Experiencing the Qualitative Dissertation as a Researcher, Writer
and Reader
Judith M. Meloy
Castleton State College
One of the difficulties in the process of creating writing
as a means of being understood is the number of iterations the
work has to go through until it can stand on its own, from its
inception as an idea, felt or sensed, to its conception, growth
and final development. One of the reasons for the particular
style and format of the majority of research articles we read or
share with our students is to provide guideposts for the readers,
so that they may know what to expect. The structure of the
research article, paper presentation, or textbook conforms to our
expectations of how knowledge should be presented; most formats
also conform to our inherently paramount sensemaking strategy,
that is, we sift, condense and categorize, looking for
information that confirms our own hypotheses and expectations.
On the other hand, we may simply be looking for something new in
the contents that interests us most. Many times we find our
curiosity sated in the abstract and read no further. We might
also assume that because the article is in a referred journal
that is has been critically evaluated and that it is therefore
somehow 'good' - either well-written, rigorously researched,
logically conceptualized, statistically significant, or some
combination of these characteristics.
My choice in writing has always been to dive in head first;
it's only when I come up for air that I recognize the stream,
lake, pool, ocean or puddle into which I plunged. Of course that
means that I rarely consider my audience (or my life) and even
less often what I am (or am not!) getting myself into. The result
is like providing the reader with certain materials, such as a
width of plastic, wooden slats and rope and asking him/her to
make something of it (a balloon? a swimming pool liner? a tent?).
Although one can imagine benefits of this approach, such as the
final product being a mutual construction of meaning and
possibility between reader and writer, it is not the approach
readers in our profession have been generally led to expect.
Writers do their thinking in ways that enable readers to
accept/reject, agree or disagree or simply wonder about the
content. Because you are listeners and not readers, the
guideposts must be even more clear. Hence, I acquiesce to the
following statement about the purposes of this paper, but may I
say in preface that I hope there is more here to wonder about and
think with than anything else, for I have tried to plan my dive
in waters at least that deep. So, jump in with me and use
whatever stroke pleases you.
It is the purpose of this paper to do the following things:
first, to briefly tell the story behind a year and a half
research project focused on the processes of doing qualitative
research for the doctoral dissertation; and second, to then tell
a story within the story, that is, to link what I did as a
researcher to what I am going to do about it as a writer. As a
result of both stories, I offer two conclusions. The first,
through example, reiterates the value of presenting material in
context. The second suggests the readers' ownership of any volume
is linked to the level of interaction with the material, a
subjective enterprise writers of qualitative research can foster.
Story 1. This story is true. All events described actually
happened. As I was working on my thesis in Bloomington,
Indiana during the Spring of 1986, I was sure that others
choosing to do qualitative research for their thesis were going
through similar periods of doubt and euphoria. I was also sure
that there had to be guidelines, somewhere, for handling and
interpreting an emergent design; that somebody, somewhere had a
better understanding than I about what it meant to be the
research 'instrument' of choice. Somebody had to be suggesting
how the form of a qualitative dissertation, from the statement of
the problem through the presentation of the data and the analysis
and interpretation of results differed, if at all and for what
reasons, from the traditional 5 chapter, 3rd person,
dissertation. But I found little support. Only a handful of
'qualitative' theses had been written at IU before mine was
completed in the summer of 1986. I was not comfortable with the
few examples, because I believed the conception of my study and
its focus were different. So, much to the dismay of the cognitive
psychologist on my committee, I ended up 'inventing' my own
structure. I placed a letter to my readers in front of the thesis
in order to explain it.
