research

What’s care got to do with it?

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer

I haven’t posted anything here for a while. But it’s not because I didn’t have anything to say. It’s because I’ve been trying to practice what I preach.

I spend the vast majority of my professional life talking about care – who gets it, who doesn’t, why it’s important, what happens when there’s not enough, and what happens when there’s too much. And although my research generally focuses on care for others, this year I turned my attention to self-care. Because the great irony of doing good research on the care of others, is that it often comes at the expense of caring for yourself.

Co-written with my Australian colleagues Sarah Pinto and Sharon McDonough, my latest paper explores the the importance of self-care for academics. It is a call-to-arms for academics who’ve neglected themselves in the pursuit of their work and a critique of the neoliberal systems that demand this kind of self-neglect. It is a to-do list for rediscovering self-care and a reminder that resistance comes in many forms. It’s also a poem. Because why the heck not!

You can read it here, or contact me for a copy. And then forgive me for not posting. I’ve been doing some much needed self-care.

And the beat goes on

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer

The findings from my first collaboration with European colleagues were published this week. This is a significant milestone for me, because it’s exactly the kind of collaborative, international research I was pursuing when I packed up my life and moved to the UK just over a year ago. More importantly, however, it’s a significant contribution to a growing body of research on suicide and homicide risk in people caring for family members with dementia.

My previous research showed that 1 in 6 carers had contemplated suicide in the previous twelve months, that only half of them had ever told anyone they felt this way, and that 20% of them were likely to attempt suicide in the future. This research also found no difference in the rate of suicidal thinking experienced by carers supporting a person with dementia at home, carers supporting a person with dementia in a nursing home, and carers who had been recently bereaved. These were ground-breaking findings and they generated significant interest from the community, the media, playwrights, and other researchers. But there was still so much we needed to understand.

In particular, the research was cross-sectional, so we were only capturing suicidal thoughts at one point in time. Consequently, we didn’t know how thoughts of suicide changed over time and whether carers who thought about suicide after the person with dementia moved into care, or after they died, had also thought about it while caring at home.

This new research addresses that issue. The article has been published ‘open access’, which means you can read the entire thing here for free, but to summarise briefly:

  • The study followed almost 200 carers in the Netherlands for two years, none of whom had depression or anxiety at baseline
  • Over the 2 year period, 40% of carers developed depression and were assessed for thoughts of suicide
  • 12% reported thoughts of suicide, with one third of those reporting suicidal thoughts at multiple time points
  • Thoughts of suicide were seen in various patterns, including only before the person with dementia was admitted to a nursing home, before and after the person was admitted to a nursing home, only after the person was admitted to a nursing home, and after the person with dementia died.

These findings support my previous research and show the incredible toll that caring can take, particularly at key transition points such as institutionalisation and death.

What they also show is that thoughts of suicide are not unique to Australian carers, but rather appear to transcend social, cultural, and political boundaries. Although more research is required to understand how the health and social care policies of different countries might influence suicidal thinking, this is another important step toward understanding and preventing suicide-related thoughts and behaviours in family carers.

It is heartbreaking to do research that shows, time after time, how little the world cares about carers. They are the invisible scaffolding that holds up every part of our society and our communities would crumble without them. This research is only a small contribution to efforts to recognise and support the wonderful work of family carers, but, added to my other work and that of my colleagues around the world, I hope it is a meaningful one.

—

As ever, nothing good is done alone. I am indebted to Dr Karlijn Joling, Professor Cees Hertogh, and Professor Hein van Hout, who conducted the research that provided data for this study. I am particularly grateful to Karlijn, who led the analysis of the data and was a joy to write with. Karlijn, Cees, and Hein share my passion for research that cares and I look forward to our continued collaborationsl

 

Kapow!

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer

Last year the lovely folks at Australian Ageing Agenda asked me to write an Opinion piece about family care. As well as advocating for carers, I used the opportunity to confess to the world my deep and abiding love for the Batman films. After originally appearing in the AAA magazine, the piece has now been posted online and you can read all about the wonderful work that carers do (and my shameful secret!) here.

