Why blog?

Posted by Jean Adams

It seems an odd thing to write a blog post about the value of blogging. I mean, if you’re reading this blog, it suggests you place some sort of value on the medium. Or maybe, you don’t really but you came to my presentation today on blogging and felt some vague compulsion/interest in following up the link on the handout just this once, seeing as it was such a funky little handout.

What is a blog? What’s it for?

If this really is your first visit to a blog, let me tell you a bit about it and show you around. 

Blogs (a contraction of web logs) are web-sites, or parts of web-sites, that are designed to be regularly updated with new content, including text, images, audio and video content. Entries, or ‘posts’, are presented in reverse chronological order with the most recent first. By providing a facility for readers to comment, and writers to respond to readers’ comments, blogs provide a forum for interactive discussion. Blogs can be single or multi-author and about anything and everything.

This page is mostly text. But we try to include either still or video images with every post. If you scroll down a bit, you’ll find previous posts. And even older ones if you scroll right to the bottom and click ‘older posts’.

Don't say  I didn't prepare - the natty little handout you would have got if you'd come to my presentation

You can see that posts are written by a variety of different people – this is a multi-author blog. Anyone affiliated with Fuse can post and we also accept guest posts from people not affiliated. At the bottom of each post, there’s a little note highlighting either that there are currently ‘no comments’ or maybe ’23 comments’. We haven’t quite cracked the ‘interactive discussion’ bit here, but if you’d like to help overcome that you just need to click on the ‘no comments’ link and let rip. This is the internet, so we use links within posts to source material, or more information on various concepts, rather than a list of references at the bottom of posts.

To the right of the main text, you can see some other stuff introducing the blog and what it’s about, listing previous posts, and bigging up our besties. There's also some Twitter and social network sharing stuff there. We publicise the blog primarily through Twitter. If you're new to blogs, a good way to find out about new posts is to follow me (@jeanmadams) or @fuse_online on Twitter.

The majority of mainstream science communication follows a formal, and often highly structured, format. In contrast, blogs allow scientists and researchers to be both authoritative and informal. In blogs the personality of a researcher can shine through in a way that it rarely does in peer-reviewed publications and traditional science journalism. For this reason, science blogs have been proposed as “one way to demythologize science”.

Fuse is a Public Health Research Centre of Excellence that brings together academics and researchers from five universities in the North East of England. One of Fuse’s key aims is to engage with those working in public health policy and practice across the region (policy and practice ‘partners’) to conduct research with and for these groups, and to ensure translation of research findings into policy and practice.

We set up the Fuse Blog because, although awareness of Fuse seemed high locally, understanding of what exactly it does and how, appeared limited. We were also concerned about a feeling that Fuse researchers were perceived by policy and practice partners as a bit far removed from the real world, up in their ivory towers. Finally, we wanted a method to build some sort of community across a research centre that is located in five different universities at some geographical distance from each other.

To achieve these things, posts tend to be about the day-to-day realities of doing public health research, written in a way that hopefully makes us look human. But we also sometimes post what might be considered lay summaries of our research findings and accessible discussions of recent research developments.

Why should I bother blogging?

I asked my Twitter followers why they blogged. These are some of the responses I got:

I think that the reasons that a researcher might want to blog can be broken into three areas: personal, professional and organisational.

From a personal point of view, I quite enjoy blogging. Like Bronia, I like having an opportunity to write about the things that matter to be but that I can’t put in academic papers. It can be quite cathartic. I also like the people that I’ve met – both in person, and virtually – through blogging. I’m quite a shy person underneath, so this medium suits me well.

Professionally, Sherry and Lynne cover some of the important points. Blogging is a form of engagement that allows researchers to speak to people they often can’t access through traditional dissemination routes, about things those routes don’t generally cover. On the blog, I am Jean. It’s fine for Jean to discuss the everyday realities of doing public health research and to chat about her research. Most other public places I go in a professional capacity, I am Dr Adams. From her you get cautious interpretation of her latest peer-reviewed findings.

This sort of engagement ticks boxes in terms of communicating the method of science. But it is also considered a moral duty by some: if the public fund our research through government agencies, don’t we have a duty to tell them about it in a way they might understand?

