Outlines Make Everything Better

Usually when I discuss an essay draft with a student, I ask if they’ve written an outline.

This isn't because it’s a routine question.

It almost always comes after some discussion about the status of the essay and the student's concerns.
Many of the problems I have encountered in writing – that of my students and students I have worked with as a tutor – stems back to issues of organization, which can be resolved or improved with an outline.

Outlines seem simple. They're lists of information and subjects to be discussed in an essay. A lot of people ignore this step though, because they already have a collection of paragraphs or they have an idea of what they are going to write and so don't worry about making a list.

But an outline makes everything clearer.

A piece of writing is a mass of words running left to right, and hundreds of them can fill a page without much to say where one point ends and another begins. Writing an outline is a way to take that mass of information and express it clearly, simply, and succinctly.

Seems easy enough. The first benefit is a list takes the task of writing an essay and turns it into a series of topics: one daunting task is now a list of manageable tasks. Second, because you have a series of specified points, it is unlikely you’ll be blurring topics in a single paragraph. Third,  because you have sorted the ideas, it is easier to understand why you’ve put topics where you have and what they have to do with the whole. Each paragraph should have something to do with the paragraphs before and after it, and having an outline makes it easier to recognize those points. From there, it makes it easier to find, remove, or repurpose tangential sections or paragraph. Fourth, once each paragraph is in a logical place, it becomes easier to transition from paragraph to paragraph.

Overall, an outline helps your essay become more refined, specific, focused, and easier to follow.

Outlines aren’t a panacea though. They still require attention and detail, and can themselves be a couple of pages if the essay is longer.

You also may start with a solid list, but things don't always go according to plan. Enter, one of my favorite tools, the reverse outline.

Reverse outlines are outlines you do after you've written an essay. Go back through your writing, and identify what's going on in each paragraph. Chances are they’re not what you planned or expected them  to be. This can be illuminating for the same reasons doing an outline is a good first step. It helps you figure out what you've addressed and where the essay has grown as you come up with new ideas. Maybe you discovered you need to address a certain topic in a different place or the topic of a paragraph changed from what you intended. Basically, you discover you need to reorganize a few things. So the next step is to make a new outline as a guide to what you need to do with the next draft..

How many outlines? I would say there should be at least one, maybe two for every draft.

Here's how to use this tool:

• Put together an outline before writing, if you haven't already.
  
• Then write a draft and make an outline based on what you wrote.
  
• Revise that outline to fix whatever issues you came across while making your outline.
  
• Use that revised outline to revise your essay, and then, put together another reverse outline.
  

Outlines give you a way to look at an entire piece on just one or two pieces of paper. Everything whittled down to the bare necessities. Whether it’s the start of a project, or just one in need of revision, taking a step back and transforming your essay into a list is clarifying.

Happy Accidents in Research

I have on my bookshelf a copy of a 1996 book entitled Novel to Film, written by a professor named Brian McFarlane. I discovered this book rather recently, but I wish I’d had it years ago.

When I was an undergraduate I did a research project, basically my senior thesis, on novel to film adaptation. My approach was simple and direct, and coincidentally, very similar to the approach taken by McFarlane. I was surprised to discover that what I had done, someone else had done years before. There were, of course, substantial differences: different films and criteria for selecting them, and different terminology; but the theory, the approach, and the premise of my study and his book parallelled one another.

When I learned this I was disappointed, but not because I saw a piece of work with a similar premise much better than mine. I was just disappointed I didn't have this book years ago when I did that study. if I’d had this book at my disposal, I could have spent my time and energy developing upon McFarlane's ideas rather than unknowingly presenting a variation.


It may not seem like it but coincidences like this are something to be happy about. Research has twists and turns, and sometimes projects need to be significantly diverted from where they were originally expected to go. Some research projects are undone because something new is discovered, and other projects are enhanced by it. Yet no matter, what a researcher, regardless of skill or experience, can't get discouraged by changes or new information. It is better to use it to further develop your thoughts and ideas. Just as you ought to with any other piece of research.


Had I found McFarlane's book back then, I wouldn't have changed my project much. I still had something worth saying despite the similarities. I still had something worth adding to this academic discussion. If I am to be upset about anything, it isn’t my work becoming redundant but that I missed an opportunity to do more with a subject that I care deeply about.


There's a lot of information out there. Young researchers taking their first serious steps away from Wikipedia and into the academic writing deluge may find their ideas, or some variation thereof, have already been tackled by another. Someone else's work on a similar premise is merely an opportunity to further your own research, to put your own spin on it, to find something they overlooked, misinterpreted, or to test their premise in a new and different way. That's really all I did with McFarlane's work. I just didn't know it until years later.

Long Term, Short Term

I want to start this off on a pessimistic note. I don't like New Years Resolutions. I never hear people in November or December talking about how their lives are better because of their resolutions. If anything it's “You know that thing I wanted to do this year that I didn't? Well next year I will get it done!” I think we forget that projects, goals, and resolutions get done in short term steps and not in long term hopes.


So, I'm sorry, this post is going to join in the cascade of “Good and Bad Ideas for New Years Resolutions” blog posts and articles.


I have on my desk between me and the computer monitor, a few index cards. Even though books, pens, and papers crowd this space, I always make sure I can see them.. They are my to-do lists and goals.


This started a few months ago. Every night, I make a to-do list of the things that I need to do everyday: exercising,personal reading, and household tasks (I miss dishwashers). After these, I have the MITs – Most Important Tasks. Grading, writing, course development go in here – stuff that has to get done. Then secondary: stuff that I'd like to get done or I could get a head start on, or even just projects I'm working on but didn't think I'd have time to deal with that day. I write a new one of these every night on an index card and leave it on my desk. If I'm spending most of the day away from my study, I tuck it in my wallet and take it with me.


But this is just one of the cards. The other is the weekly goals. These I categorize by project. I identify the different classes I teach and what I'll have to get done for them for that week, like writing quizzes and grading assignments, what books I'm reading and how much I want to have done, and whatever research I'm working on. It's basically stuff I know I need to get done this week.


When I write my daily to-do lists, I refer back to the weekly one. When I write the weekly one, I refer back to my monthly goals, which I have started keeping on my computer where I can keep a closer look at what I'm doing and when it gets done. Alongside the monthly goals are the quarterly ones, which includes 12 blog posts – one for each week of January, February, and March.


I'm not comfortable with year-long goals. Maybe I'll get there, but things change too quickly and too easily. This time last year, I never would have put “Start a Composition Blog” on a list of New Years Resolutions, or, more personally, “Get accepted to a research conference” or “Submit a scholarly article for publication,” nor “Start online teaching.” But each of those has happened. When I got a second teaching job, I had to, for a time, put my personal research on the shelf as I underwent training and preparation to teach in a different environment for a new institution. Because I take things one day at a time, I can keep track of what I need to do, what's really important, and what I need to do with my time.


Don't forget the short term when dealing with the long term. Maybe your resolution is to get straight A's. That's a wonderful goal, but it doesn't have any planning or action. Figure out what you need to do in the short term to do your best at achieving long term goals and do it regularly. Keep track of your assignments, classes, readings, and get them in on time and you may discover those A's are more work than you expected, but it's spread out over more time and with more focus.


Happy New Year and I wish you well in your endeavors, whether they be personal, professional, or academic.