DQ2

In Chapter 4 of your textbook, the author defines public writing as "writing intended to reach readers who might be complete strangers" (Schwalbe, 2020, p. 36). He goes on to give us seven tips on how be sociologically mindful in the field of 'public writing.' These tips (starting on page 38) are to respect readers, respect opponents, anticipate objections, gather facts, connect stories to data, get feedback, and be cooperative. The remainder of the chapter talks about some of both the challenges and the advantages of using social media as a platform to share ideas about social change.

For this discussion, let's dig into some of the public writing about social justice issues that you are currently exposed to. To do so, find a tweet, blog, Facebook post, or opinion article about a social justice issue you are interested in. Note: Opinion articles will usually contain the word 'opinion' in the link. Examine this writing while considering the seven tips given to us by the author. Share the public writing you have chosen (just paste the link), and explain how the author could have been more sociologically mindful and thus more efficient in their messaging. Reference each of the seven tips - did the author use any of them well? Did they use of them poorly? What could they have done better, if anything?

Do not share links to obviously offensive writing that includes racial slurs, obscene language, etc. We can all already agree that that type of writing does not follow the author's tips. 

See next page for Ch. 4 of textbook

CHAPTER 4

Writing

Ionce had a graduate student who was a terrible writer. Her sentences were awkward and murky. Her paragraphs were jumbles of thoughts that didn’t hang together to make a point. Reading her papers was exhausting because of the effort required to figure out what she was trying to say. She knew that she needed to become a better writer, so she took my writing course.

One day in class I had students do a free-writing exercise. The instructions were to write for ten minutes—without pausing, without revising, without worrying about what anyone else would think—starting with the prompt, “What I’d really like to study is. . . .” I then had everyone read their pages aloud. The student who was a bad writer wrote about studying women’s sports. Her free write was clear, smooth, smart, and full of energy. I was amazed.

Later I said to her that I thought she ought to stop studying crime and study women’s sports. It seemed clear that was what she cared about, and that caring made her writing sing. “I can’t do that,” she said, indicating that she was going to stick to crime. When I asked why, she said, “If I study women’s sports, nobody will take me seriously.” She was being overly pessimistic, but she wasn’t entirely wrong; in academia, some topics are taken more seriously than others.

Unfortunately, this student was not unusual. Many students suffer from the same problem. They write badly not because they can’t do better but because they are compelled to write about things that don’t matter to them. Writing is done as a performance for the teacher—a song and dance for the sake of a grade. These conditions seldom elicit a person’s best work. Even worse, these conditions tend to make people hate writing.

The good news is that writing to make a difference is not like writing in school. For one thing, it’s not done for a grade. It’s done to influence others by sharing a meaningful experience or by making an argument. Another difference is that the motivation comes from inside because the writer feels strongly that there is something—a problem, a state of affairs, an idea—that others need to be made aware of. Under these conditions, when people are writing from the heart, writing is not the onerous, pointless practice that it can feel like in school.

Many people who struggle to write well in school might come to think they are bad writers and thus shy away from public writing. They might think that they lack the talent to write in a way powerful enough to affect others. But as the case of my graduate student suggests, the problem is not a lack of talent but a lack of caring and purpose. In fact, I would say that, under the right conditions, anyone who can write at all is capable of doing the kind of public writing that can make a difference in the world.

What I mean by “public writing” is writing intended to reach readers who might be complete strangers. This is one thing that makes public writing different from sending e-mails or text messages to friends. Public writing also typically concerns some matter that has implications for the lives of the unknown others whom a writer is trying to reach. If you e-mail a friend about a new video game you’ve just purchased, that is private writing. If you review the game for a website, perhaps advising readers to shun the game because of its violent imagery, that is public writing.

Other examples of public writing are letters to the editor of a newspaper, op-eds or guest columns (again, usually in newspapers), comments in online forums, blogs, articles for print magazines or websites, and books. This kind of writing can reach thousands, sometimes millions of people and affect how they think, feel, and behave. It certainly has the potential to make a difference—even to make the world a better place, depending on how it’s done. Sociology can help with this.

Most people who want to write for a wide audience probably don’t think of sociology as a place to turn for advice. The truth is, sociologists have a reputation for being lousy writers. We are often accused of using pretentious jargon to say things that could be better said in plain English. It’s also true that a lot of sociology in academic journals is dull and hard to read. Sociology doesn’t have to be written this way, but I can’t deny that much of it is. So I am sympathetic to readers who are skeptical about sociology helping anyone do a better job of public writing.

