critical reflection creative writing example

We’re reviewing our resources this spring (May-August 2024). We will do our best to minimize disruption, but you might notice changes over the next few months as we correct errors & delete redundant resources. 

Critical Reflection

A Critical Reflection (also called a reflective essay) is a process of identifying, questioning, and assessing our deeply-held assumptions – about our knowledge, the way we perceive events and issues, our beliefs, feelings, and actions. When you reflect critically, you use course material (lectures, readings, discussions, etc.) to examine our biases, compare theories with current actions, search for causes and triggers, and identify problems at their core.   Critical reflection is   not   a reading assignment, a summary of an activity, or an emotional outlet.   Rather,   the goal is   to change your thinking about a subject, and thus change your behaviour.

Tip: Critical reflections are common in coursework across all disciplines, but they can take very different forms. Your instructor may ask you to develop a formal essay, produce weekly blog entries, or provide short paragraph answers to a set of questions. Read the assignment guidelines before you begin.

How to Critically Reflect

Writing a critical reflection happens in two phases.

• Analyze:   In the first phase, analyze the issue and your role by asking critical questions. Use free writing as a way to develop good ideas. Don’t worry about organized paragraphs or good grammar at this stage.
• Articulate:   In the second phase, use your analysis to develop a clear argument about what you learned. Organize your ideas so they are clear for your reader.

First phase: Analyze

A popular method for analyzing is the three stage model: What? So What? Now what?

In the  What?  stage, describe the issue, including your role, observations, and reactions. The   what?   stage helps you make initial observations about what you feel and think. At this point, there’s no need to look at your course notes or readings.

Use the questions below to guide your writing during this stage.

• What happened?
• What did you do?
• What did you expect?
• What was different?
• What was your reaction?
• What did you learn?

In the second  So What?   stage, try to understand on a deeper level why the issue is significant or relevant. Use information from your first stage, your course materials (readings, lectures, discussions) -- as well as previous experience and knowledge to help you think through the issue from a variety of perspectives.

Tip:  Since you’ll be using more course resources in this step, review your readings and course notes before you begin writing.

Below are three perspectives you can consider:

• Academic perspective: How did the experience enhance your understanding of a concept/theory/skill? Did the experience confirm your understanding or challenge it? Did you identify strengths or gaps in your knowledge?
• Personal perspective:   Why does the experience matter? What are the consequences? Were your previous expectations/assumptions confirmed or refuted? What surprised you and why?
• Systems perspective:   What were the sources of power and who benefited/who was harmed? What changes would you suggest? How does this experience help you understand the organization or system?

In the third   Now what?   stage, explore how the experience will shape your future thinking and behaviour.

Use the following questions to guide your thinking and writing:

• What are you going to do as a result of your experiences?
• What will you do differently?
• How will you apply what you learned?

Second phase: Articulate

After completing the analysis stage, you probably have a lot of writing, but it is not yet organized into a coherent story. You need to build an organized and clear argument about what you learned and how you changed. To do so,   develop a thesis statement , make an   outline ,   write , and   revise.

Develop a thesis statement

Develop a clear argument to help your reader understand what you learned. This argument should pull together different themes from your analysis into a main idea. You can see an example of a thesis statement in the sample reflection essay at the end of this resource.

Tip: For more help on developing thesis statements, see our   Thesis statements  resource

Make an outline

Once you have a clear thesis statement for your essay, build an outline. Below is a straightforward method to organize your essay.

• Background/Context of reflection
• Thesis statement
• Introduce theme A
• Writer's past position/thinking
• Moment of learning/change
• Writer's current/new position
• Introduce theme B
• Introduce theme C
• Summarize learning
• Discuss significance of learning for self and others
• Discuss future actions/behaviour

Write and revise

Time to get writing! Work from your outline and give yourself enough time for a first draft and revisions.

Even though you are writing about your personal experience and learning, your audience may still be an academic one. Consult the assignment guidelines or ask your instructor to find out whether your writing should be formal or informal.

Sample Critical Reflection

Below are sample annotated paragraphs from one student’s critical reflection for a course on society and privilege.

Introduction

Background/context of reflection : I became aware of privileged positions in society only in recent years. I was lucky enough, privileged enough, to be ignorant of such phenomena, but for some, privilege is a daily lesson of how they do not fit into mainstream culture. In the past, I defined oppression as only that which is obvious and intentional. I never realized the part I played. However, during a class field study to investigate privileged positions in everyday environments, I learned otherwise.   Thesis:   Without meaning to, I caused harm by participating in a system where I gained from others’ subtle oppression. In one of these spaces, the local mall, everything from advertisements to food to products, to the locations of doorways, bathrooms and other public necessities, made clear my privilege as a white, heterosexual male.

Body paragraph

Topic sentence : Peggy McIntosh describes privilege as an invisible knapsack of tools and advantages. This description crystalized for me when I shopped for a greeting card at the stationary store. There, as a white, heterosexual male, I felt comfortable and empowered to roam about the store as I pleased. I freely asked the clerk about a mother’s day card.   Writer’s past position:   Previously, I never considered that a store did anything but sell products. However, when I asked the sales clerk for same sex greeting cards, she paused for a few seconds and gave me a look that made me feel instantly uncomfortable. Some customers stopped to look at me. I felt a heat move over my face. I felt, for a moment, wrong for being in that store.  I quickly clarified that I was only doing a report for school, implying that I was not in fact homosexual.   Writer’s current position:   The clerk’s demeanor changed. I was free to check, she said.  It was the only time during the field study that I had felt the need to explain what I was doing to anyone. I could get out of the situation with a simple clarification. But what if I really was a member of the homosexual community? The looks and the silence taught me that I should be feared.  I realized that, along with its products, the store was selling an image of normal. But my “normality” was another person’s “abnormality.”  After I walked out of the store I felt guilty for having denied being homosexual.

Summary of learning:   At the mall I realized how much we indirectly shame nonprivileged groups, even in seemingly welcoming spaces. That shame is supported every time I or any other privileged individual fails to question our advantage. And it leads to a different kind of shame carried by privileged individuals, too.   Value for self and others:   All of this, as Brown (2003) documents, is exacerbated by silence. Thus, the next step for me is to not only question privilege internally, but to publicly question covert bias and oppression. If I do, I may very well be shamed for speaking out. But my actions might just encourage other people to speak up as well.

Sample paragraphs adapted from James C. Olsen's Teaching Portfolio from Georgetown University .

What Is Reflective Writing? (Explained W/ 20+ Examples)

I’ll admit, reflecting on my experiences used to seem pointless—now, I can’t imagine my routine without it.

What is reflective writing?

Reflective writing is a personal exploration of experiences, analyzing thoughts, feelings, and learnings to gain insights. It involves critical thinking, deep analysis, and focuses on personal growth through structured reflection on past events.

In this guide, you’ll learn everything you need to know about reflective writing — with lots of examples.

What Is Reflective Writing (Long Description)?

Table of Contents

Reflective writing is a method used to examine and understand personal experiences more deeply.

This kind of writing goes beyond mere description of events or tasks.

Instead, it involves looking back on these experiences, analyzing them, and learning from them.

It’s a process that encourages you to think critically about your actions, decisions, emotions, and responses.

By reflecting on your experiences, you can identify areas for improvement, make connections between theory and practice, and enhance your personal and professional development. Reflective writing is introspective, but it should also be analytical and critical.

It’s not just about what happened.

It’s about why it happened, how it affected you, and what you can learn from it.

This type of writing is commonly used in education, professional development, and personal growth, offering a way for individuals to gain insights into their personal experiences and behaviors.

Types of Reflective Writing

Reflective writing can take many forms, each serving different purposes and providing various insights into the writer’s experiences.

Here are ten types of reflective writing, each with a unique focus and approach.

Journaling – The Daily Reflection

Journaling is a type of reflective writing that involves keeping a daily or regular record of experiences, thoughts, and feelings.

It’s a private space where you can freely express yourself and reflect on your day-to-day life.

Example: Today, I realized that the more I try to control outcomes, the less control I feel. Letting go isn’t about giving up; it’s about understanding that some things are beyond my grasp.

Example: Reflecting on the quiet moments of the morning, I realized how much I value stillness before the day begins. It’s a reminder to carve out space for peace in my routine.

Learning Logs – The Educational Tracker

Learning logs are used to reflect on educational experiences, track learning progress, and identify areas for improvement.

They often focus on specific learning objectives or outcomes.

Example: This week, I struggled with understanding the concept of reflective writing. However, after reviewing examples and actively engaging in the process, I’m beginning to see how it can deepen my learning.

Example: After studying the impact of historical events on modern society, I see the importance of understanding history to navigate the present. It’s a lesson in the power of context.

Critical Incident Journals – The Turning Point

Critical incident journals focus on a significant event or “critical incident” that had a profound impact on the writer’s understanding or perspective.

These incidents are analyzed in depth to extract learning and insights.

Example: Encountering a homeless person on my way home forced me to confront my biases and assumptions about homelessness. It was a moment of realization that has since altered my perspective on social issues.

Example: Missing a crucial deadline taught me about the consequences of procrastination and the value of time management. It was a wake-up call to prioritize and organize better.

Project Diaries – The Project Chronicle

Project diaries are reflective writings that document the progress, challenges, and learnings of a project over time.

They provide insights into decision-making processes and project management strategies.

Example: Launching the community garden project was more challenging than anticipated. It taught me the importance of community engagement and the value of patience and persistence.

Example: Overcoming unexpected technical issues during our project showed me the importance of adaptability and teamwork. Every obstacle became a stepping stone to innovation.

Portfolios – The Comprehensive Showcase

Portfolios are collections of work that also include reflective commentary.

They showcase the writer’s achievements and learning over time, reflecting on both successes and areas for development.

Example: Reviewing my portfolio, I’m proud of how much I’ve grown as a designer. Each project reflects a step in my journey, highlighting my evolving style and approach.

Example: As I added my latest project to my portfolio, I reflected on the journey of my skills evolving. Each piece is a chapter in my story of growth and learning.

Peer Reviews – The Collaborative Insight

Peer reviews involve writing reflectively about the work of others, offering constructive feedback while also considering one’s own learning and development.

Example: Reviewing Maria’s project, I admired her innovative approach, which inspired me to think more creatively about my own work. It’s a reminder of the value of diverse perspectives.

Example: Seeing the innovative approach my peer took on a similar project inspired me to rethink my own methods. It’s a testament to the power of sharing knowledge and perspectives.

Personal Development Plans – The Future Blueprint

Personal development plans are reflective writings that outline goals, strategies, and actions for personal or professional growth.

They include reflections on strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats.

Example: My goal to become a more effective communicator will require me to step out of my comfort zone and seek opportunities to speak publicly. It’s daunting but necessary for my growth.

Example: Identifying my fear of public speaking in my plan pushed me to take a course on it. Acknowledging weaknesses is the first step to turning them into strengths.

Reflective Essays – The Structured Analysis

Reflective essays are more formal pieces of writing that analyze personal experiences in depth.

They require a structured approach to reflection, often including theories or models to frame the reflection.

Example: Reflecting on my leadership role during the group project, I applied Tuckman’s stages of group development to understand the dynamics at play. It helped me appreciate the natural progression of team development.

Example: In my essay, reflecting on a failed project helped me understand the role of resilience in success. Failure isn’t the opposite of success; it’s part of its process.

Reflective Letters – The Personal Correspondence

Reflective letters involve writing to someone (real or imagined) about personal experiences and learnings.

It’s a way to articulate thoughts and feelings in a structured yet personal format.

Example: Dear Future Self, Today, I learned the importance of resilience. Faced with failure, I found the strength to persevere a nd try again. This lesson, I hope, will stay with me as I navigate the challenges ahead.

Example: Writing a letter to my past self, I shared insights on overcoming challenges with patience and persistence. It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come and the hurdles I’ve overcome.

Blogs – The Public Journal

Blogs are a form of reflective writing that allows writers to share their experiences, insights, and learnings with a wider audience.

They often combine personal narrative with broader observations about life, work, or society.

Example: In my latest blog post, I explored the journey of embracing vulnerability. Sharing my own experiences of failure and doubt not only helped me process these feelings but also connected me with readers going through similar struggles. It’s a powerful reminder of the strength found in sharing our stories.

Example: In a blog post about starting a new career path, I shared the fears and excitement of stepping into the unknown. It’s a journey of self-discovery and embracing new challenges.

What Are the Key Features of Reflective Writing?

Reflective writing is characterized by several key features that distinguish it from other types of writing.

These features include personal insight, critical analysis, descriptive narrative, and a focus on personal growth.

• Personal Insight: Reflective writing is deeply personal, focusing on the writer’s internal thoughts, feelings, and reactions. It requires introspection and a willingness to explore one’s own experiences in depth.
• Critical Analysis: Beyond simply describing events, reflective writing involves analyzing these experiences. This means looking at the why and how, not just the what. It involves questioning, evaluating, and interpreting your experiences in relation to yourself, others, and the world.
• Descriptive Narrative: While reflective writing is analytical, it also includes descriptive elements. Vivid descriptions of experiences, thoughts, and feelings help to convey the depth of the reflection.
• Focus on Growth: A central aim of reflective writing is to foster personal or professional growth. It involves identifying lessons learned, recognizing patterns, and considering how to apply insights gained to future situations.

These features combine to make reflective writing a powerful tool for learning and development.

It’s a practice that encourages writers to engage deeply with their experiences, challenge their assumptions, and grow from their reflections.

What Is the Structure of Reflective Writing?

The structure of reflective writing can vary depending on the context and purpose, but it typically follows a general pattern that facilitates deep reflection.

A common structure includes an introduction, a body that outlines the experience and the reflection on it, and a conclusion.

• Introduction: The introduction sets the stage for the reflective piece. It briefly introduces the topic or experience being reflected upon and may include a thesis statement that outlines the main insight or theme of the reflection.
• Body: The body is where the bulk of the reflection takes place. It often follows a chronological order, detailing the experience before moving into the reflection. This section should explore the writer’s thoughts, feelings, reactions, and insights related to the experience. It’s also where critical analysis comes into play, examining causes, effects, and underlying principles.
• Conclusion: The conclusion wraps up the reflection, summarizing the key insights gained and considering how these learnings might apply to future situations. It’s an opportunity to reflect on personal growth and the broader implications of the experience.

This structure is flexible and can be adapted to suit different types of reflective writing.

However, the focus should always be on creating a coherent narrative that allows for deep personal insight and learning.

How Do You Start Reflective Writing?

Starting reflective writing can be challenging, as it requires diving into personal experiences and emotions.

Here are some tips to help initiate the reflective writing process:

• Choose a Focus: Start by selecting an experience or topic to reflect upon. It could be a specific event, a general period in your life, a project you worked on, or even a book that made a significant impact on you.
• Reflect on Your Feelings: Think about how the experience made you feel at the time and how you feel about it now. Understanding your emotional response is a crucial part of reflective writing.
• Ask Yourself Questions: Begin by asking yourself questions related to the experience. What did you learn from it? How did it challenge your assumptions? How has it influenced your thinking or behavior?
• Write a Strong Opening: Your first few sentences should grab the reader’s attention and clearly indicate what you will be reflecting on. You can start with a striking fact, a question, a quote, or a vivid description of a moment from the experience.
• Keep It Personal: Remember that reflective writing is personal. Use “I” statements to express your thoughts, feelings, and insights. This helps to maintain the focus on your personal experience and learning journey.

Here is a video about reflective writing that I think you’ll like:

Reflective Writing Toolkit

Finding the right tools and resources has been key to deepening my reflections and enhancing my self-awareness.

Here’s a curated toolkit that has empowered my own reflective practice:

• Journaling Apps: Apps like Day One or Reflectly provide structured formats for daily reflections, helping to capture thoughts and feelings on the go.
• Digital Notebooks: Tools like Evernote or Microsoft OneNote allow for organized, searchable reflections that can include text, images, and links.
• Writing Prompts: Websites like WritingPrompts.com offer endless ideas to spark reflective writing, making it easier to start when you’re feeling stuck.
• Mind Mapping Software: Platforms like MindMeister help organize thoughts visually, which can be especially helpful for reflective planning or brainstorming.
• Blogging Platforms: Sites like WordPress or Medium offer a space to share reflective writings publicly, fostering community and feedback. You’ll need a hosting platform. I recommend Bluehost or Hostarmada for beginners.
• Guided Meditation Apps: Apps such as Headspace or Calm can support reflective writing by clearing the mind and fostering a reflective state before writing.
• Audio Recording Apps: Tools like Otter.ai not only allow for verbal reflection but also transcribe conversations, which can then be reflected upon in writing.
• Time Management Apps: Resources like Forest or Pomodoro Technique apps help set dedicated time for reflection, making it a regular part of your routine.
• Creative Writing Software: Platforms like Scrivener cater to more in-depth reflective projects, providing extensive organizing and formatting options.
• Research Databases: Access to journals and articles through databases like Google Scholar can enrich reflective writing with theoretical frameworks and insights.