Non-Required Reading

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer

When I was traveling in the US last year I picked up The Best American Non-Required Reading 2014. I love compilation books, but it was the phrase ‘non-required’ in the title of this one that really piqued my interest.

I’ve long believed that (a) great writers are great readers and (b) great reads are rarely found in academic journals. And, with this in mind, I’ve often fantasised about creating a reading list for PhD students that would improve their academic writing by introducing them to a range of quality fiction, narrative non-fiction, essays, feature writing, and poetry.

Of course some academics would argue that if a PhD student has time to read for pleasure, they’re not working hard enough. But I think this is a dangerous attitude. Most PhD students struggle with writing and the majority of supervisors have neither the time nor the skills to offer meaningful guidance. Encouraging students to read widely and read well is a fast and effective way to improve their writing. It’s also a powerful way to promote the sort of work-life balance practices that are essential to surviving life as an academic! (And if that weren’t convincing enough, there’s also the fact that intellectual cross-pollination of exactly this sort has been responsible for some serious scientific breakthroughs!)

The only real problem I can see is how to narrow down the list. There are so many fantastic things to read and most PhDs only take three years. But I had a bit of time this week and I thought I’d at least have a go. So here, for your consideration, is my draft Non-Required Reading List for PhD Students.

Year One
Every Month: 4 articles of your choosing from LongReads, The Atlantic, or Mosaic
January: To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
February: Franklin and Eleanor: An Extraordinary Marriage by Hazel Rowley
March: Dept. of Speculation by Jenny Offill
April: Lullabies for Little Criminals by Heather O’Neill
May: The Best Australian Essays (your choice of year)
June: People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks
July: The Vulnerable Observer: Anthropology That Breaks Your Heart by Ruth Behar
August: Cloud Street by Tim Winton
September: Shakespeare on Love edited by Michael Kerrigan
October: Little Black Book of Stories by A.S. Byatt
November: Joe Cinque’s Consolation by Helen Garner
December: All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque

Year Two
Every Month: 4 articles of your choosing from Long Reads, The Atlantic, or Mosaic
January: The Small Backs of Children by Lidia Yuknavitch
February: Tall Man: A Death in Aboriginal Australia by Chloe Hooper
March: Cutting For Stone by Abraham Verghese
April: An Opening: Twelve Love Stories About Art  by Stephanie Radok
May: My Age of Anxiety by Scott Stossel
June: A David Sedaris book of your choice
July: Electricity for Beginners by Michelle Dicinoski
August: On Beauty by Zadie Smith
September: The Best Australian Essays (your choice of year)
October: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
November: The Collected Stories by T. Coraghessan Boyle
December: All The Birds, Singing by Evie Wyld

Year Three
Every Month: 4 articles of your choice from LongReads, The Atlantic, or Mosaic
January: The Unspeakable: And Other Subjects of Discussion by Meghan Daum
February: Eucalyptus by Murray Bail
March: The Beginner’s Guide to Winning the Nobel Prize by Peter Doherty
April: The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
May: Out to Lunch by Andy Kissane
June: We Need To Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver
July: The Best Australian Essays (your choice of year)
August: The Collected Short Stories of Roald Dahl by Roald Dahl
September: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon
October: The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker
November: Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea by Barbara Demick
December: Dear Committee Members by Julie Schumacher

Got other suggestions? Leave me a comment.

It’s Complicated

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer / 3 Comments

While conducting research on suicide risk in family carers of people with dementia, my colleagues and I received a note from a participant that said You asked if I wanted to kill myself, but you didn’t ask if I wanted to kill the person I’m caring for. Naturally this raised a lot of questions and concerns and we decided to embark on a study of homicidal ideation in family carers. The findings from that study were published this week and I thought I’d take the opportunity to share them here and discuss the implications.

