Write that thing

Rosemary Chang is an academic developer.

In her role at RMIT University, she partners with university staff on scholarship of learning and teaching (SoTL) initiatives and developing teaching award applications.

Her PhD research explores experiences of strong emotions in connection to writing through the lens of mindfulness. Her project involves teaching mindfulness meditation to creative writers, and developing a novel.

Her interests include Zen arts practice, contemplative education, and mindfulness in the curriculum. She tweets about writing, mindfulness and life @RoseyChang.


Photo by Narelle Lemon

Photo by Narelle Lemon

You’ve got that thing to write. It’s tugging on your sleeve like a puppy.

“Write me,” it says, blinking its huge eyes.

You swat it away, because you’ve got Stuff To Do: marking, meetings, an avalanche of emails.

All that sits on top of teaching/ running the lab/ giving feedback on thesis chapters.

Then there’s daily life: cooking dinner, renewing your insurance, ringing your mum. There’s so much stuff.

But you want to write.

You’re thirsty for clear space. You yearn for the quiet periods that allow you to follow your thoughts, connect with others and extend the conversation. This is why you got into the academic game. It’s about the questions and ideas, the possibilities and solutions. It’s about a particular kind of creative thinking.

Writing can be hard going but it’s also intensely satisfying. So, while you’re wading through emails or washing clothes, that thought’s nagging: gotta write that thing. Read more of this post

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Vice-chancellors redeemed?

Dr Muriel E Swijghuisen Reigersberg is a researcher development manager (strategy) at The University of Sydney, Australia, and previously worked at Goldsmiths, University of London, UK.  At Sydney, she oversees the development of a University-wide researcher development training program in collaboration with researchers, faculty staff and professional service units.

In her spare time, Muriel maintains an academic profile in applied and medical ethnomusicology, regularly presenting at academic conferences, penning academic texts, peer reviewing and blogging. She has also offered consultancy support to specialist research institutes in arts and humanities in Slovenia and Japan. Muriel is a keen supporter of the responsible sharing of academic knowledge.

 She is on Twitter as @murielSR.


Arc (Photo by Andreas Levers - flicker.com) Shared via CC 2.0

Arc (Photo by Andreas Levers – flicker.com) Shared via CC 2.0

This article is a response to Tseen Khoo’s great post Nowhere to hide (29th August) where she wonders whether vice-chancellors are capable of understanding the current struggles and working conditions early career researchers face in today’s modern university.

I’ll unpack some of the issues Tseen raises, using my third-space hat: the research manager/ researcher hat.

First, I should say that perhaps I am lucky. Not all vice-chancellors are the same and my encounters with senior staff, including the odd vice-chancellor every now and again, have been strikingly positive. I say ‘strikingly’ because when I was a junior administrator and early career researcher, I never had access to the upper echelons of the university.

Now that I do more regularly, and have had some conversations with senior colleagues, I have come to understand that issues such as fixed-term contractual arrangements; metrics; the ‘enforced’ mobility questions and definitions of what an early career researcher is (in terms of age, etc.) are rather more complex than I’d first imagined.

So this article is as much about my personal learning as it is about the lamentable state of affairs. Read more of this post

Nowhere to hide

Shots fired! Photo by Sebastian Kanczok | unsplash.com

Shots fired! Photo by Sebastian Kanczok | unsplash.com

Can vice-chancellors ever really know what it’s like for emerging researchers and precariat postdocs?

I was reading two vice-chancellors discuss how to take pressure off young academics the other week and it made me increasingly ragey.

Set-ups like this are doomed in many ways because you’re asking people with incredible privilege and a fair whack of authority and power to empathise with emerging scholars who have little to none of those elements.

I’ve let this #headasplodey-ness simmer for a couple of weeks because it’s all too easy for outrage to rule, and I had to admit that my initial outrage was nothing new. People have been outraged for ages about the fact that privileged, executive managerial sorts have the nerve to comment – often gauchely – on what the situation is like for those most vulnerable in their organisations.

