Writing for the public as an academic has brought me great joy. It’s been a way to explore topics in which I was not an expert, look at my own field in new ways, and keep publishing despite a heavy administrative load. But not everyone thinks of public writing in such rosy terms.
Over the past five years I have given talks and workshops on public writing and marketing your book at a variety of colleges and universities. At the beginning, most attendees came to the events curious and eager to find an alternative to traditional scholarly work. In the past year, however, I’ve noticed a different trend: Participants are still keen to write for a broad audience, but the dominant emotion in the room is fear.
Pressure has increased on scholars, especially junior ones, to add public writing to their arsenal of skills. Nonacademic writing has become an extension of their professional personas, which triggers familiar anxieties. I soon realized that it was no use explaining to workshop participants how to pitch to an editor or edit out jargon if they were too worried to write for the public at all.
With that in mind, I wrote this essay to explore a few common fears associated with public writing, and how to deal with them. Some are reasonable concerns; others, subtle forms of self-sabotage. All of them can lead to writer’s block. In a few cases, the best way to deal with apprehension is a change in perspective. In others, it can be helpful to see that there are many forms of public writing, some of which pose less risk than others. I believe that you can enjoy both satisfaction and a sense of scholarly integrity in your public writing if you learn which genres and outlets suit you. But first, the fears.
“No one will care.” If you are curious and interested in your topic, someone else will be, too. That, along with a willingness to work on your writing craft, is all you need. Tell your story as best you can, with honesty, detail, and language that suits the genre. That is enough.
Some disciplinary cultures require scholars to argue why a topic matters — what the “stakes” are — at the start of a paper. You can take that approach in a piece for the public, but you don’t have to. You also don’t have to have a world-changing, dazzlingly original argument: Old wine in new bottles can still be really good wine.
“I do not have the necessary expertise.” As scholars, we are trained to be very careful when making statements outside our narrow domain. Of course, most academics do have to speak authoritatively — in the classroom — about topics that we haven’t written a book on. But when we write, we sometimes assume we need years of research to make even a small contribution.
The public sphere is not like this. You do not need a relevant dissertation to be “allowed” to write on a topic. Do your research — or what journalists call “reporting” — and write on whatever you like. If your article is on something within your field, I guarantee that you will know more about it than the vast majority of other people writing on the same topic for the public. But you can also write on topics in which you are not an expert. Your research skills, analytical ability, and thoroughness will still serve you well.
“It won’t meet academic standards.” You may hesitate to publish something that doesn’t satisfy our profession’s usual level of rigor. Your concern may be that you can’t use footnotes. Or that you will be asked to oversimplify your material.
It is true that you will not be able to provide full documentation of your ideas in an essay written for a mainstream publication. However, there are ways of being responsible. Online publications allow you to insert links to references. In print, you might mention some of your most important sources, or attribute a general interpretation to “researchers in the field” to show that you aren’t unduly claiming originality. Some publications will even allow the occasional brief footnote. You will have to make your peace with the fact that you can’t cite rigorously, but you can cultivate a way of writing that honors the work of writers who came before you. Remember that the only people who expect full citations when reading an essay in a literary journal or a popular magazine are other academics.
“What if I am pressured to oversimplify?” You may have an editor who encourages you to change abstract terms into vocabulary most readers understand; who strikes out words and phrases that academics routinely use to avoid making a strong claim (“perhaps,” “one could say,” “it is not impossible”); or who asks you to provide background information that other academics may see as obvious but general readers will need. Consider this a chance to practice the craft of writing clearly.
If, however, your editor pushes you to simplify or change your argument to the point where you no longer think it is responsible or true, you’ll have to stand your ground. Your name is on the article. Do not put work into the public sphere that you cannot stand by. Professional journalists face the same problem, and if their vision for a piece conflicts too much with that of an editor, they walk away and pitch the piece elsewhere. You can, too.
“I’m afraid of negative reactions.” I see two versions of this fear. The first is a generalized anxiety about people not liking what you wrote. It is true that any publication will find its way to readers who do not care for it; I can guarantee that some readers will not like your article. However, because academics are trained to tear work apart, we sometimes assume that every reader approaches essays looking for flaws, inconsistencies, and failures of method. In fact, people read for all sorts of reasons — to be entertained, to learn something new, to make a commute go faster, to ignore their family over breakfast. Write for your best reader, not your worst one.