How was the thesis different? Some of the decisions I made
included whether to write in first or third person (I used both)
and how much of the interview data to include and where (a lot,
up front!). In the letter at the beginning of the thesis, I gave
the justification for these and other decisions. Most
importantly, however, was the fact that BY THE END of the
dissertation experience, quite close to the defense date, I was
finally able to explain - in words, not emotions/senses/or
feelings - why the thesis looked like it did. I thought this was
a terribly important discovery, because AT THE BEGINNING, in
spite of my course work and some field experiences, I did not
understand the concept of 'being able to handle ambiguity' in any
concrete way. I had a sense of, but again, did not fully
understand the practicalities of working with a committee of four
different individuals. At the beginning, I did not know how
different the experience was going to be. Doing a dissertation is
an experience in itself; adding alternative paradigm research on
top of that made for an especially interesting time. I was in a
steady state of wonder (or was it a stupor?) at how much
creativity was involved; at how the processes of thinking,
reading, interviewing, reviewing, observing, thinking, writing,
each demanded levels of attention that were simultaneously
separate and integrated. I wasn't so sure that it was ambiguity
I was dealing with; I felt more like I was playing a game of
pick-up-stix while balancing on a high wire over an empty river
in the middle of a moonless night. To make a long story
short, I thought about this process on and off for the next 3
years. When I finally figured out the correct division to send my
dissertation study to at AERA, (correct meaning the one division
that finally accepted it) it was the Spring of 1989. By the time
I began to organize my thoughts around the particular issue of
dissertation style, it was March of 1990. I placed a notice in
"The Chronicle of Higher Education" asking persons who had used
qualitative methodologies/ methods in their dissertations and who
were willing to donate an hour or so of their time to write to
me. I also did an ERIC search, using qualitative/naturalistic as
descriptors. I located almost 80 dissertation abstracts.
Between April and June I received about 70 inquiries from
the Chronicle notice, and I was able to match 35 names from the
dissertation abstracts to the current roster of faculty members
in higher education. To these 105 persons I mailed a letter,
explaining my curiosity about the format and structure of their
dissertations and my desire to compose a small manuscript on the
topic. I asked specific questions: did you use 1st or 3rd person
in your thesis? how many chapters do you have? why? what sources
were invaluable to you? What assumptions did you make? Did you
keep a journal? I asked them to write me a letter, around these
or any other decision rules they made which resulted in the final
form of their theses.
By September of 1990, I had received 12 letters ranging from
2 to 18 pages! I sent an update letter to everyone, sharing my
schedule and giving them some additional time to respond. By
December 1, 1990, I had received an additional 18 responses, 16
of which were letters of some length with supporting documents.
During the annual Qualitative Research in Education Conference
sponsored by the School of Education at the University of Georgia
in January of 1991, I was able to collect additional information
from another 30 or so people who attended an interactive workshop
on the topic. The presence of Harry Wolcott, one of the two quest
speakers for the conference, was an additional bonus, as he
provided invaluable tips for the participants at this workshop.
Some of those tips are in his current volume, Writing Up
Qualitative Research. Some of them will be included in mine.
By mid-January, 1991, I was ready to begin; and by mid-December,
1991, I remembered the first of Egon Guba's two maxims: things
always take longer than they do. Well, that's the end of the
first story. My first draft of this paper included none of this
information - and even though I knew where I was swimming, I
would have unintentionally left many of you floundering on the
beach. I have to thank a colleague and friend I made here 4 years
ago for her comments and support, as if she didn't have enough to
do over the holidays with 2 sick kids and a sick husband. Thanks
Pat. The second story is also 'true', but it's not an
external story like the first one. An anthropologist could not
reconstruct it from the evidence littered across my desk and
living room floor; a brain surgeon could not extricate it from my
mind. The best way to set the stage for the story is for each of
you to imagine you have a twin, who does not live with you.
However, this twin knows everything you know, and experiences
things the way you do. Therefore, this twin can only ask you
questions you yourself would come up with - maybe a joy and
surely a limitation. Now, imagine you and your twin talking with
each other. You are trying to figure out what to do after the
grand 'data dump'; actually, you've been thinking about it a lot
yourself, but because you haven't been able to put it into words
you call upon your twin to help you out. Finally, you contact
your twin through the mail, because writing commits your thinking
to an explicit form. Story 2: in letter form.
Dear Judy,
Isn't there a pop tune, 'I'm gonna sit right down and write
myself a letter?' I think so, and you'd better do it, because it
may be the best way for you to think through those letters you've
received from 30 individuals during the last year and a half.