Final Thoughts: What Is Reflective Writing?

Reflective writing, at its core, is a deeply personal practice.

Yet, it also holds the potential to bridge cultural divides. By sharing reflective writings that explore personal experiences through the lens of different cultural backgrounds, we can foster a deeper understanding and appreciation of diverse worldviews.

Read This Next:

• What Is a Prompt in Writing? (Ultimate Guide + 200 Examples)
• What Is A Personal Account In Writing? (47 Examples)
• Why Does Academic Writing Require Strict Formatting?
• What Is A Lens In Writing? (The Ultimate Guide)

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10.2: John Driscoll’s “What?” Cycle of Reflection

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The previous chapter on reflection, “Writing About Writing: Becoming a Reflective Practitioner,” offered an introduction to reflective writing and explained how critical reflection is so important to the learning process. This chapter will look more closely at one of the most common and simplest models for how to practice the kind of reflection that fosters “reflective practitioner” attitude: John Driscoll’s cycle of reflection, which follows a “What, So What, Now What” process. The end of this chapter offers an example assignment based on the Driscoll model.

What? So What? Now What?

John Driscoll originally developed the “What?” cycle of reflection for healthcare practitioners, but it has since been picked up by many different kinds of learners. The model includes three very basic steps:

• WHAT? Describe what happened.
• SO WHAT? Analyze the event.
• NOW WHAT? Anticipate future practice, based on what you learned.

Each step requires both different rhetorical strategies and distinct forms of cognition. Step 1, “What?”, challenges the learner to recall what happened as objectively as possible, without critiquing anything that happened. Step 2, “So what?”, requires the learner to slow down and begin looking for patterns or moments of significance. Here, the key is to bring in concepts that help shed light on what’s going on. In a writing course, for example, a student might learn different rhetorical terms that relate to persuasion, such as logos , pathos , and ethos . Analyzing the experience according to anyone of those terms is a form of analysis. Finally, Step 3, “Now what?”, encourages the learner to begin transferring new knowledge to future situations and other contexts. As the introductory chapter to this section explains, transfer is key to becoming a reflective practitioner.

Here’s a video of that carefully illustrates each step, published by the McLaughlin Library at the University of Guelph:

Example of the Driscoll Cycle of reflection

The following example of the Driscoll cycle was developed by a student at The Robert Gillespie Science of Learning .

The trickiest step for those new to practicing this kind of critical reflection is moving from the straightforward objectivity of Step 1 to the more analytical kind of writing that happens in Step 2. As the commentary for Step 2, “So what?” explains, the second paragraph practices analysis by comparing current experience with an earlier one. Comparison and contrast brings in external content (the other experience) to help do the analysis. There are other ways to accomplish this cognitive move, however. As mentioned above, another strategy for analyzing content is to map experiences to key concepts or ideas picked up from the lesson material.

Sample Assignment: “ Ceasefire Reflective Essay”

The following assignment was developed for English 101: Writing and Rhetoric I at the College of Western Idaho.

Assignment Directions : Write a reflective essay that 1) narrates and describes your engagement on the Ceasefire platform and also 2) critically reflects on that experience.

Purpose : The goal of this Unit is to practice discussing difficult issues in a civil manner, and to identify what kinds of behaviors and communication strategies work best to effectively engage with others in public and professional environments.

Genre : This is a Reflective Essay that fosters a “reflective practitioner” approach to learning. The use of the first person (I, me, mine) is encouraged. The essay should narrate and describe your Ceasefire participation, while also reflecting more generally on how the experiment might help in future situations and different contexts.

Audience : While the Ceasefire experiment and reflections are intended to benefit the writer, the writing should be directed towards other students and teachers who are not familiar with the materials in this Unit. Provide sufficient context, define important terms, and write in a style that conveys professionalism.

Basic Requirements :

• At least 4.5 pages double-spaced
• Formatted in MLA Style, including in-text citations and a Works Cited page
• Revision Cover Letter
• When participating on the Ceasefire website, you will be expected to post a position or question, as well as respond to at least two other posts.

Background on the Ceasefire experiment

While this essay will have a traditional introduction, body and conclusion (like any academic essay), the body will be composed of two main kinds of content. A considerable portion should be dedicated to describing and narrating your experiment with engaging others on the Ceasefire website. At the same time, however, you will be expected to use lessons from this Unit, including the Open Mind learning modules, to critically reflect on that engagement, explaining what it taught you about engaging other beliefs in a civil environment.

Ceasefire Website

Ceasefire is a website whose stated goal is to “improve the world’s discussions.” The mission goals of the website point out that, as our society becomes increasingly polarized, most online discussions have been limited to social media platforms. The end result is even more polarization and “heightened tensions,” rather than understanding and empathy. The Ceasefire website evolved as a solution to that problem. It aims to provide an online space “devoted to the exploration of views” in a civil environment. In this Unit you will be asked to engage with Ceasefire.

Students will be expected to register for a free account and post one of the following two options:

• Opinion: Present an opinion you hold or lean towards to test your understanding of the issue and potentially discover flaws in your thinking.
• Question: There may be an issue you wish to explore but have no clear stance on, perhaps due to conflict thoughts or a general lack of understanding. You can ask a question to launch a discussion about it.

In addition to creating a unique post, you will be expected to respond to at least two other posts published to Ceasefire .

OpenMind Learning Modules

In order to prepare for civil engagement on Ceasefire , we’ll start the Unit by completing Steps 1-5 of the OpenMind educational platform. OpenMind is “an interactive platform that equips people with a set of practical tools to think clearly and communicate constructively across differences.” The learning modules are based on certain psychological principles intended to help depolarize educational, corporate, and civic communities. In addition to preparing us for difficult discussions, the platform will also provide us with a variety of key rhetorical and psychological principles to help analyze our experience.

Getting Started with OpenMind & Ceasefire

There are a number of steps we’ll follow in order to get started on our “ Ceasefire Reflective Essay”. We’ll complete these steps over the course of two weeks:

Step 1: Sign up for an OpenMind account, join our group, then take the 5 modules. These modules will train us to spot cognitive bias and become familiar with moral reasoning. The “moral matrix” from will provide us with some analytical terms you may want to use when reflecting on your Ceasefire experience.

Step 2: Sign up for a Ceasefire account. As a class, we’ll also look at the site rules and examples of strong posts.

Step 3: Develop a Ceasefire post and respond to at least two others. As you engage with Ceasefire , take notes on the process. These notes will help you write part 1 of your Reflective Essay.

Step 4: Become familiar with the Rhetorical Appeals, as well as kairos and exigence . In addition to the OpenMind’s “moral matrix,” these rhetorical concepts will help you critically reflect on the Ceasefire experiment.

Step 5: Draft and revise your Reflective Essay. Use the Outline included in this prompt to help structure your essay.

Essay Outline

The following Outline uses Driscoll’s “What, So What, Now What?” structure as a way to critically reflect on our experiment with civil engagement.

The Driscoll sample of “What, So What, Now What?” above is from “ Fundamentals of Reflective Practice ,” by The Robert Gillespie Academic Skills Centre, CC-SA 4.0.

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Critical Reflection

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Writing Critical Reflection

Reflective writing is a common genre in classrooms across disciplines. Reflections often take the form of narrative essays that summarize an experience or express changes in thinking over time. Initially, reflective writing may seem pretty straightforward; but since reflective writing summarizes personal experience, reflections can easily lose their structure and resemble stream-of-consciousness journals capturing disjointed musings focused on only the self or the past.   

Critical reflection still requires a writer to consider the self and the past but adopts an argumentative structure supported by readings, theories, discussions, demonstrated changes in material conditions, and resources like post-collaboration assessments, testimonial evidence, or other data recorded during the collaboration . Common arguments in critical reflections present evidence to demonstrate learning, contextualize an experience, and evaluate impact. While critical reflections still require authors to reflect inwardly, critical reflection go es beyond the self and examine s any relevant contexts that informed the experience. Then, writers should determine how effectively their project addressed these contexts. In other words, critical reflection considers the “impact” of their project: How did it impact the writer? How did it impact others? Why is the project meaningful on a local, historical, global, and/or societal level? H ow can that impact be assessed?  

In short: reflection and critical reflection both identify the facts of an experience and consider how it impacts the self. Critical reflection goes beyond this to conceive of the project’s impact at numerous levels and establish an argument for the project’s efficacy. In addition, critical reflection encourages self-assessment—we critically reflect to change our actions, strategies, and approaches and potentially consider these alternative methods.  

Collecting Your Data: Double-Entry Journaling

Double-entry journaling is a helpful strategy for you to document data, observations, and analysis throughout the entire course of a community-based project. It is a useful practice for projects involving primary research, secondary research, or a combination of both. In its most basic form, a double-entry journal is a form of notetaking where a writer can keep track of any useful sources, notes on those sources, observations, thoughts, and feelings—all in one place.  

For community-based projects, this might involve:  

• Recording your observations during or after a community partner meeting in one column of the journal.  
• Recording any of your thoughts or reactions about those observations in a second column.   
• Writing any connections you make between your observations, thoughts, and relevant readings from class in a third column.  

This allows you to document both your data and your analysis of that data throughout the life of the project. This activity can act as a blueprint for your critical reflection by providing you with a thorough account of how your thinking developed throughout the life of a project.   

The format of a double-entry journal is meant to be flexible, tailored to both your unique notetaking practice and your specific project. It can be used to analyze readings from class, observations from research, or even quantitative data relevant to your project.  

Just the Facts, Please: What, So What, Now What

Getting started is often the hardest part in writing. To get your critical reflection started, you can identify the What , So What , and Now What? of your project. The table below presents questions that can guide your inquiry . If you’re currently drafting, we have a freewriting activity below to help you develop content.  

Freewrite your answers to these questions; that is, respond to these questions without worrying about grammar, sentence structure, or even the quality of your ideas. At this stage, your primary concern is getting something on the page. Once you’re ready to begin drafting your critical reflection, you can return to these ideas and refine them.  

Below are some additional prompts you can use to begin your freewriting. These reflection stems can organize the ideas that you developed while freewriting and place them in a more formal context.  

• I observed that...  
• My understanding of the problem changed when...  
• I became aware of (x) when....  
• I struggled to...  
• The project's biggest weakness was…  
• The project's greatest strength was…   I learned the most when...  
• I couldn't understand...  
• I looked for assistance from...  
• I accounted for (x) by...  
• I connected (concept/theory) to...  
• (Specific skill gained) will be useful in a professional setting through…  

Analyzing Your Experience: A Reflective Spectrum

Y our critical reflection is a space to make an argument about the impact of your project . This means your primary objective is to determine what kind of impact your project had on you and the world around you. Impact can be defined as the material changes, either positive or negative, that result from an intervention , program , or initiative . Impact can be considered at three different reflective levels: inward, outward, and exploratory.

Inward reflection requires the writer to examine how the project affected the self. Outward reflection explores the impact the project had on others. Additionally, you can conceptualize your project’s impact in relation to a specific organization or society overall, depending on the project’s scope. Finally, exploratory reflection asks writers to consider how impact is measured and assessed in the context of their project to ultimately determine: What does impact look like for the work that I’m doing? How do I evaluate this? How do we store, archive, or catalog this work for institutional memory? And what are the next steps?  

This process is cyclical in nature; in other words, it’s unlikely you will start with inward reflection, move to outward reflection, and finish with exploratory reflection. As you conceptualize impact and consider it at each level, you will find areas of overlap between each reflective level.   

Finally, if you’re having trouble conceptualizing impact or determining how your project impacted you and the world around you, ask yourself:   

• What metrics did I use to assess the "impact" of this project? Qualitative? Quantitative? Mixed-methods? How do those metrics illustrate meaningful impact?  
• How did the intended purpose of this project affect the types of impact that were feasible, possible, or recognized?  
• At what scope (personal, individual, organizational, local, societal) did my outcomes have the most "impact"?  

These questions can guide additional freewriting about your project. Once you’ve finished freewriting responses to these questions, spend some time away from the document and return to it later. Then, analyze your freewriting for useful pieces of information that could be incorporated into a draft.  

Drafting Your Critical Reflection

Now that you have determined the “What, So What, Now What” of your project and explored its impact at different reflective levels, you are ready to begin drafting your critical reflection.  

If you’re stuck or find yourself struggling to structure your critical reflection, the OWL’s “ Writing Process ” [embe ded link ] resource may offer additional places to start. That said, another drafting strategy is centering the argument you intend to make.  

Your critical reflection is an argument for the impact your project has made at multiple levels; as such, much of your critical reflections will include pieces of evidence to support this argument. To begin identifying these pieces of evidence, return to your “reflection stem” responses . Your evidence might include :  

• H ow a particular reading or theory informed the actions during your partnership ;  
• How the skills, experiences, or actions taken during this partnerhsip will transfer to new contexts and situations;  
• Findings from y our evaluation of the project;  
• Demonstrated changes in thoughts, beliefs, and values, both internally and externally;  
• And, of course, specific ways your project impacted you, other individuals, your local community, or any other community relevant to the scope of your work.  

As you compile this evidence, you will ulti mately be compiling ways to support an argument about your project’s efficacy and impact .  

Sharing Your Critical Reflection

Reflective writing and critical reflections are academic genres that offer value to the discourse of any field. Oftentimes, these reflective texts are composed for the classroom, but there are other venues for your critical reflections, too.  

For example, Purdue University is home to the Purdue Journal of Service-Learning and International Engagement ( PJSL ) which publishes student reflective texts and reflections with research components. Although PJSL only accepts submissions from Purdue students, other journals like this one may exist at your campus. Other venues like the Journal of Higher Education Outreach and Impact publish reflective essays from scholars across institutions, and journals in your chosen discipline may also have interest in reflective writing.  

Document explaining the theories, concepts, literature, strategies that informed the creation of this content page.  

Want to create or adapt books like this? Learn more about how Pressbooks supports open publishing practices.

5 Documenting Your Learning and Personal Growth: Critical Reflection

One key aspect of a portfolio is reflective expression. According to Carole Rodgers, “Reflection is a meaning-making process that moves a learner from one experience into the next with a deeper understanding of its relationship with and connections to other experiences and ideas. It is the thread that makes continuity of learning possible.” While the resume and curriculum vitae show what you have done, a reflection shows what you think about what you have done. It allows you to demonstrate thought, and process and document personal growth.

“Reflecting means being intentionally thoughtful about defining an experience, explaining that experience, and determining future implications and actions,” according to Parkes, Dredger, and Hickes.  Reflection most often takes the form of writing, but it can also include video or audio reflections.  Reflection should take place throughout the portfolio and it “reaches its full potential” when it becomes progressive in that each reflection builds on the others.  It is woven into the about me and is an important part of the gallery of artifacts.

Guiding Principles of Reflection

Carole Rogers suggests there are several guiding principles of reflection and at the heart of these are meaning-making, systematic thinking, and personal growth.

• Meaning Making: Reflection is a meaning-making process that moves a learner from one experience into the next with deeper understanding of its relationships with and connections to other experiences and ideas.
• Systematic Thinking: Reflection is a systematic, rigorous, disciplined way of thinking.
• Focused on Personal Growth: Reflection requires attitudes that value personal and intellectual growth. 

Now that you know the role of reflection in a portfolio and that it is made up of meaning-making, systematic thinking, and personal growth, let’s look at several ways to get started with writing your reflection.

The Importance of Audience and Purpose

As with all writing, you should have a clear sense of purpose and audience. For example, “I am writing these portfolio reflections to be read by future employers for the purpose of getting a job in the field of marketing” or “I am writing these portfolio reflections to be read by the admittance committee for the purpose of getting accepted into graduate school.” Finally, your purpose may be, “I am writing these reflections as a way to help me better understand my skills so I can visualize a variety of paths in my future.” It is likely that your portfolio will have multiple audiences and you should proceed keeping those audiences in mind. As Gallagher and Poklop suggest, students should consider “inviting different readers to have different experiences of the portfolio by offering them guidance in how to understand, experience, and interact with the portfolio.”

Let’s look at one model of using critical reflection referred to as the what, so what, and now what reflection, also called the Driscoll Cycle. I will explain the cycle, share with you question prompts, offer a video review of the cycle, and then an example of what the cycle looks like when applied.

Critical Reflection Using the Three Step Model

The Driscoll Cycle of Reflection includes three very basic steps:

• What? Describe what happened.
• So What? Analyze the event.
• Now what? Anticipate future practice based on what you learned.

Let’s break them down one at a time.

In the “what” stage, you should recall what you did and write about it as objectively as possible. Just the facts. 

• What happened?
• What is your artifact? Name and describe it.
• What context/background information is important or relevant to your audience?
• What happened in a particular situation? What did you do? What were the results?
• How much did you know about the subject before we started?
• What process did you go through to produce this piece or complete this project/activity?
• What problems did you encounter while you were working on this project/activity? How did you solve them?
• What were the challenges?
• What were powerful learning moments?