Here’s a brief summary:

  • We interviewed 21 Australians providing care for a family member with dementia.
  • Two reported actively contemplating homicide while caring and four expressed a passive desire for the care recipient’s death.
  • When asked about homicide, four carers talked about euthanasia.
  • Thought of homicide and passive death wishes were the result of physical and psychological fatigue, an unwillingness to place the person with dementia into residential care, self-defence, isolation, and a sense of being trapped in the caring role.
  • Thoughts of euthanasia were framed in terms of compassion, quality of life, dignity and respect for the person with dementia.
  • None of the carers who had contemplated homicide or had passive death wishes had ever acted on their thoughts.
  • Those who spoke of euthanasia were frustrated at the lack of legal options, but adamant that they wouldn’t take matters into their own hands.
  • All the carers who reported homicidal thoughts or passive death wishes were women.
  • None of the carers who had contemplated homicide or had passive death wishes had ever shared their thoughts with anyone.

To our knowledge there has been no previous research on homicidal ideation in family carers. What previous research has shown, however, is that up to 40% of completed spousal homicide-suicides among older adults are perpetrated by someone caring for a partner with a long-term illness or disability. By asking carers about homicidal thoughts while they are caring, the current research allows us to better understand the factors that place people at risk and identify ways to prevent these sort of deaths in the future.

Although thoughts of homicide do not necessarily lead to homicidal behaviour, the fact that some carers are contemplating homicide is a cause for concern and reflects the high level of distress that many carers experience on a daily basis. Unfortunately, some people will be quick to use this work to shame carers who contemplate homicide. Although I don’t condone violence or abuse, I also don’t want to see carers vilified. The vast majority of carers are amazing people, doing an incredibly difficult job, with very little support. So let’s use this research to help them see that they’re not alone and help them find the support they need. Those on the frontline – GPs, social workers, nurses, pharmacists, aged care providers, and advocacy organisations – all have a part to play in identifying and supporting carers who are struggling. These are not easy conversations, but they are important ones.

I think it’s also important to recognise that these findings are indicative of a bigger social problem. It’s easy to think of dementia and caring as personal issues, but they are social, political, and economic issues. In Australia alone there are more than 300,000 people caring for family members with dementia and if they all stopped tomorrow, it would cost the government more than $30 billion a year to replace the care they provide. Carers make a significant social contribution, but much of the stress they experience stems directly from a lack of social, political, and economic support — delays in the dementia diagnosis, a lack of access to quality respite care, a lack of understanding from employers, and the challenges of navigating the aged care system, just to name a few. So while we must work to identify and support individual carers who are contemplating homicide, we must also take action at a higher level, advocating and agitating for a social, political, and economic framework that makes caring a less stressful and more sustainable experience.

The overlap between homicide and euthanasia in this study also highlights the need for a serious public conversation about the right to die with dignity.

As this research gets disseminated – particularly via the media – the findings may be taken out of context, oversimplified, or hijacked. But homicidal ideation in family carers is a complex phenomenon – it cannot be reduced to soundbites, it must not be used for political gain, and there is so much about it we still don’t understand. Ultimately I hope that this research will start important conversations about caring and its role in our society. I also hope it will lead to further research on homicidal ideation in carers (including quantitative studies, comparisons across countries, and research on people caring for family members with other illnesses and disabilities) and help to facilitate the social, political, and economic changes that are needed to better support people with dementia and their families.

If you’d like to read the full paper and have institutional access, please go to the journal website. If you don’t have access, please contact me for a copy.

If you or someone you know is contemplating homicide or suicide, or needs urgent support, please contact Lifeline on 13 11 14, The Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467, or the crisis line in your area.

Caring ‘Til It Hurts

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer / 4 Comments

This piece, written by me, was originally published in the Australian Journal of Dementia Care (Volume 3, Issue 6, December 2014/January 2015, p33-34) under the title Caring ‘Til It Hurts: Suicide Risk in Family Carers. It was designed to introduce aged care staff, health professionals, and service providers to the issue of suicide risk in family carers and is reproduced here with permission. For ease of reading I have removed the references, but I am happy to provide them on request. 

 

The first thing I noticed about Ken* was his arms. Thick and tanned, they were the kind of arms that could carry you out of a burning building without breaking a sweat. Arms made strong by years of physical labour, first on the farm and then on the battlefield. Arms that now spent their days lifting. Lifting her in and out of the car, on and off the toilet, in and out of the bed they no longer shared. Always lifting.

