (so I tend to favour the Susan Feez / Hallidayian approach to genre, for example, which looks back on what has emerged from text exploration, as opposed to a more Swalesian approach which tends to anticipate what writing will look like): this means that I like to explore with students what writers actually do, what choices they make and why, and then negotiate what we, the students, want our writing to look like, and why.
Here are the two examples from my own research readings that have triggered this post. They show how ‘real’ writers break the rules (I’m sorry they are out focus: I will try and sort this later, but it is not the content I am drawing attention to, it is the fact that they break the rules of paragraph advice and of how we use brackets – there are references at the end).
This is from Uzuner, p. 256 (EAP): SEE YELLOW HIGHLIGHT
What I notice here (yellow highlight), is a one-sentence paragraph (if it still counts as a paragraph). Why does she do it? It must have been deemed ‘academic’ or else the Journal of English for Academic Purposes would never have published it. Yet it breaks the very rules that EAP is fond of!
And this is from Skow, p. 447 (philosophy of science): SEE BRACKETS in YELLOW HIGHLIGHTS:
What I notice here is an entire paragraph (a huge one at that) which is entirely bracketed. Why does he do that? Whose writing advice has he followed!?
My answers to why these writers have chosen to ‘break the rules’ is that their academic writing reflects/represents/embodies (I still don’t know how to say this) their academic thinking. They shape or mould their writing to provide a window into their reasoning. In turn, the writing shapes the knowledge they are communicating (Bazerman) so that it is received by the reader in a certain way.
In Uzuner’s case, it was a brief, independent concluding thought that needed its own paragraph space: the one-sentence paragraph thus becomes the shape (the embodiment?) of that brief thought.
In Skow’s case, it was an axiomatic thought, one that needed to be established early on in order for the rest of his argument to be founded on a premise (i.e. his definition of an ‘event’), but one that does not recur: it’s as if he is telling us “ok, let’s just get this out of the way now so that we don’t have to keep coming back to it; and let’s not dwell on it hugely”. His long bracket paragraph becomes the shape of this thinking: long, important, anxiomatic, but essentially not the main focus of his paper.
As always, please share any reactions to this …
- Uzuner, S. (2008). Multilingual scholars’ participation in core/global academic communities: A literature review. Journal of English for Academic Purposes, 7, 250 -263.
- http://bjps.oxfordjournals.org/content/65/3/445.full.pdf (philosophy of science)
- Pinker, S. (2014). The sense of style : the thinking person’s guide to writing in the 21st century. UK: Penguin Random House.
- And this, from The Guardian on paragraphs: https://www.theguardian.com/media/mind-your-language/2015/may/22/breaking-point-is-the-writing-on-the-wall-for-the-paragraph