But my claim isn’t that academic writing by sociologists is a model for public writing (although some of it is a model of what not to do). My claim, rather, is that public writing can be more effective if it is done in a sociologically mindful way. This is something that anyone who wants to write about social issues, especially contentious ones, can learn to do. I am also hoping that by showing how to take a sociologically mindful approach to public writing, more people will want to do it as another way of trying to make the world a better place.

How to Write to and for Others

Advice about how to write is abundant. There are hundreds of books and thousands of articles offering tips and suggestions. Much of the advice is excellent. Avoid clichés. Eliminate clutter. Use active verbs. Prefer shorter words to longer ones. I agree that these are good things to do (I try to do them myself). But the kind of advice I have to offer is different. It’s less about how to write good sentences than it is about how to write something of value to others.

Good sentences are important, of course. Clarity and apt expression—using the right words in the right order, with originality and style—are what grip readers and get a message across. But putting too much stress on artfulness can make public writing seem daunting. “I’m not a good enough writer,” many people might think. Seeing public writing as mere self-expression is another problem because then people equate it with being a show-off or a loudmouth.

My suggestion is to think of public writing as joining a conversation. This doesn’t require literary mastery, just some care and a bit of craft. And it isn’t about showing off. It’s about entering into a relationship with one’s neighbors or fellow citizens for the sake of addressing matters of mutual concern—like talking over a backyard fence or a café table, only with many people at once. Here, then, are seven suggestions for how to do this in a sociologically mindful way.

Respect readers.  It’s hard to get others to join us in conversation if we start by saying something insulting or condescending. If that’s how others perceive us, they probably won’t stick around to hear what we have to say. The same is true for writing. As writers, we want readers to attend to our words. But if the words convey an attitude of contempt, readers will turn away. This is especially true in the case of public writing, when we are trying to reach readers who aren’t obligated by bonds of friendship to pay attention.

Respecting the reader means taking the reader seriously as an intelligent partner in conversation. It means addressing the reader as someone whose attention we earn by being clear, informative, and sensitive to differences of perspective and opinion. Imagine a kind of golden rule applied to writing. The way we would like to be addressed as readers—with respect for our time, intelligence, and humanity—is the way we, as public writers, should try to address readers. This doesn’t guarantee that readers will stick around, but it increases the odds; and getting readers to keep reading is a prerequisite for getting a message across.

Respect opponents.  Public writing is often driven by strong feelings about social or political issues. These feelings make it tempting to use snarky language to refer to people who hold contrary views. I understand the impulse to do so. I know how satisfying it can feel to write a witty barb that skewers one’s opponents. The problem is that conveying disrespect for opponents is often counterproductive. For one thing, it gives opponents a reason to turn away. Who wants to endure a barrage of insults?

Perhaps few people who are committed to views contrary to ours will read or take seriously what we say in any case. Still, they might, and this is a possibility worth keeping in mind. But there might be many other readers who are, as pollsters say, “undecided.” These readers are open to persuasion, or at least to considering a new point of view. It is these readers who can be put off by rudeness and disrespect aimed at some group of people, even if this occurs in the context of an otherwise sound argument.

Respecting opponents doesn’t mean giving credence to views that are illogical, irrational, or inhumane—as if all sides of an issue are of equal value for creating a better world. What it means, rather, is respecting the humanity of those who hold opposing views, even if we think those views are egregiously, even dangerously, wrong. This doesn’t imply less vigor in opposing illogical, irrational, or inhumane views, just wariness against the tendency to dehumanize others. By avoiding this tendency in public writing, it’s possible to engage and persuade more readers while also modeling part of what a better world would look like.

Anticipate objections.  Making an argument implies that there is a viewpoint against which an argument needs to be made. People who take this other view are naturally going to have objections and criticisms. Even people who don’t take an opposing view might have objections or criticisms if an argument strikes them as weak. A good strategy, then, is to anticipate what opponents, critics, and skeptics might say in response to a piece of public writing—and then deal with those responses in the piece itself.

Anticipating objections takes effort. It requires figuring out what the objections are likely to be. It also requires handling those objections fairly and not in a caricatured (or “strawperson”) way. Sometimes this is hard to do because opposing views can seem terribly wrong. But if we don’t take these views into account and deal with them seriously, we weaken our writing. Critics and skeptics can say that we got it wrong because we ignored key facts or alternative interpretations. Taking these facts and interpretations into account still might not sway dedicated opponents, but it does make an argument harder to dismiss. It also makes the argument more persuasive to those who have not yet staked out a position.

