Someone’s in My Class Today. On Bud Goodall.

Today is the first day of class at East Tennessee State University, a regional institution of higher education nestled in Johnson City at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. It is of course a time of new beginnings, fresh new faces, a new excitement, and a time to renew the commitment to the teaching part of the triad that makes being a professor such wonderful work.

There is, this year anyway, a silence, a loss for those of us who are – and desire to be - great teachers and researchers in this discipline we call Communication. That, of course, is the loss of Bud Goodall.

I could spend an inordinate amount of time discussing Bud’s work. As one of the early narrative ethnographers he helped break new ground, proving that research doesn’t need use objective writing wherein the author can hide. Nope. Not Bud. When you read Casing a Promised Land: The Autobiography of an Organizational Detective as Cultural Ethnographer you can hear Bud’s distinctive voice. When you read Living in the Rock n Roll Mystery: Reading Context, Self, and Others as Clues, you can feel Bud in his words on the pages. This continued throughout his narrative ethnographic writing, all the way through to the end...when he was writing on his blog, called The Daily Narrative.

* * * *

The first time I met Bud I was so uncomfortable and out of my depth. I was a communication pup - a mere first year Master’s student at Saint Louis University brought "backstage" at NCA. I entered this hotel room and there was Bud with Nick Trujillo, Bob Krizek, Kathy Miller, Paaige K. Turner, and a few others I cannot recall. I think Eric Eisenberg was there too.  The guitars came out. Singing commenced. The songs were classic rock and I could almost imagine Bud on the road living that rock n roll mystery. Bud, however, could tell I was feeling out of my element. Shoot, I was out of my element! As I was leaving he said, "Don't worry about it Andrew, soon enough you'll be on this side of the stage." Funny. I hadn't made up my mind to get my doctorate at that point. But he - he knew - he knew before I did.

* * * *

Bud was more than just a narrative writer though. He was a teacher in every sense of the word. His texts Writing the New Ethnography, and Writing Qualitative Inquiry: Self, Stories, and Academic Life are exemplars of – and for – a type of dialogical writing that consumes the reader through engagement.

* * * *

The second time I met Bud was when he came to Saint Louis University to give a talk while he was doing research on A Need to Know. His voice filled the room – when he started by saying “I’ve written this and I read what I’ve written, so I hope you don’t mind if I read exactly what I wrote.” It was endearing that a man who made communication his life, was so protective of his words, that he did not want to deviate. And we graduate students listened, enraptured.

Well, not all of us. Not quite. When he was finished he asked for questions. One of my peers (whom I adore to this day) asked, “How is THAT research?” I cannot recall what Bud said. All I can remember is “how” he said what he said. He was gracious and kind. He was open hearted and embracing. He was big and grand and full and wonderful to this student who did not agree with him. They went back and forth a few times. 

She never came around to his point of view about personal narrative research. And he was OK with that. He never wavered. Moreso, he never attacked, never raised his voice, and never disconfirmed her as a person. Put simply, he was Buberesque. 

* * * *

The next time Bud and I met, I was in 2006 at the International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry. I was just finished with my second year in my doctoral program. A little background will help. Once I started my dissertation research my friend and MA thesis advisor Bob Krizek would tell me “Get it done. The only good dissertation is a done dissertation.” He would call me and tell me that. The would paste it on my Facebook wall. “The only good dissertation is a done dissertation.” This had become something of a running joke. From my notes of the conference:

“We are coming to see your panel,” Paaige Turner says.

“You are?”

“Yeah. Hey Goodall is signing his book in the registration room. He wants to see you,” Bob says.

I head over to the registration room. Bud is sitting there behind a table talking with a middle-aged woman. As I walk up, he’s talking.

“…I didn’t know the story very well. I knew bits and pieces. Hey Andrew.”

“Hey Bud.”

Bud continues talking about his son Nic and scholarships and how to get him into school. Mitch Allen comes up to me.

“You want one of these books.”

“You bet.”

“Then I want 20 bucks and your address.”

“Well the 20 bucks I can see, but the address I dunno.”

“Well the CIA needs to take it,” Mitch says laughing. I hand Mitch my cash, and then I fill out the forms.

