The Rhetorical Problem: Solving Uncertainties About Purpose, Audience, and Sense of Self

In this last installment on problems writers must solve, I address rhetorical concerns, which include your purpose for writing, your audience, your goals as a writer, and overarching contextual issues.

In developing the cognitive process theory of writing, Linda Flower and John Hayes argued that writers solve the problems they define for themselves. If the rhetorical problem is not very sophisticated, the writing probably won’t be either. Similarly, if a writer is unclear about the problem definition, their writing will likely be vague or confusing.

Because defining the rhetorical problem involves the relationship between the writer, the reader, and those already engaged in the larger conversation, writers need strategies for balancing these relationships. Skillfully navigating the interplay between your purpose for writing, your readers’ needs, and the broader discussion will enhance your credibility and authority.

As a college writing instructor, I encountered Graff and Birkenstein’s excellent guide to academic writing, They Say, I Say. I frequently recommend their book to higher education professionals because the moves they describe are so helpful for entering a scholarly conversation and making significant contributions. Their templates are especially useful in helping writers respond to the question: how can I enhance my credibility and authority? These strategies won’t address all concerns related to imposter syndrome, but perhaps they let us project a level of confidence we might not yet feel.

Here, I highlight five concepts from They Say, I Say that relate to issues I commonly encounter in my editing work.

1. Using what others say as a motivation for writing. People may avoid writing because they feel like they don’t have anything unique to say. Yet, Graff and Birkenstein note, “the best academic writing … is deeply engaged in some way with other people’s views” (p. 3). Revisit that idea file or the commonplace book we discussed in an earlier post. What have you read that generated questions for you? What unexpected connections did you make to your work? to other published pieces in the research and practice literature? Such observations may be jumping off places for your next research project or conference proposal.

2. Clearly stating a position as a response to what others say. I’ve certainly read manuscripts that seem to have been written in a vacuum, with little or no acknowledgment of the broader scholarly conversation happening around a topic. Or, perhaps the author missed the memo on the shift in the conversation that took place in the last decade. To argue your position, you must first be aware of the other perspectives that exist and be able to summarize them objectively.

Once you’ve done that, your response will fall along one of three primary lines: (a) disagreement, (b) agreement, and (c) simultaneous disagreement and agreement. For example, you might employ what Graff and Birkenstein call the Duh move: I don’t disagree with X, just the idea that it is a new perspective. Or: I agree with your position, but I believe it arises from a different set of circumstances than those you’ve identified (the Twist It move). Agreement always involves some nuance; the goal is not to parrot what someone else has said but to add something new to the conversation—perhaps by applying their work to a different context or a different population. Maybe it involves an interdisciplinary approach, where you take a theory or concept from another area of study and apply it to a problem in your own field.

You might also use these three primary lines of response—agreement, disagreement, and simultaneous agreement and disagreement—to put different positions in conversation with each other. A successful literature review demands that kind of interplay, but I sometimes encounter a string of disembodied references without a central organizing framework.

3. Establishing the significance of the argument. One of the fundamental challenges facing a writer is establishing their purpose or exigency for writing. Graff and Birkenstein argue that the writer must answer two questions: Who Cares? and So What?

Who has a vested interest in the problem or topic you are writing about, and why should they care about your work? Writers frequently answer these questions in the implications section of a research manuscript—whether they focus on practice, future research, policy, or some combination of these. But you should also establish this fairly early in a piece—even if you only do so implicitly. These questions might also shape where you choose to submit your manuscript and how you shape your draft.

To the So What question, I often add Why Now? What does this proposed book on online pedagogy add to the conversation that other books in the marketplace haven’t addressed? What gap is it filling? Why is it important that we have this particular conversation at this specific moment in time? In a research manuscript, a well-developed problem statement will answer the So What question.

4. Adequately distinguishing the voices in the conversation. Smoothly incorporating others’ ideas into their own writing is a challenge for many writers. Orphan quotes are one of the most unmistakable signs of trouble—especially if the author relies on them heavily. To position yourself in relation to a quoted passage, tie it into your larger argument and offer readers some insight into its meaning or significance relevant to your work.

You can (and should) reflect another person’s perspective without including direct quotes. In that case, you will offer readers overt and subtle cues about who is “speaking” in a text and where your perspective might differ from others’ positions. Graff and Birkenstein call these signaling phrases “voice markers.”

5. Anticipating and responding to objections. Successful writers imagine “what others might say against [their] argument as it unfolds” (Graff & Birkenstein, 2010, p. 79). Rather than allowing those imagined objections to paralyze you as a writer, use that opposition to refine your thinking. If you have a hard time envisioning what the objections might be, ask a friendly but contrary colleague to read a draft and point out places where they disagree. Offer to buy them a coffee and talk about strategies that would make your argument more sound.

You can use these strategies to figure out what your unique contribution to the conversation will be, and they are equally effective in communicating that contribution to your readers.