Good call,
Professor Downs, in both the selection of texts and the encouragement to keep
posts around 500 words. Hancock is
inspirational, exuberantly curious, fun, and encouraging. Polanyi is sober, disciplined, slightly
ominous, and writes with intellectual depth.
Both tap deep veins in the practices of science and writing, but do so with
nearly opposite tones. It’s as if
Hancock is saying, “Science writing is great!
You ready?!” Meanwhile Polanyi
mutters, quite discernibly, “Necessarily you will encounter some conflict—look closely
at it and be prepared.” Fantastic.
We stand at the
doorfront of a semester-long conversation; one I cannot wait to begin. We are (mostly) English majors, so we
impulsively comment on the writing style, how the authors presented their material,
and so forth. But! We are entering a new mindset as science
writers. Many of the same values and
attributes in writing will carry over, but we must also adapt some new ones. This post follows Hancock’s advice to explore
that which seems out of place—advice I did not expect to receive. It’s my favourite tidbits savoured in the
meaty readings.
“We learn at all times, not only when we
plan to. Therefore, hold your junk
reading to a minimum—junk meaning anything you do not want your own thinking
and writing to echo, because it will (Hancock, pg. 6).”
So, pursue not
only scientific areas of interest, but also scientific writing styles. Find the authors who write in a way that
turns your interest on, propelling you through the pages. Study their methods—what forces are used here
to engage? What route did their research
follow? I believe it is not so much in
one empirically “best” way to write scientifically (Polanyi would surely agree),
but in finding the style that sends a tingle through your fingers, and fires
off those connecting neurons. Maybe you’re
a storyteller, maybe you’re a poet. Maybe
you are a big-picture artist, or perhaps you dwell in the beauty of details. As Hancock says, “Tthe reader is smart
(pg.12).” Didn’t her excerpts of Feynman
excite you? Although I know next to nothing
about beta decay (okay, I know absolutely nothing), his irrepressible tone was
clear through his words. It’s a freeing
idea to not invest time researching a matter unless it provokes you to do so,
unless it sparks a fire of curiosity in your mind.
Two other
favourite encouragements she offered: “…never eat lunch alone (pg. 18) and “describe
the mundane moments (pg. 10).” I wonder
what details would surface if, during my people-watching sessions (which are
actually procrastination of the homework at hand), I wrote not about that which
stood out from the crowd, but that which was ordinary? If I peeked at normality and practiced describing
it extraordinarily? It seems, this would
be a good skill to acquire as a science writer.
Much of science writing revolves around creating a context. “This is the situation in which this
discovery took place.” So, we must
practice not losing the writer along the road of setting the scene, before they
have reached the destination.
Ack! 520 words already! Professor Downs said brevity would be a
challenge in this class, and here it is, showing its annoying face
already. I cannot finish without
commenting on Polanyi’s compelling piece.
He wrote of the inseparability of emotion and science. That profession
is driven by passion, and what do we do when our passion, our framework of
understanding, contradicts with another.
Polanyi touches on the balance between morality (which essentially is
spirituality, faith), and science. A
debate certainly unanswered, and certainly prominent in science writing. I took this from him: when we discover
something new, it’s likely because we took a believing, hoping, leap of faith
to bridge some crevice for which science had no answer. So, now we have this new found thing—but the
others are stuck on our bridge of faith, and its validity. Our passion is both our strength and the
thing they will call out as “subjective reasoning.” We must be prepared to defend and persuade,
to notice our structure of thinking, our process of learning, and defend that
as inquisitively and adamantly as our discovery. Science writing is certainly not without
voice or heart. We research, experiment
with, and test not only a topic, but our own nature.
Hi Anjeli,
ReplyDeleteBefore I begin, I’d like to say that I really like your writing style. It’s so relaxed and free flowing. It’s so pleasant and soothing to read.
I like what you said about Hancock’s wording to find what style we like and to try to mimic it: “I believe it is not so much in one empirically “best” way to write scientifically (Polanyi would surely agree), but in finding the style that sends a tingle through your fingers, and fires off those connecting neurons. Maybe you’re a storyteller, maybe you’re a poet.”
However, I also had a strong reaction to what you said. I feel one should not forget to identify the audience and to use the type of writing style that works for the specific values of their audience. One should be passionate about what they write and have an interest in the specific things they read, but different people value different things on different levels – Just because a certain style of writing appeals to us on one level doesn’t mean it will work for everyone else and for every situation. I know she is talking about science writing specifically for interested audience members who may not know/are interested in learning the scientific terms, but I just wanted to add this bit of information because I think it’s important to include/think about. :)