“Andrew. Do you want it A-N-D-R-E-W?” Bud asks.

“Yeah. How you doing?

“Quite Well. And you?”

“Good. Really Good.”

“Are you going to be doing your dissertation or are you gonna get sidetracked?”

“Aww. Have you been talking to Bob?”

“Who me?” We start laughing.

“Yeah, butt in the seat all fall and spring.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear, because the only good dissertation…”

Uh-oh!

“…is a done dissertation.” We laugh, Bud with his hearty laugh and big smile.

“I can’t believe I’ve got the final product here in my hands,” I say. “I’ve seen this in so many forms, but I’ve got to split. I’m presenting in a few minutes…”

“Right, you’re doing narrative ethics.”

“Yeah. But I’ll be at the panel tomorrow where we can all bow down and worship you for the God you pretend to be,” I joke.

“If that happens, I’m leaving!” We laugh and I chuckle my way back up the stairs. I’m being mentored in multiples.

* * * *

The last time I really spent any time with Bud (oh...if only I had known!) was at NCA in 2007, for the reunion tour of The Ethnogs. It was a charming reunion with Gory, Dougie, Dick (Bud), and the paradigm-switching Wolfie. Dick came up to me and asked if he could borrow my fedora. I handed it over. "Hats don't usually fit on my fat head," he said, "But your head is as big as mine!" They played their unplugged reunion tour. We all chatted and went back to the doing what conference goers do. If I had only known....

* * * *

That wasn't, however, wasn't the end of our friendship, even tough we didn't see each other again.

Bud was a mentor and a life coach. Not merely to his students, but to others trying to make a way through this thing called academe. I was one of the latter. (I recently found out he was to my buddy Art Herbig too!)  When I was struggling as a Ph.D. without a tenure-track job I was too ashamed to talk with my advisor Art Bochner. (You can ask me about it sometime. But don't do like I did. Always always always maintain a great relationship with your advisor!!) I didn’t reach out to Bud. Rather, Bud reached out to ME. That’s the kind of man he was. When I was bitter and scared and about to throw my academic life down the toilet, he recognized it. He saw it.

What did he do? He reached out and asked if he could read something I was writing. I sent him “Fear and Loathing in Urbana: Confessions of a Disgruntled Ethnographer.” When it came back to me, it was torn to shreds. His notes read: 

“This it whiny!” 

“Stop interrupting your own narrative.” 

“Who cares what that guy says?” 

“Get on with it.” 

“Quit griping and get back to the story.” 

“From story comes theory.”

 That original bitter piece was completely transformed into the recently published “’Criteria Against Ourselves?’ Embracing the Opportunities of Qualitative Inquiry.”

Here’s the thing. Bud DID NOT need to do that. He did not have to ask to see my piece or ask about me. This is the kind of man that he was, that he took upon himself the responsibility to help struggling young scholars. He was not only able to help, but he was willing.

* * * *

Today, I'm going to walk into my first class of the semester - Organizational Communication - for the first time. I’m using Eisenberg, Goodall, & Trethewey. The focus of the class on organizational ethnography, and we will be reading quite a bit of Bud’s work. I hope and pray I can do you justice. I know, in spirit, you will be there as provide my students the passion, the intelligence, the good humor, and the graciousness that you bestowed upon me.

You are a mentor to me. 

You are a scholarly influence.

You are a life coach. 

Most of all, you are my friend. 

Thank you Bud Goodall. 

For everything.

Reflections on the First Year of the Tenure Track

It’s been one hell of a year at East Tennessee State University. Lots of highs. Some interesting lows. Overall, though I have to say, I’m pretty pleased with myself. Not pleased – in that cocky “I can do no wrong, don’t I kick ass” sort of way. Pleased with the fact that I made it through the first year. Why would I say that? I’ll tell you.

I say that because in my years in academe, I’ve seen any number of people fall off the tenure track. Some brilliant, hard-working people in fact. That’s one of the dilemmas I have regarding my dissertation. I was thinking about doing a longitudinal piece and re-interviewing those people who would be now getting tenure. Trouble is – out of my small sample – half of them didn’t make tenure. A couple of them are not in academe anymore at all. So surviving the tenure-track isn’t as easy as, say, baking a cake. Not sure why I used that analogy, because I can’t bake for crap…but whatever.

