There’s been a lot of discussion recently about why academics should write for public audiences. This typically means that academics shift from writing for their professional peers to engaging non-academics who are interested in their subject matter. This shift highlights a significant distinction between public writing and academic writing in terms of form, style, and publication venues.
Public writing includes op-eds, columns, blog posts, and short articles ranging from 800 to 1,500 words. It employs various structures depending on the piece’s purpose and subject. In contrast, academic writing consists of longer articles (7,000-8,000 words) and books (200+ pages) with an argument-driven structure. Public writing avoids jargon and high theory, uses fewer references, and emphasizes storytelling and descriptive prose. Academic writing, however, relies on theoretical frameworks, historiographical debates, extensive quotes, and footnotes.
Public writing is typically published on online websites, print newspapers, and magazines, while academic writing appears in academic journals and university press books. The current trend of academics writing for public audiences is seen as a one-way street, where academics adapt their writing style to reach a broader audience. But why don’t academics write differently for each other?
I’ve pondered this as I work on a book with an unusual structure for academic writing and a travel story for a popular magazine. Both projects push me out of my academic writing comfort zone and into storytelling as a form of argumentation. A series of tweets from the “High Stakes History” conference at Columbia University, particularly a point made by Jill Lepore, sparked a Twitter debate about the tension between story and argument in academic writing.
Historian and Omohundro Institute Director Karin Wulf argued in a blog post for The Scholarly Kitchen that academic writing is inherently expository and argument-driven, with narrative being optional. She emphasized that pure narrative cannot replace argument in professional exchanges. This perspective aligns with the traditional expectations of academic writing, which is designed to create new knowledge and engage in professional exchanges necessary for securing jobs and tenure.
However, this adherence to traditional academic writing makes it predictable and limits its readership to fellow academics. The question arises: can journals and presses, along with job search and tenure committees, accept and even embrace creative academic writing? This would involve rigorously researched work that takes risks in prose style, structure, or approach, using multiple points of view, subverting standard chronologies, or combining genres in innovative ways.
Some university presses and academic journals are already experimenting with narrative histories and creative structures. For instance, Yale University Press published Aaron Sachs’ “Arcadian America,” which blends cultural history and memoir, and Martha Hodes’ “Mourning Lincoln,” which intersperses analytical chapters with short interludes. Journals like “Rethinking History” and “Journal of the Civil War Era” provide platforms for creative academic writing, though these pieces often appear in separate sections, reinforcing the distinction between creative and traditional academic writing.
Despite these developments, the distinction between academic and public writing persists. For a true integration of creative academic writing into mainstream academic discourse, a significant shift in how academics view their professional exchange is required. Academics, editors, publishers, and administrators must embrace new forms of scholarship as legitimate. This kind of risk-taking can lead to new ways of thinking about the past.
One of my colleagues often jokes about my constant writing, but it wasn’t always this way. For years, I juggled multiple jobs across state lines, trying to secure a tenure-track position. Writing became a priority only after I landed my current job. Now, writing is foundational to my life, a measure of how well things are going.
I’ve learned several lessons that help me write regularly and publish frequently, even with a heavy teaching load and no research assistants. First, let go of perfectionism. It stifles creativity and keeps us stuck. Writing and publishing, even when our ideas are still evolving, is better than waiting for them to feel perfect.
Second, develop a thick skin. Writing regularly helps cultivate a strong voice and perspective, but it also opens us up to criticism. I’ve learned to accept criticism without letting it paralyze me. Third, always have projects in various stages of production. This keeps the writing process continuous and productive.
Fourth, don’t wait for large chunks of time to write. Writing can happen in small, consistent increments. Fifth, establish daily and weekly writing habits. Engaging in activities that stimulate creativity, like reading, traveling, and attending cultural events, can also help.
Finally, recognize that writing makes you a better teacher and citizen. Discuss ideas and creative pursuits with colleagues, not just teaching. Writing for media outlets can also strengthen your writing muscles and expose your ideas to a broader audience.
Transitioning from academia to public writing involves embracing new forms of scholarship and storytelling. By doing so, academics can make their writing more engaging and accessible, bridging the gap between academic and public audiences.
Source: The Scholarly Kitchen, Columbia University, Yale University Press, Rethinking History, Journal of the Civil War Era