Since you began this project, thinking you would gather
information on the structure and format of qualitative
dissertations and on the decision rules followed or created by
earnest graduate students, I think you have begun to realize that
the focus of your original thinking has changed dramatically.
This was partly due to the fact that your correspondents had much
more to write about than your guiding questions asked them for;
further, the quality oftheir efforts was more than even you, with
your big imagination and rose- colored glasses might have hoped
for. Many of the letters should be published as is, because they
record through context the thoughtful connection of heart and
mind. Subjective accounts? For sure! Your correspondents made
explicit, in candid ways, how they thought and felt about what
they were doing. You've been introduced to egos having different
purposes and concerns, having different levels of support for and
knowledge of qualitative research and having different approaches
to their work. I know you have been excited by the thoughtfulness
of their responses and their interest in your project. You are
wondering, how can anything less than their words create a
succinct, meaningful experience for other readers, for those
novice qualitative researchers and committees in smaller
universities who are less than immersed in the burgeoning field
of qualitative research? I'm going to tell you how, Judy.
Remember Egon talking about the researcher as the human
instrument? You do not have the benefits and structure of a
statistical design. You are the instrument of choice. It is you,
with your background knowledge and experience, with your interest
in and expectations for strengthening the quality of and support
for the qualitative research dissertation experience, who will
sift through the labyrinth of what you do and do not know, what
you do and do not believe is critical to share to come up with a
document that has integrity, that remains true to its roots,
which are not of you, but are expressed clearly through you.
Whew! That was a big sentence. What I mean, Judy, is simply that
you have a big task confronting you; what do those thoughts and
letters mean? Is there something you felt while writing your
dissertation that is confirmed by these letters? Are other things
highlighted that you forgot or never experienced? Do you want to
share all the potential pitfalls for the truly neophyte, or are
we at a point in time in the explication and discussion of
qualitative research that suggests you address broader issues?
Whatever you do, you had better do it soon. You have to present
in a few weeks, and I'd like to read what you are thinking before
you do. Let me hear from you.
Sincerely, Your Self.
Hey you (or do I mean, Hey, Jude!),
Thanks for the letter. You've put things rather clearly,
even if you are somewhat long winded. I don't know how to be
concise without cutting off, or cutting out, the heart of the
matter. You know the tentative title of the effort is 'Writing
the Qualitative Dissertation: Voices of Experience'. To distill
the voices of experiencing from the context within which I met
them seems a dehumanizing enterprise. I think you know me well
enough to know I am not going to just take what I like and leave
out what I don't, but I do have to count on my experience and
some judgment as to the quality of that experience to enable me
to discern the 'mineral content' of the letters I received. It's
as if I want to keep the water filter through which I've poured
each word and perceived nuance; that what is valuable somehow
clings within that limited space, and what falls through without
connection is not a vital element to the understandings that need
to be shared. As I think about it now, it is an awesome and
incredibly humbling task. But if I choose to let it stop me, I'll
embarrass myself terribly on January 3rd. So how will I do it?
How will I sift through what my correspondents have told me, and
I'm not talking about the methods I learned for categorization
and analysis. I've done that and remain unhappy. These letters
mean something - how do I grasp the meanings and then communicate
them to my readers? I have never attempted a book you know.I hope
you have time for this. I feel kind of funny talking to myself
out loud like this, but it helps. And here goes. What are my
thoughts and assumptions? There are six that I can think of
immediately. Several are simply review of good practice, I think.
