Solving the Knowledge Problem

All writers must solve three problems with every draft they produce—the knowledge problem, the language program, and the rhetorical problem. In this series of blog posts, I describe each of these problems and offer some brief insights into how you might resolve them in your writing.

The knowledge problem concerns your message: What am I trying to say in this piece of writing? Organizing sometimes contradictory perceptions or propositions can make solving the knowledge problem more challenging. For example, what is the most effective way to organize more than four decades of literature on college student success in a brief literature review? What are the most important strands of that story for me to tell, especially as it relates to my particular project or purpose for writing? How do I plan to position myself with respect to those strands? Do I want to affirm or question their value? Do I seek to redefine them in some way?

Of course, for graduate students and other scholars new to the field, solving the knowledge problem is often complicated by self-doubt. Am I the right person to deliver this message? Is my knowledge base, scholarship, or approach worthy of making this contribution to the field? Many higher education professionals experience imposter syndrome, and it can undoubtedly derail writing productivity. We’ll talk more about sense of self and building credibility in a future post.

For now, let’s look at two questions writers must answer in addressing the knowledge problem.

1. What is the most effective way to organize this piece? If you are writing up an empirical study for a peer-reviewed journal, the basic organizational structure is already established (i.e., abstract, introduction, literature review, method, findings, discussion, implications, conclusion). Each section also has a fairly standard organizational structure. Rocco and Hatcher’s The Handbook of Scholarly Writing and Publishing deconstructs the journal manuscript, offering authors insight into each section’s purpose and strategies for approaching it. You may also want to review the Journal Article Reporting Standards (JARS) on the APA website.

But what if you are writing a manuscript with less well-defined genre conventions? You might start by going back to the central message or purpose for writing. Frequently, the content will suggest a logical organizational method. For example, if you plan to describe the history of a program, chronological order or a narrative structure would make sense. To compare the outcomes of two different initiatives focusing on the same issue, you would probably adopt a compare/contrast structure. If you are still unsure, find samples of writing similar to what you are hoping to create. How did the author organize the piece? How effective does that organizational structure feel to you as a reader?

Your audience should also factor into how you organize the piece. Will they bring certain expectations to the work? For example, will they expect an executive summary?

When you are unsure about audience expectations, attending to choices that enhance readability is a safe bet. Offer a clear advanced organizer in the introduction to the document, telling readers what they can expect to find and how it will be organized. Create headings and subheadings related to that original organizing statement and provide signposts guiding the reader through your document. Finally, be sure to craft transitions that help readers move from one idea to the next, both within and between paragraphs.

2. What evidence do I need to support my conclusions? As with organization, genre conventions frequently prescribe the kinds of evidence or data required for a manuscript. If you are unclear, review the submission guidelines for the target publication and read published samples. What kinds of data displays are present? How are they organized?

Again, your purpose for writing might suggest the kinds of data that are most appropriate. If you want to initiate a pilot program, a review of the research and practice literature for similar initiatives might be suitable. After the pilot, you want to include data demonstrating program effectiveness to support a request for continuation or broader adoption.

Your audience might also offer some insight into the kinds of evidence you need to include. I recently interviewed the vice president of student affairs at a flagship university in the Southeast about his emphasis on assessing signature initiatives. He characterized his approach as being driven by legal theory: evidence over argument. An argument (a narrative of success, compelling anecdotes) will be enough to satisfy your audience in many cases. In other cases, such as asking for institutional resources or protecting an initiative in the face of institution-wide budget cuts, your arguments have to be backed by data.

Whatever approach you take to providing evidence, supporting the assertions you make or conclusions you draw by reference to the literature or to the data you’ve collected is essential to establish the credibility of your message and your own as the author of that message.

In the next post in this series, we’ll explore strategies for solving the language problem.