As Ken and I spoke, I watched the arms. At first they were crossed firmly over his chest – the body trying to stop the man from giving away too many secrets. After a while the shoulders dropped and the arms uncrossed, but the hands remained firmly clasped – the body only prepared to meet the man halfway. But after two hours, the arms gave up. The man cried, the body shook, and the secrets were revealed.

****

More than 200,000 Australians currently identify themselves as the primary carer for a family member with dementia and one in four of them provide in excess of 40 hours care per week. As a result of the cognitive impairment and behavioural problems, caring for a person with dementia is acknowledged to be more demanding than caring for someone with a physical disability and this intense work can lead to physical and mental health problems. Rates of anxiety, depression, and hopelessness are all higher than average in family carers and pain, fatigue, and chronic health conditions are also common.

Although depression, anxiety, hopelessness, pain, and chronic disease all have been linked to suicide in the general population, until recently there had been no research on suicidal ideation or suicide risk in family carers.

This article provides an overview of research my team and I have recently conducted on suicide risk in family carers and provides practical suggestions to help staff in clinical and community practice identify and support carers at risk.

Why suicide? Why now?
Although academic research on the physical and emotional experiences of carers only dates back to the 1950s, Harriet Beecher Stowe and Louisa May Alcott were writing about the tribulations of caring in the 1800s and archeologists have found the remains of Neolithic adults who could not have survived childhood without dedicated family care. Caring is clearly not a new phenomenon and my colleagues and I were intrigued that suicide had not been the focus of more research.

In our careful searches of the academic literature we were able to find only one previous study of suicidal ideation in family carers of any sort (not just dementia). In 1997, Cynthia Rosengard and Susan Folkman reported that more than 50 per cent of gay men caring for a spouse with AIDS had contemplated suicide. Interestingly, experiences of suicidal ideation were unrelated to the carer’s own HIV status. The only other evidence we could find came from studies of homicide-suicides committed by older adults. Although homicide-suicides are rare, in those studies up to 50 per cent of homicide-suicides were committed by spousal carers, with approximately 20 per cent of those caring for a spouse with dementia.

What did we do? And what did we find?
We started our research by interviewing a small group of just nine carers (four men, five women). We wanted to get a sense of how many carers had contemplated suicide and the factors that might be associated with suicidal ideation, before we embarked on a larger project.

Four of the nine participants had contemplated suicide while caring for a person with dementia and Ken (referred to at the beginning of this article) was one of those four. For the other carers, suicide was a way to escape the relentless demands and overwhelming fatigue of caring (or, as one participant described it, “to get off the merry-go-round”). For Ken, it was about ensuring that his wife would always be well cared for. He said: “A couple of times there I thought about how I could get away with bumping myself off…because my insurance and all my stuff would’ve set my wife up forever.” Although none of the nine carers had attempted suicide, two had made preparations.

Our next study included 120 family carers who completed an anonymous survey about their health and well-being. When we analysed the data we found that one in four had contemplated suicide more than once in the previous 12 months. Of those who had contemplated suicide, only half had ever told someone and one-third said they were likely to attempt suicide in the future. When we compared those rates to population averages, we found that family carers were contemplating suicide at more than eight times the rate of the general population.

Which carers are at risk?
In our first study, there were three factors that appeared to put carers at risk of suicide: mental health problems prior to becoming a carer; physical health problems while caring; and intense conflict with family or professional care staff.

For the carers with pre-existing mental health problems, the long hours, demanding physical labour, and isolation of caring exacerbated their symptoms and made it difficult for them to cope with the challenges of caring or to seek help.

For those with physical health problems, suicidal thoughts cropped up when the condition was aggravated by the caring role, there was ongoing pain, and time for self-care was limited. For the carers with physical health problems, an inability to seek help (due to exhaustion) went hand-in-hand with an unwillingness to seek help for fear of being seen as incompetent. Finally, for those carers who faced intense interpersonal conflict, it was the resulting isolation, helplessness, and vulnerability that led to thoughts of suicide.