We can’t count on others to play the believing game (see chapter 2 ) when they read what we write. Some will—especially when we are preaching to the choir, as the saying goes. But many are likely to play the doubting game, looking for reasons to reject what we say. If we acknowledge possible objections, take those objections seriously, and respond to them preemptively, then what we write will be more persuasive to more readers. By anticipating objections, we also complicate and refine our views and perhaps discover what we have in common with others—the things about which we agree and can build on in searching for solutions to social problems.

Gather facts.  Public writing often makes claims about what is true. Before making such claims, we should try to be as sure of our facts as possible. A prior step is to think about readers. We might ask ourselves, what facts would a reader need to judge the truth of what we’re saying? If we can answer this question, we can then gather the facts needed to give a piece of writing some persuasive heft.

But how do we know that the facts we find are correct? How do we know when we have enough facts? It would take a long digression to fully answer these questions. Here are two short answers.

First, we should be wary of facts that come from people or organizations that are driven by a political or economic agenda. For example, a source that is funded by wealthy industrialists who want to eliminate government regulation, lower corporate taxes, and rely on the market to solve every problem is probably not a trustworthy source of unbiased facts. It would be better to seek more neutral or objective sources.

Second, if we don’t have enough facts to complicate our thinking—to make us pause and wonder if we’re right—then we probably need to keep digging. A good idea is to look for facts that don’t neatly support what we already think is true and wrestle with those facts. This kind of fact gathering is what makes the difference between a rant and a solid argument that musters evidence and respects the complexity of the real world. As a piece of public writing, the latter is likely to be more effective.

Another way to think of fact gathering is as a form of service to readers, not just as a means to persuade. If we focus solely on persuasion, we will be tempted to seek and present only those facts that support our case while ignoring others. But if we think of public writing as a form of education, then we will seek and present facts that help readers better understand what’s going on. When public writing is done this way—with respect for reliable facts, for complexity, and for readers—it can make us all a little smarter as social analysts.

Connect stories to data.  Sometimes a piece of public writing is basically a story—a writer describes his or her experience, or someone else’s experience, and offers it to readers as a form of evidence, like giving testimony in court. A writer might then go on to draw out the lesson of the story, or leave it to readers to find the lesson. Either way, this kind of public writing works because of the power of stories to captivate us and make issues come to life in our minds. But here is the problem with stories: as powerful as they can be, they can also be dismissed as mere stories—stuff somebody just made up.

A way to overcome this problem, while also exploiting the power of stories, is to connect stories to data. For example, suppose someone wanted to show how rising tuition costs have made it harder for people from working-class families to attend college. A person could do this by telling his or her personal story of struggling to earn and borrow enough money to pay tuition bills. It would be even better, however, if the personal story was shown to be representative of many other people. Citing reliable statistics about working-class wage stagnation, rising tuition costs (even after controlling for inflation), and increasing student debt would help to show that the story is not idiosyncratic but that it potentially mirrors the experience of millions of students.

Every personal story can be contextualized by connecting it to data about larger social or economic trends and conditions. When a story is connected to data in this way, it becomes harder for critics to dismiss it as a mere story or the story of one disgruntled person. Another way to think of this is as using personal stories to illustrate patterns that can be verified with data. This is a powerful strategy for public writing, as it can affect not only people’s thoughts about social problems but also the feelings that move them to try to make a difference.

Get feedback.  Strong feelings about an issue can lead to writing that is authentic and lively. Yet passion can sometimes make us forget that our writing must be clear to others. We can get so caught up in the act of expression—trying to put our feelings into words—that we fail in the act of communication—getting across information, ideas, and an argument. Respecting readers, respecting opponents, and anticipating objections help to minimize this problem. It also helps to get feedback on writing that we want to make public.

Getting feedback means sharing what we write with a friend or colleague before making it public. The friend or colleague serves as a test reader: someone who will tell us if our writing “works” or not. Maybe a sentence is unclear, or an argument is weak, or we’ve misused a word. Or maybe we’ve unwittingly said something that will offend the people we’re trying to reach. A good test reader will spot these problems and help fix them. I suggest getting feedback from more than one test reader because different readers will often spot different problems.

Sociologists and other academic folks do this sort of thing all the time. Every published book and article has been revised multiple times based on prepublication feedback. I don’t mean that every tweet or blog post has to go through this kind of process (though it would probably keep some people from saying foolish things in haste). But the more important a piece of public writing is—the more important it is that the writing produce its intended effect—the more worthwhile it is to get feedback ahead of time. Getting feedback from experienced writers is also how one becomes a better writer in the long run.