Let’s look at an example from a student portfolio. Kaitlyn LaMaster answered the “what” step this way.

Undertaking the task of writing a paper on the “Cellular and Molecular Mechanisms of Paralysis from Spinal Cord Injury (SCI)” was an enormous challenge that tested my critical thinking and organizational skills. My neurobiology professor had challenged us to select a topic that interested us, dive into the relevant scientific journals, analyze the findings, and produce a final product of professional quality. Despite feeling overwhelmed, I approached the task step by step, reading one journal after the other, and using my available resources to help me prepare. After numerous drafts and revisions, I submitted the paper, and it earned me an A grade, which reinforced my dedication and hard work.

In the “so what” step, you begin to look for patterns and for what it means. You are talking about moments of significance. Your goal is to write about why this encounter or assignment matters to you.

• What insights did you gain from the project or assignment?
• What are your feelings about this?
• How does what you learned relate to your education or career aspirations?
• What did you learn about yourself from this?
• How does this connect to other skills, experiences, or knowledge?
• What was important about the situation?
• How did you apply course concepts?
• What skills did you use or acquire?
• How did you overcome barriers or challenges?
• What part are you most proud of? Why?
• What would you do differently?
• How was your experience different from what you expected?
• What is the most important thing you learned personally during this project/activity?
• How do you feel about this project/activity?
• What were your goals for this project/activity? Did your goals change as you worked on it? Did you meet your goals?
• What does this project/activity reveal about you as a learner?
• How does this project/activity link to previous experiences/knowledge?
• In what ways did this change how you looked at this subject/topic?
• What did you learn about yourself while working on this?
• What moments are you most proud of your efforts/involvement?
• In what ways have you improved at this kind of work?
• In what ways do you think you need to improve?

Kaitlyn LaMaster answered the “so what” step this way.

This experience taught me invaluable lessons about preparation and organization, which I can apply to any other aspect of life, including sales. I not only researched my topic but also familiarized myself with the best practices for writing a paper of that size. This helped me discover useful resources and applications that aided me in keeping track of the vast amount of information I needed to read, summarize, and cite. With these skills, I could effectively manage dozens of articles, citations, photographs, and other sources, leading to the success of my paper.

In the “now what” step, you will write about what you will do next.

• How will this influence the way you approach future projects or endeavors?
• How have you changed or grown because of this experience?
• What will change as a result of this?
• What would you like to learn more about?
• What are you going to do as a result?
• What did this experience teach you?
• How will you apply what you learned from your experience?
• What would you like to learn more about, related to this project or issue?
• What is the impact on others from your project?
• How does this advance the understanding of the topic?
• What is one thing you want people to notice when they look at your work?

Kaitlyn LaMaster answered the “now what” step this way.

Through this experience, I realized the importance of being organized and prepared, and I know this will be an asset in any career, including sales. It has taught me the value of breaking down complex tasks into manageable steps, using available resources, and being organized in managing information, all essential skills in a sales position.

As with all writing, you should have an engaging opening sentence, a clear thesis, and an interesting closing sentence. In essence, each of your reflections should follow this five-step process.

Now that you know the process, let’s take a look at a couple of examples.

Examples of Using the What, So What, Now What for Study Abroad Reflections

Xavier Smith, Career Counselor at the University of Arkansas helps students write about their experiences while studying abroad. Here is his advice and an example.

How can you explain your story in your portfolio?  A helpful method in describing your story is a technique called “What? So what? Now what?”  “What” calls for you to explain what took place in your involvement or what you noticed.  “So what?” calls for you to connect the relevance of it. What was the impact? Discuss any themes, skills, or lessons that were learned. Lastly, describe the “now what”. “Now what” calls for you to describe how you will use the new skills, experience, or insight in future endeavors.

“While studying abroad in Belize, I collaborated with 10 classmates to coordinate rural health clinics in villages in Belize. My classmates and I performed basic diagnostic tests such as the hip-waist test and blood-glucose readings.”

“Because the village was removed from the city, the locals had limited access to health assessments. I was able to connect with the locals and help work towards better overall community health. The experience allowed me to learn culturally competent communication. It was important that I meet the locals where they were to be able to connect with them. Additionally, I learned how to organize a health clinic and collaborate with local community leaders to be able to build rapport with the community.”

“The project informed me of the importance of actively listening to the people I am working with instead of trying to impose my values on them. As a career counselor, I am learning how to listen to the experiences of others and help them discover their unique path. Because of my time in Belize, I am extremely considerate of the perspectives and culture that people bring with them to any space. I intend to continue to grow in understanding through active listening to maximize the efforts of the students.”

Check out Xavier’s Portfolio to see how he uses the “what”, “who what,” “now what” in other examples. 

After viewing Xavier’s portfolio, answer these questions:

• Which of the “now what’s” resonated with you?
• How might an employer view his experience studying abroad?
• In what ways did the photos enhance the message?

Can You Identify the What, So What, Now What Parts?

Look at this post from Sydney Maples and see if you can identify the what, so what, and now what parts of this reflection.

The “Empathy” Study: A Virtual Exploration of Homelessness

“While I worked as a programmer in Stanford’s Virtual Human Interaction Lab (the campus virtual reality lab), we received a grant to work on an Empathy-based study in virtual reality. I, along with another person within the lab, spent the summer creating a study that immersed participants in a virtual world in which they were homeless on the streets. This in itself required some aspect of science communication, as we both worked on separate components of the study and ultimately tied each component together — which required a lot of justification and debate over best programming practices for the study. I also worked on this study when I was still fairly new to programming, and while most of the knowledge was self-contained within the platform, working on a team to create something so important was part of what got me interested in science communication so early on. It was a wonderful blend of mediums (from video game engines to the Oculus Rift), and watching my programs being used in social psychology studies on participants – including demonstrations at nearby events – was what really made a difference to me and my ability to communicate with others about scientific topics. Not only did I communicate about the current state of homelessness, but I was also given further opportunities to discuss topics pertaining to the environment, such as ocean acidification, before placing participants into a virtual world to see for themselves. Between giving scientific information about the study to participants, to consoling participants if they got upset by what they were experiencing in the virtual world, I learned how to communicate both emotionally and practically as required in a scientific setting.”  Sydney Maples 

After viewing this example from Sydney, answer these questions:

• Could you identify the “what,” “so what” and “now what?”
• Did she give you enough information about her project that you would understand what it was and why it mattered?
• Compare the format of Xavier to the format of Sydney and talk about the impact of the different approaches.

Looking for more examples to examine. Look at these portfolios and see if you can identify the “what,” “so what” and “now what?”

Laura Barnum, Biochemistry major at University of Waterloo. 

Look at the Sample and Analyze

Analyze Hannah Gabrielle’s Course Reflection. 

Analyze Carrie Whites Report Reflection

Look at the sample reflections and rate the following items: (did not do)  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9- 10 (excellent)

• The example answered the question, “What?”
• The example answered the question, “So What?” The example represented systematic thinking. ( There was evidence of thoughtfulness and connections were made).
• The example represented making meaning. ( It didn’t just give an example, it gave meaning to why this example was included or why it mattered).
• The example answered the question, “Now What?” The example demonstrated personal growth.
• The example was engaging.
• The example used college-level professional writing.
• The example had an engaging opening sentence.
• The example had an engaging closing sentence.
• The example had a clear thesis.

Key Take Aways

• Reflection should include meaning-making, systematic thinking, and personal growth.
• Reflections can be written but they can also be audio or videos. They are not limited by modality.
• Portfolio reflections should always be written with the author and purpose in mind.
• The three-step model of writing critical reflection is what, now what, and now what.
• Reflections should have an engaging opening sentence, a thesis statement, and an interesting closing sentence.

Ideas and Resources for Teachers

• Have students use the prompts from “Here are phrases you might use in your reflection” and complete every prompt.
• Ask students to print out their reflections and then in class have them use highlighters to color in what, so what, and now what in different colors.
• Go around the room and ask students to read only the first sentence from their reflection. Have them read only the last sentence. Challenge them to rewrite them to be engaging.
• Have students complete the artifact assignment and the artifact peer review.
• Have students write about a signature assignment.
• Have students do an in-class small-moment reflection about something that happened to them that week.

Additional Resources

Check out this Reflection Toolkit from the University of Edinburgh for ideas and resources.

For an overview of other reflection models, check out the University of Connecticut’s page on Reflection Models and the Global Digital Citizen Foundations Ultimate Cheat Sheet for Critical Thinking.

Consider the suggestions on how to have students reflect from an article on Developing Innovative Reflections from Faculty Development: Lessons Learned: 

 Reflection Exercises

Looking for some creative reflection prompts? Try out one of these ideas.

Letter to Your Future Self

Write a letter to your current self from your future self.

• What did you learn in college that was instrumental to your growth?
• What goals have you accomplished?
• What thing did you learn in college that you didn’t think was that important at the time but is important to you now?
• What obstacles did you overcome to get where you are?
• What core belief did you cling to?
• What do you want your current self to remember as it moves forward?

Write About Small Moments

The goal of a small moment reflection is to focus on something that was meaningful to you in the moment. For example, in a service learning experience, what is a small thing that you remember that taught you a big lesson? Why was this meaningful to you? When studying abroad, what was a small thing that someone did that made you think? What was a small moment where you realized something important about yourself?

Write Six Words

 Choose six independent words that describe an experience. Write your reflection telling why you chose those six words and what that says about the lesson that you learned.

Write About a Signature Assignment

A signature assignment is something that illustrates something that you learned in the course. This signature assignment can be connected to the objectives of the course, the objectives of your program of study, or the objectives of the institution.  For Roach and Alvey at the University of Michigan-Flint, it means

A signature assignment is a substantial project within a course that illustrates something quintessential about course content, embeds at least one general education learning outcome, asks students to synthesize and apply learning, gives students agency and choice in the application of their learning, and requires a significant and intentional  reflective component to help students identify and articulate relationships between course material, the curriculum, their community, and their sense of self.

One common feature of portfolios is the inclusion of signature assignments. Typically, this involves showing what you did in the class (what), why that mattered (so what), and how you will apply that or how it impacted you in some way (now what).

Serenna Hammons writes about her coursework. In the final part of her reflection, she writes the impact of what she learned:

The most important thing I learned in this course is that I matter. My lazy decisions have a negative impact on the environment, and I have the power to make a positive influence. There are so many things I can do and so many ways to get other people involved. Just my actions alone won’t be monumental, but if everyone made small changes, we can make a big difference. Educating yourself on these things and taking on responsibility is the best way to make a difference.

Tell Your Story Digitally

• Tell us the story of how you overcame an obstacle using pictures and videos.
• Create a visual journey of the highlights and insights from your collage journey using pictures and videos.

Write About Your Study Abroad with the Four P’s

Career Specialist Xavier Smith writes about using the 4 P’s of reflection: What are the cool people, places, perks, and projects that you were involved in? By focusing on these areas in your experience, you can provide context to all the cool things you indulged in while abroad. Listing these items is not enough; however, you need to be descriptive of those cool items by utilizing what, so what, and now what. This formula allows you to state what happened, describe its importance to your development, and describe how your new understanding will influence how you navigate the world. Taking this thorough approach in your portfolio will demonstrate your deep thought process and provide viewers with a broader scope or perspective of your experiences and what they mean to you and the larger world.

For a quick review, watch this video published by the McLaughlin Library at the University of Guelph:

Here are phrases you might use in your reflection.

From the Reflective Practice Toolkit, University of Cambridge LibGuide on Reflective Writing and Reflective Prompts by University of Cumbria

Bleicher, R. E., & Correia, M. G. (2011). Using a “Small Moments” writing strategy to help undergraduate students reflect on their service-learning experiences. Journal of Higher Education Outreach and Engagement 15(4 ), 27-56.

Dewey, J. (1910). How We Think. D.C. Heath and Company.

https://www.schoolofeducators.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/EXPERIENCE-EDUCATION-JOHN-DEWEY.pdf

Eynon, B. & Gambino, L. (2017). High-impact ePortfolio practice. Stylus Publishing.

Gallagher, C., & Poklop, L. (2014). ePortfolios and Audience: Teaching a Critical Twenty-First Century Skill.  International Journal of ePortfolio ,  4 (1), 7–20.  http://www.theijep.com/pdf/IJEP126.pdf

Gladd, J.  Write What Matters . Open license.

Global Digital Citizen Foundation.  Ultimate Cheat Sheet for Critical Thinking.

House, A. T. (2021). Reflection Paper. Student Success, University of Arkansas.

Illinois Center for Innovation in Teaching and Learning. Artifacts and Reflective Self-Expression. 

Lengelle, R., Meijers, F., Poell, R., & Post, M. (2014). Career writing: Creative, expressive and reflective approaches to narrative identity formation in students in higher education.  Journal of Vocational Behavior , 85(1), 75–84.   https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jvb.2014.05.001

Parkes, K., Dredger, K., & Hicks, D. (2013). ePortfolio as a measure of reflective practice. International Journal of ePortfolio ,  3 (2), 99–115.  http://www.theijep.com/pdf/IJEP110.pdf

Reynolds, N. & Davis, N. (2014). Portfolio keeping: A guide for students. Bedford St. Martin.

Reynolds, C. & Patterson, J. (2014). Leveraging the ePortfolio for integrative learning. Stylus Publishing.

Roach, S. & Alvery, J. (2021). Fostering integrative learning and reflection through “signature assignments.” American Association of Colleges and Universities

Rolfe, G., Freshwater, D., Jasper, M. (2001) Critical reflection in nursing and the helping professions: A user’s guide. Palgrave Macmillan.

Rodgers, C. (2002). Defining Reflection: Another Look at John Dewey and Reflective Thinking. Teachers College Record, 104 (4), 842–866.

Ryan, M. (2011). Improving reflective writing in higher education: A social semiotic perspective,   Teaching in Higher Education,   16:1 ,   99-111, https://doi.org/ https://doi.org/10.1080/13562517.2010.507311

Spandel, V. (1997). Reflections on Portfolios. Handbook of Academic Learning,  Academic Press.

Speller, L. (2019). TIPS for Teaching with Technology: Using ePortfolios to Increase Critical Reflection in the Classroom. https://tips.uark.edu/tips-for-teaching-with-technology-using-eportfolios-to-increase-critical-reflection-in-the-classroom/

University of Cambridge LibGuide. Reflective practice toolkit. 

University of Connecticut Center for Teaching and Learning. Reflections  and Reflection Models and Sample Reflection Questions

University of Cumbria. Reflective Prompts

University of Edinburg. Reflection Toolkit 

Utrel, M. Swinford, R, Fallowfield, S. Angermeier, L (2022). Developing innovative reflections from faculty development: Lessons learned. AAEEBL Portfolio Review.

Walters, S & Jenning, J. ePortfolio Presentation. Teaching and Faculty Support Center

The example of the Driscoll cycle was developed by a student at The Robert Gillespie Science of Learning .

Portfolios Referenced

Martin Causan 

Laura Barnum

Serenna Hammons

Sydney Maples

Xavier Smith

Documenting Your Learning and Personal Growth: Critical Reflection Copyright © 2023 by Lynn Meade is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License , except where otherwise noted.

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Reflective Writing

• Book a session
• Introduction
• Planning Reflective Writing
• Reflective Frameworks & Models
• Compare your experience to the literature

Critical Reflective Writing

• Questions to ask about your analysis
• Reflective writing books
• ⬅ Back to Skills Centre This link opens in a new window

Questioning your analysis of the experience is an important element of reflective writing, and is a good way to include critical writing in your essay.

In our writing, we need to to evidence that we have questioned our analysis .

Questions to ask

Here are more examples of how you can be critical of your analysis. 

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• URL: https://libguides.shu.ac.uk/reflectivewriting

Introduction to Reflection

There are many ways to produce reflection in writing. Try using these examples to kick-start your reflective writing.

Open each drop-down to see a different reflective writing example and exercise. 

The Six Minute Write (Bolton, 2014)

If you are being asked to write reflectively you may feel that you do not know where to begin. Bolton’s Six Minute Writing exercise is a useful way to help get you started.

Peter has just started a course to train to be a counsellor and his tutor is asking every student to reflect on their learning and the development of their interpersonal skills. Peter is unsure where to start as reflective writing is a new thing for him, so he decides to try the Six Minute Write.

“Well, I’ve never written anything like this before! When I wrote at school I was always told to be really careful – make sure your spelling and grammar are correct, don’t use abbreviations, make it sound formal. This feels quite liberating! But, is it any good? The tutor says ‘Just write what’s in your head’ so here goes.

