Wednesday, February 26, 2020

Adjectives in research proposals – methinks thou dost protest too much!


Our written world would be much less rich without adjectives. They put the paint on the walls of the picture in our mind’s eye, fill the imagined scene with a diversity of vivid sounds and scents, and give substance to the movie that plays out in our heads when we read or listen to words produced by others. In short, they describe the world, enabling us to sense it by proxy when we don’t sense it directly.

Consider the following sentence from P.G. Wodehouse’s novel Thank You, Jeeves, in which Sir Roderick Glossop describes an alarming encounter with what turns out to be a monkey on the stairs of the Dower House at the fictional Chuffnell Hall:
I had scarcely reached the stairs when I observed a hideous form. A little, short, broad, bow-legged individual with long arms and a short, wizened face.
This concise sentence paints for the reader a very clear and distinctive picture of whoever – or indeed whatever – it was that Sir Roderick came across on the stairs. Stripped of its adjectives though, all we’d learn from the sentence is that Sir Roderick encountered an individual that had arms and a face (as indeed the majority of individuals tend to have).
 
‘Good’ adjectives and ‘bad’ adjectives?
For the purposes of this short blog post, I’ll divide adjectives into two broad categories – ‘functional’ and ‘hyperbolic’ – and consider the respective effects of adjectives falling into each category when they’re used in the context of a research proposal.

Functional adjectives can be used to provide helpful or essential information to the reader. In describing this blog post as ‘short’, for example, I’m letting the reader know early on what they can expect – reassuring them that I’m not asking for too much of their time while managing any expectations that it might keep them occupied for the whole of their Penzance to Edinburgh train journey. Okay, ‘short’ is somewhat subjective – my short might be your lengthy when it comes to blog posts, for example – but if you’re one of my regular readers then at least we can establish that this post is a bit less lengthy than my usual monthly ramblings.

But what if I’d said ‘this amazing blog post’? Just by using a different type of adjective, I would have made a highly-subjective claim with which you might very well disagree. And whether you disagreed or not, you’d be well within your rights to want to decide for yourself whether it’s really an amazing post. By using hyperbole – hyping my blog in the hope that I’ll convince you to read it – I may well have annoyed you and put you off it altogether. You’d quite likely now be looking for grounds to refute my highly-questionable ‘amazing’ claim.

I’ve never actually seen anyone claim in writing that their proposed research project is amazing. But I do quite commonly encounter adjectives that may, to a greater or lesser extent, fall into my ‘hyperbolic’ category. Research methods are often described by those who have devised them as ‘novel’, for example, while areas of unmet clinical need are quite commonly held out to be ‘major’. These seemingly-innocuous descriptive words might however prompt the terse reviewer to remark that “I’ll be the judge of that!” Too much hype and not enough evidence to support it may start to raise suspicions that your claims are over-inflated. The title of this post misquotes Shakespeare’s Queen Gertrude – Hamlet’s mother – who feels that a character in a play she’s watching is trying too hard to convince, and in doing so is undermining her own credibility. 

In their corporate guide to writing clearly, the National Centre for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) has the following to say under the heading ‘Unnecessary adjectives’:
Adjectives and adverbs (describing words) are subjective, can dilute your meaning and add to your word count.
In a previous blog post, I made the case – with a little help from Nature journal’s writing-style guide for authors – that clear, plain-language writing such as is advocated by NICE will always improve a research proposal. So, are ‘novel’ and ‘major’ really examples of unnecessary adjectives?

What if I were to write about an illness that has no cure and is suffered by almost 5 million people in the UK and over 450 million people worldwide, causing over 500 premature deaths each week in the UK alone where a new diagnosis is made every two minutes on average? The condition causes complications that lead in the UK to 170 amputations, over 500 heart attacks and almost 700 strokes every week. In these two quite lengthy sentences I have used just two adjectives – both of them functional (‘premature’ and ‘new’). Do I really need to add in words like ‘major’, ‘significant’ and ‘considerable’ to underscore the severity of this public-health problem, or do the facts and figures render such adjectives redundant? If your research is addressing an important problem of some sort, have confidence in the facts as you present them and in your reader’s ability to interpret them. The condition, by the way, is diabetes.

The other example I gave, involving the use of ‘novel’, is perhaps a graver offence in a research proposal. Consider the following sentence: “This novel proposal will fill current gaps in understanding of the infection biology of Salmonella enterica.” The use of ‘novel’ here represents a completely unsubstantiated claim – how do we know the proposal is novel, and in what ways does it fit that description? Better to spell all of this out for the reader, and let them come to their own conclusion that your project includes some exciting new features and approaches. Describe those novel aspects, explaining what makes them different from what has gone before and perhaps pointing out how your own review of the published literature supports this contention. If your claims are accurate and backed up by the facts, then once again they should speak for themselves.

De-cluttering your text
Anyone who ever reads or listens to what I have to say on the subject of bid writing will know that I'm pretty evangelical about the use of plain language – keeping text clear and clean, uncluttered by anything that might detract from the meaning you wish to convey to the reader. Hyperbolic adjectives are a good example of the kind of unnecessary clutter that you should always look to cut out. In her book The Winning Bid: A practical guide to successful bid management, the author Emma Jaques echoes my enthusiasm for plain, uncluttered language:
Use plain English when creating your text. In reality, this means using short sentences and writing in straightforward language that even the layperson can understand ... Try to avoid jargon, unnecessary adjectives (things like ‘really unique’), padding or fancy words...
Going all-in on the adjective hate!
If I’ve prompted you look more closely at something you might be doing more or less unconsciously when you write, then you may be interested to take a look at this polemic article, which only half-jokingly makes the case against using adjectives in pretty much all forms of writing. In the article, the author – a professional writer and editor – quotes from Noah Lukeman’s The First Five Pages: A Writer’s Guide to Staying Out of the Rejection Pile and lists six key reasons why manuscripts are badly compromised by heavy reliance on adjectives and adverbs:
  • less is more
  • assuming that the reader can’t see what you want them to see is to underestimate them
  • writers should always make the reader use their imagination
  • the most overused adjectives and adverbs are common words that don’t add much
  • adjectives and adverbs often don’t pack as much power as you might think
  • excessive use makes for unnecessary slow reading

OK, so point four does look rather similar to point five from where I’m sitting. But with the exception of making readers use their imagination – fine for fiction and creative writing, maybe not so helpful in a research proposal, where we don’t want reviewers to do too much in the way of imagining or thinking for themselves – I reckon the above points apply as much to a research-funding bid as they might to a novel.


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