When it comes to developing my personal knowledge infrastructure, I am shockingly – disturbingly – rooted in physical, non-digital methods of tracking and storing knowledge. For someone who loves the internet and the accessibility of contemporary organizational tools so much, it comes as a surprise, especially to me, that I am so reliant on pen and paper.
As I set out on a research project, my tendency is to jot down some thoughts on my topic as a jumping-off point. I have notebooks for each class I’m in, as well as a small notepad for my job and larger notebooks for general, unaffiliated writing. Last year, my friends made fun of me for keeping a large piece of poster-board paper under my bed: whenever I had to make a shopping list or write a card, I would simply cut off a piece to write upon. My notebooks and papers are not particularly organized. Instead, I rely on my own memory to recall where I might have collected notes on a project or begun an outline for a paper. Eventually, I migrate my notes into a Google doc where they become the basis for a formal paper. Although this system has worked for me through years of college and into my employment, one step in the writing process still gives me pause: citations. Bridging the gap between my handwritten outlines and typed final drafts depends on adopting a more effective, organized approach to my research.
It is difficult – and certainly overwhelming – to keep track of research citations scattered across sheets of paper; and it is discouraging to type these citations, character for character, into a Google doc where they’ll still have to be formatted and annotated. Online citation generators and browser extensions exist to mitigate the tedium of creating citations, and I’m particularly interested in using Zotero. Zotero is an open-source software designed to manage bibliographic data, and can be integrated with Google Chrome, the internet browser I prefer to use (zotero.org). Because Zotero can collect research articles as I access them, organize citations into groups, facilitate annotations, and eventually create a bibliography, I’m confident that my ragtag approach to research and citations will be improved immensely if I incorporate this software into my personal knowledge infrastructure.
Currently, my chosen system of writing relies on memory, access to my physical notebooks, and a personal sense of organization. If I were to adopt Zotero – a choice of which I’m entirely in control – I would become less dependent on my unique organization style and rely instead on access to the internet, knowledge of Zotero’s functions, and a willingness to embrace a new system. To this end, I think of Susan Leigh Star’s requirement of an infrastructure to “link with conventions of practice” (Star, 381): how can I approach Zotero in a way that builds this software into actions I am already taking as a scholar? I believe the ability to sync Zotero with my Google Chrome browser and integrate it into Google Docs, my word processor of choice, is essential to embedding Zotero into my larger knowledge infrastructure. Finally, the greatest problem posed to my adoption of Zotero as a research tool is forewarned by Star: “seemingly trivial alterations in routine, or demands for action, will act to prevent [me] from using the system” (Star, 386). The action required to install Zotero, familiarize myself with its functions, and troubleshoot as I use the software risk discouraging me from abandoning my tried and true pen-and-paper method. In order to successfully change how my personal knowledge infrastructure is built, I must not be “so routinized, so rigid in [my] ability to adapt to change” (Star, 386). It would be shame to be my own greatest obstacle in reformulating my knowledge infrastructure, and so I will make a concerted effort this semester to integrate Zotero – and better citation practices, in general – into my research and writing processes.
