A manual for writers of research papers, theses, and dissertations, Ninth edition - Kate L. Turabian 2018
How researchers think about their aims
What research is and how researchers think about it
Research and writing
All researchers collect information, what we’re calling data. But researchers do not merely gather facts on a topic—stories about the Battle of the Alamo, for example. They look for specific data to test and support an answer to a question that their topic inspired them to ask, such as Why has the Alamo story become a national legend? In doing so, they also imagine a community of readers who they believe will share their interest and help them test and support an answer to that question.
Experienced researchers, however, know that they must do more than convince us that their answer is sound. They must also show us why their question was worth asking, how its answer helps us understand some bigger issue in a new way. If we can figure out why the Alamo story has become a national legend, we might then answer a larger question: how have regional myths shaped the American character?
You can judge how closely your thinking tracks that of an experienced researcher by describing your project in a sentence like this:
1. 1. Topic: I am working on X (stories about the Battle of the Alamo)
1. 2. Question: because I want to find out Y (why its story became a national legend)
1. 3. Significance: so that I can help others understand Z (how such regional myths have shaped the American character).
That sentence is worth a close look, because it describes not just the progress of your research but your personal growth as a researcher.
1. 1. Topic: “I am working on X . . .”: Those new to research often begin with a simple topic like the Battle of the Alamo. But too often they stop there, with nothing but a broad topic to guide their work. Beginning this way, they may pile up dozens or hundreds of notes but then can’t decide what data to keep or discard. When it comes time to write, their papers become “data dumps” that leave readers wondering what all those data add up to.
2. 2. Question: “. . . because I want to find out Y . . .”: More experienced researchers begin not just with a topic but with a research question, such as Why has the story of the Alamo become a national legend? They know that readers will think their data add up to something only when they serve as evidence to support an answer. Indeed, only with a question can a researcher know what information to look for and, once obtained, what to keep—and not just data that support a particular answer but also data that test or discredit it. With sufficient evidence to support an answer, a researcher can respond to data that seem to contradict it. In writing a paper, the researcher tests that answer and invites others to test it too.
3. 3. Significance: “. . . so that I can help others understand Z”: The best researchers understand that readers want to know not only that an answer is sound but also why the question is worth asking: So what? Why should I care why the Alamo story has become a national legend? Think of it this way: what will be lost if you don’t answer your question? Your answer might be Nothing. I just want to know. Good enough to start but not to finish, because eventually your readers will want an answer beyond Just curious.
Answering So what? is tough for all researchers, beginning and experienced alike, because when you only have a question stemming from a topic of personal interest, it’s hard to predict whether others will find its answer significant. Some researchers therefore work backwards: they begin not by following their own curiosity but by crafting questions with implications for bigger ones that others in their field already care about. But many researchers, including us, find that they cannot address that third step until they finish a first draft. So it’s fine to begin your research without being able to answer So what?, and if you are a student, your teacher may even let you skip that last step. But if you are doing advanced research, you must take it, because your answer to So what? is what makes your research matter to others.
In short, not all questions are equally good. We might ask how many cats slept in the Alamo the night before the battle, but so what if we find out? It is hard to see how an answer would help us think about any larger issue worth understanding, so it’s a question that’s probably not worth asking (though as we’ll see, we could be wrong about that).
How good a question is depends on its significance to some community of readers. Exactly what community depends on your field but also on how you frame your research. You can try to expand your potential readership by connecting Z to even broader questions: And if we can understand what has shaped the American character, we might understand better who Americans think they are. And when we know that, we might better understand why others in the world judge them as they do. Now perhaps political scientists will be as interested in this research as historians. On the other hand, if you try to widen your audience too much, you risk losing it altogether. Sometimes it’s better to address a smaller community of specialists.
We can’t tell you the right choice, but we can tell you two wrong ones: trying to interest everyone (some people just won’t care no matter how you frame your research) or not trying to interest anyone at all.