Dear Mom, 

I’m writing a paper about how to write a paper. It’s a really cool topic because when you learn how to write effectively, people engage your ideas and data more; ideas and data can change the world. 

As I said in previous blogs in this series—blogs that cover what scientific writing is, two characteristics of good writers, the structure of a scientific paper, and the oh-so-important literature review—writing well involves understanding some big picture issues (e.g., why write and how to approach the task of writing) but big pictures don’t always translate into words-on-paper. So, in this blog, I want to share some tangible “this is what I do” nuts and bolts of the writing process.  

My point in sharing is not to say “this is the correct way to write,” but to show you some tools that you might find useful (in whole or in part, or even just to inspire you to come up with an even better method). As I share bits of my process, I am mindful that there are likely inefficiencies and weird things I do that might not actually improve my thinking. As I continue to grow in my writing skill, my process will probably change. The whole point of this blog is to provide potential scaffolds that invite you into that same process of growth. I’m going to do that by showing you my actual notes and some drafts with commentary for a recent literature review I wrote, a paper that published in September 2021. This paper is titled A tale of two perspectives: How psychology and neuroscience contribute to understanding personhood. 

To start, I want to address the opening of this blog: Dear Mom. Why, you might be wondering, do I have this random letter to my mother at the beginning of this blog? To answer that question, I will turn to the first tool in my writing process. 

Tool #1: Start writing. Break through any writers blocks by telling your mother about your paper…in your paper.  

My mom is a wonderful human being. She is a longtime educator and creator of things. In my educational adventure through high school, I’m certain that my mom read each and every paper I wrote. And each and every paper was returned decorated with red ink (the marks and critiques of a loving mother helping her daughter think better and reminding her that sometimes spell check doesn’t catch homophones-doh!). With this as a background, I picked up a habit in graduate school (origin unknown) to break writer’s block with what I call a dear mom draft. 

I find that sometimes the most challenging part of writing is just starting. You stare at a blank word document on your computer, suddenly remembering that you haven’t organized your cheese drawer in the fridge or that you don’t remember when you dusted your ceiling fan last or that you’ve always been meaning to sort the paper clips in your desk drawer (you know, to make your work—like writing this paper—easier in the future). And gosh, you’re hungry now. Let’s take a break. All of these (suddenly important) tasks pop into your mind because they seem somehow easier than the unknown answer to “what am I going to write in this paper?!” So, the trick that I learned to get going was to start a paper with a salutation (I chose my mom, you can choose anyone you like) and a few sentences about what you think this paper might be about.  

In May 2021, I was in that exact position I described above (the answer is that I have never dusted my ceiling fans. For shame.) I had agreed to write a paper with the general parameters of “a paper about how psychology can advance philosophy/theology around topics of personhood.” I was a bit paralyzed. How could I take such a broad topic and turn it into a paper that someone might want to read (and, importantly, a paper that someone may find useful)? I don’t suffer the illusion that my paper will change the world, but it’s possible that someone who reads it might have ideas that can change the world. Words and ideas matter—but we have to start by, well, starting. But how? 

Let me show you an example of how I got started: the dear mom draft.  

None of this actually made it into my paper. That wasn’t really the point. But my first drafts started with this narrative. The point wasn’t that these words were going to be final words; the point was to think about what I might want to say in this paper in a way that I could communicate it to an educated other (my intended audience). These few sentences served two primary purposes: 

1. They got words on paper. It’s easier to edit when there is something there. And sometimes, once you start, you get momentum (and thus more words to edit and help you think). 

2. They helped me start the process of clarifying what the purpose of my paper was. What did I want my reader to know? You can already start to see some outlines here: I want to tell them about research in developmental psychology and I want to tell them about research in neuroscience. I didn’t have all that research found and organized yet, but by having this protracted (unedited, stream of conscious) idea on paper, I could start my search for the research that I would use in my paper. (Remember, in science writing, citations are evidence.) 

Importantly, at the point of my dear mom draft, I was already vaguely familiar with the research I intended to search for; I knew a bit about what the research in developmental psychology and neuroscience would say. (Though, rest assured, I absolutely learned some new things that shaped the direction of my paper, too!) If you know nothing about anything that might be relevant to your topic, you need to do some reading before you can even start to tell your mom what you want to talk about. For a class, this pre-work might be re-reading the textbook and the assigned reading. Re-reading the assigned material on the broad topic you will be exploring will serve as the foundation of your thinking about what you might want to say. It will be enough to get your dear mom draft going, which is the beginning of your real research (i.e., finding, reading, and synthesizing original research into your paper).  

Stay tuned for our next blog, where I show you how I move from dear mom to first draft. In the meantime, have you ever written something like a dear mom draft? What do you think of the idea? I’d love to know!  

If you found this blog helpful, check out the overview of the whole series here, so that you can find more useful information to develop your writing.

In my previous blogs in this series on scientific writing, I have covered what scientific writing is, the characteristics good writers develop, and the basic structure/purpose of different sections of a scientific paper. This is all well and good (well, at least I think it is….and you’re still here, so I’m hoping you do too), but I’ll venture that at least one of you is thinking, “but how does this apply to the paper I have to write this semester?” (I’m looking at you, Psy 328 students.) In this blog and the next, I want to focus on a specific kind of science writing, the kind that most of you will encounter as your run of the mill “research paper/literature review assignment.” Today, I will focus on conceptualizing a literature review; in the next post I will pull back the curtain on a recent literature review I wrote and walk you through my process. 

The Literature Review 

A literature review is a summary and synthesis of what other researchers have studied and found about a specific topic. This differs in important ways from the introduction-methods-results-discussion format I discussed previously. Literature reviews bring together different programs of research or theories or they synthesize research in a way that suggests new ideas or theories. The goals of a literature review will vary as a function of the intended audience; effective writers (of all stripes, not just science writers) know who their audience is, and they communicate directly to them, an issue I take up in my next post. Literature reviews are a key staple of any body of research (or, thinking in the metaphor from my last blog, a section of tapestry) because they provide an overview of that part of the tapestry.  

Literature reviews do not have all the sections of the APA style paper but share the end goal of describing how bits of the tapestry (our knowledge, as informed by emerging and ongoing research and analysis) fit together. Literature reviews are a type of research papers without original data and are thus, at their core, conceptual. To write an effective literature review it is vital to know what you want to say and bring in appropriate evidence (other people’s research) to build your case. A literature review isn’t driven by or organized around a specific set of data but rather the idea(s) of the writer. When writing a literature review, a very common type of paper assignment in college, you need to be able to clearly answer the questions: 

• Why would someone read this paper/what should they know/think when they are finished?  
• What is the thing that you have to tell them?  

As you will see when I share my process in the next blog, I find the process of writing to be utterly instrumental in the development of how I answer these important literature review questions. If you don’t have a clear idea of what you want your reader to know when you start writing, you should, at minimum, know after numerous rounds of revision. By the time your paper is finished you should be able to share in a sentence or two the “big picture idea” that your paper is engaging. (This is why you should always, always (!) write your abstract last. If you write your abstract first, you should have to re-write it to reflect the final organization which will change through the process of writing and revision.) If you can’t summarize your big idea in a few sentences (the famed “elevator pitch”), I would question whether you have a clear and focused idea of what your paper is about.  