In our larger study, carers who had contemplated suicide reported more behavioural and psychological symptoms in the person with dementia and, for their part, stronger negative reactions to these symptoms. They were also less confident in their ability to access support services, less optimistic, and less satisfied with the social support they received. They had higher levels of burden, hopelessness, anxiety, and depression, and made greater use of dysfunctional coping strategies (like alcohol or drug use). When we put all these factors into a statistical model, depression was the only significant predictor of suicidal ideation.

What about resilience?
Our research revealed that one in four carers had contemplated suicide and this is certainly a finding that warrants serious concern. On the flipside though, three out of four carers had not contemplated suicide and by studying these carers we can identify the factors that promote resilience and develop targeted interventions to support carers at risk.

In our first study, the factors that fostered resilience were: the use of practical coping strategies; personal characteristics like determination and flexibility; social support; and faith.

Coping strategies such as seeking out information and support, maintaining hobbies, connecting with other carers, and using respite services all allowed carers to recharge their batteries and ameliorated the impact of caring on their physical and mental health.

Carers who could draw on internal reserves of compassion, determination, and flexibility were more able to accept the challenges of caring and responded more proactively to specific stressors.

Social support from family and service providers gave carers time to engage in self-care and the most resilient carers were those who could communicate assertively about the sort of support they needed.

Finally, faith provided carers with a framework for reflecting on their experiences, seeing the ‘bigger picture’, and recognising that the caring role had a purpose, was finite, and would eventually pass.

In our second study, the low rates of optimism, self-efficacy, and satisfaction among carers who had contemplated suicide suggest that these factors may also play a role in resilience.

What can you do?
Although our research is continuing, we now know that carers are indeed at risk of suicide and, as a community, we need to work to address this issue. Clinicians, allied health professionals, care workers, and service providers are ideally placed to identify and support carers at risk, but many are, understandably, apprehensive.

To ensure that clinical, community, and residential care staff can provide the best possible support, they need to know how to ask about suicide and where to refer carers at risk.

  • Living Works offers Applied Suicide Intervention and Skills Training (ASIST) courses all around the country and these two-day courses provide an excellent introduction to suicide and suicide prevention, including role-playing the difficult conversations. More information is available at: livingworks.com.au/Training-Programs.html
  • Carers in crisis should be referred to Lifeline or the Suicide Call Back Service. Lifeline (13 11 14) is a telephone support service that provides 24-hour, confidential, crisis counselling. The Suicide Call Back Service (1300 659 467) also provides 24-hour telephone counselling and offers six free follow-up sessions with the same counsellor, at any time that suits the caller.
  • Carers experiencing mental health problems should also be encouraged to talk to their GP, who may be able to provide a referral for subsidised sessions with a psychologist or psychiatrist.
  • Finally, health professionals, care workers, and service providers can also help to prevent carers ever reaching crisis point. As Ken’s case illustrates, a cup of tea and a listening ear can go a long way to making a carer feel valued and supported. Providing quality respite care, helping carers connect with services, and fostering a community of carers can also help to ease the load.

****

As Ken showed me to the door, I looked again at the arms. They were swinging gently by his sides, unburdened now of the story they had carried for so long.

*Not his real name.

Powerful Ageing

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer / 1 Comment

I was recently invited to be a guest on Adam Holcroft’s Dojo of Powerful Ageing Podcast. It was a wide-ranging conversation that covered everything from social media and dementia to hipsters and self-care. It was a real treat to talk to Adam and you can listen to the interview here (Note: It starts at 00:04:45)

Adam also creates a beautiful artwork to go with each podcast and I am completely in love with mine. It’s like Hemingway meets Logan’s Run, with a dash of Warhol, and it really captures who I am and what I do. Thanks Adam!

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On Voyeurism and Tragedy

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer / 2 Comments

On a cool Friday night in downtown Brisbane, people gathered to hear a famous author speak. Predominantly middle-aged and middle class, the stylishly attired crowd talked amongst themselves about their favourite books and rushed forward when the doors opened, eager to sit near the front. They listened closely as the author spoke – laughing, sighing, gasping in shock. And when she finished, they queued and asked her to sign the inside cover of her latest work.

This was my first time at a Writers Festival and the whole thing made me deeply uncomfortable. Why? Because the author was Helen Garner and the book was This House of Grief, the true story of a man convicted of killing his three children by driving his car into a dam.

