Reading Carol Berkenkotter’s Decisions and Revisions: The Planning Strategies of a Publishing Writer has made me really appreciate just how messy and layered a writer’s process can be. Especially when that process is observed in its natural environment—where real life happens and there are no sterile lab conditions to smooth out the rough edges. I loved getting an intimate look at how Donald Murray tackles writing, from planning to revising, and all the stops and starts in between. It wasn’t just about the act of writing but also about his habits, like dictating drafts to his wife. That level of collaboration is something I found really touching and fascinating—it shows how deeply personal and unique writing can be when done outside the isolation of a lab.
Still, there were some limitations to Berkenkotter’s study that stood out to me. One big gap was how much of Murray’s process relied on his own introspection. He even acknowledges that not everything could be articulated, even though he was talking through his thoughts. It made me think about our own research, where we have to study ourselves. The whole idea of observing my own writing process feels a little daunting. How much of what I do is subconscious? How much can I really explain, and how much will I miss just because I’m too close to it? There’s a certain vulnerability in trying to turn those inner thoughts outward, and I wonder if I’ll even recognize the patterns that drive my writing.
Murray’s perspective as a research subject was also eye-opening. In Response of a Laboratory Rat, he talks about how uncomfortable he felt during that one-hour protocol session—like he was trapped in this strange environment, forced to produce something under pressure. And honestly, I get that. Writing is such a personal thing, and the idea of trying to perform it on demand feels so artificial. It made me realize that the way I observe myself is really going to shape the outcome of my research. Murray reminds us how environment influences creativity, and that’s something I’ll need to keep in mind if I want to make my observations feel authentic rather than forced.
These reflections have definitely made me more aware of the role that context plays in my writing. I want to try to observe myself without changing too much of what’s natural about my process—but I know that’s easier said than done. I’m inspired by Berkenkotter’s approach to stay as unintrusive as possible, but I also love how honest Murray is about the flaws in introspection. I guess that’s what makes this whole research project so interesting to me: it’s not just about collecting data; it’s about trying to understand all the weird, tangled layers of writing—the planning, the emotions, the environment, the endless revisions. And maybe, in the end, it’s those imperfections that make the process worth studying.
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