Keep in mind that your words-on-paper are the only access that your reader has to your thoughts. No matter how brilliant your thoughts are, if your reader can’t fully discern them from your words-on-paper, your thoughts will be unable to make the desired impact. For me, my revision process is, in part, how I decide what I want to say (i.e., do I need to explain this more? This bit of information is interesting, but does it enhance my story or is it tangential to it?). My revision process also helps me focus on whether I am organizing my thoughts in a way that achieves my goals (e.g., communicates my ideas and thoughts).  

Once you know what you want to say in a literature review, remember that the research needs to be presented in a way that tells a story, the story of the thing you want your reader to know. If you are telling a story, that means that every citation, idea, or theory you include has a purpose—to advance, nuance, enrich—the storyline. Citations are the evidence of the thing you have said. Each sentence should contribute to the developing plotline of discovery you are leading your reader on. 

Take, as an example, a literature review on “eyewitness testimony.” This is a massive topic with lots of research exploring different aspects of eyewitness testimony. If you were to go to google scholar or the library database and search “eyewitness testimony” you will get a ton of sources exploring the many dimensions of eyewitness testimony. You might find some about how it is used in a courtroom, how race, gender, and age influence accuracy, and a whole host of memory biases that we need to consider. Yet, the quantity of sources says nothing about whether these sources should all be grouped together in this paper that you are writing. Just selecting a few and talking about them consecutively does not tell a good story. Imagine a paper that looked like an exploded paintball on the diagram below; the splatter (each citation/idea) is random, only loosely connected to the (very broad) concept of “eyewitness testimony.” As the splatter is random, so is this kind of paper.   

What you want to do in any literature review is have a clear idea of your focus (for example, where the yellow arrow is pointed in the diagram: a paper on how race, gender, and age interact with memory biases to influence eyewitness testimony). In this example, such a focus will help you determine to include only the research on race, gender and age on eyewitness testimony that overlaps with research on memory bias. There will be a lot of research on race, gender, and age as well as memory biases in eyewitness testimony, but when you have clarified that you are focusing on where they meet, it will help you know when to exclude interesting research that is not laser focused on your relevant topic. Such a focus is a really important first step (one that can emerge in the organization and revision of the paper as writing can refine the focus), but keep in mind that you will still need to organize the ideas in a way that is coherent, logical, and persuasive (more on that in the next blog). 

As I will tell my students: there needs to be some reason to include all of the citations, ideas and theories in your paper. Why are they together in these pages? To answer this question, you need to have a clear focus of what your paper is about and what it might be related to, but also what it is not about. This kind of clarity will guide the sources and ideas that you include as part of your discussion and the choice to not include one. The papers and ideas in your paper should hang together to help guide your reader to your ultimate conclusion: an understanding of whatever the thing is that you want your reader to know.  

Sneak Peek 

As a bit of a sneak peak, I’ll tell you that in the next blog, I plan to pull back the curtain on a paper I wrote just this year. The paper, titled A tale of two perspectives: How psychology and neuroscience contribute to understanding personhood, is one that I started thinking about in January, 2021. I did all the reading and writing for the paper, start to submission, in the month of May, 2021. (A timeline not too unlike a typical semester paper assignment.) I have since learned that this paper was accepted for publication (after some formatting fixes and a required reduction in word count)¹. In the next post, I’ll guide you through my process by sharing my notes and behind-the-scenes revisions with commentary on my process. My goal is to share some nuts and bolts for how I go from an idea-in-head and a stack of articles to a science story. I’ll address the question of “do these ideas hang together, given my audience?” mentioned above and tackle the question of “where (and how) do I start?”   

Although I want you to stay tuned, I’d also like to hear from you: do you like writing literature reviews? Why or why not? What is the hardest part for you? Share your thoughts below.  

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¹I will add a link to the paper here once it is finally published (a process that usually takes longer than we think it should…).

If you found this blog helpful, check out the overview of the whole series here, so that you can find more useful information to develop your writing.

In two previous posts (which you should read first!), I described introduced the idea of science writing as storytelling, and I explored two traits of effective writers. In this blog, I want to dive a bit deeper into the structure of scientific papers, how scientific papers document evidence that can contribute to our emerging understanding of “how the world works” (the goal of science). I will do this by discussing the purpose of different sections of an APA style paper¹.  

The Structure of Scientific Writing 

Introduction: The first part of a scientific paper is called an introduction (though the label may not appear on the paper itself). The introduction sets the stage for the science story. Here, the writer needs to frame the story by drawing from and connecting previous theory and research to the specific research in the paper. The framing of the story will be relatively big, but throughout the introduction the writer will consistently narrow in on the specific thread of the story that they are going to weave with their study.  

I like to think of the introduction as an upside-down triangle. The beginning of the intro lays out the big ideas: what is at stake and what ideas are on the table. But, as the reader (and writer) progresses through the introduction, the big ideas need to be narrowed to the realm of hypothesis. The whole science story (our discovery and construction of the way the world works) is like a giant tapestry in-progress. The whole section of the tapestry, when you step back to look at it, is the top of the upside-down triangle. (The WHOLE tapestry is the whole of human knowledge. Imagine zooming into a relatively large section of the tapestry where you can still see images and chunks of the tapestry’s story, without seeing individual threads. This section is the “whole” tapestry that the top of the upside-down triangle shows.) But individual research studies can’t deal with the whole tapestry, so throughout the introduction the reader starts to look closer at a specific part of the tapestry that is under construction. There are lots of threads here. The hypotheses of the research study, presented at/near the end of the introduction, is a zoomed-in view of one (maybe two) of these threads. The research is going to pull on these threads to see if they fit this way or that way. The individual research study is at this zoomed-in view, but the view itself won’t be meaningful without the larger picture. 

In an attempt to be explicit about my metaphors², the individual threads of the hypotheses are the very bottom point of the upside-down triangle where the plotline of the story is unfolding (scientific plot = discovery).  

In this way, the introduction absolutely has the flavor of a plot. You first set the scene, then you carefully guide your reader to pay attention to some (but not all) of the scene³. Importantly, the introduction also sets the stage for the drama of the plot, as in, “Look at all these things we know and, yet, we still cannot say with certainty how this thread fits into the tapestry. This is why my research study is needed.” 

Method: The method section is critical in the scientific story because this is where the writer starts to lay out their process for pulling the strings of the tapestry. When researchers clearly describe how they collected their data, who provided the data (in the case of human sciences), when the data were collected (etc.), then the readers have sufficient description of the process to evaluate the data that these methods and participants produced⁴.  

One of the things that makes psychology and the other social sciences so interesting (and difficult) is that the subject matter—people—are really complex. There are so many influences on human thinking and behavior, more influences than could ever be fully accounted for in any individual research study. Thus, the goal is not to measure absolutely everything, but to measure the most important things and to account for influences on how the data are produced and understood. The introduction will have brought all of these relevant influences on the table; here the science story slows down in order to really lay out the details of the process. If we return to the upside-down triangle/tapestry metaphor, the method and results sections are smaller still, zooming in to the smallest point of that triangle, examining the tapestry at the level of the thread content and composition of this particular section of the tapestry.  