To be clear, I admire Garner. As a writer she has an amazing ability to capture the complexities and discomfort of life’s darkest moments.  But there was something voyeuristic about the crowd that came to hear her speak. This was their Friday night entertainment. They had dinner reservations afterwards. They wanted an autographed copy of the book!

As I caught the train home, I wondered what it was about homicides, suicides, and other tragic events that brought out the voyeur in people. What makes people trawl newspapers and websites looking for the ‘exclusive interview’ with the grieving widow? What makes them watch the ‘dramatic reenactment’ on prime time television? How are they able to set aside the fact that these are real people and put a bookmark in when it’s time to pick the kids up?

But perhaps I judge too harshly. Perhaps it isn’t voyeurism, but simply a desire to understand the darker parts of human nature. Perhaps, because we are often shielded from the darkness, people struggle to know how to express their interest or concern appropriately. Perhaps a Writers Festival is a safe space to discuss the issues with like-minded people. And yet, the autographs…

For my part, I was interested in Garner’s experience as a researcher and writer, and was hoping to find a connection with someone who’d been where I was. I had recently finished analysing data for a study of homicidal ideation, a follow-up to earlier research on suicide risk in family carers. When I’d listened to the recordings of the research interviews, I’d had to wash dishes, knit, or draw. The repetitive, physical tasks kept my body occupied while my mind swam in the tragedy. Without them, the flight-or-fight response would have kicked in and I’d have turned off the tapes. Unlike the voyeurs at the Writers Festival, I would have given anything to look away from the car crash.

When I bought my copy of This House of Grief, the bookseller made a point of telling me how traumatising I would find it; as if being traumatised was a badge of honour. When I told her I did trauma for a living, she clicked her tongue and moved on to the next customer. It was as if she’d invited me to an S&M club and when I told her I was the warden of a detention centre, I was the one who’d crossed the line.  I wondered if what the voyeurs want is just enough tragedy to be titillated. Just enough to get a whiff of the humanity, but not so much that they have to get their hands dirty. They want grief and trauma, but only if it doesn’t pull them too far out of their comfort zone. And perhaps this is why Garner’s books sell – because she’s already done the hard work.

But here’s the thing – I didn’t find This House of Grief traumatic. I just found it depressingly familiar. For those of us who work in this space – researchers, doctors, lawyers, journalists, social workers – the darkest moments are all too common. We see them daily. They aren’t titillating anecdotes to tell at the next dinner party, they are big issues that we will spend our careers trying to address. And when the voyeurs have moved on to the next book, the next Writers Festival, the next ‘award-winning two part series’, we will still be here. Not watching from a safe distance, with cocktail in hand, or reading on the couch with a cup of tea and a Kit Kat, but working in the trenches to support people and shine a light on the darkness.

The Curated Self

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer / 15 Comments

My first stop in any city is the art gallery. I’m passionate about great art, I like to buy works from local artists when I travel (a habit my financial planner is desperate to break!), and I’ve often fantasised about going back to university to study art history.

What fascinates me most about art galleries is the curation. The process of deciding what pieces to include and what pieces to leave out; whether to present the pieces chronologically, by theme, or by medium; how much information to include in the accompanying description; what colour to paint the walls; and how to promote the exhibition.

Curation is, itself, an artform and I often use the language of art when I talk to academics and students about social media and their online presence. Deciding on the what, where, when, how, and why of the information we present to the public is an act of curation.

My Twitter account, for example, is carefully constructed. I work hard to keep 70-90% of my content ‘on message’ – that is, tweets about dementia, carers, suicide, health, ageing, and research – and to ensure that only 10-30% are general interest or personal. I also keep the personal content suitably generic. Enough that people get a sense of who I am and feel they can connect with me as a person, but not so much that they  know which brand of toothpaste I use.

When it comes to my tweets, I’m constantly mindful of the fact that Twitter, just like an art gallery, is a public space. My tweets can and will be seen by current or prospective employers, funding bodies, students, colleagues, industry partners, and journal editors. And, whether I like it or not, I will be judged by my tweets.