Today we did our first role play exercises and how scary was that? I always knew that the course would involve this and I do enjoy talking with people, but trying out listening skills and asking open questions is all really difficult. I felt so nervous and forgot what to do. The people I was working with seemed so much better than me – I know I’ve got so much to learn it’s frightening. Will I ever be able to do this? I really don’t know, but I do know I’m going to try.”

Use Bolton’s (2014, p. 136) Six Minute Write exercise to begin any writing exercise, whether academic or reflective, personal or formal.

Here are Bolton’s pointers:

• Write for six minutes without stopping.
• Write whatever comes to mind and let your writing flow freely.
• Keep writing and do not pause to think too much about what you are writing.
• Do not pause to analyse what you have written, otherwise you will be tempted to write what you think you should write rather than what you want to write.
• Keep writing even if it does not make much sense to you.
• Do not worry about spelling, punctuation, grammar or jargon.
• Allow yourself to write anything.
• This is your writing and whatever you write is correct because it is yours. Remember, no-one else needs to read what you have written.
• Stop after six minutes and look at how much you have been able to write.

If we pay attention to how we think, we’ll soon notice that we are often in conversation with ourselves.

We have a kind of internal dialogue as we go about our day, making decisions (“The red top or the blue one?”) observing the world (“Beautiful day. But chilly. Where did I put my gloves?”) and maintaining self-awareness (“Oh goodness, she’s heading this way. You’re nervous? Interesting. Calm down. Be polite.”).

Reflective writing can take the shape of dialogue and be structured as a conversation with different aspects of yourself. We all have multiple identities (child, parent, student, employee, friend etc.) and each aspect of ourselves can take a different perspective on a situation.

Dialogic reflection harnesses these multiple perspectives to explore and inquire about ourselves in a certain situation, often when the purpose or outcome is unknown.

So now they’re encouraging us to try different types of reflective writing. I like the idea of this dialogical writing thing – feels like having a conversation with myself, so I think I’ll have a go. Not sure how it will pan out but I’m going to imagine talking with my organised self (OS) and my critical self (CS) and see how it goes.

OS – so doing really well at the moment, feeling pretty much on track with things and definitely on top.

CS – so how long do you think that will last? I know what you’re like! You always do this – think things are ok, sit back, relax and then get behind.

OS – do I? Umm… suppose you might be right…

CS – what do you mean, might be right?

OS – ok, you are right!

CS – and we know where this ends up, don’t we? Panic mode!

OS – and I need to avoid that. So, let’s think about what I can do. Look at the coming week and month and start planning!

Focus on an issue or concern that you have relating to your studies or practice. Imagine you are having a conversation with a friend about the issue because you want to get their perspective. Write a dialogue with “them” that explores your concerns. Raise any questions you’d like answered.

If need be, write another dialogue on the same issue with another “friend” to explore another perspective.

Once you’ve finished, re-read your conversation. Did your “friend” offer any new perspectives on the issue that hadn’t occurred to you before you began writing? Are any of these worth reflecting on further?

Driscoll (2007) What?, So what?, Now what?

Driscoll’s (2007) ‘What?’ model is a straightforward reflective cycle of 3 parts. Evolved from Borton’s (1970) Developmental Framework, it has 3 stages that ask us to consider What?, So what?, and Now what?

Step 1 – What? – involves writing a description of an event or an experience.

Step 2 – So what? – here we reflect on the event or experience and start to analyse selected aspects of it, considering why they were important and how they impacted the whole.

Step 3 – Now what? – a range of proposed action points are devised following the experience, focusing on what has been learned.

Dan is training to be a nurse in elderly care and wants to reflect on the experiences he is gaining on his placement. Dan decides to use the questions in Driscoll’s model to help him to begin to analyse what he is learning.

Step 1 – What?

Today I was observing an experienced community nurse change a dressing on a man’s leg that is badly infected. The man was nervous and became very distressed – he has had dressings replaced regularly and knows that the process is very painful. I felt awful about causing him more pain. The community nurse seemed very calm and spoke to him in a reassuring way. She asked him if he would like some pain relief and he said yes. She sat with him for ten minutes to make sure that the pain relief was working and spoke with him about his grandson’s visit that he was looking forward to at the weekend. This definitely seemed to put him at ease.

Step 2 – So what?

She made it all look so easy. How would I cope if I had to do this? As a nurse I am meant to relieve pain not cause it. She focused on the patient while I focused on myself.

Step 3 – Now what?

I learned a lot from the community nurse. She was very caring but firm. She knew the man’s dressing needed to be changed but did everything in a very calm and kind way. She distracted him and helped him to relax. These are all strategies that I can try in the future if I have to do this. Nursing isn’t only about my clinical skills; my interpersonal skills are vital, as is compassion and understanding for my patients.

Driscoll has formulated some useful questions to help us to use the model effectively, including:

Step 1 – What? – how did I react and what did others do who were involved?

Step 2 – So what? – do I feel troubled in any way, and if so, how?

Step 3 – Now what? – how can I change my approach if I face a similar situation again and what are my main learning points? What different options are there for me?

Write some notes about an experience you have had recently where you feel you have learned a lot. Can you use the stages of Driscoll’s cycle to develop this into a short reflection?

Note: Driscoll’s model is useful when you are new to professional practice and it seems like there is so much to learn. In particular, the question ‘Do I feel troubled in any way?’ is useful as our feelings can act as a prompt to deeper thinking. However, after a while you may find that you want to explore at a more complex level and move on to other approaches. It’s important to allow space for your reflective skills to develop in the same way as your professional skills.

Some small scale reflective questions :

• What were 3 things that went well today/this week? How do you know?
• What was a situation today/this week where I could have done better? How?
• What was your biggest challenge today/this week? How did you overcome it?
• What was the predominant feeling you had today/this week? Why?
• What made you happy/sad/frustrated/angry/etc today/this week? Can you find some way of having more or less of the identified aspects?

Some larger scale reflective questions :

• Am I optimising my time, energy and performance according to my values, goals and objectives?
• Am I making the most of opportunities available to me? Am I working effectively within any fixed restrictions? Where there are barriers, am I identifying them and tackling or circumventing them where possible?
• Do my values, goals and objectives still align with each other? Is this reflected in how I am spending my time?
• Are my goals still the right ones to deliver on my values? Should/Can I refine or revise the strategies I am using for fulfilling my values and goals?

Where you have been

Where you are now, related links, © 2021. this work is licensed under a cc by-nc-sa 4.0 license..

• Academic Skills
• Reading, writing and referencing

Reflective writing

Advice on how to write reflectively.

Reflective writing gives you an opportunity to think deeply about something you've learned or an experience you've had.

Watch the video below for a quick introduction to reflective writing. The video includes an example of reflecting on practice, but the approach is equally useful when reflecting on theory.

Video tutorial

Reflecting on practice.

Reflective writing may ask you to consider the link between theory (what you study, discuss and read about at university) and practice (what you do, the application of the theory in the workplace). Reflection on practical contexts enables you to explore the relationship between theory and practice in an authentic and concrete way.

"Yesterday’s class brought Vygotsky’s concepts of scaffolding and the ‘significant other’ into sharp focus for me. Without instruction, ‘Emily’ was able to scaffold ‘Emma’s’ solving of the Keystone Puzzle without directing her or supplying her with the answer – she acted as the ‘significant other’. It really highlighted for me the fact that I do not always have to directly be involved in students’ learning, and that students have learning and knowledge they bring to the classroom context."

What this example does well:

• Links theory to practice.
• Clearly states where learning occurred.

De-identify actual people you have observed or dealt with on placement or work experience using pseudonyms (other names, job titles, initials or even numbers so that real identities are protected). E.g.:

• "It was great to observe ‘Lee’ try to..."
• "Our team leader’s response was positive…"
• "I observed G’s reaction to this..."
• "Student Four felt that this was…"

"The lectures and tutes this semester have broadened my views of what sustainability is and the different scales by which we can view it . I learned that sustainability is not only something that differs at an individual level in terms of how we approach it ourselves, but also how it differs in scale. We might look at what we do individually to act sustainably, such as in what and how we recycle, but when we think about how a city or state does this, we need to consider pollution, rubbish collection and a range of other systems that point to sustainability on a much larger scale."

• Clearly states where learning occurred
• Elaborates on key issues
• Gives examples.

"On the ward rounds yesterday, I felt Mr G’s mobility had noticeably improved from last week. This may be due to the altered physio program we have implemented and it allowed me to experience a real feeling of satisfaction that I had made a real difference."

Action verbs are usually expressing feelings and thoughts in reflective writing, e.g. felt, thought, considered, experienced, wondered, remembered, discovered, learned.

Reflecting on theory

Some reflection tasks are purely theoretical, where you are asked to consider texts you have read, or ideas you may have discussed in tutorials, and reflect on them.

"Comparing the approaches of Mayr and Ulich (2009) and Laevers (2005) to what 'wellbeing' means for the early childhood setting was very illustrative in that I discovered they seek to do similar things but within different frameworks. Analysing the two constructs highlighted that the detail in Mayr and Ulich’s framework provided a much richer framework in defining and measuring wellbeing than Laevers’ does."

• References correctly.
• Considers what the theory has shown.

Using the DIEP model

When writing reflectively for the first time, it’s not uncommon to produce a summary or description of the event or experience without deeply reflecting on it.

Reflective writing needs to go beyond simply summarising what happened. Your reader needs to gain an insight into what the experience meant to you, how you feel about it, how it connects to other things you’ve experienced or studied and what you plan to do in response.

To be sure you don’t leave out any of these critical elements of reflection, consider writing using the describe, interpret, evaluate, plan (DIEP) model to help.

DIEP approach adapted from: RMIT Study and Learning Centre. (2010). Reflective writing: DIEP .

You can and should refer to yourself in your reflection using personal pronouns, e.g. I, we...

Begin by describing the situation. What did you see, hear, do, read or see? Be as brief and objective as possible.

Starting phrases:

• The most interesting insight from my lecture this week is ...
• A significant issue I had not realised until now is ...
• I now realise (understand ...) that ...

Interpret what happened. What new insights have you gained? How does this experience connect with other things you’ve learned or experienced before? How did the experience make you feel?

• This experience idea is relevant to me because…
• This reminded me of the idea that…
• A possible implication could be…

Make a judgement. How useful was this experience for you? What is your opinion? Why do you think this might be?

• Having realised the importance of ..., I can now understand…
• This experience will change the way I view ...
• Being able to see… in this way is extremely valuable for me because…

Comment on how this experience might inform your future thoughts or actions. How could you apply what you’ve learned from the experience in the future? How might the experience relate to your degree or future professional life?

• This is beneficial to me as my future career requires…  
• In order to further develop this skill…I will…
• Next time…I will…by…

[TS] The most surprising insight I have gained so far is how important recording and distributing succinct and accurate information is to the success of the project. [D] In the first week of my internship, I was asked to record some meeting minutes and distribute them to the project team and the client. [I] I initially felt offended as the task appeared trivial to me; it was something we rarely did during team meetings at university. [E] However, after speaking with my industry supervisor, I began to understand how important it is to keep a clear record of the meaningful points raised during meetings. [I] Making accurate notes of the key outcomes was harder than I expected as the rest of my team was relying on my minutes to know what they needed to do. [D]After reviewing my minutes, my supervisor agreed that they were sufficiently clear and accurate. [I] I’ve realised that poorly recorded minutes could have resulted in missed deadlines, miscommunication and costly implications for our contract. [P] To improve my ability to take notes I plan on reviewing the minutes made by my colleagues for other meetings and to investigate note taking techniques such as mind mapping (Trevelyan, 2014). Mind mapping uses links and annotations to record relationships between words and indicate significance. [I] This will help me to continue to develop my skills in this area and develop my ability to “prepare high quality engineering documents” as part of attaining the Stage 1 competency of written communication (Engineers Australia, 2018).

Trevelyan, J. P. (2014).  The making of an expert engineer: How to have a wonderful career creating a better world and spending lots of money belonging to other people . Leiden, The Netherlands: CRC Press/Balkema.

Ask yourself:

• Have I based my reflection on a specific incident, activity, idea or example?
• Have I sufficiently critically analysed the situation?
• Have I integrated theory in a meaningful way? Can I elaborate further to demonstrate the relevance of the idea and my understanding of it?
• Are my plans specific enough? Can I be more concrete?

When editing your draft, try colour coding each element of DIEP to be sure you have a balance of elements.

Looking for one-on-one advice?

Get tailored advice from an Academic Skills Adviser by booking an Individual appointment, or get quick feedback from one of our Academic Writing Mentors via email through our Writing advice service.

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Critical reflection for assessments and practice

Recount and reflect, critical reflection for assessments and practice: recount and reflect.

• Reflective practice
• Critical reflection
• How to reflect

Critical reflection writing

"Critical reflection on practice is a requirement of the relationship between theory and practice. Otherwise theory becomes simply 'blah, blah, blah',  and practice, pure activism." 

Paulo Freire -  Pedagogy of Freedom (1998)

Critical reflection is more than just description

Now you have a better understanding of the importance of critical reflection and what's involved, let’s have a look at the difference between recount and critical reflection. 

Unlike a recounting, critical reflection is more than just describing what happened. Critical reflection involves carefully thinking about:

what you do,

how  you do it,

why  you do it,

and  how  it shapes future practice.

Examples of writing styles

Click the accordions below to open up the written examples of critical reflection in different disciplines. 

Critical reflection style of writing example – Creative Arts 

I chose to use my own history as I want to promote understanding and empathy for the challenges that people in similar circumstances to mine have to overcome to be accepted for who they are and want to be.  As some of the content was really confronting and personal, I needed to find a way to take care of the audience and keep them on board. I studied the deadpan expression and physical comedy of Buster Keaton and tried to apply this contrast in my own work. 

As I wanted to look at more contemporary approaches with a completely different approach to humour, I looked at the work of performance artist Laurie Anderson and Mel Gordon's writing about her work. Gordon describes Anderson's 'aesthetic dilemma' as a question of 'how to create an intensely personal art that is not just simple autobiography. That is, how can the performer-author bring raw, unmediated materials from their life and structure them to strike a balance between their own needs and those of the audience (Gordon 1991, 195). Anderson achieves that balance by creating dialogues in her work between two opposing perspectives. 

Later I reflected on how this analysis of Keaton and Anderson's work could inform my own work and what I needed to change for the final performance to achieve that balance between my own needs and those of the audience. On reflection, I realised that I hadn't struck the right balance in the work. With too much emphasis on the humour, I confused the audience as I seemed to be expressing disapproval of people in my circumstances or that I was uncomfortable with my identity. On the other hand, with too much earnestness the material was too raw and personal. Reflecting on Keaton and Anderson's work and what they had in common, I realised that they both use contrast but, through completely different strategies, to invite the audience to hold different perspectives at once. This creates a structure and mediation of the personal material. During the next work-in-progress showing I will ask my peers and teacher to look at how I use contrast in the work to see if this is coming across with the right balance needed so that the performance can generate empathy and be seen not just as a personal story, but also one that belongs to others. 

Critical reflection style of writing example – Education 

Having noted during previous observations that the children weren’t focused during story time just before lunch, I reflected on Maslow’s (1943) hierarchy of needs. I considered how hunger might interfere with the children’s concentration levels. I decided to change the routine so that they had snacks before story time, with the observable outcome being the children were able to sit, listen and engage better with the story. This highlighted for me that readiness to learn can be impacted by physiological needs, such as hunger or thirst. 

When planning activities in the future, I need to be mindful that the children have had opportunity to eat, drink and even move, on a regular basis. I also observed that the children enjoyed playing with and talking about the farm animals, so decided to choose the book, “Where is the green sheep”. This demonstrates that I was being responsive to children’s interests and understand intentional teaching as discussed by Epstein (2014). 

Recount writing style

Click the accordions below to open up the written examples of recount style writing in different disciplines. 

In designing my solo performance I used my own history and experiences in the creation process. I had particularly focused on using a comedic physicality for the performance as a way to convey a narrative about difficult family relationships as a result of choices I've made around my gender identity. After showing my solo performance as a work in progress to an audience of my peers, I observed and felt their response to the work. The performance was received well overall. However, I had anticipated they might laugh at moments in the work, but instead they were quiet and shifted in their seats. Lighting, choreography, and sound were all designed to accommodate expected moments of audience laughter, so the lack of this response meant that my performance had slightly stilted timing. 

The children ate oranges for morning snack time and they really enjoyed them. I had to cut up some of the pieces smaller. We then had morning story time, where I read “Where is the Green Sheep” by Mem Fox. I chose to read this book because I liked it as a child. The children also liked it and they sat still while I was reading. When I asked them on the final page where was the green sheep, they were able to tell me the green sheep was under the bush. 

The children then all tried to make sheep sleeping noises and then some of the children began to snort like other farm animals. I made sure to end the session at this point as the children had to start getting ready for lunch. 

Bringing recount and critically reflective writing together

Both recount and critical reflection writing are part of your reflecting on practice. Tell the story and then explore the impacts past, current and future on your work. You need both writing styles for critical reflective assessments.