If this individual research study is going to be added to the tapestry that the science story is a part of, it needs to be clear how and why the strings of the tapestry were pulled and prodded the way they were. 

 Results: The results section is where the author presents their scientific story in the language of math (and statistics)⁵. Results sections should be written without interpretation. They are designed to be a straightforward depiction of the statistical procedures and ensuing numbers. For example, “A 2 (book vs. video) by 2 (male vs. female) analysis of variance was conducted…” describes an analytic method that compared two conditions (book and video) across two genders (male and female), both of which are being treated as independent variables. The test will look at how males and females in the separate conditions of book or video scored on some dependent variable (unnamed in this example). The report would also provide the inferential statistics (e.g., t-test or, in the case of an ANOVA an F-statistic) and p-value. Let’s say that there was a statistically significant difference (i.e., p < .05) between how people responded to book versus video in this fictitious example⁶, the author would simply note that in a statistics sentence without interpreting the meaning of such a finding (e.g., “When exposed to books, problem-solving was higher (M = 5.67, SD = 1.21) than when exposed to videos (M = 2.12, SD = .34), F(1, 34) = 5.93, p < .05.)⁷ The implications of the higher problem solving scores for books compared to videos would not be interpreted here. 

Discussion: The discussion section starts with a rephrase of the results in plain English (or whatever language the paper is being written in). Take all the t-tests, ANOVAs, and multiple regressions and translate them here, omitting the statistical language. So, we might say, “Problem solving improved after exposure to books compared to videos” as a straightforward rephrase of the (fictional) test reported above. In one or two paragraphs, the key findings from the results section will be presented. This serves a few purposes. First, it helps your reader through the weeds of the analyses (especially those who skimmed it). Second, it prepares your discussion by providing a key opportunity to frame it. Throughout the discussion, the key findings will be discussed beyond what they are and extended to what they mean. Really, the discussion is the reversal of the triangle from the introduction section. The discussion turns the whole paper into an hourglass shape⁸. 

In the discussion, the key ideas introduced in the introduction get connected to the specific findings. Implications for the broader tapestry of the science story are addressed here. This is where the writer draws final connections and communicates the importance of this research story. When we know that these strings of the tapestry do that, what does that mean? How does (if it does) change our understanding of the neighboring tapestry strings? Do we have to rethink our reinterpretation of the tapestry at all, because of these findings? Does it extend our understanding in any way? Any one research paper won’t do all these things, but it will do something. This is where the writer helps the reader understand what, exactly, has been done in this paper. 

Importantly, the discussion section also highlights what this research does not do. Every study has limits and leaves open questions (either new questions or questions that remain unanswered or unclear). This section is not a trivial place to say, “we should have had a larger sample”, but a place to really wrestle with what we do and don’t know about our science story. It is also a great place to set up the next science story to help us figure out this particularly tricky part of the tapestry. Remember that good science writers are interested in improvement (growth mindset) and are genuinely curious about why things work the way they do. This means that they will not manufacture limitations where they do not exist, nor will they minimize limitations that do exist. 

The Beautiful Tapestry 

In this blog, I intended to provide a big picture framework for an individual paper; what the goals of the various paper elements are and how to think about their structure. I used the metaphor of scientific writing as the vehicle by which individual scientific studies weave small bits of a (very large) tapestry of knowledge. This is an important start, but still a bit vague on some of the details. (How do you weave?!) In blogs to com, I’ll start to unpack some specific things that I do in my own writing. It is my hope that by walking you through my example you will have the opportunity to duplicate, modify, or generate new practices that will help you develop into a better writer. 

For now, I want to hear from you: what parts of writing do you enjoy the most? What do you most loathe? Leave a comment below! 

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¹An “APA Style Paper” is a paper that is constructed according to the guidelines published by the American Psychological Association. APA style refers to the specific conventions (e.g., how to format citations) and to a style of writing. Here, I am not particularly interested in the formatting issues, but more so in the goals of the writing. These goals are shared across many scientific disciplines, even if the specific formatting style varies.

²As all members of my family, and many of my students, will attest, metaphors, idioms, and other similar language mechanisms are not my strong suit. And yet, here I am, working on my weaknesses…

³One important difference between a well-written fiction story and a scientific story is that fiction is exciting because of what is left out, what is left to the readers’ imagination. Fiction authors take advantage of allowing their readers to fill in the blanks in powerful and (often) personal ways. Science stories do not leave these same kinds of blanks. Although scientific stories have to be selective about what is included (thereby omitting some details), the goal is not to have readers fill in the blanks. One of the functions of peer-review is to ensure that important parts of the scene have not been ignored or omitted. The goal is for readers to clearly see all that is involved. Where there may be “fill-in-the-blanks” ideas, science stories will include citations for their readers to complete those omissions in a way that is consistent with previous research.

⁴Remember from Part 1: science stories are built on verifiable and compelling evidence. “Trust me, I’m a doctor” just won’t work.

⁵There are, of course, exceptions to this rule (i.e., qualitative research). However, the language of the results does change to reflect the actual analysis of the data, whatever those data are like.

⁶To connect this to methods language: a finding that there was a difference in books vs. videos on the dependent variable would be an example of a main effect; we could say that there is a main effect of media (book vs. video) on the dependent variable.

⁷The numbers in this example statistic sentence are totally made up. However, from this sentence the reader can discern important information about the main effect of the independent variable (book vs. video) on the dependent variable (problem-solving). How these variables were operationalized and measured would have been described in the method section.

⁸See the image about science papers and hourglasses here: https://www.researchgate.net/figure/Framing-a-scientific-paper-The-structure-of-a-paper-mirrors-that-of-an-hourglass_fig1_307014555 If you are feeling ambitious, read the paper that it comes from, also available at this link.

If you found this blog helpful, check out the overview of the whole series here, so that you can find more useful information to develop your writing.

When I was in high school, I read The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde¹. Since it was published in 1891, I’m just going to assume that what I’ll say here about the novel doesn’t require a spoiler alert. (But, alas, if you want to avoid such a spoiler, kindly skip to the next paragraph now.) What I loved about the novel was the extreme (and incredible) juxtaposition between this dashing young man and the gruesome portrait that hid his true inner reality. He was morally and psychologically bankrupt, a secret held by his portrait. On the inside, he was empty.  

Why bring up such a tale in a blog with the subtitle, scientific writing – part 2, you ask? In the paragraphs that follow, I want to argue that writing well, especially writing of the scientific variety, requires the development of certain internal characteristics. It’s not enough to have a Dorian Gray kind of face. We need to do some inner work to effectively engage scientific writing. That is what this post is about.  

Before I lose you on the thought, “this doesn’t apply to me because I’m not a scientist! I don’t need scientific writing!”, let me address this erroneous thought head on. In your classes you are engaging scientific work and talking about it, sometimes in written form. That is scientific writing. Many of you will continue to engage these primary resources in future careers. However, even those of you who don’t: the practice of clearly delineating and communicating evidence, at the core of scientific writing, is also key to communication in general. The specific formats and expectations about details (APA style, for example) may vary, but the practice of clear thinking and information storytelling—this is something you will use well beyond your classroom years. As such, in this and future blogs, when I talk about you, dear reader, as a “scientific writer,” this is not a mistake. This is for you.  