I have to say straight out that there’s no way I would have survived this first year without my comrades in Communication Studies at East Tennessee State. So a shout out to Drs. B., D, O, & K.  First off, they took a chance by hiring someone who at the time was not in academe at all, but only tangentially – going to conferences, applying for jobs – trying to get back into academe while not employed. Hiring in academe is a risky business anyway, and they certainly took a risk. Second, as collegues, they made me feel welcome. 

They let me ask my “stupid” questions and answered them, without rolling their eyes at the silliness of "The Noob." While I know at times I got on their nerves with all the questions, interruptions the - “Hey what’s with the….?” –questions, they were all gracious. I cannot emphasize how important they were to my making the most out of this first year. 

On the home front, I arrived here in Johnson City, TN with nothing, and it took me a while to get set up. For the first month, I didn’t even have a bed. When that first paycheck rolled in, I spent all of it on furniture. The following month all my money went to pay off past due bills. Nice to be getting on track that way after a year of living on unemployment. Acclimating to JC wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, given that I’d lived in Tennessee once before, down in “The Noog.” I’ve made some friends. Found some like-minded compatriots to shoot the breeze with. I haven’t done much exploring. That will come this summer.

Not everything went as smoothly as I would have liked though. In my own opinion – and later confirmed by the student evals – my Organizational Communication class in the fall was a mess. Some of that had to do with learning the students: their expectations, their readiness, their culture. Some of that had to do with teaching a class that I hadn’t taught since 2007. So I learned some things as I went along: give four tests instead of three, drop a project that didn’t work as planned, rearrange the classroom to make it more interactive, don’t assume that everyone has (or even wants) a Twitter account, kill the two extra texts. 

What I learned from the disaster of my Org class, I incorporated into my Group Communication class. That class, I feel – though I don’t yet have the student evals to check my thoughts – went a whole lot smoother. I’m looing forward to teaching Org Com again this fall, incorporating everything I learned from the first go-round. It should be much improved. Adjust, readjust, and readjust more. 

As Dr. D explained way back last year when I was on my interview, while the university will talk a great deal about service and will talk a great deal about teaching, they will not stress publishing. “But don’t let that fool you.”  So I took that to heart immediately. So in my first year I’ve published three pieces, which I think is good, but not great. I also have two things that are in press that will come out sometime next fall. Although I post a lot of my successes on Facebook, I have an overwhelming number of rejection letters as well!!! That’s the game though, right? Just keep plugging away on the writing and the submitting. My goal is to have three per year. So far I’m on track and happy about it. If you are interested, you can find my pieces here, here, and here.

One of the things I’ve learned is not to ask “Why?” so much. Why? (Yes, irony.) Because – and I should have realized this – it’s beause when you ask, you also assume responsibility. So when I asked “Why don’t we have an Honors-in-Discipline Program in Communication Studies?” the resounding answer was “Because you haven’t started it yet.” So I did! It took a year to get the program proposed, set-up, and initiated. So in autumn, we’ll have our first honors students. I’m pretty stoked about that. Shout outs to both Dr. Harker and Professor C - both from our Theatre and Dance Division - for helping me with all the intricacies of getting the program situated and walking me though all the necessary steps. (See what I mean about good colleagues!?) Adjust, readjust, and readjust more.

There are some frustrating things as well. I’ll spare you all the details, but just list some. A committee that didn’t get its job done. Students that "checked out" mid-semester. The strange way the hiring process went for our lecturer positions. The meetings as we attempt to reinvigorate our M.A. program. Oh. And the never-ending stack of paperwork. Nothing major, just frustrating. A LOT less frustrating than working in information technology, that’s for sure!!!

Despite those frustrations, there were many things that gratified my soul. Our undergrads presenting at the Boland Research Symposium. Presenting at the Spring Mixer with Andrew, aka Classic Andrew, aka Dr. Dunn. Representing ETSU and the Communication Department at NCA and CSCA, while seeing great mentors, peers, friends, bar buddies, former academic outcasts, more friends (that's you Herbig), and #commnerds (all wrapped in one, usually).