The inclusion of the mini-interview at the end, which included the vice-chancellors sharing with us where they were holidaying was just a smidge off-colour, I thought, given the preceding verbiage about difficulty of securing positions, restrictions on resources and subsequent appointments, etc.

So, I sat on my hands for a bit.

After mulling over my outrage about the interview article, these were the particular issues that stayed with me: Read more of this post

#MelbWriteUp – 18 months on

Jason Murphy is a Knowledge and Communications Advisor at RMIT University. He created and manages Melbourne’s Write Up (#MelbWriteUp).

Jason works full-time and is undertaking his PhD part-time, a topic on which he’s written before. He’s working on a research project that critically examines the role of marketing in contemporary society.

He’s previously worked in industry as a graphic designer and in the arts sector with the National Gallery of Victoria and the Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney.

He tweets from @murphy_jason.


#MelbWriteUp August 2017 | Photo by Jason Murphy

#MelbWriteUp August 2017 | Photo by Jason Murphy

What started as an effort to keep the momentum of a writing retreat moving has evolved into a small, active community of writing support.

Back in May 2016, I wrote about the first #MelbWriteUp sessions that had taken place since December 2015. At that time, I wasn’t sure where things would head but was content to just go with it.

It has now been a year and a half, and I thought it was a good time reflect on the initiative, its value, and the challenges.

For those who’ve never heard of it, here’s #MelbWriteUp in short:

It’s a once a month, day-long meet-up that helps researchers focus on their work, block out all distractions (while still getting to be social), and collectively reach their individual research goals. (Write Up)

The first #MelbWriteUp sessions were more focused on providing a structure for the group by using the pomodoro technique. In a lot of ways, that was enough and has continued to be the backbone of the events. Read more of this post

Patronage as a research crowdfunding model

Martin Pfeiffer with a box of National Nuclear Security Administration FOIA documents.

Martin Pfeiffer with a box of National Nuclear Security Administration FOIA documents. Used with permission.

Meet Martin Pfeiffer. Martin uses anthropology to investigate nuclear weapons. That’s amazing, in and of itself. Even more interestingly, Martin is crowdfunding his research and I’m all in favour of research crowdfunding.

What really got me excited, though, was how Martin is crowdfunding his research. Martin is crowdfunding on Patreon.

Patreon works differently to most other crowdfunding services. On Patreon, you donate a small amount regularly. For example (and in the spirit of full disclosure), I support Martin for US$2 per month.

As I write this, people like me are donating $551 per month to Martin’s research, and that funding base is growing. On 27 June 2017, when I subscribed, Martin was receiving $442 in donations. Now it is $551. By the time you read this, it may have crept a bit higher.

$550 per month doesn’t seem like much, but $6,000 a year (you lose a bit on fees) can be handy when you need to pay for copying, or freedom of information requests, or local travel, or any of the myriad of costs that may or may not be covered by your research grant.

Read more of this post

Re-skilling

Rusty horse (Photo by Marcus Schwan) | flickr.com

Rusty horse (Photo by Marcus Schwan) | flickr.com

I was reminded recently of how much you need to keep exercising some skills as a scholar.

What you learn in academia isn’t like ‘riding a bike’ and there are skills that can be forgotten. In my case, I should probably confess that I don’t even know how to ride a bike so we’re talking about being way behind the 8-ball here.

The skills I’m talking about are those involved in editing a special issue journal.

The setting was as amenable as it could be for a good outcome. I was co-editing the issue with one of my best academic buddies. We had worked together on different projects before, including co-authoring a piece of writing, and we knew we could work together.

The journal was one I was very familiar with and had published with a couple of times before. It was a publication friendly to our particular focus and range of topics.

The general editor of the journal was also a good academic friend so, really, it was as collegial an environment as it could be.

I have previously edited six special issue journals, across a range of publications and with different co-editors or solo. Even so, I hadn’t edited a special issue for a few years and I felt rusty. Read more of this post