Now, back to the rodeo. 

Developing the Disposition of a Scientific Writer 

As a graduate student, I remember co-authoring a manuscript that would become my first peer-reviewed paper published in the well-respected journal Child Development. I remember the excitement of feeling like I had something to contribute, something to say. I had an emotional connection with my paper. It—and by proxy I—was awesome. 

And then came peer review. 

The peer review for this paper was critical and hard to digest. But in the lengthy process of revision (which took multiple rounds, each with new critical peer review comments), I started to learn some valuable lessons, lessons that I want to share with you today. Reflecting on my experiences with peer review that started in graduate school, I have learned that scientific writing is more effective when I, as the writer, am committed to the ongoing development of a growth mindset and a disposition of curiosity. I believe that good scientific writers share these traits, traits that can—good news—be learned.  

Good Scientific Writers have a Growth Mindset 

Elsewhere in the CSHB blog archives there are discussions on the growth mindset. Mindset is an idea developed by Dr. Carol Dweck, a developmental psychologist at Stanford University. She argues that there are different ways of thinking about traits such as intelligence. We can consider intelligence (and intellectual capacity) to be relatively fixed—stable and enduring across the lifespan—or malleable—able to be grown and developed with effort. These beliefs about intelligence being fixed or malleable represent two ends of a continuum, with people existing at and between the extremes.  

Although Dweck’s work started with intellectual ability, it has expanded to include beliefs about traits like artistic skill, athletic ability, business acumen/leadership, relational capacity, etc. It just makes sense that we could also talk about our beliefs about writing ability. Let’s take a quick check on your beliefs: do you believe that, with practice, feedback (including criticism!), and more practice (and criticism) that you could get better at writing? Or, do you think that you are, more or less, as good as you are going to be? Think about the last paper you wrote: how many times did you read and revise it? Do you think the revision process valuable? Did you seek out critical feedback? When your professor made a suggestion, what kind of reaction did you have? I would bet that students who believe that practice and feedback are a valuable part of improving their writing abilities will spend more time revising, visiting the University Writing Center, and meeting with their professor to review drafts. These efforts are not just because they want a good grade, but because they believe these behaviors are an important part of the process of their writing skill development. This is consistent with a growth-oriented mindset, the belief that effort is directly related to skill growth and associated outcomes. What Dweck’s work shows, in general, is that the belief that you can develop and improve in an ability, like writing, leads you to behave in a way that makes it so, for example by practicing, revising, and seeking out feedback for improvement.  

Moreover, an important feature of the growth mindset is the belief that you are not your work². The work that you produce reflects your effort, sure, but a critical comment (or comments—plural!) is not an inditement of you. Rather, it is feedback about your process, effort, or something that led to the work. This feedback is all a part of the learning and growing process. In a podcast on receiving critical feedback well, Mellody Hobson said something that really made me think: she argued that critical feedback is a gift, and not a right. When someone gives you feedback, no matter how hard it is to hear, it is because they love and care for you enough to give it to you. That, she says, is an opportunity that should not be squandered.  

When I receive critical peer review today—and I do!—instead of immediately succumbing to a negative emotional reaction, I reframe the feedback. This peer reviewer at least thought enough of my paper to take the time to read it and provide critical feedback. Their points are worth wrestling with. Even when I don’t incorporate the changes suggested by the peer reviewer, my paper is always better because I had to really think through why they thought what they did, what that means for my argument, and how I can strengthen what I have to say/how I’m saying it. This response is only possible when I don’t take the criticism personal, but instead use it as an opportunity to develop my ability to write more clearly, more persuasively, and more effectively. A growth mindset says that engaging feedback—especially critical feedback—is central to the development of writing well. 

Good Scientific Writers are Curious 

Although there are likely many more qualities of good scientific writers, the second I want to share here is that good scientific writers are curious. Curiosity is a core feature of good scientists (e.g., “why does the world work this way? What explains that phenomenon?), but it is also reflected in good scientific writing.  

Curiosity is reflected in a comprehensive literature review, a deep and developing understanding of all the relevant information to the present question. Curiosity is reflected in creative and clear methods, documented thoroughly to allow for an open and honest appraisal from others. Curiosity is also reflected in an openness to the data. When we, as researchers, look at data, we have our own ideas about why they are the way they are. These ideas come from a number of sources, including our command of the scientific literature and our own worldviews and experiences. Curiosity allows individuals to say, “this is how I see it,” without getting defensive when someone else says, “yes, but have you thought of this possibility?” That other possibility is just that—a possibility. For the curious, possibilities are exciting³.  

Back to Dorian 

Although the reading of Dorian Gray has stuck with me, high school was also many (too many) years ago. There are details of the story that I don’t remember. And still, I feel confident that Dorian Gray would not have been an effective science storyteller, as he lacked a growth mindset and curiosity (along with a bunch of other important traits). Of course, as a bit of an optimist, I think that even Gray could have, with the right motivation and mentorship, learned these skills. Just like I’m learning them and like I hope you will. It will benefit your writing—and so much more.  

I have more to say on scientific writing—and say I will. If you made it this far, I would love to hear from you: what do you find is your biggest barrier to writing well? Do these characteristics of good scientific writers resonate with you? What else might you consider adding to that list? Let me know with a comment below and stay tuned—there is more to come on writing well. 

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¹I have not seen the movie, so I can’t comment except to say, rooted in my own deep (non-scientific) convictions, the book is better.

²This is a great, short video introduction to the idea of mindset: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUWn_TJTrnU. Pay special attention to the commentary on Jay and Anne’s work, and how that commentary (i.e., critical feedback) is interpreted.

³Here is a helpful guide for giving and receiving criticism in a way that is helpful: https://www.sciencemag.org/careers/2021/03/science-relies-constructive-criticism-here-s-how-keep-it-useful-and-respectful

If you found this blog helpful, check out the overview of the whole series here, so that you can find more useful information to develop your writing.

My pastor has the most creative sermon titles. There is a game that we play at the end-of-year volunteers’ party which(inevitably) includes a question to try to spot the fake sermon title among all the real ones. It is next level difficult. It is in that vein that I label this blog, My Little Pony Dungeons and Dragons though, really, this blog is not about that. Not directly. Intrigued? Read on.

Now that you are (mildly) intrigued, I’ll be honest with you: I have played an adapted form of Dungeons and Dragons with My Little Ponies trying to save the world through the power of friendship. Before you think I’m weird(er than you already know me to be), let me contextualize this as a game that my whole family plays on game night. In addition to the art (see the excellent pony made by my daughter, 4 years old at the time), the math (constantly adding and subtracting dice of various numbers), and the time together, there is story. That is really what this blog is about: story.

Google defines story, in part, in reference to the plot of a thing, what it’s really about. Although our minds might immediately travel to fiction—or ponies protecting the world—in my work as a researcher I find it helpful to think about scientific writing as a particular kind of storytelling. Over the next few blog posts, I tackle scientific writing as story¹. (Can you see why I lead with ponies and dragons now? In theory, it has led you read at least this far.)