First, my obligation as a researcher to my correspondents has
been primary since I began thinking about this project. We've
talked about trustworthiness, confidentiality, 'receiving credit'
as co-authors, etc. I have concluded that this obligation and
responsibility will not end, even though I have an additional
role to fulfill. Therefore, the pleasure of reading the letters
and being connected through the mail and by phone to glimpses of
persons I have 'met' is only mine. Although I can share my
enthusiasm and their insights, I am unable to put words to the
total experiencing. I will, however, highlight their points with
their words, using their material to get to some of the essential
issues that current volumes about qualitative research do not
adequately address. Second, the additional role I have is as
a writer. I think my obligation as a writer is to inform my
future readers, not only about what 'I know' as a result of this
research experience but also about a variety of knowings grounded
in the qualitative research dissertation experience that may
guide, support, confirm or forewarn individuals of interactions
that may occur as a result of his/her particular choices. Third,
therefore, I assume my role as writer is to offer, in the
correspondent's words, a variety of contexts and possibilities,
but I must also take responsibility for interacting with the
material - reading it, thinking about it, organizing it - and
presenting it in a clear and readable fashion. Any readers of the
volume will need to know my purposes from the beginning.
Fourth, the volume will not be a 'how to' book but rather a 'what
can happen' volume. My correspondents describe situations and
explain how they felt. I think I am trying to lay out a map of
the territory - to show the deserts, oases and trails (do I mean
trials?) that exist as a part of the experience of doing
qualitative research as a doctoral dissertation.
Fifth, I know what I write about will be shaped by the
materials I received and my personal sensemaking strategies, and
sixth, I will complete the circle with continued interaction with
my correspondents, to see if they think I enabled their points to
be made and feelings to be shared.
I know, the next question you're going to ask is what do
they know that isn't already common knowledge? There are lots of
books out there to help people who want to learn about how to do
qualitative research and now, how to write it up. How and why is
this going to be any different? That's the question one editor
with whom I worked for awhile asked. And it's a tough one to
explain. Without committing to any final organization, let me
just share with you some of the information I have. You'll be
able to tell that 'the structure/decision rules' of the
qualitative dissertation experience expanded into a description
of some concerns shared by 'dissertators' in general. And I've
got an idea. I'll present an example in the editorialized,
distilled way (you know, where I keep the water and throw away
the filter) and then in the opposite way, where the filter is
explored. I'll let you tell me what we learn from each. I will
call Example #1 the Dear Journal version: About
selecting faculty members for your proposal and doctoral
committees, the word is do so carefully. Know their research
orientations and philosophical predispositions; know their
expectations for your effort, including writing style
(narrative, 3rd person, etc.), dissertation format, time
schedule for receiving drafts and so forth. And, as one student
put it, "Don't be afraid to drop a committee member who is
working against you. There is no use in putting a 'no' vote
in your way at the outset." There. I've read the material I
collected and was able to present the gist of one category in a
concise, readable fashion. As a prospective doctoral student, I
could read this material quickly, highlight the page number and
refer back to it when it came time to select my committee. I
wouldn't have to hold anything in my head; I also wouldn't have
any feeling about what it means to do or not to do this. So
let's try Example #2, which I'll call the Correspondent's
Compendium version.
Dear Judy, I knew all three of my committee members
respected the qualitative tradition that I chose to work in. All
conducted or organized interview studies....The two women are
both feminists who appreciated that I would be conducting
feminist research; the male professor on my committee also
respected this focus. Judy, I too, was fortunate in having a
dissertation advisor who had a number of his students working
with qualitative formats. His own work is often done in a
qualitative mode, and thus, he has significant experience in
justifying the legitimacy of these approaches. Second, I picked
my graduate committee after I had begun my researches and
selected both data gathering and analytical techniques. I
point-blank asked potential committee members about any biases
they had concerning qualitative approaches. Dear Judy, If I
am to be honest, the committee was formed with little real
understanding of the consequences which would result from
individual selection. One member was a 'quant' to the extreme,
often remarking how the dissertation had to be formal and real
research (different from my approach). This individual would not
accept a dissertation in the 1st person, but recognized that the
text in that form 'might make an interesting book'. Judy, my
advisor was adamant about the need to use 3rd person and passive
voice. I made a strong case for writing in a more interesting
style, but she found that too 'chatty' and insisted on an almost
mechanical traditional research style. The resulting dissertation
is a sure cure for insomnia!