As Lynne says, blogging is also a good way to get into writing – a skill that every researcher needs. It’s quick (we normally say 5-800words for a post, but this one is rapidly breaking the rules, but I’m the editor, so that’s fine) and it doesn’t have to be perfect (I seem to have identified a number of post-publication typos...).

Organisationally, the most important thing that the Fuse blog might have done is make us a bit more democratic. Our posts tend to be written by early career researchers who often don’t speak up in other forums. As one professor eloquently put it, the blog gives a voice to those who are too often voiceless in our organisation.

In turn, this gives a good impression of Fuse to the outside world: we’re the sort of organisation who aren’t afraid to let our early career staff and students speak out and we support them to do that. The blog also means we have a constantly updated web presence. It says: we are flourishing.

But…what about all the bad stuff?

Obviously you should be aware of the risks of anything before you start. Simon Wren-Lewis from Oxford University offers sound responses to many of the risks you might think blogging has, from not having enough time, to not having anything to say. With a multi-author blog like the Fuse blog we easily absorb many of these. Matt Might from the University of Utah also offers some good tips on low-effort blog post strategies – if you’re going to write a presentation for a departmental seminar on blogging, write a blog post about it.

With a central editor (me) who scrutinises all posts before they go live we also add an additional layer of checking to the ‘read it again in the morning’ strategy used by Wren-Lewis. We err on the side of caution and if there’s anything I think you might live to regret posting, I’ll talk to you about it. But that rarely happens – researchers live and breathe confidentiality and professionalism.

No…I meant: what will people think?

Well, what do you think? Do you think that researchers and academics writing about their day-to-day working lives in non-peer-reviewed publications is ‘vulgar’? Do you think Athene Donald, professor of physics at Cambridge University and Fellow of the Royal Society is ‘showing off’ in her blog? Do you think Trish Greenhalgh, professor of primary health care at Queen Mary, who contributes to many multi-author blogs has ‘too much time on her hands’? Most people probably think the same way you do.

If you’ve written a post or want to chat about ideas for posts, get in touch.

My first blog post

Posted by Emma L Giles

Okay, so I’d better come clean and own up straight away…this is my very first blog. Now, it’s not like I didn’t know what a blog was before now, but I had never been that interested. I have a Facebook account and log on occasionally. I even tried twitter once, but I failed to ‘see the point’ of it. So when I thought I might venture into this blog business I wasn’t quite sure what the purpose was. However, since reading the Fuse blogs in particular, I think I may have seen the light.

The little book of anxiety, by Kerri Sackville

I am a post-doc, which basically means that since handing in my thesis (aka a large door stop that I have since looked at about ten times) in 2009, I have been working at Newcastle University as a Research Associate. My first post-docs were largely teaching-based, and so I would never have even contemplated writing a blog at that time. My topics would largely have been around such thoughts as: oh heck, what do I do when 300 students pile into the lecture theatre?? Oh my goodness, I was caught in the headlights today when I couldn’t answer a student’s questions, what to do, what to do??? I…honestly…cannot…mark…one…more…assignment…that…reads…the…same…

Gladly, such issues are no longer the reasons why I lie awake at night. Mainly because I have moved to the Institute of Health and Society at Newcastle and now I actually do research as a research associate, but also because after six years of teaching groups of 50-300 students I am no longer scared by large groups. I can think of a semi-professional and intelligent answer to most student questions, and I have learnt that every student contributes something different in their assignments (most of the time).

So why then am I writing this blog? Well, I was actually going to write about my experience of publishing academic papers as a new career researcher. However, this thought abruptly ended when I started to type. I realised that my first blog might actually be somewhat lacking: would it be entertaining? Would I need to be funny (I’m not naturally a comedian)? What happens if the editor rejects my blog? What DO I WRITE? 

I think, funnily enough, this blog has actually taught me something. It’s taught me that I’m a born worrier and that there will always be something that I am anxious about. However, this is where I can see some advantages of this blog business (I may even have started to like them as well). Blogs allow you to air your thoughts, to share concerns with others, and to (sometimes) receive helpful comments and advice.
I think I’m going to write that second blog soon, surprisingly about my worries around publishing. That is, if the editor doesn’t reject this first blog.