In this post, I want to introduce you to the basic premise of scientific writing. In future posts, I will explore how to approach the (sometimes daunting) task of writing well and I will frame some ideas around the different components in a scientific paper. If you’re lucky (or, as my dad would say, “a glutton for punishment”), I may even write a blog with some nitty gritty details, sharing examples from a recent paper I wrote (and re-wrote…and re-wrote again).

What is Scientific Writing?

Although you know what writing is, is anything changed by adding “scientific” as an adjective before it? To answer this question, we need to think about science. Science is the study of the natural world. Science describes how things are, explores how/why things work the way they do, and makes predictions about how things might/could/would work, given what we know. Science uses systematic observation—testing, observing, measuring things in the world in strategic and systematic ways—to draw conclusions about the world². There are many (many!) different empirical methods in science, but they share the common feature of systematic measurement and observation to acquire knowledge. Moreover, science is democratic and cumulative, meaning that debating conclusions based on (and building from) previous research in a public forum is inherent in how science works. The scientific community requires that statements about “the way things are/work” be backed up with verifiable and compelling evidence³.

By this understanding of science, then, scientific writing is the formal documentation of the scientific story with discovery as the core plotline. Scientific writing is how scientists document the verifiable and compelling evidence gathered by members of the scientific community to tell the story about how the world (and the people in it) work. Done well, scientific writing communicates the mystique and intrigue of discovery within the natural world⁴.

When I conduct a research study, I write it up in a manuscript which is submitted to a journal. The journal will send this manuscript to 2 or 3 reviewers (who are blind to my identity). This process of peer-review ensures that my paper—this piece of scientific writing—is of sufficient quality and caliber to contribute to science and warrant publication. Part of my job in writing the story is to tell the reader what they need to know in a logical, connected way⁵. (Remember, I can’t just write “this is how the world works: believe me, I’m cool; I play pony-dragons.” I have to, in my paper, document the whole process of my research so that when I ultimately claim that “this is how the world works”, my reader understands how my evidence—the research—led to that conclusion.)

So, in many ways, scientific writing is like all good writing; it differs in its content (an explication of empirically demonstrated evidence), but it is rooted in narratives of discovery.

This narrative of discovery has some formalized sections (i.e., the introduction, methods, results, and discussion sections of an APA paper). However, before we talk about these sections we need to talk about the scientific story writer. Before any words are on (digital) paper, it’s important for a scientific story writer to start with a helpful orientation to the process of writing, an orientation that is highly influential for writing successfully.

While you wait for part 2 (perhaps rolling up your own MLP dungeons and dragons character), I’d like to know: what kinds of experiences have you had with science writing? When I say “science writing,” what comes to mind/what assumptions do you have about what it is/isn’t?

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¹As I see it, writing on “writing well” is one of the most daunting topics I could choose. There are many who have written on this, and many who have written on this better than I will do here. Part of the point that I aim to make is that writing is a skill that is developed. That means that, like you, I am in development. However, if I waited until I could communicate about scientific writing skill development perfectly, then this blog would never be written and any potential benefit of this communication, imperfect as it may be, would be lost. As I will encourage you to do: start where you are and commit to developing, uncomfortable as it may be. Your product won’t be perfect, but perfect isn’t a requirement for progress. In writing this blog for you and I’m practicing what I’m preaching.

²Although many students might not immediately associate “psychology” with “science,” it should be clear that psychology is a science, even if it doesn’t share all the methods of natural sciences. That it would have different methods makes sense because it has different a subject matter; surely we can agree that we can (and should) study cells differently than human persons (even if the human persons are made up of cells).

³A very easy introduction to what science is, can be found here. If you are interested specifically in thinking about how psychological science works and fits into science, you can check out this introduction.

⁴Despite common assumptions, science is not a list of facts about the world. Science includes facts, but it not mainly a compilation of them. As such, effective scientific writing will communicate the mystique and intrigue of discovery, not just consolidate a list of findings.

⁵This has implications for the actual process of organization and writing that I will address in a future post. My metaphor hear is about maps and directions, but I’ll leave it be for now.

If you found this blog helpful, check out the overview of the whole series here, so that you can find more useful information to develop your writing.

A few months back, I decided to do something crazy. No, I didn’t sky dive (I’ve done that already). No, I didn’t wander out of a Beijing airport at 2am, totally jetlagged and confused, hoping I understood what I had been told to do (I’ve done that too). And no, I didn’t have a baby and then fly with said 3-week-old baby and her toddler sister to Oxford for 5 weeks (yep, I’ve done that crazy thing, too). This time I did something truly audacious: I sat down to write a three-part blog series on writing well, with the goal of helping my students (you!) think about research writing not as a chore to be dreaded (avoided, and finally—at the very last minute—begrudgingly completed) but instead as an opportunity to develop the skills required to turn ideas into words that inspire action and world change. Of the things I’ve listed in this paragraph, I’m not sure what the craziest item is. 

What I had originally set out to do in three blog posts is now eight (nine if you count this one). And, if I’m honest, I haven’t even said all the things I wanted to. But I still think that what I’ve done is crazy—and it just might be helpful. So, I wanted to spend a few more sentences outlining what to expect in this blog series. I will end with an invitation for you.  

In the first two blogs, I focus on some topics around orienting yourself to the task of writing. First, I address the question of what scientific writing is (hint: if you are reading this blog on this research website, you are likely have/are going to engage scientific writing at some point in your educational or professional career). Second, I explore two characteristics of effective science writers, characteristics that promote the skill development of writing well. 

In blogs three and four, I zoom in a bit and tackle how scientific papers are organized. Blog three covers the purpose of the different sections of an APA style research paper and blog four tackles how to organize a literature review of research as a stand-alone paper. For all things, including writing, I firmly believe that when we understand the purpose of something, we can engage in a way that increases the likelihood of fulfilling that purpose. In science writing, fulfilling the purpose includes clear and effective communication of discovery (e.g., what things are really like, why the world works the way it does), because discovery is the plotline of science.  

From there, blogs five through eight take a bit of a nosedive into the weeds of writing. I provide 4 examples of tools that I use in my own writing. I take the case example of a paper I recently wrote, a literature review, and I show a few of my steps from start to finish. I tell you about my Dear Mom Draft; I show you how I organize my early literature review search of research articles to deepen my understanding and preparation to start writing; I give you a peek inside my method for editing—especially how I go about deleting sentences that I know need to go but that are hard to let go of; I underscore how the writing process is the thinking process—revision isn’t just for more clarity of phrase, but for clarity of thought.  

Across all these blogs, my goal is to reinforce a basic truth about writing: it is a skill that is developed with practice. I hope that, across these blogs, you’ll be better prepared to engage in the practice of writing well and that you might learn a few tools that are useful in your own skill development.  

There are, of course, many other issues (tools, obstacles, ideas) about writing well that these blogs don’t cover. For example, I didn’t talk at all about reading as a fundamental to good writing (it is!) or specifics of focusing a research question and searching library databases for good sources (key concerns!). Another big one mentioned by a student of mine that I don’t really address is how to maintain motivation to write in the face of waning enthusiasm (and an approaching deadline). Perhaps I’ll take these up in another miniseries which I might call revenge of the writing well blog.  