Don’t forget to connect your reflections to practice by exploring theories and the work of others by using academic literature from your field.

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Masters Degree Creative Writing: A Journal

Studying the craft of writing

An Example Critical Commentary

Our latest assignments came back within four days of submission—a fast turnaround. Mine scored a high merit. Its main weaknesses were:

• I should have mentioned more works of dystopian literature, rather than other media such as film and television drama. I had brought in the other media because part of the essay relates to how ‘script’ has influenced my work. There had been a reference to Fahrenheit 451 which I removed to save words, and I couldn’t talk about Brave New World or The Handmaid’s Tale because I discussed them in TMA 3. Instead, I focused on 1984 with mention of Vox and The Circle. If I had the chance to rewrite this, I would cut out references to film structure and replace them with more analysis of dystopian literature.
• The essay talks about characterisation and narrative voice, before appearing to return to character, which the tutor felt showed a lack of control. I had meant the last discussion about ‘psychic distance’ to be part of the point-of-view section rather than character, but obviously that didn’t come across.
• The word count was dangerously close. Agreed! Our essay was meant to be 3,000 words, with a 10% leeway either side. That means we could write between 2,700 and 3,300 words. I went up to 3,300. Once, on a course years ago, a tutor told me I could have used the word limit to expand an argument, but generally tutors don’t like it (more work for them), and going right up to the limit is dangerous as word processors count differently.
• This didn’t affect me, but I heard from someone else who wrote too much about the influence of another genre—creative nonfiction—and was marked right down for it.

I’m including my TMA below in the hope that it might help people next year. We had no examples to go on this time—just very broad guidance notes, which makes it difficult to know what’s expected. Bear in mind that every tutor is different.

The names of other students are masked to protect their privacy.

TMA 06: A Critical Commentary

My EMA project continues a theme that I’ve been following throughout the Masters, beginning with The Sponsor (Daykin, 2017). It involves looking at modern cultural trends and spinning a narrative about the future. The Sponsor dealt with the social effects of automation. All Souls (Daykin, 2018a) explored how social media can empower toxic ideologies. Rebel Generation (Daykin, 2018b) asked what would happen if the elderly drastically outnumbered the young. My latest project, True Britain (Daykin, 2019c), is inspired by current political developments and predicts a swing to authoritarian government. Below, I will refer to these pieces and two stories outside the dystopian genre, Child of the Moors ( Daykin, 2019a) and The Grey Runner (Daykin, 2019b). In demonstrating how my writing has evolved, I focus on awareness of genre, character, narrative modes and the influence of script and creative nonfiction. I will show how feedback from others and the habit of ‘reading as a writer’ have informed my work.

For this project, I chose to write the opening of a novel. I had found the short story format insufficient to explore complex ideas in speculative fiction. Writing All Souls, for example, I struggled to provide a satisfactory ending, and a reviewer commented that the story ‘opened some doors to interesting social themes, but did not really engage with these themes in any depth’ (X, 2018). With True Britain, I am writing a much longer narrative exploring politics and history. As the project has to be seen in the context of the novel, some plot points not included in the EMA will be described here to explain decisions I have made.

A writer needs to be aware of the elements of genre, as readers have expectations about character, writing and plot (Neale, 2009, p3). Previously, I wrote intuitively without studying the conventions of genre. The Sponsor must have been inexact in its genre, as one reviewer asked if it was science fiction (XXXX, 2017). Dystopia is a subgenre of science fiction ‘because it depicts future fictive societies’ (Utopia and Dystopia, 2019), but in order for fiction to be clearly dystopian, certain elements have to be in place. One of these is that it is ‘built on the imperfections of the author’s world, created to be considerably worse’ (Ezzi, 2018). The intention of The Sponsor was to take current technological trends to their logical conclusion. In retrospect, the links to today’s society could have been emphasised more clearly, as I am attempting to do in True Britain .

I submitted two different openings of True Britain for peer review. The original began almost in media res, with a brief scene occurring before the army descended on Jake’s estate. Reviewers understood that this was a dystopia, but felt that the message and background were not clear (XXXX, 2019). My second attempt made Emily the character in focus, showing through her role as a teacher how the regime was indoctrinating the young. This provided more opportunity to demonstrate how and why Britain evolved from the present to a quasi-dictatorship. I conveyed information through a classroom debate on ‘favourite prime ministers’, but this extract was heavy in exposition, over-emphasising dialogue and giving the story a didactic, repetitive feel (XXXX, 2019b). Successful dystopias tend to introduce their circumstances through action. For example, in 1984 (Orwell, 1989) Orwell conveys the impoverished, oppressive nature of his society by following Winston Smith as he returns home. Orwell also inserts long extracts from another text which further explain the dystopia, but this seems a risky strategy as it stalls the action, and I have decided against using this technique in True Britain. Jake and Emily have more freedom to show their world through action than Smith.

One reviewer asked how True Britain would be ‘developed and distinguished from other fictions set in dystopian near futures’ (XXXX, 2019). One way I tried to achieve this was by blending genres. Once genre is understood, playing with it can ‘fuel reading enjoyment’ (Anderson, 2006, p162) and mixing genres has become more popular in publishing (Coles, 2019). True Britain is primarily a dystopia, but it includes elements of the action genre, and also weaves in brief historical passages written by a main character, Emily. Emily not only teaches history but identifies herself and others with its stories—an image of Elizabeth I in battle dress hangs by her desk, and she pictures other characters as Victorian waifs or Medieval scholars. Her historical fiction is included as a nested narrative, underscoring a central idea—that nothing is inevitable. In giving this importance to history, I drew inspiration from The Secret History (Tartt, 1993), a modern day detective story with characters immersed in the culture of the ancient past.

Soon after I had begun my project, I had the opportunity of comparing it with a near future scenario broadcast by the BBC, Years and Years (2019). This was useful in comparing techniques, for example in opening the story, but it also illustrated how different approaches could be applied to the same subject. True Britain was an opportunity to combine my interests in speculative fiction and history. While Years emphasises radical new technology and ideas such as transhumanism, the government of True Britain glamorises history, turning it into a crucial part of young people’s identities. As the Party slogan in 1984 goes: ‘who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past’ (Orwell, 1989, p260). In True Britain technological progress has gone backwards, something so unusual in near future dystopias that it was questioned by a reviewer (XXXX, 2019). In part, this is because a characteristic of dystopias is a reduction in living standards (Utopia and Dystopia, 2019), but it also reflects a government strategy to limit the means of communication.

Elements of the action genre distinguish True Britain from traditional dystopias such as 1984, bringing it closer to recent young adult dystopias like The Hunger Games (Collins, 2009). This action-oriented fiction includes bold, active protagonists, training sequences and physical confrontation. While Emily is a more typical character in dystopia, timidly questioning, Jake embraces a world of escalating violence. He joins the resistance movement, undergoes training and embarks on missions—although he is no Jack Reacher, and the consequences are messy.

Jake is in fact an ordinary lad who has grown up obeying orders in Britain’s newly authoritarian climate. This is a story with a message, but it remains important to ensure that characters are complex and credible. They are not replicas of any in my previous dystopias. Although Jake is of the same age and under similar pressures to Deivos in Rebel Generation, he lacks Deivos’s nihilism, and is driven by the wish to save his family and community rather than to take revenge. Emily resembles Maddie in All Souls in that she opposes a new orthodoxy, but she does it on intellectual grounds, and also has a greater sense of self-preservation. It has been suggested that she could begin as right-wing herself, gradually awakening to injustice (XXXX, 2019b). However, I see her as somebody with strong ideas that, at first, she can only express cautiously. As Sokoloff explains, a protagonist should have conflicting internal and external motivations: this tension and the eventual triumph of the internal motivation will drive the plot (Sokoloff, 2015, p46). In Emily’s case, her external motivation is to stay safe; but her internal motivation drives her to defy the regime and its intellectual stranglehold.

One problem I have had in the past is writing strong lead characters. A protagonist cannot be passive, but must be capable of changing both themselves and the situation (Moon, 2013). When I created Jenny in Child of the Moors , I tried to explore a flawed personality, but Jenny’s faults did not give her agency; she caved to her domineering mother in a way that strained credibility (XXXX, 2019a). It has been suggested that there is a cultural reluctance to portray flawed female protagonists. Heroines are often simply ‘good’, without the capacity for selfishness seen in male anti-heroes (The New Yorker, 2013). Female protagonists are relatively rare in dystopias written for adults, and those that exist seem less capable of resistance; for example, Mae in The Circle (Eggers, 2014) never questions the oppressive nature of the corporation she works for (Petri, 2016). In my first piece, The Sponsor, I notice that although Summer is the main character, crucial decisions—to reject the sponsorship and then to flee—are made by her husband, Zach. In True Britain, however , Emily is as active and potentially unlikeable as Jake; she rescues Jake, then pushes him away; she is an atheist, but seeks refuge with evangelicals. Sokoloff argues that the most satisfying character arc results in a person becoming less selfish (Sokoloff, 2015, p106), and this is what happens to both Emily and Jake, with Emily sacrificing the precarious remnants of her security to save Jake a second time.

Protagonists require enemies who will try to thwart their goals. In dystopias, the antagonist is often the setting (Revis, 2010). Burroway argues that across all genres, ‘setting is often to some degree symbolic’ and ‘suggestive of a larger meaning’ (Burroway, 2011, p141). This is particularly true of a dystopia, where Jake and Emily’s environment—the ubiquitous flags, the jingoistic posters and the strained faces of it citizens—all contribute to an atmosphere of enforced patriotism. This focus on the setting as the enemy can lead to unimpressive human antagonists, mere cogs in the machine. For example, in Vox (Dalcher, 2018), the villain is annoying rather than terrifying. However, it is still important that the villain has his own motivations: ‘the best villain would be a hero—just not in this version of the story’ (Coe, 2016). In True Britain , both Emily and Jake have antagonists whose goals conflict with their own. Emily is faced by her fanatical pupil Alex, who immediately introduces conflict. In past work I have always tried to show the motivation of antagonists, but haven’t always succeeded; the self-righteous, wealthy characters in The Sponsor, for instance, ‘were more one sided, which made them seem less human’ (XXXX, 2017). In True Britain, Alex’s mixture of pride and rage must be psychologically real; his own voice will join the discourse of the story, reflecting David Lodge’s idea that in a novel, ‘no ideological or moral position is immune from challenge’ (Lodge, 2011, p129).

One area that needs improvement in my writing is a tendency to introduce too many characters. In Rebel Generation, the story followed three strands, each with multiple characters whose lives intersect. Reviewers felt that some characters failed to make an impression, with their voices merging (XXXX, 2018) and a lack of control in focus (XXXX, 2018). In True Britain I again met criticism for bringing in too many characters, which was confusing for the reader (XXXX, 2019). Robert Wood suggests that a story should have ‘as few characters as necessary,’ and that each should have a unique role and emotional outlook (Wood, 2016). When editing True Britain, I cut out those characters whose roles were not clearly needed while increasing the narrative presence of those whose role would be important later on. This latter group includes Jake’s girlfriend, whose pregnancy inspires his desperate attempts to return to his family, culminating in his second intrusion into Emily’s life.

During my development as a writer, I have increasingly used multiple narrators in order to cover conflicting perspectives. In True Britain, the tone of Jake and Emily’s stories contrast: one characterised by violent adventure, the other by careful negotiation. I am currently experimenting with different points of view for the narrative. One option is to have Emily narrate, retrospectively, in first person. This is necessary if the story is in past tense, as Jake doesn’t survive. Past tense, here, echoes the theme of history. The Secret History also uses first person and past tense; Mullan suggests that this ‘opens a gap’ between the past and present versions of the narrator, emphasised by occasional slips in tense as the narrator tries to make sense of their past actions (Mullan, 2006, p45). This is useful in Emily’s case; her personality and circumstances have undergone significant changes. However, it is unusual to have a combination of first and third person narrators: one example is found in the short stories of Jennifer Egan, but the effect there is not continuity but inferred connections (Masters, 2018). Jason Black suggests that this combination can be useful if one character should be kept close and the other ‘an enigma’ (Black, 2017), but there is no narrative reason for Jake to be a mystery. One of the novels I’m reading as part of background research is Anatomy of a Scandal (Vaughan, 2018) , which not only gives insights into the British political establishment, but also alternates between first and third person perspectives. Here, the effect is to create a feeling of closeness with a character whose actions unravel the mystery generated by the others. There is a very specific reason for this; she is also one of the characters narrated in third person. This treatment of point of view in Anatomy has been well received by critics, with one commenting that the ‘shifts in perspective add considerable suspense’ (Sethi, 2018). In True Britain , the justification for mixing narrative approaches would be different, and I am still trying various strategies. Given the theme of history, it seems fitting for Emily to act as a historian, not only of herself but of Jake and the entire country. Alternatively, I could revert to the more conventional style of alternating third person narrators, which Skinner argues is suited to plot-driven stories and has the advantage of creating ‘dramatic irony’ because the reader will know more than the characters (Skinner, 2018, p74). In this case, neither Jake nor Emily would be aware of how catastrophic their decisions might be, but the reader, with a wider vantage point, would see it.

A major criticism of my project has been that the characters are ‘buried because there is so much story to cover’ (XXXX, 2019). This related to the action scene filtered through Jake’s third-person perspective. Readers found themselves emotionally detached from Jake, and on rereading the piece I can see that the psychic distance is too remote, creating a rather cold effect. For example, when Jake sees a neighbour ‘lying motionless on his sloping lawn, one leg buckled and a dark smudge on his cheek’ (Daykin, 2019c), there is no indication of how Jake feels about this. There were too many ‘thought verbs’, which Palahniuk argues pushes the narrative towards telling rather than showing (Palahniuk, 2011). In an action sequence such as this, as Shultz suggests, ‘psychic distance should be drawn closer’ (Shultz, 2017). Details conveyed to the reader reflect the focal character’s personality and state of mind (Ellis, 2019). I will try to use the technique I experimented with in The Grey Runner, ‘zooming in’ to the protagonist, John, in a way that encompassed his internal monologue and stream of consciousness. For example, John hallucinates: ‘That’s odd, it reminds him of. Of something. Himself, as a child?’ (Daykin, 2019b).

In addition to studying fiction, I have also learned from the genres of creative nonfiction and script. Nonfiction requires research, with an emphasis on truth presented in a literary style, and this was a prerequisite for True Britain . The story has at times a documentary feel, with information conveyed by news footage and studio interviews as well as classroom debates. My factual research covers subjects ranging from English history (Jenkins, 2012) to the experience of teaching (Crossley-Holland, 2009). A misunderstanding of current political trends or a factual misstep by a character obsessed with history could alienate readers. This is the most extensive research I have carried out for a project, and it has also involved developing methods to catalogue the information.

A major influence has been script, which I’ve largely studied independently, taking particular inspiration from Alexandra Sokoloff, who describes how cinematic techniques can be applied to fiction (Sokoloff, 2015). Sokoloff draws on the template of the ‘hero’s journey’ (Bronzite, 2019). Using the film script structure of sequences and Acts, I mapped out the True Britain novel, gaining a better understanding of where the dramatic climaxes should be and what elements the reader will unconsciously expect to see in place at every stage. With this analysis, the EMA would represent most of the First Act, in which setting, allies, antagonists and goals are established, and the protagonists ‘step over the threshold’ into the big adventure of Act Two. Jake’s eviction by the authorities is the inciting incident; Emily’s offer to shelter him forms the Sequence One climax. Sequence Two involves growing tension, culminating with Jake, abandoned by Emily, joining a resistance group at the climax of Act One. Both protagonists have ‘crossed the threshold’. To give a parallel, 1984 is divided into three Acts; Act One ends after Winston encounters Julia in the street, marking the first step in their doomed relationship.

The question of how to open the novel has been difficult. After the first attempt was dismissed as too unsubtle, I had Emily introduce the situation from her perspective a year later, when, although this was not stated, she is living in America. However, this was felt to have ‘a distancing effect—closer to the viewpoint of a historian’ (XXXX, 2019). I watched the openings of a range of dystopian films, noting different ways of beginning: some used exposition (text or voiceover), while others employed the device of an interview, debate or speech, and the rest plunged straight into the action. News footage and rapid montages of sound and images were very common. My original approach was similar to that in Years and Years —a family watching television, oblivious to forewarnings of their own impending doom. I’m now considering an opening in which Emily drives into town to meet an old friend, a sequence made more sinister by the fact that the friend doesn’t show up. The first paragraph would resemble the establishing shot in a film, demonstrating the changed landscape and its fearful atmosphere without the need for exposition. As in Children of Men (2006) , billboards could be used to convey cultural information. Anthony Powell, an early adopter of cinematic techniques in novels, also opened with a panoramic image that communicated his themes (Radner, 2019).