A more substantial concern is the fear that if you publish an essay on a politically hot topic and it gains wide circulation, you will find your email inbox and social-media accounts flooded with hate mail. This does happen, and anecdotally it happens more often to BIPOC writers.
Many writers find ways of dealing with it — for example, by not opening an email if the subject line looks ominous. Others will — justifiably — find this too much of a mental load to bear. One strategy might be to begin publishing in outlets that do not aim to run viral pieces. A longform essay in a print-only journal can be intellectually fulfilling to write and bring the satisfactions of publication, without the same level of public exposure.
Your fears might be legitimate. However, I would encourage you to ask yourself whether you are truly worried about entering a situation you will not be able to handle, or if the fear is a trick your mind is using to keep you from writing. One way to tell: Are you, in fact, writing? If the anxiety takes over before you even begin typing your first sentence, then you may be dealing with a psychic block.
Write the piece that is in you — you can always decide afterward if you want to publish it or not.
Another strategy is to think more broadly about the genre and the type of publication you want to pursue. A highly visible form of public writing right now is the essay written to address an event in the news, usually proposing a strong opinion or interpretation. This might be called a “think piece,” “op-ed,” or “hot take.” It will often have an attention-grabbing headline (chosen by the editors), and will be published online with a view to going viral.
The academic version often follows this formula: “The surprising way [insert your area of scholarly expertise] explains [insert seemingly unrelated current event].” It’s a respectable angle to take in sharing your knowledge with a broad audience. Use it as often as you like if it feels pleasurable and authentic.
But it doesn’t suit everyone. Rather than offer a provocative argument, some writers prefer to explore a topic in an open-ended way. Some want a larger word count to unfold their thoughts — op-eds are usually in the 1,000-word range, and rarely does a think piece go beyond 2,000 words. Some do not want to make their topic “relevant” to current events, but are happy writing about it for its own intrinsic interest.
I want to convince you there are many ways to write for the public. You do not have to mold yourself to one format, the way you did when you learned to write for academic journals. You can find the genres and publications that feel right for you. This may take some trial and error, but in the best-case scenario, finding the right general-interest publication for your writing will help mitigate some of your worries about going public.
Here are some genres of public writing, with a few examples of publications that feature each and are open to contributions from scholars:
- Op-ed. A strong opinion argument about a topical situation, put clearly and briefly. Best if pegged to the news. Often ends with a call for action. (Possible outlets: CNN; Vox’s The Big Idea; The Washington Post.)
- Public scholarship. An accessible written version of your research, aimed at educated readers who are not specialists in your area. It might be of contemporary relevance, but does not have to make a policy argument about current events. (Possible outlets: Aeon; Jstor Daily.)
- Book reviews. A great way for scholars to break into public writing, as outlets always need informed reviewers for new books. Some publications will expect a straightforward review; others will allow you to write an essay pegged to the book. (Possible outlets: Los Angeles Review of Books; Public Books; Times Literary Supplement.)
- Cultural criticism. Analysis of a cultural phenomenon. Might draw on historical background for context, or use interviews with experts or regular people. Can integrate scholarly analysis, but with explanations of specialist terms. (Possible outlets: The Atlantic; Electric Literature.)
- Longform essays. Focused, nuanced explorations of your topic. May also include an autobiographical element, or weave several stories together. Allows for a more literary treatment, so you may aim at a literary journal instead of a newsstand magazine or popular website. (Possible outlets: Boston Review; Longreads; Southwest Review.)
- Blogging. The blogging boom is over, but blogs are still an excellent way to practice the craft of writing and reach an audience beyond academe, given a bit more promotional effort. Besides regular blogging platforms, you can publish with Medium (which promotes some pieces, giving them higher visibility) or with newsletter providers such as Substack and TinyLetter. (Other outlets for blog posts: websites attached to university presses, libraries, and grant agencies.)
This is just a sampling of the possibilities. Each one offers its own opportunities and drawbacks. Some publications have a large, feisty audience, while others aim at a small readership of dedicated subscribers. A few will let you dive deeply into your subject matter, while most will demand you be succinct and to the point. All of them will let you join a larger conversation than you can through scholarly journals and books alone. I wish you much joy in the effort.