Finding out that certain colleagues - the previously mentioned Dr. Dunn and the yet as unmentioned Dr. M. - and I can collaborate on a very cool internet–based research project. Having interesting, intelligent conversations with graduate students. Watching my undergraduates present at local non-profits. The ability to proffer up two new classes: “Technology, Communication, and Culture” and “Communication and Leadership.”

And so, rather than some “dark night of the soul” as some of the participants from my dissertation research experienced, I find myself thriving, I find myself engaged, I find myself mostly in awe that a kid – who almost never made it out of RCNJ in the first place – is in the position of having finished up his first year on the tenure track. And I couldn’t have done it without the great colleagues that I do. So with all that is in my soul, I thank you my colleagues. Here's to a great year two!

Go Bucs!

Counter-Narrative: An Important, Much Needed Book

Bud Goodall starts out with this truth: 

We on the left suck at narratives. 

We do – at least compared to the right - be that right the economic libertarians, the religious conservatives, the neo-cons, or the conspiracy theorists like the Birthers.  Slowly but surely those on the right have spun their tales so well, that what they say is too often taken for granted, as given, as the way things are and the way things ought to be. All these ‘givens’ aren’t givens at all. They are stories told over and over and over until we believe them to be true. For instance:

“Free markets should be unfettered!” (Hello financial crisis.)

“Democrats are weak on defense!” (Goodbye Osama Bin Laden!)

“Jesus was not interested in justice!” (Hello? Have you read the New Testament?)

“Obama is a Kenyan born Muslim!” (Hello long-form birth certificate!)

“Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot!” (Yes, ridicule is helpful but not constructive in the long term.)

Sure, we have facts on our side.

Yes, the deficit was caused by the Bush tax cuts and the wars.

Yes, Jesus was interested in justice.

Yes, the founding fathers were human with human foibles.

Yes, Teabaggers gave themselves that name without knowing what “Teabagging” is.

Here’s the thing: facts only matter if they are embedded in a good story. To quote Reagan’s 1988 slip up: “Facts are stupid things.” Narratives drive information, not the other way around.

Have you ever wondered how Al Queda can recruit people into killing themselves? Have you ever wondered why Glenn Beck’s conspiracies were accepted by so many? Have you ever wondered why the Birther issue will not die? Have you ever wondered why people who say they follow Jesus only follow the free-market Jesus? Have you ever wondered why academics are losing the battle over who academics are and what we do? Have you ever wondered what ever happened to the concept of the common good (clean air and water, state and national forests, public education, etc.)? Here you will find the stories conservatives tell dismantled, examined, and critiqued.

Finally Goodall doesn’t let us off the hook. He delivers to us an ultimatum.  If we don’t start actively writing our narratives to counter the conservative narratives, we will no longer have the words by which to tell our narrative.

Read it. Practice it.

"Hey Andrew, How Do You Get So Much Writing Done?"

People ask me this and I tell them I write a lot. People sometimes say, "You're really smart. That's how you get so much accomplished." "Well hold your horses," I tell them. "I'm not really THAT smart. I just work hard and I write everyday." And that's the first key. So if you really want to know how I get so much published in journals - though it's probably similar if you are writing books, magazine articles, or for a newspaper - here is what I do. None of this is original. They are ideas I've snagged from other authors, colleagues, peers, friends, mentors. 


1. Always, always write. Whether you are sitting down with a vague idea (Chaos theory and academic conferencing). Write. Or have just a bare sketch (Buffy, Spike, and Foucault). Write. Or are entertaining two opposing thoughts (Abbot and Costello Meet Punk Rock). Write. Or have come up with simply a weird title (like “Kierkegaard and Human Resources in the Modern Corporation,” for example) write. Write a little each day, write a lot each day. Write. Take Anne Lamott’s advice and write that “shitty rough draft.” No one will see it but you, so don’t worry about grammar, punctuation, references, footnotes, or any of that mundane stuff. That’s not writing. That’s editing. That comes later. Just write. Get words on the page. Sometimes they come slowly – word by word. Sometimes they come in a flourish. No matter. Write.