Another aspect emphasised in script is ‘plants and pay-offs’, the cinematic equivalent of foreshadowing. Chekhov argued that ‘if there is a gun hanging on the wall, you should make quite sure that it is going to be used’ (Miyamoto, 2017). In past work, I’ve been less conscious of this, and overloaded scenes with unnecessary detail: for example in Child , a memorial cross ‘needed to be foregrounded to strengthen the connection to the child revelation’ (XXXX, 2019a) but was instead obscured by irrelevancies. Every detail must play its part, and although some of them support mood and setting, others have greater significance. For instance, when Emily drives into town in the opening scene, she is witnessing the subtle build up to a purge that will strike the area next day—rather akin to the first signs of disturbance in a psychological horror film.

In some ways True Britain mirrors The Sponsor, an earlier dystopian story with interlinking narrative strands. However, I hope it is a more mature work, informed by feedback from others and from my reading of other texts from the perspective of a writer. It reflects a greater awareness of the importance of genre conventions and how to use them creatively; the significance of detail, the need for active protagonists and strategies for controlling points of view. As well as studying the craft of fiction writing, I have been absorbing influences from other genres and have considered the techniques used in successful novels and films.

Word count: 3300 words

Bibliography

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Black, Jason (2017) How to Mix First and Third Person POV [Online] Plotto Punctuation. Available at: https://plottopunctuation.com/article-how-to-mix-first-and-third-person-pov.html (Accessed July 2019)

XXXX. (2019) Workshop review of True Britain [Online] Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/workshop/assessment.php?asid=19512 (Accessed May 2019).

Bronzite, Dan (2019) The Hero’s Journey – Mythic Structure of Joseph Campbell’s Monomyth [Online] Movie Outline. Available at: http://www.movieoutline.com/articles/the-hero-journey-mythic-structure-of-joseph-campbell-monomyth.html (Accessed July 2019).

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Children of Men . 2006. [Film]. Alfonso Cuarón. dir. Place of production: Strike Entertainment/Hit and Run Productions.

Coe, Kate. (2017) How to Write: Bad Guys and Villains [Online] Dystopian Stories. Available at: https://www.dystopianstories.com/writing-about-bad-guys-villains/ (Accessed July 2019)

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Crossley-Holland, Oenone. (2009) Hands Up!, London: John Murray.

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Daykin, Ruth. (2019) Child of the Moors, extract from a novel, Open University

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Eggers, Dave. (2014) The Circle, London: Penguin Books.

Ellis, Jennifer. (2019) Narrative Distance [Online] Jennifer Ellis—Writing. Available at: http://jenniferellis.ca/narrative-distance (Accessed July 2019).

Ezzi, Munira (2018) A Creative Exploration and Analysis of Contemporary Dystopian Fiction [Online] National Association of Writers in Education. Available at: https://www.nawe.co.uk/DB/current-wip-edition/articles/a-creative-exploration-and-analysis-of-contemporary-dystopian-fiction.html (Accessed July 2019)

XXXX (2018) Workshop review of All Souls [Online] Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/workshop/assessment.php?asid=13249 (Accessed May 2018)

XXXX. (2017) Forum review of The Sponsor https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/forumng/discuss.php?d=2440384#p17685649 (Accessed November 2017)

XXXX. (2019) Workshop review of True Britain [Online] Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/workshop/assessment.php?asid=19514 (Accessed May 2019)

Jenkins, Simon. (2012) A Short History of England, London: Profile Books.

Lodge, David. (2011[1992]) The Art of Fiction London: Vintage Books.

XXXX. (2019) Workshop review of True Britain [Online] Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/workshop/assessment.php?asid=19513 (Accessed May 2019)

Masters, Ben. (2018) 4.3 ‘Multiple points of view (continued)’ in Block 2 Fiction: Chapter 4: Experiments with characters [Online] The Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/oucontent/view.php?id=1317460&section=3 (Accessed December 2018)

Mullan, J. (2006) How Novels Work , Oxford, Oxford University Press.

XXXX.(2017) TMA01 Tutor Comments and Advice to Students (‘The Sponsor’)

XXXX.(2018) TMA02 Tutor Comments and Advice to Students (‘Rebel Generation’)

XXXX.(2019) TMA02 Tutor Comments and Advice to Students (‘Child of the Moors’)

XXXX.(2019) TMA05 Tutor Comments and Advice to Students (‘True Britain’)

Miyamoto, Ken. (2016) Best “Plant and Payoff” Scenes Screenwriters Can Learn From [Online] Screencraft. Available at: https://screencraft.org/2017/09/17/best-plant-and-payoff-scenes-for-screenwriters/ (Accessed July 2019)

Moon, Elizabeth. (2013) Weak Characters, Strong Characters [Online] Book Country. Available at: https://www.bookcountry.com/Community/Discussion/Default.aspx?g=posts&t=8589934864 (Accessed July 2019)

Neale, D. (2009) A Creative Writing Handbook: Developing Dramatic Technique, Individual Style and Voice , London, A. & C. Black/The Open University.

XXXX. (2018) Forum review of Rebel Generation [Online] Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/forumng/discuss.php?d=2775630#p19867419 (Accessed November 2018)

XXXX. (2019) Forum review of True Britain [Online] Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/forumng/discuss.php?d=2983031#p21265350 (Accessed May 2019)

O’Reilly, Sally. (2018) 19.5 ‘Genre and Predictability’ in Block 3 Fiction: Chapter 19: Genre [Online] The Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/oucontent/view.php?id=1112779&section=1.3 (Accessed February 2018)

Orwell, George. (1989 [1949]) 1984, London: Penguin Books

Palahniuk, Chuck. (2011) Nuts and Bolts: Thought Verbs. Available at

https://litreactor.com/essays/chuck-palahniuk/nuts-and-bolts-%E2%80%9Cthought%E2%80%9D-verbs (Accessed July 2019)

Petri, Sarah Michele. (2016) The Dystopian Protagonist [Online] Penn State. Available at : https://sites.psu.edu/petricircle/2016/10/13/the-dystopian-protagonist/ (Accessed July 2019)

Radner, Sanford (2019 [1964]) Anthony Powell: Film Techniques in the Art of the Novel [Online] JSTOR. Available at : https://www-jstor-org.libezproxy.open.ac.uk/stable/355950sid=primo&origin=crossref&seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents (Accessed July 2019)

Revis, Beth. (2010) How to make your setting a character in your dystopian novel [Online] Gizmodo. Available at: https://io9.gizmodo.com/how-to-make-your-setting-a-character-in-your-dystopian-5552590 (Accessed July 2019).

Richardson, Heather. (2019) 9.1 ‘Introduction’ in Block 4 Fiction: Chapter 9: Exploring Genre [Online] The Open University. Available at: https://learn2.open.ac.uk/mod/oucontent/view.php?id=1317551 (Accessed March 2019)

Sethi, Anita. (2018) Anatomy of a Scandal by Sarah Vaughan review – a political page-turner [Online] Guardian. Available at : https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/jan/14/anatomy-of-a-scandal-sarah-vaughan-review (Accessed July 2019)

Shultz, David. (2017) Psychic Distance [Online] Available at: https://davidfshultz.com/2017/03/28/psychic-distance/ (Accessed July 2019).

Skinner, Richard. (2018) The Secret History, London: Faber & Faber.

Sokoloff, Alexandra. (2015) Screenwriting Tricks for Authors (and Screenwriters!): STEALING HOLLYWOOD: Story structure secrets for writing your BEST book: Volume 3 California: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

Tartt, Donna. (1993) The Secret History, London: Penguin Books.

The New Yorker (2013) Would You Want To Be Friends With Humbert Humbert?: A Forum on “Likeability” , The New Yorker, 16 May [Online]. Available at: http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/would-you-want-to-be-friends-with-humbert-humbert-a-forum-on-likeability (Accessed May 2017).

Utopia and Dystopia (2019) Dystopian Elements and Characteristics – Basic Building Blocks of Dystopia [Online] Utopia and Dystopia http://www.utopiaanddystopia.com/dystopia/distopian-elements-and-characteristic (Accessed July 2019)

Vars, Jonathan. (2016) Six Important Elements of Dystopian Fiction [Online] Available at: http://www.novelpublicity.com/2016/12/six-important-elements-of-dystopian-fiction/ (Accessed July 2019).

Vaughan, Sarah. (2018) Anatomy of a Scandal, London: Simon & Schuster UK.

Wood, Robert (2016) How Many Characters Should A Novel Have? [Online] Standout Books. Available at: https://www.standoutbooks.com/how-many-characters-should-a-novel-have/ (Accessed July 2019)

Years and Years. (2019) BBC. 14 May – 18 June 2019

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3 thoughts on “ an example critical commentary ”.

Hi Ruth, In the final ‘year’ of my distance BA(Hons) in Creative Writing with the University for the Creative Arts (formerly Open College of the Arts), I had my final tutor annotated draft returned which comprised my Final Reflective Commentary and Creative Reading Commentary with so many blued-out boxes of comments and strikethroughs that my head span. My tutor had encouraged me, said work needed to be done, told me to still expect a ‘good mark’ for this final piece and said I’d been an exemplary, committed student. I’d heard words like this before when I was failing my English Lit A-Level and my teacher had suggested I drop it and concentrate on Art/Art History, which infuriated me. (I didn’t drop it; I went full Terminator on it and passed with a B instead of the predicted ‘F’). So with this Commentary I knew I could do something better but I didn’t know how. Research. Right? If in doubt, research until your eyes bleed. Even if it’s for technical competence and not anything fiction/craft/technique-related. So I Googled. For days, searching for a decent equivalent to the Commentary that I felt I could do so much better with. Enter yours. HALLELUJAH! Don’t worry, plagiarism doesn’t come into play here, I just needed to see how a good Commentary flowed, how it was constructed, how referencing text books as well as the books being studied needed to appear on the page; how much was primary, secondary reference materials, how to include internet references, and your piece shone such a bright light on where I was (I hasten to say ‘going wrong’, because it’s all a learning curve, right?) able to improve. I read and re-read and used different coloured highlighter pens to mark where and how many references you used and this – your EMA commentary – became my Bible. Once I’d re-written the whole thing (and I mean REWRITTEN so it was almost indistinguishable from the original although obviously the title/theme remained) I told my tutor and asked if she could have a quick look to see if it sounded/read/felt any better to the previous. She said she couldn’t (as you know) tutors can only read through so many times, and my times were up. I submitted it. I could’ve tidied the original one up, changed parts where my tutor had suggested, expanded on areas, deleted other rafts of areas and got a ‘good mark’, but I didn’t. I preferred this one (and I have very little self-confidence at the best of times) and as this was my final final FINAL, what did I have to lose? We had our results through last month and – and I mean this SINCERELY – thanks (in a whole big part) to YOU – I’m graduating with a First. Furthermore, this commentary which nobody had read or played a part in, is going to be printed in future coursework books for students as an exemplar in how to write a good commentary. I’m sorry this is so long and rambling, but I had to say thank you. For putting your work out there (into the void of webspace) and allowing this writer-student to find it, and to improve her technique. I’m keeping the pages I printed off with all the highlighted parts because I know that without this I’d have been disappointed in myself and my mediocre mark. Sharing is caring and I’m so glad you did that I wanted to share right back. Very warm wishes, Debs

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Hi Debs! Thanks for your amazing feedback. It’s great to know that this little blog has helped someone. Congratulations on your First, and on getting your commentary printed in coursework books – your work will be making a difference to others!

Good luck in the future. The thing now is to keep going. Keep writing, keep studying technique, keep looking for opportunities and sending off your work. That’s something I need to do myself – too many distractions this year! But it sounds like you’re a very dedicated person, and I’m sure we’ll see your name again. 🙂

Maybe we’ll bump into one another on the writers’ circuit (if there is such a thing!) I’ve just started a separate blog for the Masters http://www.masteringcreativewriting.wordpress.com – it’s not quite ‘there’ yet, so if you do vitis (and you’d be the first) please excuse the state of the place! Deborah x

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Examples of Reflective Writing

Types of reflective writing assignments.

A journal  requires you to write weekly entries throughout a semester. May require you to base your reflection on course content.

A learning diary is similar to a journal, but may require group participation. The diary then becomes a place for you to communicate in writing with other group members.

A logbook is often used in disciplines based on experimental work, such as science. You note down or 'log' what you have done. A log gives you an accurate record of a process and helps you reflect on past actions and make better decisions for future actions.

A reflective note is often used in law. A reflective note encourages you to think about your personal reaction to a legal issue raised in a course.

An essay diary  can take the form of an annotated bibliography (where you examine sources of evidence you might include in your essay) and a critique (where you reflect on your own writing and research processes).

a peer review  usually involves students showing their work to their peers for feedback.

A self-assessment task  requires you to comment on your own work.

Some examples of reflective writing

Social science fieldwork report (methods section), engineering design report, learning journal (weekly reflection).

Brookfield, S 1987, Developing critical thinkers: challenging adults to explore alternative ways of thinking and acting , Open University Press, Milton Keynes.

Mezirow, J 1990, Fostering critical reflection in adulthood: a guide to transformative and emancipatory learning , Jossey-Bass, San Francisco.

Schön, DA 1987, Educating the reflective practitioner , Jossey-Bass. San Francisco.

We thank the students who permitted us to feature examples of their writing.

Prepared by Academic Skills, UNSW. This guide may be distributed or adapted for educational purposes. Full and proper acknowledgement is required. 

Essay and assignment writing guide

• Essay writing basics
• Essay and assignment planning
• Answering assignment questions
• Editing checklist
• Writing a critical review
• Annotated bibliography
• How do I write reflectively?
• Examples of reflective writing
• ^ More support

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3.2 Examples of good and poor critical reflection

The following table (adapted from Cottrell, 2011) describes good and poor practice in critical reflection. You should use this to help guide you in your writing.

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How To Write A Reflection Statement – A Step-By-Step Guide

Do you know how to write a reflection statement? In this post, we give you a clear process for writing reflection statements.

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Do you know how to write a reflection statement? Reflection statements are tasks that will increasingly be part of your assessments. In the past, reflection statements were only set for Extension 2. Now they will be commonplace in Advanced English for both Year 11 and Year 12.

In this post, we will demystify reflection statements and give you a step-by-step guide to producing statements that will impress your teachers!

What is a Reflection Statement?

A reflection statement is a complementary task that will accompany other assessment types. A reflection statement requires students to discuss the process of producing the associated assessment task.

In a reflection statement, students need to explain why they made the decisions they did. The reflection statement also offers the student an opportunity to say what they think they did well, or did poorly. Students can reflect on what they would change if they could do it over.

If you want to learn more about why self-reflection is such an important skill for students, you should read this excellent article by Cathy Costello at Virtual library .

Why can’t you give a specific definition of what reflection tasks involve?

The exact nature of the reflection task will depend on the assessment task you’ve been asked to reflect on. To give you an idea of this, we’ll look at some examples of the tasks that reflection statements might accompany and what the reflection statements need to address.

As you can see, there are a wide variety of tasks where you could be asked to provide an accompanying reflection task.

How long is a reflection statement?

This will vary.

English Extension 2 reflection statements need to be 1500 words. If you’re not doing English Extension 2, it is unlikely that you will be required to produce something that long.

The tasks you will be set for English Advanced will range between 300 and 800 words. Most reflection tasks will be on the shorter side of things at around the 400-word mark.

Need help perfecting your reflections for Module C?

Learn how to write insightful and constructive reflections with our structured online video lessons, quality resources, and forums to ask your Matrix teachers questions and feedback! Learn more about Matrix+ Online Courses now. 

Where will I encounter reflection statements?

You will be set reflective statements throughout Years 11 and 12. They can be attached to any assessment task for any Module.

However, due to the nature of the Common Module: Reading to Write it is likely you will be set one to accompany the main writing task for that Module.

Similarly, in Year 12, Common Module: Texts and Human Experience and Module C: The Craft of Writing are the most likely Modules where you will be asked to reflect on your process of composing.

Remember, there is no limit on how many reflections you will need to produce as they supplement a larger assessment task. You may need to write as many as two in both Year 11 and Year 12.

In the HSC English Advanced Paper 2 (from 2019) and HSC English Extension 1 Paper, you may be asked to write a composition and a reflection statement.

If you study English Extension 2, this is a mandatory accompaniment for your major work. (Please note, while the process discussed in this post is similar to the one for producing an Extension 2 reflection statement, it does not discuss the research and referencing components that you need to complete for an Extension 2 work).

Clearly, it is important to be confident writing reflection statements. Matrix students learn how to produce reflection statements and get help refining them.

The secret to producing killer reflection statements is to follow a process when writing them.

What we’ll do now is look at the process for how to produce ace your reflection statement.

How to write a Reflection Statement – a step-by-step guide

Like everything in English, there is a process you can follow to produce a reflection statement. Even though the specific task may vary. The process for writing the reflection will largely remain the same.