Judy, My major professor wanted me to use past tense rather
than present tense. This was a problem. During my first course
in the doctoral program, the professor insisted that students in
our department write using the present tense. This person was the
primary writing instructor for the department. As a result, I
relearned to write research papers using present tense, 'Moore
claims' rather than 'Moore claimed.' I utilized this new writing
technique for three years. For my dissertation, my major
professor required that I use past tense, stating that some of
the authors of my references were dead and that was about as
past tense as one can get HA! ha! So of course, I used past
tense! Now, after reading these 41 lines as opposed to the
10 lines of the Dear Journal version, isn't much more learned
about the role of the committee and dissertator than just the how
tos? Questions emerge that would enable future graduate students
as well as potential committee members to have a sense of the
needs and concerns involved in the process of 'qualitative
dissertating'. For example:
1. Do you know the research interests of the professors in your
field/department/school?
2. Do you know their level of acquaintanceship/experience with
qualitative methodologies?
3. Do the professors you are interested in working with respect
alternative/emerging research perspectives? How do you know?
4. Do you know what you want to do? And why?
5. Have you examined examples of other dissertations written in
other styles?
6. Do you know what the accepted practice and procedures are in
your graduate school? Who would you ask?
See, there is a difference between the 'just the facts, ma'am'
Dragnet approach and the sharing of those 'facts' in context.
This argument has already won the hearts and minds of many
graduate students who want to convey to others the sense of being
there. But description isn't enough. It is through their
experiences, I, as the writer, must personally - and critically -
interact. I have chosen to do so by raising questions. If novice
qualitative research dissertators and faculty members choose to
address any of them, they may enhance their ability to work
together with a shared understanding of the expectations and
effort involved.
This is a long letter. I'm not letting you get a word in
edge-wise. But I can hear you now: "You mean you're telling me
you're going to write a book of questions? Most people read books
for the answers. Why don't you listen to dad, who asked why you
didn't wait to be weird until AFTER you became a tenured full
professor?" I will argue that the point is, perhaps, that the
nature of the process of qualitative research is less about
having the answers clearly visible in front of you than it is
about coming to understand more essential questions. If
qualitative research is a process that invites exploration and
understanding, then a volume that intends to discuss that process
must necessarily invite the audience to participate in that
effort, to explore the possibilities and find the meanings for
themselves. A book that is a prescription is just that - buy it,
read it till it's finished, and you're all better. A 'how to'
book does not demand much conscious reflection, judgment,
decision making; the author has figured it all out for the
reader. However, a book that offers possibilities and support
through the experiences of others becomes not a book by an author
but a book of the owner, one to refer to, interact with, and
perhaps even lean upon. I think this is the point I'm trying to
make about the pick-up-stix, the ongoing, conscious interaction
of the separate, yet integrated roles of researcher, writer and
reader. I'm not sure I am making myself clear or who's
talking with whom any more. Maybe what I sent to my almost editor
will help, because it includes a few correspondent examples.
I have been struggling with the prospectus for this book,
because it is born in the process of qualitative research. I do
not yet have the 'prescription' for its beginning, middles and
end. The dilemma I face, describing the whole before it is
written, providing the framework when it will clearly emerge from
the material I have collected, is indicative of one of the major
problems faced by neophyte qualitative researchers. My
correspondents make the point more clearly. Jane writes, "I wrote
the chapters out of order....I sent my advisor partly completed
drafts of chapters 1,3,4 and an outline of chapter 2 and some
ideas for chapter 5. It was my intent to help her see the big
picture of where the study is headed. She appreciated that, and
commented that she found the way I was writing to be
intriguing---inside out, backwards and all over the place! I
can't imagine working this kind of project any other way."
Maria stated it somewhat differently: "One of the
difficulties in writing a proposal for interpretive research is
the uncertainty surrounding the format and content of the
results. We, the Study Group, found it difficult to maintain the
integrity of the inductive research process and still answer
committee members' questions about our anticipated
results....However, as we gained experience, we began to see that
each study had a structure unique to its purpose, process and
results. The final dissertation documents did not follow the
routine formula. They had an integrity of structure that emerged
from the process and best communicated the results of the study."