However, don’t ask me to go on twitter again.

Democratizing, or polarising and exclusive?

Posted by Jean Adams

There seems to be a lot of discussion around at the moment about the benefit of social media to researchers. The stuff I’ve been reading isn’t really about the value of social media as a research tool, more about the value of social media as a communication tool both within the research community, and between the research and other communities.

Much of the discussion takes place on social media, but I’ve also come across some in more traditional media too - in peer-reviewed journals and a recent conference workshop.

Almost everyone is enthusiastic. Twitter apparently helps researchers keep up to date with their field, and to disseminate their findings more widely, and provides an opportunity to ‘crowd source’ ideas, research funding and even volunteer researchers.

The social media adoption curve

One blogger found that blogging and tweeting about their publications led to a massive bump in downloads of her papers – suggesting that many more people were at least aware of them, if not reading and citing them. Others have proposed that the benefits of academic blogging are so self evident that the question has now moved from “why would a researcher blog?” to “why would a researcher not blog?”.

I don’t consider myself particularly ahead of (or even riding the crest of) the social media curve. In fact, I’m quite a social media laggard. I opened my Twitter account about two years ago, but have only been actively using it for around 12 months. I’ve been reading blogs for two or three years. But I follow less than twenty and hardly any of them are work-related. I’ve left fewer than half a dozen comments on other people’s blogs.

And yet I think I am a convert. In the last week I have used Twitter to share ideas with researchers I have never met, sound off about the boring bits of my job (and get a little support back), ‘speak’ to a journalist, and source references for this post. I have been alerted to research I will use in my teaching and been kept up to date with public health and university politics. Twitter provides the possibility of engaging with almost anyone (who is on Twitter) and in this way it is democratizing.

But I am increasingly starting to worry about the sentiment in parentheses in that last sentence. What sort of people are not on Twitter? Perhaps these people are also worth engaging with. Even amongst the Tweeps, I am not shy of the ‘unfollow’ button and rarely put up with people who I disagree with, of find too dull, for long. And in these ways, Twitter can be polarising and exclusive.

As we have developed the Fuse blog and @Fuse_online twitter feed, we have encountered the usual institutional angst about the risks that these media pose to our ‘reputation’. Much of this reflects our collective uncertainty and inexperience of how these avenues might develop. Some of us are not too far removed from previous social media horror-stories that, unsurprising, have put a few people off for good.

My, now almost reflexive, response to these issues is to turn to the internet, to Google, to Twitter and to other people’s blogs. What do others say about the balance of risks to benefits? What exactly might go wrong? How can we mitigate the risks? Good advice often boils down to: think before you act, and don’t do it when you’re drunk.

What is missing, is the other side of the argument. There does not seem to be any coherent discussion about why researchers shouldn’t engage with social media. Perhaps there is no such thing. Perhaps I have ‘unfollowed’ myself into isolation from such points of view.

A half century

Posted by Jean Adams

This is the fiftieth post on the Fuse blog. In the spirit of using arbitrary milestones as worthy of note, I will now take stock. No, not make stock, that would take much more in the way of root vegetables and animal carcasses than I have right now. 

A cricket image  might have been better, but I don't get cricket

Over the last five months, we have had 49 posts, written by 14 authors, and more than 8000 page views (yeah, I wrote it that way because I know it doesn’t mean ‘more than 8000 readers’). There has also been a lot of #fuseblog twittering, coffee room chats, and (you surely didn’t think it could be any other way?) blog-related committee discussions.

I have enjoyed myself. I have learnt a bit about community and herding cats, I have made some real-life and virtual friends, I have enjoyed the discipline of having to write 500 words for public consumption every week, and I got some good marks for the two pieces of coursework that this blog has contributed to (you surely didn’t think I just did it for a laugh?). I think the other writers have enjoyed it too. Perhaps more so after I decided to stop taking it quite so seriously.

