I’ve been thinking a lot abut writing lately. I talked to a new friend and fellow blogger recently who passed on Nadia Bolz-Weber’s wonderful advice that you should “write from your scars, not your open wounds”. Wounded writing is reactionary but has a powerful immediacy and emotive quality. Writing from scar tissue allows distance, reflection but perhaps doesn’t carry as much emotional punch as the pain is recalled, remembered. I found an echo of this in Gloria Anzaldúa’s autobiographical book “Borderlands”. She describes her writing process as a state of psychic unrest, a cactus needle wounding her skin that she needs to remove and ultimately a way of making meaning from experience.
Experience is at the heart of my research proposal. It was interesting to see the different members of my committee this week reacting to that word. The poet saw experience at the heart of narrative inquiry (NI), my chosen methodology. The authors I am primarily drawing from are the social scientists Clandinnin and Connolly who themselves call on Dewey, the father of learning through experience. The physician saw patient experience, how healthcare professions could judiciously use their own spectrum of identity (such as being a mother, or being a lesbian) to extend themselves and find common ground, risky though that might be. My supervisor saw recognition of each other – really seeing who that person is in all their complexities and identities – as the first step to experience and the key to moving forward and improving it.
I have written before about how one of the challenges of this EdD is finding other ways to express myself, and write beyond the usual 3,000 passive words describing methods, results, discussion and conclusion. In my proposal meeting this week we talked about different ways of crafting a narrative inquiry (NI) dissertation. NI has many forms, but I am interested in storytelling and so I need to be comfortable with typical elements like plot, characterization, tempo, genre to produce an engaging and readable piece of work. Some NI dissertations throw off the typical chapter headings and incorporate all the familiar elements (such as the literature review) in a story, poem or other arts based format. I am using autoethnography – an autobiographical way of researching and writing that “displays multiple levels of consciousness, connecting the personal to the cultural*”. My participants and fellow story makers are friends and fellow LGB radiation therapists. From field texts (my interview transcripts, personal writing and perhaps artefacts like photographs) we will negotiate back and forth using interim texts (rough drafts of the final collective story, emails and discussions) as we move towards the final research text – the story or representation we have made together. It’s an intimate and time-consuming process that will involve a constant renegotiation of what is told and untold, what is revealed and what is left private.
With lots to consider going forward, my proposal was approved this week and I am officially a doctoral candidate! After ethics, I can begin my research. I am certainly feeling the itch to write, the needle in the skin and I am eager to get started. If I think about my own stories, there are scars but (now) few wounds. I wonder about my participants who are working clinically and those who are not. Are they smarting from wounds, living with scars? What will we uncover, disturb, heal?
*Ellis, C., & Bochner, A. P. (2000). Autoethnography, personal narrative, reflexivity: researcher as subject. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (2nd ed., pp. 733–768). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage p. 739