Between now and the revenge, as these blogs go live over the coming weeks, I want to issue you an invitation. I invite you to engage these blogs as opportunities for your own development. Writing well is not just about the research, it’s about the world change that comes with effective communication and clear thinking. Sure, this might not come out of that paper you are writing for your class, but the skills that you are practicing may just prepare you to be able to do just that. In addition to this long-term invitation, I want to know at the outset: what is it about writing well that you want to learn more about? 

3/7/2022 Update: The University Writing Center, an excellent CBU resource for developing your writing skills, has also contributed their thoughts as a continuation of this blog series. You can (and should) check that blog out here.

By: Philip Breitenbucher, Raquel Ellis, with Nicholas Clift 

The opioid crisis in America is far-reaching and affects millions of children and families. The Office of the Surgeon General (2021) reports that 1 in 7 people will develop a substance use disorder in their lives. According to the Centers for Disease Control [CDC] (2021), nearly 500,000 people died from prescription and illicit opioid overdoses between 1999 – 2019 and latest numbers from the CDC suggest an acceleration of deaths during the COVID-19 pandemic.   

As a result of this fast-growing problem, the Surgeon General has placed a high priority on controlling this crisis and protecting the well-being of Americans. In 2018, the Surgeon General released a spotlight on the issue of opioids entitled Facing Addiction in America: The Surgeon General’s Spotlight on Opioids which compiles the best available evidence on the prevalence of substance use, opioid misuse, opioid use disorders, opioid overdoses, and related harms (Office of the Surgeon General, 2021). In conjunction with the spotlight, they released a public health advisory urging Americans to carry a lifesaving medication, naloxone, which can reverse the effects of an opioid overdose. Not all overdoses have to end in deaths. More than three out of five overdose deaths involved at least one potential opportunity to link people to care before an overdose or to implement life-saving actions when an overdose occurred (CDC, 2020). Learning more about the risks of opioids, along with the availability and use of naloxone, are ways that can help reduce the opioid spike that resulted from the COVID-19 pandemic.  

The ongoing opioid epidemic is an area of great concern for those in the behavioral and social sciences. Professionals in these disciplines recognize the profound impact that opioid misuse has had on children, families, and communities. For example, the use of opioids by mothers during pregnancy can result in numerous physical ailments upon birth and long-term learning and behavioral challenges (Ross et al., 2015). Parental dependency on opioids has also been associated with child maltreatment, foster care reentries, and higher rates of children losing their parents to the criminal justice system or death by accidental overdose. These circumstances have led to increases in children being placed in foster care (Radel et al., 2018; United Hospital Fund, 2019). The opioid epidemic has hit vulnerable communities the hardest, exacerbating such areas as the employment rate, poverty rate, and child educational outcomes (Darolina & Tyler, 2020; Krueger, 2017). 

Early identification of parental substance use in child abuse or neglect cases is crucial because of the poorer outcomes for these families versus those for whom child welfare involvement not related to parental substance abuse. Unfortunately, parental substance use is often under-identified for many reasons, including training and resources.  To assist in making accurate and timely identifications of parental substance use, screening instruments similar to those utilized in the medical community have been encouraged in the literature (Brook et al., 2014).  An example is the SBIRT (Screening, Brief Intervention, and Referral to Treatment) protocol. SBIRT is an evidence-based practice used to identify, reduce, and prevent problematic use, abuse, and dependence on alcohol and illicit drugs. This protocol has been used in various medical settings and has demonstrated positive outcomes for families involved in the child welfare system.  

In 2019, the Lafayette Family Preservation Court implemented the SBIRT (Screening, Brief Intervention, and Referral to Treatment) protocol for child welfare involved families in identifying and appropriately treating parental substance use, depression, and risk opioid overdose early on in the life of the case. The SBIRT protocol was administered to parents at court before or after regularly scheduled hearings.   

The screeners were made available through an online wellness technology, Wellscreen, using a tablet-enabled interface.  The Wellscreen program led the Lafayette case managers step-by-step through the screening and intervention process. Case managers were able to identify parents at risk of substance use and/or mental health disorders, confidently conduct brief interventions, create individualized treatment plans and connect parents to local treatment providers in minutes. Wellscreen also ensured timely follow-up occurred through electronic tracking of treatment plans. After one year of implementation, the researchers found sizable reductions in risk scores, a 66% reduction in depression, and a 60% retention of knowledge on brief opioid overdoses (Breitenbucher et al., 2020).  

In the behavioral and social sciences, we work in mental health clinics, schools, hospitals, churches, law enforcement, adult and child protection agencies; each of these settings is an opportunity to implement the SBIRT protocol. Using SBIRT in non-traditional settings, we can intervene with clients before they overdose or develop a severe substance use disorder. In the Fall of 2021, students in CBU’s Master of Social Work (MSW) program will have an opportunity to utilize the Wellscreen product and conduct the SBIRT protocol in their field practicum sites due to a generous gift from Wellscreen Inc. 

Those interested in learning more about this social problem and how it is being addressed can go to the U.S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention or the National Institute on Drug Abuse websites. There are also community-based organizations tackling this issue right here in the Inland Empire. To learn more about these efforts, check out the Inland Empire Opioid Crisis Coalition website. To learn more about the intersectionality of the opioid epidemic and the child welfare system, you can go to the National Center on Substance Abuse and Child Welfare or the Child Welfare Information Gateway websites. 

References 

Breshears, E. M., Yeh, S. & Young, N. K. (2009). Understanding substance abuse and facilitating recovery: A guide for child welfare workers. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. Rockville, MD: Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. Retrieved from https://ncsacw.samhsa.gov/files/Understanding-Substance-Abuse.pdf 

Breitenbucher, P., Coleman, K.L., & Byrd, P. (2020). Early Detection in Child Welfare: Connecting Families to Quality Treatment Services. Child Welfare League of America, Virtual Summit.  

Brook, J., Yan, Y., Lloyd, M. H., & McDonald, T. P. (2014). Screening for Substance Use Disorders as a Supplement to Caseworker Assessment Among Foster Care–Involved Families. Journal of Public Child Welfare, 8(3), 239–259. https://doi.org/10.1080/15548732.2014.903221 

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2020). Overdose Deaths and the Involvement of Illicit Drugs: Urgent Need for Overdose Prevention Interventions. https://www.cdc.gov/drugoverdose/pubs/featured-topics/VS-overdose-deaths-illicit-drugs.html?CDC_AA_refVal=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.cdc.gov%2Fvitalsigns%2Fdrugoverdose%2Findex.html  

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2021). Understanding the epidemic. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.  https://www.cdc.gov/drugoverdose/epidemic/index.html

Darolina, R. & Tyler, J. (2020, April 13). The opioid crisis and community-level spillovers onto children‘s education. The Brookings Institution.  https://www.brookings.edu/research/the-opioid-crisis-and-community-level-spillovers-onto-childrens-education   

Krueger, A. B. (2017, September 7).  Where have all the workers gone? An inquiry into the decline of the  U.S. labor force participation rate. The Brookings Institution. https://www.brookings.edu/bpea-articles/where-have-all-the-workers-gone-an-inquiry-into-the-decline-of-the-u-s-labor-force-participation-rate/  