2. Take a break. Seriously. The pressure to publish is insane in academe. So write. Write until your P.O.S. draft is done.  Then stop. Push yourself away from your desk. Close the laptop. Whatever. Just stop. Go outside. Take the Underwater Basket Weaving class that meets every Saturday. Just don’t write. Have a beer at a local water hole. Shoot a game of pool someplace. Smoke crack. Walk the dog. Buy ferrets. Paint your abode. Work on your syllabus. Read some fiction. Go see a kickin' flick. Work on a flier for your upcoming summer class. Don’t write. For three days. Don’t write. This will refresh your mind.


3. Edit. As Bud Goodall once said, “All good writing is re-writing.” This does not mean merely editing. This means giving your work a careful read. By doing so you find concepts that are unclear and need to be expanded. Hack away the passive voice. Keep to your thesis statement. This means re-examining thoughts and ideas that may be tangential to your main argument and dumping them – perhaps they are the germ of a different piece. Like Red Leader said in Star Wars, “Stay on target.” This writing can be the real muck, but don’t be deterred. Revise, refine, rewrite. Put it away again. Just leave it be. 


4. Edit again. Here’s where things get tough. We generally like all the words we write. As the Police song goes, “I'm a walking nightmare, an arsenal of doom” and be a Demolition Wo/Man. Here’s where you kill your children. Some of them are still-births and need to be eliminated. Some of them sound grand and promote a flourish you think is delightful. Kill them. Axe them. Erase them. Murder them. While you want to maintain your voice, anything that is unneeded needs to go. Be a brutal dictator.


5. Show it to peers. For academics this is the hardest part, because we don’t like anyone to think we are stupid. There’s a lot of work and pride that goes into writing. Let me give you a hint. Nothing you write is perfect. Ever. So let it “leave your hand” and go into a colleagues'. This is absolutely important. I wrote a piece for an ethnography class I had as an M.A. student at Saint Louis University. I wrote it and rewrote it and rewrote it. I sent it out for publication over and over. Well, finally I let some other people read the thing. Turns out I was trying to do too much in that one piece. Bob Krizek read it when it was a class draft. My friend Sam read it. Eric Eisenberg read it. They all gave me great advice. I still could not get it published. Finally, I took it to the Young Scholars class at CSCA. This group of scholars said, “Andrew, its almost like you have two pieces here. One on the process of organizing at a new nonprofit, and one on your own personal narrative as a punk rocker returning to the scene after a dozen years.” They were correct. I broke it into two pieces. One piece is out. The other is in press. If I had never shown it to anyone, I’d never recognized the problem.


6. Edit. Again. Word by word. Punctuation mark by punctuation mark. Line by line. Reference by reference. Work out those transitional sentences that connect paragraph to paragraph. (Confession: I hate those sentences. I stink at them. For me they are the most arduous task. Still they must be done.) Essential tedium.


7. Send it out. Pick a journal that matches what your subject is and what your method is. I’m a qualitative researcher, so as much as I’d like to get something published in Communication Monographs, that’s not going to happen. There’s no goodness of fit. Don’t mess with journals that don’t do what you do. I don’t want to waste my time and the editor’s time either. Search out journals. As a qualitative organizational communication scholar, I had to find my outlets. Like what? Qualitative Research in Organizations and Management: An International Journal. Journal of Loss & Trauma. Qualitative Inquiry. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication. Studies in Symbolic Interaction. Journal of Organizational Ethnography. International Review of Qualitative Research. Qualitative Communication Research. If it gets rejected outright – send it to the next journal on your list. Don’t waste time feeling sorry for yourself. When you get a revise and resubmit, revise and resubmit. Period.

8. Keep writing. I generally have two or three things always in progress. When something is accepted for publication, I begin a new piece, even if that possible piece is some hackneyed idea like “Adding bleach to the laundry as a speech act.” Brainstorm. Read good fiction ( I prefer Horror and Hard-Boiled Detectives) and nonfiction. Write. Keep writing. Always write. Every day. Every day. That’s the only way to progress.


Bonus step: Unplug. Kill your cable. There's nothing on there anyway. Hulu or Netflix what you really want to watch. Seriously. You'll never realize how much time you have to write until you realize how much time you have to write.