Formulating a point of problematization

As Gerald Graff says, the basic structure for a scholarly piece is “They say; I say.”
That’s pretty much the bulk of a prospectus (one part is the “how you will say it”). So,
to write a prospectus, you can start with either part. If you’re clear on what you want
to say, write that first; then try to figure out how what you’re saying fits with existing
scholarship. If you aren’t sure just what you want to say, then starting with the
existing scholarship can get you going.

What follows is some very specific advice that is intended to get you going on your
writing. Like all such advice, you should abandon it the second that you start to write
on your own–this is the training wheel version of writing your prospectus.

Loosely, the “thesis” for your prospectus will probably have the form of “Looking at
W text(s) in X way will change Y disciplinary conversation in Z way.” (Not that there
will be a sentence anywhere in your prospectus that has that form, but that you might
find that way of framing your project will help you write the various parts when you
get stuck.)

In my experience, students are really clear on one of those terms before they start the
project–in fact, that’s what makes them interested in doing it–but not on the rest. And
that’s fine. So, you might start by writing about whatever term seems clear (or
strongly motivating) to you. You must start writing before you’re clear on all of them
(and keep in mind that every term might change between your prospectus and your
final dissertation, so don’t expect that you’ll ever be certain on each term).

Also keep in mind that you’re talking about trying to change a scholarly
conversation–not end it. You change it by:

• complicating a crucial term (subjectivity), narrative (current-traditional rhetoric was

refinement of belles-lettres), or evaluation (current-traditional rhetoric was
oppressive). [Introducing a new term usually operates by showing that an existing
understanding is inadequate, so that’s in this same category.]
• confirming one side in a scholarly debate (it’s fairly unusual for students to do this,
and, I think, limited to people doing quantitative or archival research).
• forwarding a new definition of a crucial term, new narrative, or new evaluation, or
proposing a new way of doing things.

Students often think that they need to do the third, but that can only be done if you do
the first, so it’s probably wisest to set the goal of doing the first and seeing if the third
happens. (That may be exactly the kind of thing you postpone till the book.)

In the humanities we tend to conflate the conclusion with the implications (because
we refer to both of them as the “so what?”). The sciences are a little clearer about this,
and I think their sense of the difference is helpful for people writing a dissertation. If
you think of the “conclusion” as the specific claim you’re going to make about your
data, then the implications section is the highly speculative part–what might this mean
in terms of scholarly discourse, pedagogy, policy, or practice. Students can paralyze
themselves by thinking that they need to know either their conclusion or their
implications before they write; you’ll figure that out eventually, but not now. You
should be able, in your prospectus exam, to blather about some of the conclusions you
think you’ll be able to draw if you do end up drawing one of the conclusions you
think you might draw.

What happens in the course of writing the prospectus is that you narrow your various
terms (keep in mind they may still be a little vague, and that’s fine). It seems to me
that students can usually get started best by thinking about texts–which might be
defined by author, kind of author, theme, problem, genre, era, movement, or some
combination. People usually end up writing about fewer texts than they thought they
would, so don’t try to be too ambitious.

What really surprises students is how narrow “the” disciplinary conversation is that
you will be entering. You don’t want to try to change how people in rhetoric think
about something (well, maybe you do, but writing a diss is a small step toward that).
You will instead be trying to change the conversation among people who have written
about your texts (or kind of text, or problem). You might slightly expand that–try to
talk to people who haven’t written about your texts, and you think should have. (So,
for instance, if you are writing about an era, genre, author, or whatever that is usually
dismissed.)

So, how do you start writing? Well, NOT the way that you probably wrote your
seminar papers. You probably came up with a sense of structure and then wrote what
you thought would be the first part and wrote till you got to what you thought would
be the last part. Then you wrote your introduction. As I said above, it seems to work
best for most students if they begin by writing whatever “part” seems clear or
compelling or fun.

To say that it is clear is not to say that you know what you want to say, but that you
might be certain that you want to write about a certain text–for many people, starting
with close analysis is great. Some people find it helpful to write about the abstract and
the specific around the same time; if that’s the case, then do it that way. The point is
that you just need to start writing.

https://www.patriciarobertsmiller.com/writing-for-graduate-students/