This website is also an act of curation. I realised there were parts of my personal exhibition all over the web. A few journal articles here, some media coverage there; a slideshow over on that site, some tweets over on this one. By bringing them together in one place, I had an opportunity to curate my self. I got to decide what parts of my self to include and what parts to leave out, how to group my works, and what colour to paint my walls. And in doing so I was deciding how to promote my self.

Most academics are bad at curation. It’s not something we’re trained to do and we often learn by trial and error. But if we can learn to do it well, we increase the likelihood that our research will lead to meaningful changes in practice and policy. In its first week online, for example, this site had more than 900 views (from people in 30 different countries) and I’ve had requests from clinicians around the world to use my research to support their practice. Carefully curated content can also help to breakdown the negative stereotypes of researchers and scientists and increase community engagement.

So the next time you’re at an art gallery, don’t just look at the art. Look at the walls, the lighting, the descriptions, the sequence and the promotional materials. And then, like all great artists, steal those ideas and apply them to your own work.

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Journalist?

/ Siobhan O'Dwyer / 8 Comments

I was recently invited to take part in a workshop, hosted by the AAG, entitled ‘Navigating the Media Jungle’. It’s a dreadful title, but it reflects the level of trepidation most researchers feel about having to engage with the media. In preparation for the workshop I’ve put together my top tips for postgraduate students, early career researchers, and academics seeking to engage the media. I hope these will reduce your fear and make your next encounter with a journalist a more rewarding one (for you and them!).

Stalk Your Prey
How much do you know about the media? How much (and what type of) media do you consume? If you want to navigate the media jungle, you need to stalk your prey (that’s the only jungle reference in the whole post, I promise!). By consuming plenty and varied media, you’ll have a better understanding of where and how to pitch your work for maximum impact.

But don’t just consume media passively, pay attention to the following….

  • How often do they publish or broadcast? Constantly, daily, weekly, monthly…
  • What type of pieces do they produce? Short, long, left-leaning, conservative, human interest, political, scientific…
  • Who is their audience? Children, adults, older adults, working class people, middle class people, people from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds…

This type of information will allow you to target your work to the outlets most likely to run with it (see ‘Pick Your Battles’ below), and give you a sense of the timeframes within which you’ll need to work. Programs like The Media Report also offer great insight into the ‘behind the scenes’ of journalism and the media.

Make Friends with the Journalists
Repeat after me: Journalists are people too. Academics often talk about journalists like they’re the enemy, but if you’re really passionate about communicating your work to the public you need to make them your ally.

Twitter is a great way to engage with journalists. You can use it to provide positive feedback on their latest story, introduce them to your work, and respond to calls for ‘talking heads’. If a journalist comes to know you as a reliable, positive source, they’re much more likely to be interested in your work down the track. Top tip:  Don’t badger them. If a journalist decides you don’t have enough for a story, say thank-you and move on.

Also, if you’re working with print journalists, it’s okay to ask to see a draft of the article. Some journalists will say no (& you must respect this!), but those who care about getting the facts right are often happy to oblige. A few tips to smooth the way…

(1) Explain why you want to see it.

(2) Don’t change the copy. Journalists are entitled to their perspective on a story and as media professionals they know what will attract readers, listeners and viewers. So correct technical errors, but leave the rest alone.

(3) Give feedback promptly. Journalists work to tight deadlines and if you don’t give your feedback promptly, they will go ahead without your input.

Start Small
If you’re just starting out, try pitching your work to local papers and community radio stations. They ‘re always eager for stories – particularly those that have a local flavour – and are less intimidating for first timers.

Also, start with print media (where there’s time to review a story before it goes to press and kind journalists will edit your waffly sentences into something tighter) and work your way up to radio and then television. Print and radio interviews are often done over the phone, which allows you to have your notes in front of you and be wearing whatever makes you comfortable. Television requires you to speak without notes and look professional, so it’s not for the faint-hearted.

Pick Your Battles
While it’s tempting to send your press release to every media outlet, it’s not always the smartest move. It’s important to pick the outlets that are going to do justice to your research and whose journalists have the necessary time and experience.