The process for writing reflection statements looks like this:

Step 1: Produce the main piece of work for the assessment

Reflection statements are never tasks in and of themselves, they supplement the main task. You will not be able to produce your reflection statement until you have completed and edited your main task.

If you are stuck on your main task and need help, you should read our Beginner’s Guide to Acing HSC English  for detailed advice on all aspects of Year 11 and 12 English.

This can be useful. You may well discover that your reflection statement makes you reconsider some of your choices in your main task. In the process of writing your reflection statement, you may decide you need to redraft your main work.

This is one of the key purposes of writing a reflection statement. It forces you to consider what you have produced and the process of producing it. This is a key part of editing and improving your work.

Step 2: Read the assessment notification

Once you’ve produced your main piece of work, you need to revisit your assessment notification. A task that involves a reflection statement will come in two sections:

• Section 1 will be the instructions for the main task;
• Section 2 will be the instructions for the supplementary reflection task.

Rereading the notification is important as it will help you check that you have completed the main task correctly. It will also tell you exactly what you need to do for the second part of the task.

Step 3: Read the marking criteria

For every assessment task that you are given, you MUST be given accompanying marking criteria. Marking criteria are very important. They tell you explicitly what you need to do to get full marks for a specific task.

Reading through the marking criteria at this point serves two purposes:

• You can double check that you have addressed all the criteria for a Band 6 result for your main task.
• You can see what you need to do to achieve a Band 6 result for your reflection statement.

Your reflection statement may have very different requirements for a Band 6 mark than your main task. It is important that you are aware of the differences.

Step 4: Unpack what the reflection statement needs you to discuss for a Band 6 result

Now you’re familiar with the notification and marking criteria for the assessment task, you need to get these understandings down in writing.

To do this, you need to take a few steps:

• Read through the instructions for the task and highlight or underline the keywords (these will usually be the verbs and nouns in the instructions).
• Now you want to write these words down and define them. If you are unsure of a what a word means, that’s okay. Look it up. This is how you expand your vocabulary.
• Next, do the same for the marking criteria. Underline what you feel are the keywords and terms. Again, write them down and define them.
• Now you need to write down what you need to do for a Band 6 result. To do this, write down the instructions in your own words. Include what you need to do for a Band 6 mark in this instruction. Be sure to make note of whether this is meant to be written informally or formally, in the first or third person. You must follow the instruction regarding form for these tasks.

Now you’ve unpacked the question. This means you are now equipped to answer the question you’ve been set.

Next, you need to revisit your main task so you can see what you’ve done and evaluate how you’ve put it together.

Step 5: Reread what you have produced for your main task

Your reflection statement will require you to explain the choices you’ve made in your main composition.

You may not have thought too much about these things when you produced the work. And this is fine. It just doesn’t help you with the reflections statement.

If this is you, you need to read your work with an eye on how you have conveyed information. You must unpack how you have presented your ideas. Essentially, you need to reverse engineer your writing through textual analysis.

Some useful questions to ask yourself when doing this are:

• How does my work address the assessment instructions and marking criteria?
• What am I trying to convey here?
• How does this part of my work address the marking criteria?
• What technique have I used to convey meaning?
• Why have I used that technique?
• Could I have conveyed this idea differently? Would this have been more effective? Why?

Make notes while you do this. You want to be able to refer back to your findings in detail when you write the reflection statement.

Once you’ve finished this, you’re ready to start planning. By now you should have:

• A detailed breakdown of what your task requires you to discuss in your reflection statement and how to discuss it.
• A detailed set of notes about the piece you have produced for the main task.

Step 6: Plan your reflection statement

As with any task, you want to plan things before you get stuck in. Planning your work forces you to consider what information you must include and how you will structure that information in your response. This is an important part of the critical thinking process.

Reflection statements need to have structure, too.

You need to ensure that you introduce your ideas clearly, then expand on them, and, finally, summarise and conclude your statement. Even if you only need to produce a 250-word paragraph, you still need to ensure that it follows the conventions of composition structure. You will lose marks for presenting idea soup.

To plan your response, you’ll need to get your notes on the task and your notes on your response together. Then:

• Read through your notes on the question. Remind yourself what you need to discuss in your reflection statement.
• Write down what you will discuss in your reflection statement.
• Now you need to think about what parts of your main task you will discuss. To do this, refer to your notes about your main task. Ask yourself, “which parts of my task are most relevant to what the task is asking me to discuss?”
• Note down what you think will be the order for presenting your reflection. For example, you may want to start with your structural decisions before discussing your use of techniques or you may want to discuss your influences before discussing your ideas.

Once you’ve got your plan together, you’re ready to write. Matrix students get advice on their assessment tasks from their Matrix Tutors and Teachers. It might be helpful to ask a peer or parent for their thoughts if your school teacher can’t provide advice.

Step 7: Write your introductory statement

The length of your introduction will be contingent on the specifics of your task:

• If your reflection statement is less than 400 words, you will need to produce one or two sentences.
• If you are writing a longer reflection statement of more than 400 words, you will need to write a short introduction.
• If you are producing an Extension 2 reflection statement, this will need to be a longer and more detailed introductory paragraph.

When writing your introduction, you must:

• Introduce the topic you will discuss;
• Explain how this reflects on the work that you are discussing;
• Make reference to the Module you are studying.

Once you have produced your introduction, you are now ready to develop your discussion and discuss the specifics of your main piece of work.

Step 8: Write the body of your argument

Now you’ve introduced your subject matter you need to start presenting an argument. Even though you are reflecting on your own work, you still need to use examples to demonstrate how you’ve set about responding to the main task.

You will need to present several examples to support your argument, but the number of examples will vary depending on the length of the task you’ve been set.

For a shorter reflection, try to present two or three examples and discuss them in detail. If you need to produce several paragraphs, you should be aiming at around four per paragraph.

To do this:

• Introduce the idea you were trying to convey (this might be an influence on your work, a technique you’ve tried to use, or a theme you’ve tried to explore).
• Present an example of this idea.
• Explain how you have attempted to use or explore this idea.
• Explain how this addresses the instructions and marking criteria for the task.
• Explain how this is relevant to the Module you are studying.
• Comment on other choices you could have made and why you didn’t use the other option.
• Repeat this for each example that you need to support your point.

Once you’ve done this, you need to conclude your reflection.

Step 9: Write your concluding statement

Your final statement needs to address the broad idea you have discussed in your response. It will need to be at least two sentences. A longer reflection will require a longer concluding statement; if you had a separate introduction you will require a separate conclusion.

To write your concluding statement:

• Summarise the key ideas that you have discussed.
• Make a statement about what you have taken away from your study of the Module and the process of producing this task and reflecting on it.

Now you need to revise what you’ve written.

Step 10: Proof and edit your work

It is really important that you proof and edit your work before submitting. You don’t want to throw away marks on typos and unnecessary grammatical errors. Proofing your work is something you must do after you finish any task.

To proof your reflection statement:

• Reread your summary of the notification of the task and the marking criteria.
• Read your reflection statement aloud.
• Whenever you encounter a mistake or a sentence that sounds ungrammatical, correct it.
• Pay attention to the logic of your argument. Does it make sense?
• Ask yourself, have I addressed the instructions for the task?
• Ask yourself, have I addressed the marking criteria for a Band 6 response.
• Redraft your reflection statement in its entirety. Don’t submit your first draft. Your second draft will always be better.

If you would like to know more about the editing process, you should read Part 7 of our Beginner’s Guide to Acing HSC English: How to Edit Your Work .

Now you’ve finished a second draft you can submit. If you can, you should try and get some feedback. Matrix students get regular feedback from their Matrix Tutors and Teachers. Feedback on your work allows you to take somebody else’s perspective and use it to improve your marks.

Written by Matrix English Team

© Matrix Education and www.matrix.edu.au, 2023. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Matrix Education and www.matrix.edu.au with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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This article reconsiders the perceived tensions between “creative” and “critical” practices in the study of Creative Writing. The “critical-creative problem” is first defined in broader historical and cultural contexts, then in relation to contemporary critics who recognize a more specific split within Creative Writing pedagogy. By analyzing the language of creative-critical division within AHRC funding guidelines and NAWE subject benchmarks, I argue that redefining our own terms may be the most effective first step towards changing the realities of institutional structures. The second half of this article reflects on the development of a new MA module (“Critical Approaches to Creative Writing”) in order to test these ideas in practice. Hierarchies of lesson planning and degree planning are considered, along with ways the language of validated documents might affect student expectations. Finally, the specific assignment of a “manifesto” is proposed as an alternative to “reflective commentary” or “poetics”, which might help engender a more fluid interchange of creative and critical practice. The article concludes with reflections on feedback from this module’s first run.

Keywords: creative writing, critical reflection, pedagogy, practice-based research, manifesto

Introduction: The Critical-Creative Problem

Writers and academics often bristle at the suggestion that any real divide exists between creative and critical practice. It is understandable that so-called “creative writing” practitioners would insist on the critical scope of their work, and that research scholars would point out the creativity involved in theirs. Nevertheless, practical configurations within higher education – e.g. programme design, teaching specialization, assessment modes, funding structures, and the commitments these require in writing practice – undeniably work to maintain what is, after all, a fairly ancient cultural binary. Already in 380 BC, Plato acknowledges the “old quarrel between philosophy and poetry” in his Republic . More recently, Richard Sennet has expanded on the claim that “History has drawn fault lines dividing practice and theory, technique and expression, craftsman and artist, maker and user; modern society suffers from this historical inheritance” (2008). However, the reasons for this very old “disconnection”, as Kim Lasky (2013) calls it, are less well-documented. Further along in Western philosophy, René Descartes’ (1641) nearly four-hundred-year-old conception of a mind-body divide still persists in popular notions of division within the mind, between rational and emotional, or analytic and creative thinking, often envisioned in relation to a physical division between the brain’s right and left hemispheres.

However we have inherited this abstract binary, its repercussions include the institutional divisions mentioned above, which create, in turn, very real challenges for the academic study of Creative Writing. The practical and pedagogical consequence is that, as Lasky suggests, “Somehow, conceptually, the creative and critical processes have become falsely separated” (2013). Partly, this may be due to the role a creative-critical divide plays in the conception or identity of “Creative Writing” as a distinct discipline. However, it may be worth remembering that Ralph Waldo Emerson’s 1837 address to the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Harvard, which includes perhaps the first use of the term “creative writing”, defines it reciprocally: “One must be an inventor to read well … There is then creative reading as well as creative writing.” Plenty of the growing number of researchers who focus on Creative Writing pedagogy insist on a similar “synergy between the creative, the practical and the critical” (Kroll and Harper, 2013), or cite a tradition of holistic humanism, from Matthew Arnold’s idea of poetry as “criticism of life” (1880) or George Steiner’s insistence that “All serious art, music and literature is a critical act” (1991). Yet, for every suggestion of continuity, another writer-critic maintains the separation. Laura Riding, for instance, writes:

It is improper to advance that criticism and poetry spring from the same kind of personal impulse … Criticism and creation do not face the same way, but face each other, criticism forgoing creation in order to be able to describe it (2014).

For practical reasons, this is the view that often prevails in the academy. Beyond the broad ideals, the day-to-day integration of specific contemporary critical practices into a field which self-identifies as a “creative”, craft- (rather than research-) oriented discipline remains an open question. As Paul Dawson argues:

The challenge for writing programmes is how to accommodate the insights of critical theory, identity politics and cultural studies, and the critiques of literature which these offer, while still retaining the central pedagogical aim of Creative Writing, which is to teach students how to develop their writing skills in order to produce literary works (2003).

In many ways, the time seems ripe for implementing such integration on a deep level, within Creative Writing programmes and across the field. Critics like Dawson (2003) and Hecq (2013) argue that the “post-theory” state of literary study offers an opportunity for adopting a more self-reflective and self-critical stance towards now canonical “Theory” within creative contexts. Others, like Michelene Wandor (2008), have stressed the importance of critical engagement as a means beyond Creative Writing’s traditional emphasis on individual student development, or avowedly narcissistic notions of “finding one’s voice” and bringing individual work to “publishable standard”. Finally, the first generation of UK academics with PhDs in Creative Writing, whose own critical and creative practices have developed in hybrid circumstances, seem well-positioned to help re-define the subject area, and help it move beyond the compartmentalization – or “siloing”, as Madeleine Morris (2013) calls it – they have had to negotiate in defining their own place within HE institutions.

Representing one of these new crossbreed PhDs myself, and as one of many lecturers who teach across Creative Writing and English Literature programmes, I want to focus on very practical concerns for the critical and creative sides of my own pedagogic role. Again, the timing seems just right, as the planning and validation of a new introductory MA module called “Critical Approaches to Creative Writing” provided an ideal case study, or opportunity to put these ideas into practice.

A New Spectrum: Practice-Based Research vs. Research-informed Practice

Although I suggested there is a disjunction between the ideals of critical-creative “synergy” and the realities of institutional structures, I would still argue that the first step towards changing these structures involves a change in thinking. By adopting new language that reflects these goals, general or personal philosophies regarding the critical-creative relationship will inevitably interact with and eventually affect institutional or otherwise official discourses that enforce those practical realities. To achieve a more integrated and reciprocal use of the terms “critical” and “creative” (which have specific meanings that make them worth keeping), we might begin by reconfiguring, or perhaps refreshing, their already shared claims to the words “practice” and “research”. Reasserting a definition of “practice” as a process structured by repetition, or habitual activities, helps to emphasize the endless loop of exercise (or “practice” in the preparatory sense) and application involved in any criticism or creativity. We might similarly revive a broader conception of “research” as recherché , with its analogous textual pursuit, via memory and applied concepts or strategies. As Jeri Kroll reminds us, helpfully: “ Research is both a noun and a verb” (2013). Research (and re-searching), is always an on-going, circular practice, which, conversely, always involves a re-search in some form. Positing an analogy between the work of a Creative Writing classroom and what takes place in more “scientific” laboratories, Kroll stresses existent parallels:

Writers followed a similar practice-led research loop, conducting and replicating experiments, interpreting results, gathering information, before gaining fresh insights and moving on.

In this way, we begin to see creative and critical practice in the Humanities involved in a common discursive process and goal. Both draw, first and foremost, on language’s ability to establish new possibilities of experience – whether intellectual or sensual – and do so by virtue of the relationship between their textual products and inherently textual processes. Kroll highlights this continuity: “Writers in the academy are researchers within an institutional community whose goal is the production of new knowledge” (my emphasis). Moreover, this output shares with all disciplines a commitment to established forms and genres – whether the monograph, novel, article, or poem – and their associated rhetorical “craft”. Thus, beyond the vague humanistic dream of common ground or business-like “synergy”, a spectrum of practice emerges in more concrete terms.

Creative Writing’s particular “bandwidth” along this spectrum falls between forms we might define as practice-based research and research-informed practice. In the most basic sense, practice-based research pertains to any research presented in “creative” forms. (Scientific poems like Lucretius’ On the Nature of Things (1st century B.C.) or Erasmus Darwin’s Botanic Garden (1791) are obvious historical precedents.) At the other end, research-informed practice might include all creative work that draws to some degree on research (i.e. all creative work). But rather than pinning down a piece of work at some point between those poles, the glaring paradox which closes the loop between them allows us to re-envisage Creative Writing as a self-reflexive, continuous movement along the spectrum, sliding between reading and writing strategies, collaboration and individual work, process and product, and consumption and production throughout every project. Although clearly due to the transitional, emerging status of the discipline, the fact that the Quality Assurance Agency for Higher Education (QAA) has yet to publish a set of benchmarks specific to the Creative Writing subject area leaves us free to define that spectrum of practice in relation to the assorted Creative Writing guidelines often tacked on to English Literature. In practical terms, these attempts to accommodate creative work into traditionally critical frameworks might help us to do the opposite. For their funding awards, for instance, the Arts and Humanities Research Council’s “Definition of Research” stipulates:

Creative output can be produced, or practice undertaken, as an integral part of a research process as defined above. The Council would expect, however, this practice to be accompanied by some form of documentation of the research process, as well as some form of textual analysis or explanation to support its position and as a record of your critical reflection. Equally, creativity or practice may involve no such process at all, in which case it would be ineligible for funding from the Council (2012).

I will address the specific issue of an accompanying “form of documentation” below, but already we can see the difficulties that arise from such a rigid distinction between the “creative output” itself and the required “explanation”, assumed to be a separate document. The very notion of a potentially “ineligible” creative output – which somehow springs into existence without any evidence of research, self-explanation or self-positioning within the work itself – suggests a similarly unhelpful straw man. On the positive side, however, we see the AHRC grappling towards less restrictive structures in the definition’s lack of precision towards the output “produced, or practice undertaken”, the final form of that documentation, or the slight contradiction (i.e. wiggle room) between a creative process which is “an integral part of a research process” and one which is merely “accompanied” by critical reflection.