Be cooperative.  If you publish your own blog, you’re the boss. You can write pretty much whatever you want at whatever length you want, and no editor will reject your submission. But suppose you want to reach a different audience, perhaps by publishing a letter or an op-ed (guest column) in a newspaper, an essay on a website, or an article in a magazine. If you want to do this kind of public writing, you’ll need to be mindful of someone else’s rules.

These rules are not secret. Most print and online publications have guidelines for submission that specify length for letters, columns, essays, and other kinds of articles. If letters are limited to 250 words, don’t send a 500-word letter and expect it to get published. If guest columns are limited to 750 words, don’t send in a 1500-word piece. If essays are supposed to be written in a clear, accessible style, don’t send an academic paper full of jargon. When in doubt, ask. Or try googling first.

Mainstream publications get more submissions than they can publish. So an easy way to eliminate the excess is to reject everything that doesn’t follow the rules. This isn’t to say that there is never any flexibility; editors can decide, if there is a good reason, to allow a little wiggle room on length limits. But don’t count on it. The best chance of having your work—some piece of public writing—accepted for publication comes from offering strong content (see the previous bits of advice) and following the rules set by editorial gatekeepers.

Here is one more bit of advice related to following the rules: read like a writer. Look at the place in which you’d like to publish and pick out the pieces of writing that strike you as well done. Then study how they’re done. Look at how they’re organized and the style in which they’re written. The idea is not to mimic someone else’s writing, but to find a model to guide your own efforts. Looking for good models and striving to meet high standards involves more work than sending a tweet. But as with all the advice I’ve offered here, the effort is worthwhile to the extent that one cares about engaging readers in a respectful conversation about how to make the world a better place.

Social Media and Beyond

The Internet has changed how people think about public writing. Not that long ago, public writing was what appeared in books, newspapers, and magazines after passing through multiple editorial filters. There is still much of this kind of writing being done, for both print and online publication. Only writing that meets certain standards and follows the rules (see above) gets paid for, published, and made available to a wide audience. But now there are social media platforms that provide more options for public writing, along with more pitfalls.

Blogs are perhaps most like the old school method of self-publishing a magazine (or a ’zine), though many blogs are written by only one person. And just like magazines or ’zines, they can be well written and deal seriously with political and social matters of broad concern. The best blogs that I’ve seen tend to follow much of the writing advice that I’ve offered in this chapter.

What is great about these Internet-era options for public writing is that the barriers to participation are low. It isn’t necessary to own a newspaper or a magazine or a TV station to get one’s views out. Anyone who can afford a computer, or get access to one, can start a blog. Anyone with a cell phone can tweet. And there is little or no editorial filtering between writer and audience. All this is good in that it can enhance freedom of expression. Unfortunately, it isn’t always conducive to mindful public writing.

Public writing is mindful, I’ve suggested, when it respects diverse readers, respects opponents, anticipates objections, and seeks to honestly inform. The problem is that social media hasn’t required or encouraged any of this. Too often the tendency is to write for a group of like-minded others, in a mean or brash way about opponents, with little or no editorial filtering or prepublication feedback and revision. This kind of writing—a sharply barbed tweet is probably the best example—can make a writer feel good, yet not accomplish much. Or it may even backfire.

Another problem with many social media platforms is that they can limit thoughtfulness and serious analysis. Carefully examining a social problem, weighing evidence, making an argument, considering possible objections, and so on can’t be done in 280 characters or a few sentences. It takes space. This isn’t to say that a simple point can’t be made in a tweet. It is to say that if we limit our public writing to tweets (or the equivalent), we will limit ourselves to saying simplistic things about matters that can’t be fully understood without more complex, nuanced analysis.

The lack of editorial filtering, if only in the form of prepublication feedback, is yet another limitation of social media. While freedom of expression is generally good, failure to get feedback can lead to mistakes, obscurity, and inadvertent offensiveness. Lack of feedback also makes it hard to improve as a writer. So, when it comes to public writing, there is a downside to relying solely on social media. That’s why I suggest trying to write, at least sometimes, for outlets that set high standards for accuracy and clarity.

Despite their limitations, social media can be powerful and empowering. These platforms can be used to share information and ideas and to coordinate action (see  chapter 5  on organizing). Writing for social media can also be a way to hone one’s ability to craft clear sentences that get to the point quickly. So, yes, writing for social media can be an important part of working for change. My point is that other kinds of public writing are needed as well.

I realize that not everyone can do the same kind of public writing. Not everyone has the same time, skills, and knowledge. Yet public writing, as I’ve tried to show, is more doable than many people—especially those who’ve suffered through writing assignments in school—might think. Any literate person who is willing to take a bit of care can do it. It’s a way to contribute to a public conversation about solving social problems. It’s a way, in other words, to help make the world a better place.