If your work has the potential to be sensationalised (topics like suicide or terrorism, for example), you may want to steer clear of the commercial television and radio programs, and stick to the ABC (in Australia), the BBC (in the UK), and PBS or NPR (in the USA). Similarly, if your work is highly technical, you may want to avoid the major daily papers and instead target high-end websites and magazines like Wired or New Scientist. If your work has a ‘human interest’ angle and you can connect journalists with real cases, target longer-form publications such as The Monthly or The Atlantic. These are also good targets for people whose work is historial, political, or creative.

Prepare, Prepare, Prepare
Unless you are a seasoned professional (and trust me, you’re not), you should never do a media interview ‘off the cuff’. Never! Ever!

Instead, prepare a series of short, concise statements about your work. Think about the type of questions a journalist is likely to ask and have one statement prepared for each. Print these out and have them in front of you when you’re doing an interview. Make sure that you include some statements about the real world implications of your work and, where possible, be ready to recommend a real person the journalist can talk to (i.e. someone who’s had the experience you’re talking about, or whose life would be affected by the findings).

It’s also okay not to answer a question. Do this politely by explaining that it’s outside the scope of your expertise or wasn’t part of the research you conducted.

Work with Your University’s Media Office
Your University’s media officers deal with journalists every day and many of them are former journalists. They can help you draft and distribute press releases, arrange interviews, and even give you one-on-one media training.

A few tips to help them help you…

(1) Give them plenty of warning. You are not the only researcher in the university and it takes time to draft press releases and liaise with journalists. A week’s notice is ideal, even more if you can swing it.

(2) Draft your own press release, or at least provide some dot points. This can help if your work is highly technical or if you have a particular spin you’d like put on your story. When drafting press releases, remember to write for your audience. Keep the language simple, put the most important information at the top, and provide real world examples.

(3) Tell them who you’d like to target. Use the information provided in ‘Stalk Your Prey’ and ‘Pick Your Battles’ (see above) to identify the media outlets most likely to be interested in your story.

Work with the Journal’s Publishers
If you want media coverage to coincide with the publication of an academic journal article, you should work with the journal’s Publishers. They can tell you the exact date that your paper will go online and you can use this to schedule your press release. As a professional courtesy you should send a copy of any media coverage to the Publishers and the journal’s Editor.

Be Available
Your diary should be completely clear the day you send out a press release. You should have access to the internet and your phone should be fully charged. If a journalist can’t get hold of you they will either (a) write the story without your input or (b) dump the story and move on to something else. Neither is a good outcome.

On a related note, once you develop a profile, journalists may contact you for commentary on current events or other research. Only say yes if you really know what you’re talking about and, if you have to say no, try to recommend someone else so that you get a reputation for being professional and helpful.

Get More Bang for Your Buck
The 24hr news cycle means there is a constant demand for ‘new’ news. Unless your story has legs (i.e. it’s the cure for cancer), it’s unlikely to be replayed or republished after the initial broadcast or print run. But you can maximise its impact with your own Twitter account or Facebook page, as can your colleagues and your University. If you have a website or blog, you might consider adding a media page that includes links to all the coverage of your work.

Accept That Your Story May Not Make It
If the Prime Minister resigns the day you send out your press release, chances are your story won’t run. This  is just the way it works and there’s nothing you can do about it. Keep your fingers crossed and hope for a slow news day.

Keep It In The Family
Finally, in the interests of full disclosure, I should note that I am related to a journalist. I sent a draft of this post to my sister – the talented Erin O’Dwyer – to make sure I hadn’t missed or misrepresented anything. She gave all of the above her journalist’s seal of approval and offered the following additional tips:

  • Be easily searchable. (My interpretation: If you’re not online, you don’t exist)
  • Reply promptly to social media, email and phone enquiries.
  • Keep your language informal. (She wrote this twice, so it must be important)
  • Add yourself to expert lists, including your mobile phone number.
  • Never send a press release to a generic info@ or news@ email address. Phone and ask to speak to the chief of staff or the specific reporter. Then send your release directly to the right person.
  • If a journalist has recently written a story on a particular topic, say asthma or loneliness, they’re unlikely to want to revisit the same topic straight away.

Got any other tips? Please leave a comment.