Office of the Surgeon General. (2021). Surgeon General priority: Opioids and addiction. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. https://www.hhs.gov/surgeongeneral/priorities/opioids-and-addiction/index.html  

Radel, L., Baldwin, M., Crouse, G., Ghertner, R. & Waters, A. (2018). ASPE research brief: Substance use, the opioid epidemic, and the child welfare system: Key findings from a mixed methods study. Retrieved from https://aspe.hhs.gov/system/files/pdf/258836/SubstanceUseChildWelfareOverview.pdf  

Ross, E., Graham, D., Money, K., & Stanwood, G. D. (2015). Developmental consequences of fetal exposure to drugs: What we know and what we still must learn. Neuropsychopharmacology, 40, 61–87. https://doi.org/10.1038/npp.2014.147 

United Hospital Fund (2019, November). The ripple effect: National and state estimates of the U.S. Opioid Epidemic‘s impact on children. https://uhfnyc.org/media/filer_public/6e/80/6e80760f-d579-46a3-998d-1aa816ab06f6/uhf_ripple_effect_national_and_state_estimates_ chartbook.pdf  

Sophia Mun & Russ Bermejo

This is my second year at CBU. The thing that I love most working at CBU is that I am able to do faith integration in classrooms. One day in my first year, I got curious if I could measure the effectiveness of the faith integration I was doing in my classrooms. This led Professor Bermejo and I to start a small research project. In this blog, we would like to briefly share the process of this research and what we have found so far.  

Identify the General Study Idea

The integration of faith and learning is a key feature of Christian higher education. Faculty members in Christian institutions are encouraged to foster integration between students’ understanding of subjects and their faith. At CBU, professors integrate the “Core 4” outcomes in their course instruction so students are (1) academically prepared, (2) Biblically rooted, (3) globally minded, and (4) equipped to serve. Our shared vision of being “unapologetically Christian and academic rigorous” is challenging and inspiring. But how can we assess the effectiveness of faith integration in our classrooms?  

Choose the Research Topic  

First of all, we wanted to see whether our faith integration work in classrooms has an impact on the extent to which students work to integrate their faith with their discipline/class. Second, we also wanted to identify the factors contributing to student faith integration. The purpose of this project was to determine whether and how taking a class in a Christian institution predicts changes in students’ faith integration. Research questions of this project were “Is there any changes in the degree to which students engage in faith integration at the beginning and the end of semester?” And “What factors promote changes?”  

Formulate Plan and Methodology 

Professor Bermejo and I created an online survey to measure basic demographic information and student faith integration. Student faith integration was measured at Time 1 (beginning of semester) and Time 2 (end of semester) using the Psychology and Faith Integration (Psy-FI) Scale (Collison et al., 2019). The scale contains 27 items (e.g., “I often think about how psychology and my faith relate to each other.”) with response options ranging from 1 (Disagree strongly) to 6 (Agree Strongly). Changes in student faith integration were calculated by subtracting student faith integration Time 1 from Time 2. Other variables were also included as possible contributing factors: school year, the course they were taking (BEH or PSY), experience of taking psychology classes, instructor (Professor B. or M.), and spirituality (Instructor & Self).   

Collet Data  

The data was collected in 6 classrooms (PSY & BEH courses) in 2020 fall semester. Longitudinal data was collected from a sample of 161 students (students took the same survey twice at the beginning and the end of semester). The survey was distributed and data was collected via Qualtrics.  

Analyze Data & Present Findings   

We conducted a hierarchical multiple regression analysis to explore contributing factors in changes in student faith integration. Three significant predictors were found: student spirituality, experience of taking psychology classes, and students’ prior faith integration (Time 1, beginning of semester).  Regarding experience of taking psychology classes, we found that students who had not taken a psychology class before showed increases in the degree to which student engage in their faith integration. In addition, students with low faith integration at Time 1 reported increases in faith integration at the end of the semester. Overall, our results demonstrate that faith integration in our classrooms was promoted especially for students with lack of exposure to faith integration in lower-level courses and students with low prior faith integration.  

Summary & Discussion 

Our results show effects of faith integration in classrooms vary depending on students’ experiences and existing levels of faith integration. In summary, we found that faith integration in classrooms may not benefit all students in the degree to which student engage in faith integration. It should be attuned to differences among students in their experience and their prior level of faith integration (e.g., applying different approaches of faith integration to lower level and upper-level classes). 

References 

Collison, B., Eck, B. E., Edwards, J. M., & Allen, E. C. (2019). The Psy-FI Scale: A Measure of Psychology and Faith Integration. Journal of Psychology and Christianity, 38(2), 67–80.  

Want to play a game of “never have I ever?” Here goes. Never have I ever been told to study basic brain functions when I want to know how to grow in my spiritual life. Is that shocking to you? Probably not.

And yet, I wholeheartedly (or, whole brain-edly) believe that how we relate to God changes with a basic understanding of how the brain creates neural networks as a function of our experience. Before I get to that specific claim, let me back up a bit.

Your brain is responsible for your engagement with the world. What you see, feel, think, remember, and do is all contingent on your brain processing. Engaging in the world—whether it be zoned out in front of the 1,732^nd TikTok video for the day or reciting Shakespeare in Stamps Courtyard—changes your brain. Your brain is constantly changing in response to huge amounts of incoming information from the external world. Many of these changes are temporary. Consider this example: you read something from a textbook, think you know it, and then fail to remember it come test time. What happened? The temporary brain change from the reading did not result in long-term reorganization/creation of the neural networks for the memory of the thing you read; that’s what happened. What studying does (especially effective studying), is that it takes that temporary brain change and slowly makes it permanent. An analogy I like to use is a comparison to creating a path through a forest. At first, there is no path. But, if you travel the same path every day, cutting away obstructive branches, compacting the ground beneath your feet, eventually a path is born. Think of the creation of neural connections in your brain as doing the same thing¹. With enough practice, the pathway is born and the brain change is more than temporary.

William James, a pioneer of early psychology, wrote that “my experience is what I agree to attend to.” If we think about this from a brain-based perspective, this is true because what we attend is the thing that is ultimately burned into our ever-forming neural circuitry. Attention changes what happens in our brain (something called neuromodulation); it is the gate keeper to neural network activation and creation.

So, when Scriptures tell us to think on what is true, honorable, pure, lovely, and good, to think on what is excellent and worthy of praise in Philippians 4:8, this is not just a platitude to “think happy thoughts.” I think that Paul is pointing us to focus on these things because what we pay attention to changes us. Luke 6:43-45 records Jesus teaching that we are recognized by our fruit, fruit that is the overflow of our hearts. He says that a good man brings good things stored out of his heart whereas an evil man brings forth the evil stored in his heart. Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.

So, what does this have to do with the neuroscience of attention? As I see it: everything.

The objects of our attention cause brain change. These brain changes reflect and represent the objects of our attention in the form of new neural networks. These neural networks, like the well-travelled path through the forest, work to increase the ease of which our brain can assess and make sense of an object of attention. In the forest, the path makes it easier to access the destination of the path within the forest. In our brains, the neural networks make it easier to remember and think about the object of our attention. So, when you look at your best friend’s face, you recognize them because the neural network that is the memory of their face (created from previous attention) is activated (the path is “travelled”).