From all of this, I surmise that people value both reading and contributing to the blog. But I don’t have a clear view of who you are. You also seem to be discussing it in some forums. But you aren’t leaving comments on the blog itself. We have had a grand total of 32 comments posted, of which five were spam. So that’s 27 sensible comments. From 8000 reads.

So, I would now like to invite you to use the comment box below to post your thoughts on the blog so far. What sort of things do you like? What stuff would you rather we skipped? What would you like more of? Who are you? You don’t need to tell everyone your name, but what got you here? Why are you interested in this blog? What would make you more interested?

It isn’t that tricky. Depending on how you got to this page, you either start typing straight in the white box, or you need to click where is says “x comments” in orange at the bottom of the post to get the white box to appear. After unloading your thoughts, click on the “comment as” pull-down. If you know what any of the branded options mean, select one. If not, just chose Anonymous. Then do the ‘prove you’re not a robot’ thing and you’re done. I’ll get an email. If you haven’t used bad words or been horrible about one of my friends, I’ll approve your comment and you’ll be published.

That’s it. Easy.

And, just before you get to work: thanks. Thanks to the writers, the readers, the commenters, the RTers, the quiet guidance people, and the ranty ‘advice’ people. See you all again at the next arbitrary milestone.

On Busyness

Posted by Martin White

Finally, I have committed pen to paper for my first blog post. Why has it taken me so long? The truth is, I just can’t find the time. Sounds like a lame excuse and one that is often interpreted as ‘I just can’t be bothered’. So, just in case you need convincing, here is a snapshot from a recent week.

Monday was a bank holiday. I helped organise and spoke at a two-day multi-disciplinary workshop in Glasgow, the previous Thursday and Friday. Spending the weekend Munro-bagging was a no brainer. Going to the hills is a great way to forget about the pressures of work, but by Monday afternoon, my in-box beckoned and deadlines loomed.

Stob Dearg from Ben Cruachan, Munro no. 79, 5 May 2012 (Photo: Martin White)

Sharing the five hour drive home meant I had time to read a PhD chapter in the car. Stopping for food in a pub allowed the first wi-fi access for three days and the chance to delete a mound of spam and identify priorities. Inevitably, this led to a couple of hours work back at home, responding to emails and assessing key tasks for the next week. I knew there was going to be no time to get all this done when I got back in the office on Tuesday.

On Tuesday I woke at 0555, an hour before the alarm. My brain was already in overdrive so I got up, made tea and tracked the changes on the PhD chapter from the previous evening. My diary was stuffed: seven hours of meetings with two 30 minute breaks.

Everyone wants a slice of my time. Sometimes for my scientific expertise, but more often these days because I can make things happen. I don’t resent this, it’s the nature of the job, but it’s frustrating not to be able to do more thinking, reading and writing.

The meat of my day was two one-hour research project meetings, one face-to-face; the other a teleconference with colleagues in Finland, Holland and the US. The rest of the day was taken up by individuals: helping a post-doc think through a fellowship application, a PDR, helping a senior lecturer work out how get the curriculum time we need for undergraduate teaching. 'The 'fillers' were unscheduled meetings relating to the day-to-day assortment of human and political (small p) complications a director comes across when dealing with staff on a personal level. No actual research, but all essential to keep the research going.

I usually go for a run after work, but having been in the hills all weekend, I ached. So I hung back and ground through the 50+ emails that had accumulated through the day. Then I had to go find my car, which I had left at the garage for an MOT when I went to London en route to Glasgow. Having been away for a week, the fridge also needed replenishing. After the supermarket, I eventually arrived home after 8pm.

Given the choice I would prefer not to work this many hours in a day or a week or a lifetime. But, everyone I know in positions of significant responsibility has a similar workload as far as I can tell. However, there are benefits. The job is incredibly stimulating – I learn loads from the interesting and talented people I meet at every research funding board, conference, research network, centre, school, consortium or project meeting I attend.

More importantly, for the first time in my career, I feel I am beginning to make a difference – in public health policy circles, with research funders, and, most importantly, supporting the career development of my daily ‘fillers’.

Another good yarn

Posted by Avril Rhodes

What a relief! After fretting that I would never be able to contribute to the Fuse blog (I mean what research have I ever done?) but feeling vaguely under pressure to produce something, along comes “Knitty Problems” focussing on knitting and meetings, two things that I definitely have a PhD in by virtue of longevity. 