In lieu of ‘official’ benchmarks, (which the QAA are currently preparing for publication in late 2015), Creative Writing programmes are often designed and validated with reference to benchmarks published in 2008 by the National Association of Writers in Education. Although the NAWE benchmarks might be accused of the inverse problem, or of “tacking on” gestures towards critical integration, a bridge between the two approaches begins to develop. In points 3.1.2 and 3.2.2, the NAWE benchmarks include requirements of “critical awareness” and “critical engagement”. For pedagogical purposes, “critical awareness” measures the student’s abilities “to contextualize writing” within critical frameworks and “to reflect constructively” on their “own process and product” (3.1.2). “Critical engagement,” on the other hand, pertains to the student’s ability to employ more traditional critical practices, including analysis, argument, referencing, and response to existing criticism (3.2.2). Likewise, NAWE’s recent follow-up report, Beyond the Benchmark (2013), notes the more common emphasis on “reading like a writer” or “critical reflection”, rather than specific instances in which critical practice might be integrated into creative production. Between the AHRC’s approach from the research side and NAWE’s from the creative (and between the NAWE benchmarks themselves), the extent of a “hybridity” problem becomes clear. Both criteria maintain a certain distinction between creative and critical practice, which both expect to be manifest in double requirements – the “primary” creative work and supplementary evidence of critical facility. In my case study of a new MA module called “Critical Approaches to Creative Writing”, I will argue that the tension between these segregated guidelines and a more fluid “spectrum of practice” applies to more than mere assessment criteria, and must be considered from the first conceptions of a module or programme.

Case Study: “Critical Approaches to Creative Writing”

If changing one’s own conception of the relationship between critical and creative practice is the first and easiest step to take towards developing a pedagogy which promotes their mutual benefit, a hierarchy of further negotiations – from most immediate and flexible to most remote and inflexible – might be built up from session planning, syllabus design, and module design, to programme design, and broader faculty, institutional, or sector-wide considerations. In the second half of this paper, I want to turn from the more speculative discussion of how critical and creative practices might co-exist to a specific scenario on which these arguments came to bear. The development of a new MA module, “Critical Approaches to Creative Writing,” was part of the larger evolution of the York St John University MA in Creative Writing, which, like many writing programmes, had its initial incarnation as a pathway for students on a Literature MA. Although the separate Creative Writing award was established in 2009, the introduction of this new module represents the final break from that shared structure, where a foundational module, “Introduction to Research, Theory, and Writing Practices,” previously catered to both Literature and Creative Writing students. Although this evolution is by no means unique, it helps to emphasize the relationship between those different levels of design control.

Workshop vs. Seminar

At the level of module design, one of the first decisions, which may seem incidental, but deeply affects student expectations and perception, is whether sessions would be labelled “seminars” or “workshops”. (At the undergraduate level, the connotations of “lecture” are added to the options.) This loaded question brings baggage from the whole history of Creative Writing as an academic discipline, from its beginnings at Harvard in the 1880s. There, the novelty of Barrett Wendell’s model was the role of peer-critique for new creative work presented in the class, or what would come to be known as “workshopping” with the founding of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop at the University of Iowa in 1936. As Seth Abramson, a historian of the discipline, has noted, a key difference between the Harvard and Iowa models was that the former (which quickly became prevalent across the US in the early twentieth-century) was always integrated into a more “traditional” study of literature, partly by virtue of its instructors having advanced degrees in English and often teaching across the two disciplines (2012). The Iowa programme, on the other hand, introduced the “studio” model of workshopping – a still pervasive model, especially in non-academic settings, which is convergent with “masterclass” formats in the history of other Fine Art disciplines.

The seeds of the current debate over critical-creative writing practice are sown in this history of the writing workshop, which figures pointedly into new questions of hybridity and integration. Whether or not students (or their instructors) are aware of this specific history, it plays a deep background role in their expectations when joining and paying for a programme that advertises itself as workshop-led. For all of these reasons, some critics have been keen to separate the discipline from such historical baggage, either to the extreme of Michelene Wandor’s insistence that “the workshop must go” (2008), or Jeri Kroll’s reimagining of a Creative Writing “laboratory” (2013). On the other hand, I have been heartened to witness the recent trend of applying the workshop label to Literature contexts as well, an appropriation which seems to perform the same necessary re-opening of a term for, in simplest terms, a place where work is done. In this context, the name “workshop” offers a fine reminder, for both subjects, of the circular, on-going, and literally creative practice they share. In this way, its fraught history gives the label a useful flexibility. As Paul Munden argues in NAWE’s Beyond the Benchmark :

To describe [the workshop] as an “established” or “signature” pedagogy is to misunderstand it and cast it as orthodoxy – the very thing that Creative Writing programmes strive to avoid. The workshop’s mercurial, enigmatic character is part of its purpose (2013).

I do sympathize with critiques of the workshop model that focus on its tendency to isolate creative and critical practices, and with broader criticism of the emphasis on individual development that a workshop model often entails. However, other commentators have suggested that the workshop allows for an openness that might be conducive to mixed critical approaches, while also drawing on established critical contexts as a means to counter such unproductive individualism. (See Dawson, 2003; Hecq 2013.) The validated Rationale for my “Critical Approaches” module proposes to provide students, first of all, “the opportunity to explore the relationship between critical thinking and creative writing, and to think about the role of research in their writing practice” (Welsch, 2013). However, I include “workshopping” among a list of activities, and consent to the labelling of sessions as “workshops” in the timetable, due to my hope for the open exchange of ideas and work – and ideas about the relationship between ideas and work – it might encourage.

Learning Outcomes

From this fairly pedantic start, the design for my module proceeded along a trajectory of constructive alignment through learning outcomes, assessment, and finally (after validation of the initial components) the syllabus for its first delivery. As Biggs notes, “in a constructively aligned system, all components,” including these three main areas, will “support each other, so the learner is enveloped within a supportive learning system” (2011:109). After any number of committee revisions, the final, validated wording of the four learning outcomes for “Critical Approaches” are as follows:

• Critically reflect on the nature of the literary text and its production in terms of their own work and the work of other writers.
• Articulate a sophisticated position in relation to their creative practice.
• Produce a body of original creative writing that engages with the technicalities and creative strategies within contemporary writing.
• Demonstrate a comprehensive understanding of generic techniques.

On the surface, these learning outcomes might appear to support a segregation of critical and creative practices, insofar as the first two seem to suggest critical outputs and the latter two will require creative work. Within the individual outcomes as well, as much as there is an attempt to bridge the creative and critical, there remains a clear conception of them as distinct activities and/or outputs. For example, LO 1 requires that the critical “reflection” on “the nature of the literary text” be in reference to the student’s “own work” as well as “the work of other writers.” Likewise, LOs 3 and 4 imply that the student’s own creative output will “engage” with and demonstrate an “understanding” of techniques – either of which could conceivably be evidenced for assessment in the creative work itself, or else accompanying “critical” material.

One great challenge when formulating learning outcomes in any discipline is how to represent the circular processes discussed above within a seemingly linear (or, at least, assessment-oriented) structure. In the often disputed, but ubiquitous terms of Bloom’s taxonomy, the “reflection”, “articulation” of a position, and “production” of new work from outcomes 1-3 all pertain to higher levels in the (revised) Cognitive domains of Applying, Analyzing, Evaluating, and Creating. LO 4, on the other hand, with a possibly practical or possibly critical demonstration of “understanding”, might align with lower level Understanding as well as higher level application of that knowledge (Krathwohl, 2002). As an M-level module, it seems appropriate that learning outcomes would pertain mostly to those higher levels, while drawing upon and broadening basic understanding. Again though, the main concern here is in negotiating an effective balance between (1) a linear module structure, (2) this hierarchical requirement for increasingly “advanced” knowledge, and (3) the circularity of practices which move continuously between new ideas and application, free to slide easily along a creative-critical spectrum.

Assessment: the Dreaded “Commentary”

As the learning outcomes suggest, the real test for integrating creative and critical practice came with assessment design. Here again, a standard model looms. As Wandor notes, the most common strategy for assessing “critical” practice in Creative Writing

has been to develop, for both undergraduate and postgraduate students, what is variously called commentary, self-reflective writing, a critical essay, a writing journal, an exegesis, ficto-criticism, or the supplementary discourse (2008:145).

NAWE’s Beyond the Benchmark survey of HE Creative Writing programmes confirms that “the critical commentary is viewed by many to be of crucial importance”, while admitting that the “vocabulary can be confusing” (2013). At our university, on the many undergraduate and postgraduate modules which adopt this “supplementary” model, we call it a “Critical Self-Commentary” – which is perhaps no better or worse than any other name, although I do feel it helps to foreground a “critical” over vaguely “reflective” stance. While our validated module documents refrain from prescriptiveness to allow for future flexibility, students at all levels are provided with extensive guidance and support regarding the contents of a “Critical Self-Commentary”. In many cases though, this does not seem sufficient to allay students’ anxieties about the unfamiliar form. Partly, this seems related to a tension between the module designer’s conception of an on-going relationship between critical evaluation and creative output and student perceptions of a linear process, aimed solely towards the final assessment point. As Lasky writes:

Faced with the task of producing a preface, introduction, commentary, or some other critical discourse related to their work, writers often forget that they have, actually, been engaged in a wealth of critical activity during the process of composition (2013).

Another common concern relates to what Carole Satyamurti calls, only half-jokingly, the fear of “premature evaluation” (2003). In this case, the popular cultural division between creative and critical practice, or so-called imaginative and analytic thinking, seems to underlie a worry that switching from the right to left brain, even for a moment, will somehow derail the artistic process. The problem with the commentary model, however it is defined, is that it exacerbates these fears by indulging them, reinforcing a perceived difference between types of writing which belong in either the preface or main body of the submitted assignment. Wandor is similarly disparaging about this “solution, which might appear to hybridize the relationship between the creative and the critical, or even transcend their differences,” but ultimately “raises more questions and problems,” due to the commentary’s “accompanying” status (2008:145). Again, the Beyond the Benchmark survey supports this, reporting general feedback that this component “is not always well taught, [and] viewed by students as an ‘add-on’” (2013).

For this new module, I proposed a mixed strategy, with two assessment points, the latter of which, at the end of the term, consists of “A Portfolio of original writing totalling 5,000-6,000 words (or agreed equivalent for poetry),” including “a Critical Self-Commentary of no less than 1000 words” (2013). The “no less than” qualification for the Commentary, which we include on all modules, allows students to set the balance as they see appropriate to the work. (An extreme example I use is that I would be happy to mark a haiku poem followed by 6,000 words of commentary.) Furthermore, the ambiguity of “original writing”, in place of more prescriptive requirements (e.g. fiction, poems), is intended to encourage students to include writing they might not think of as primarily or entirely “creative”.

The Manifesto

The major innovation for this module, however, is the requirement of “a Manifesto of approximately 2,000 words” at a separate, earlier assessment point, for 20% of the overall mark. In some ways, the “manifesto” assignment chimes neatly with Lasky’s advocacy (in an article published after our validation) of having students write a “poetics”. For Lasky, the Greek term poetics , with its etymological emphasis on “making” and its historical association with Aristotle’s famous treatise (380 B.C.), make it an ideal framework for helping students

to develop a reflective critical perspective on their work continuously throughout the composition of a piece [and] encourages them to gather together a storehouse of material that will inform a critical discourse about their creative work (2013).

Lasky’s emphasis on drawing out the circularity of the critical-creative process fits well with the philosophy above. Likewise, the notion of gathering a “storehouse” underscores the relationship between that on-going process and a final assessment point that includes a “critical discourse.” The stress placed on how a working “poetics” might facilitate the development of a “knowledge that grows in the shift between writing and reflecting modes,” is also most welcome.

Nevertheless, Lasky’s conception of a poetics still fails to provide for the possibility of writing output that integrates critical and creative processes on a deeper, formal level. Without delving too far into the history of the manifesto form, it will suffice to point out the way many well-known examples of literary or artistic manifesto – following F.T. Marinetti’s genre-founding First Futurist Manifesto (1909) – use the form as a means to enact the same principles they espouse. Where some manifestos adopt an integrated hybrid approach – such as William Carlos Williams’ Spring and All (1923), with its prose argument broken up by verse “illustrations” – others present themselves in formally innovative modes that make their case almost entirely by way of demonstration. The many Dada manifestos by Tristan Tzara, or Guillaume Apollinaire’s visual texts of L’Antitradition Futuriste and other manifestos fall squarely in this category. The fact that the literary manifesto (like all writing genres) has such a specific cultural history provides a further opportunity for critical-creative engagement with tradition, which might include its longer history in political, religious, and legal contexts, for instance. One could argue, furthermore, that the emphasis on “manifest” form (literally “to be held in the hand”) in the Latinate name, manifesto , finally offers a structure in which – and through which – to reflect on the complex, circular relationship between thought and work, or process and product, at the often unseen root of all Creative Writing study, as discussed above.

For all of these reasons, the module rationale also specifies that “Part of [students’] learning will involve analysis and discussion of various ‘manifesto’ style pieces” (2013). The topic and assignment are introduced to students within these historical and formal contexts, and with an emphasis on the form’s inherently hybrid, critical-creative nature. This includes discussion of the growing body of critical theory around manifestos, such as Jerome Rothenberg’s description (1997) of it as “personal accounting & a prescription/directive for future acts,” or Mary Ann Caws’ emphasis (2000) on what she calls the manifesto’s “madness” and its “deliberate manipulation of the public view”. Beyond this, we are deliberate broad in our examples and deliberately vague in our prescription of the shape a student’s manifesto might take. Some students stick to a bullet-pointed list of principles; some submit fiction or poetry which takes a “meta” approach to illustrating its values; others create visual text collages or parodies that would have done the Dadaist proud.

Conclusion: “Critical” Reflections

“Critical Approaches to Creative Writing” ran for the first time in Autumn 2013. I never saw the relatively small and not terribly radical intervention of assessing a manifesto as a “solution” to the critical-creative problem, partly because such problems often seem as productive as they are niggling. Having taught and directed the module’s first run, I am also much more aware of the variety of responses such unexpected assignments will generate, especially from a cohort with such a variety of backgrounds and interests. Those responses can be quantified to the extent that no student failed the assignment (or scored below 50%), and that 70% of the 20-strong cohort received a mark of 60 or higher. The fact that none of the manifestos were marked either very low or very high (nothing above 75%) might reflect its place as the first assessment point on the degree, when students may not yet have the confidence for more ambitious approaches. In any case, informal feedback and the qualitative responses in module evaluations have already proven more useful as we plan towards another year.

As we might have expected, one frequent question was of the manifesto’s relevance to the students’ development as writers – as opposed to feedback on the “writing itself”, presumably. The flip side of this is a more general anxiety about guidelines for the assignment. Although the intentions behind manifesto-writing were more specific, this echoes the worry Lasky saw in students tasked with writing the less familiar “commentary”, which motivated the “poetics” assignment. The frustrating, but understandable double-standard here is a general preference for very open-ended guidelines when dealing with supposedly known quantities – a short story, or set of poems, for example – and the sense of guidance being “insufficient” for an assignment intended to break down assumptions about form and to encourage experimentation. In this regard, our first-run students seem decidedly split between those who felt encouraged or discouraged by the manifesto assignment. One simply “found the guidance insufficient.” Another “did not understand what I was supposed to be doing … [and] did not find the instructions clear.” A few more moderate views were able to “appreciate that because of the nature of the module, these things had to be quite open.” And from the other side, a student writes: “We were given freedom on this assignment, the Manifesto, with some examples but no real guidelines; I really liked this approach. I felt it allowed us to think carefully about what was important to us as fledgling writers.”

I wouldn’t want to cherry-pick positive responses any more than I’d wish to dwell on the negative. Nor would I protest that our guidance was exhaustive, when we may have erred on the side of deliberate vagueness in this first run, hoping to encourage creativity with a more hands-off approach, once we had taught the history and offered a range of examples. The challenge of getting the balance right in future seems deeply bound up with the bigger open questions about the balance between creative and critical practices within the discipline. Given the assignment’s place at the start of their programme, the stark disparities in these responses also point to the range of expectations, partly engendered by that wider cultural insistence on a divide. All the same, I don’t expect new AHRC or QAA guidelines to effect from above the sort of subtle changes in perception and week-to-week pedagogy that will result a wide-scale shift away from perspective delineations of “critical” or “creative” output, within which students and tutors can work together towards the greatest range of real work. Achieving that balance, given the diverse needs of any given cohort, depends upon first changing our own language and seeking forms of learning flexible enough to respond to those needs.

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J. T. Welsch is a lecturer in Creative Writing and English Literature at York St John University, where he teaches various writing forms and theory, and with a particular emphasis on creative research and employability skills. His primary research interests are in High and Late Modernism, with forthcoming articles on William Carlos Williams, James Joyce, and John Berryman. He has also published five chapbooks of his own poetry.