Yet, when the objects of our attention cause brain change, it’s not just that we now “have a new memory.” It is something significantly more meaningful. That neural network now serves as a foundational network when your brain is trying to make sense of new information. Your brain is making constant calculations about what you will like, what you should say, what you might feel based on your previous experiences recorded in neural networks. Attention in and to these previous experiences is what creates these networks. Thus, every new experience we have is shaped, influenced, and interpreted through the lens of the neural networks created from our previous attention. This serves as the foundation for meaning making; our pre-existing beliefs, knowledge, expectations, desires (etc.) that we use to make sense of what is in front of us is, in part, driven by what we’ve previously attended to. Said directly, the brain we are creating today (out of our attention) is the filter through which we will make sense of all future experiences.

Researchers refer to the influence of what is already present in our heads on the meaning-making process of the moment as a “top-down influence.” This is how two people can look at the exact same stimuli and see different things. Remember the dress? Or Laurel/Yanni? These are all so interesting (and frustrating) because they illustrate the incredible power of top-down influences in how we make sense of the world. What we previously paid attention to shapes our brain to make sense of whatever might come next. This is efficient, but there are important real-world implications. This includes implications for our spiritual life because when we focus our attention on what is less than what we have been commanded to in Scripture, it has long-lasting implications for how we subsequently direct our attention and interpret the objects of that attention.

So, how we spend our time – the focus of our attention – matters beyond the individual moment of attention. We carry in our brains a representation of our previous attention history that serves as a filter for all subsequent interactions in the world. 

This is challenging, to be sure. But, importantly, we also worship a God of abounding grace. Neuroscience bears this out as well in a concept known as neuroplasticity. When we choose to re-direct our attention toward what is good, right, and true we, over time, change our brain’s neural networks, a change that is the direct result of the steadfast re-direction of attention. 

Dallas Willard wrote that “God does not ordinarily compete for our attention.” If attention is the gateway to the harvest of our heart, I think neuroscience research requires that we seriously ask about the objects of our attention. This is not a call to “look to the bright side of things” or to find that silver lining. I don’t believe that Scriptures call us to bury our heads in the sand instead of confronting problems. And yet, when we encounter problems or challenges, how do we comport ourselves in a manner fitting to our calling? What and to whom do we attend; how do we cultivate the daily habits and neural networks that produce that pleasing aroma of a life lived for Christ? 

One reason these questions may be challenging is that they make our small minutes meaningful. The good or the evil in our hearts is not harvested all at once, but rather developed over small, daily habits, habits all starting with our attention. These daily habits might not feel like they are doing much but they are slowly, and powerfully, changing our brains—brains out of which our behaviors flow.  

There is always data coming into and being processed by your incredible brain, even if you are not consciously aware of it. From a brain-based perspective, we are always attending to something. So, here’s the big question for you: what are you paying attention to? 

Footnote: 

1. The nerve cells in the brain are called neurons. They are the building blocks of the nervous system and, when they network together (neural networks), they form the foundation of all human functions ranging from the activation required to blink to the experience of love or misery. Your brain, through these neural connections and networks, carries a physical representation of your subjective, lived experience. 

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A version of this blog was translated into Spanish and published at Coalicion por el Evangelio.

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Note: This is the final post in a three part series. You can start here, but you might find it worthwhile to read the first and the second post in the series!

As I’ve previously discussed, content analysis can be used to investigate picture books. It can, of course, also be used to explore patterns in traditional novels and young adult (YA) literature. One area of YA literature that has traditionally been considered “taboo” to include is religion—especially positive depictions of religion. But as YA literature embraces a more diverse portrayal of young adults, wouldn’t that also include diverse depictions of their religious beliefs? To answer this question, Dr. Alspach and I set out to conduct a content analysis of recent YA literature.

We had three primary research questions:

1.) To what extent is religion referenced in contemporary young adult fiction?

2.) How diverse is that representation? Which religions (or areligious beliefs) are most often included? How well does this reflect the actual landscape of young adult religious practice?

3.) When religion is discussed, is the representation positive, negative, neutral or mixed/complicated?

Sample

Selecting a sample for content analysis can greatly influence the results of the study. Are we looking at all published books? The popular ones? The award winners? We chose to use several lists compiled by the American Library Association since many teachers and librarians use these lists to select which new books to purchase and use in the classroom. We used several different lists so our sample would represent both “good” literature and “popular” literature. The lists we investigated produced a research sample of 38 books, including fiction and nonfiction in a variety of formats.

Procedure

Each novel was read and coded independently by two of the three researchers. We examined the books looking for overt, explicit religious references, including the direct identification of religious ideas and affiliation (i.e., a narrator or character identifying someone as atheist or Protestant or Catholic, references to deities or religious organizations, etc.), religious personnel (priests, monks, bodhisattvas, etc.), religious artifacts and apparel (i.e., prayer beads, prayer mats, crucifixes, hijabs, etc.), or religious activity (i.e., service attendance, prayer, etc.). Our coding framework also included identifying which religion was mentioned and the depth of the reference: “background,” “supporting,” or “central” to the story. After each reader had independently coded the texts, we compared results and found a high level of inter-rater reliability in all categories.

Findings

Although we found many interesting aspects of the texts we coded (and wound up with many new questions), here’s a very brief summary. The majority (87%) of the books had some religious reference—ranging from mentioning a hijab to a deep exploration of religious identity. The most commonly depicted religion was Christianity, but other contemporary religions represented in the books included Islam, Buddhism, Judaism, atheism, voodoo, Baha’i, Zoroastrianism, and even fairly small sects such as Hutterites.

Previous literary scholars, such as Campbell (1994), had identified the propensity for young adult texts to portray religion and religious figures in a manner that merely vilifies those religious traditions. We were curious to see if texts had changed in that regard, and when we coded our sample, we found that they had. We noted 20% as neutral in their religious depictions, 10% as predominantly negative in their depiction, and about 13% of the texts as purely positive in their depictions. For the majority of the texts (55%), the religious representations were mixed or complicated.

Implications

Beyond satisfying our curiosity, this content analysis offers some insight into the current state of YA literature. The books in our sample depict a variety of religious viewpoints and reactions to those viewpoints, reflecting some of the diverse experiences young adults have in terms of religious engagement. These depictions offer young adults an opportunity to see themselves in their literature as well as to learn about the beliefs and practices of others.

Looking for these patterns and trends through content analysis offers a different way of looking at what’s important to our culture—the stories we create and consume both shape and are shaped by our perception of the world. The study of literature and social science research may at first seem an odd pairing, but at their heart, they are both ways of trying to understand human nature and behavior, investigating how we perceive the world and how we share our ideas, and, if we’re really lucky, sometimes that includes a really snazzy data visualization.

Think about what you’ve been reading lately: what do you think it might say about the culture that produced it and about you as someone who consumes it? Share your thoughts below.

References

Campbell, P. (1994). The sand in the oyster. Horn Book Magazine, 70(6), 756–759.

Travis, E.J., Alspach, B., & Keith, A. (2020). Let’s talk about it: Representations of religion in young adult literature. Manuscript in preparation. California Baptist University.