Until I joined Fuse I thought I was a member of an almost extinct breed, knitters, which would go down the evolutionary cul-de-sac of many a humanoid predecessor, known only for leaving strange artefacts behind (like circular needles) which archaeologists of the next millennium would think were instruments of torture. 

Believe you me there were no knitters in my old job(s) in the NHS – the last refuge for knitters was older ladies making action man clothing for premature baby units. No-one respectable knitted and certainly not if you had a real job. I kept my secret well hidden for years. In fact when I once lapsed and admitted to having knitted a Christmas crib, a colleague I still manage to call a friend was paralyzed with laughter at the thought of the knitted baby Jesus. What’s funny said I? Haven’t you done the diversity course?

Natty knitted nativity

However after decades I can now come out, because Fuse, and Parkside in particular, is full of academic knitters. My first inkling of this was when someone I didn’t know too well, asked me if I knew a good wool shop in Middlesbrough. These knitters knit in front of TV, on public transport, they even have to remove balls of wool to retrieve mobile phones, and they are happy to discuss patterns and stockists without batting an eyelid. 

But would they knit in meetings??? I’m not sure. I have seen people knitting before a carol service (well actually one person on one occasion) but knitting doesn’t seem to chime with the need to appear fully professionally engaged, or in the case of a carol service respectfully attentive. I personally harbour a desire to knit in conferences and seminars (following the rules, of course as I’d just get frustrated if I got stuck in the middle of a pattern) not because I’m not listening, but to do three things - to take up the spare brain power not focusing on the subject being spoken of, secondly, knitting really helps you not to go to sleep at the wrong times, and, thirdly, it ensures you don’t reach for the sweets or biscuits that still creep in when the public health police are engaged elsewhere. I challenge the reader which is worse – the gentle rhythmical clicking of needles, the embarrassment of snoring in the post-lunch presentation or someone trying to eat a hard biscuit noiselessly? The latter two are insufferable and will do much more reputational damage than being able to show off your latest scarf in the real break time as you virtuously sip water.

So, thank you Jean for helping me join the open-science blog!

A PhD is hard work, or why I feel the need to justify doing a PhD

Posted by Lynne Forrest

I’ve tried telling people that doing a PhD is just like doing a job, just with slightly more flexible working patterns, but no-one seems to believe me. Honestly, doing a PhD is hard work.

As part of my PhD I’ve been able to go on training courses in quantitative methods, undertaken a systematic review and meta-analysis and published my first paper. All of which should be very useful for a future academic career. However, I get the impression that most people don’t really understand what a PhD actually involves and think that going back to university for another three years is a bit self-indulgent and, quite frankly, a major skive.

PhD = major skive

Luckily I have a supportive husband with a science background who understands what a PhD entails. Not everybody does. My parents wonder when I might actually get a proper job ("we were very proud of Lynne when she got accepted for university in 1986; we just didn’t realise she’d spend the rest of her life as a student”). Honestly mum, I worked for 15 years. This is a career move, really it is. And soon you’ll be able to tell everybody I’m a doctor.

Other people enquire how my ‘course’ is going and seem to think I spend my time attending a couple of lectures and having extended summer holidays. I’ve given up trying to explain that I do research, it’s full-time and I just get standard holidays.  It's a bit like a PROPER JOB, just with low pay and writing up an 80,000 word thesis at the end of it.

Ok, there are some perks. I get 25% off my council tax and student discount in New Look. The latter is not much good to me but excellent news for my daughter. As Jean has said, you get to wear jeans to work (and I know this shouldn’t be a reason to do a PhD but I did put it in my ‘pro’ column when weighing things up). If my supervisor thinks it’s ok to admit to this then I guess I can too. Getting to put ‘Dr’ rather than ‘Mrs’ when you fill in forms was on the list too, I’m afraid.

So, honestly, I’m not just farting about for three years. I work hard and I like to think that my research, even in a really small way, is actually important. I just hope that someone, somewhere gives me a ‘proper’ job at the end of it.