November 19, 2025 | 10:15-11:45
What We Discovered
We read a paper from outside our field—game studies, psychosis, apocalypse, embodied experience. Most of you finished it. Some of you were surprised by that. The question was: what made you keep reading when you didn’t care about the topic?
The answers pointed to something interesting: the text does things academic writing isn’t supposed to do. It blurs boundaries. Between academic and personal voice. Between analysis and experience. Between argument and uncertainty. One of you said it felt like “the subjective experience IS the paper”—not the object being analyzed but the method itself.
We noticed:
- An “I” that doesn’t apologize for being there
- Theory referenced but not explained (trusting you to either know it or not need it)
- Questions that open doors without walking through them
- A structure called “fragments” that either works or doesn’t depending on what you think structure is for
- Long paragraphs that sometimes irritate, sometimes pull you in
- Positionality that’s stated but not defensive
Someone asked: is this even reviewing? Is it analyzing? Or is it something else—invitation, narration, revelation?
What We Examined
In small groups, you looked at how different moves function:
The “I” group noticed the writer isn’t just inserting themselves—the “I” does different work in different moments. Sometimes confessing (“my hands shake”), sometimes analyzing, sometimes questioning. You asked: does this serve the argument or is it self-indulgent?
The theory group noticed citations that don’t explain themselves. Shildrick, Merleau-Ponty, Anzaldúa, Barad—they appear and then vanish. Some of you could follow without knowing them. Some couldn’t. You asked: is this trusting readers or excluding them?
The structure group wrestled with whether “fragments” is a meaningful category or just an excuse for lack of organization. You noticed the paper tells you it’s fragments, which is itself a move. You asked: does calling something experimental make it experimental?
The questions group counted unanswered questions and got uncomfortable. Academic writing is supposed to answer things. This paper asks and then… keeps asking. You asked: is uncertainty intellectual honesty or intellectual cowardice?
What We Didn’t Resolve
We ran out of time before we could build the comparison chart or locate the exact moment where “experimental” becomes “self-indulgent.” But that incompleteness might be the point.
Because the real question isn’t whether this paper is good or bad. The real question is: what is academic writing FOR?
If it’s for delivering definitive knowledge, then this paper fails. It admits it has “no answers, only questions.”
If it’s for demonstrating mastery, then this paper fails. The writer keeps saying “I don’t know.”
If it’s for maintaining professional distance, then this paper fails. It’s intensely, almost uncomfortably personal.
But if academic writing is for making readers think—for creating experiences that change how you see—then maybe this paper does exactly what it’s trying to do.
Someone made a distinction between “sentimental” and “gaining knowledge”, and that’s a good question whether there is such a distinction at all. What counts as knowledge? Can experience be knowledge? Can uncertainty be knowledge? Can asking questions you don’t answer be a form of knowing?
What This Has to Do With Reader-Centered Writing
We’ve spent weeks on McEnerney’s framework: make instability visible, show costs readers bear, know who your readers are, deliver on promises.
This paper does some of that. It makes you care about a game you’ve never played (reader-centered). It trusts you with complexity without over-explaining (reader-centered). It keeps you oriented even through fragments (reader-centered).
But it also does something McEnerney doesn’t talk about: it makes the writer’s uncertainty and personal stakes the reason you keep reading. McEnerney says make it the reader’s problem. This paper says: what if my problem IS interesting to readers precisely because it’s MY problem?
So there are at least two ways to serve readers:
- Deliver what they need (McEnerney)
- Invite them into genuine uncertainty (Hellblade paper)
These aren’t necessarily opposed. But they’re not the same. And understanding the difference might change what you think writing can do.
Assignment for FINAL Session (Jan 14)
This is our last meeting before the deadline. The assignment is designed to help you finish, not to create more work.
The Experiment (for your own benefit):
Take some of the time until Jan 14 to work on the paper (the examination for the module “Studying the Middle East”).
Take one section from your draft that isn’t working yet—where you feel stuck, where the argument isn’t landing, where you’re not sure what you’re saying.
Try rewriting it two different ways:
Version 1: McEnerney approach – make instability visible, show costs readers bear, deliver clearly
Version 2: Personal approach – start with your actual stakes, admit uncertainty, ask real questions
See which version helps you figure out what you’re actually trying to say. Keep whichever works better (or combine them).
What to bring to final session:
- Your full draft (whatever state it’s in)
- One specific question or problem you need help with
The session will be: quick peer feedback on specific problems, troubleshooting, and making sure everyone has a plan to finish.