Marie reflects, "I was determined to craft a format consistent
with the goals, questions, and methods as well as the findings of
my study....In short, my dissertation is layered, as findings
begin to emerge I list them." A correspondent wishing to remain
anonymous also speaks of layers: "The contents are organized
according to principles of Chinese cosmology and numerology: 3
Parts, a focus on Chapter 5, nine chapters, and so on. The
organization sort of emerged appropriate to the content. My
dissertation integrates materials from several disciplines...; to
comprehend the central idea, one has to peel it like an onion."
And Pauline's statement shows that it just isn't that simple to
figure all of this out before one has actually gone through it.
She writes, "When I first wrote up the proposal, etc, I outlined
the dissertation in a traditional, quantitative way (problem,
literature search, methodology, findings, conclusions). My
committee laughed me out of the building."
The imagining and writing of this text is grounded in the
qualitative research process. The writing of a book about a
non-linear, ambiguous process, is, in and of itself, non-linear
and ambiguous. My correspondents did not have a sense of the
whole from the beginning; indeed the sense of the whole did not
come together until the end. This conclusion is a major
understanding gained by persons who have undertaken qualitative
research. In order to share it, a volume trying to shed light on
the process of qualitative dissertating must indeed begin with a
chapter entitled, 'The End'. This chapter will talk about how
the process will shape the product. It will introduce many areas
of process that need to be considered. Comfort with the process
comes, in part, from knowing that its product will eventually
identify itself. The security of a priori hypotheses and
statistical design does not exist for individuals choosing to do
qualitative research. Qualitative researchers must take comfort
in other ways. This chapter will make that point clear up front,
and will attempt to provide for those choosing/working with
qualitative research some sense of understanding for the process,
if only by sharing the fact that they are not alone. I quote one
correspondent:
If I can do anything that will help others find their way as
they struggle with a thesis or dissertation, I will be happy
to do so. There were people there for me. Although you
might face the blank page alone, you aren't really alone.
Judy, you have my permission to publish my current address should
anyone decide they want more information. And now, good
night.
Sincerely, Jean.
Well, Jude, what does all this mean? I think it means that
the learning experience for each of us is inherently subjective.
A volume that describes the experiences of others provides its
readers with opportunities to learn through and with those
experiences. Providing a sense of being there is important, a
conclusion that is no longer newsworthy. What may be new,
however, is that the questions raised as a result of my personal
interaction with the materials may in some way make explicit the
interaction of roles involved in the research-analysis-writing
processes. In the excerpts from the correspondents in Example 2,
for instance, issues of creativity and power lay just beneath the
surface; other letters deal with these issues more directly. One
of my tasks as researcher-author is to go beyond providing
descriptions and to begin to make explicit the extent of the
terrain traveled in the course of qualitative dissertating. A
book of voices may enable its readers to better navigate not only
on top of but also through the context of individual experiencing
as they choose to pursue it for themselves. As Kathy writes:
I do think the issue of audience is an important one and
that it is related to voice. When I think of dilemmas I
associate with voice, I do not think of first person and the
impersonal third person. Everyone on my committee has
encouraged writing in the first person from the beginning but I
interpreted their expectations to include expository rather
than narrative writing. I got hung up with my perceptions of
the expectations of the committee members that would be
reading the study. At one point, I wanted to be told what to
include and how to write it and was willing to give up my own
voice, a voice expressed through style and content and the
freedom to try it out my way. It was not until I felt that I
was deadlocked and totally unsure of the expectations of
others and decided to finish without any other advice or
criticism and then let people react, that I discovered my own
voice, a voice that was reflected in a more confident
writing style, my writing style. And finding one's
voicethrough one's efforts does not deny rigor and respect:
What I had to negotiate with my committee was mainly my
freedom of thought and action, which they were willing to give me
once I had gained their confidence. Each of the five members
of my committee were excellent and inspirational.
(anonymous)
Through our researches, perhaps we can all help make it so for
others.