How to Improve Your Academic Writing Style at University

Most students write the way they were taught to write at school. Clear sentences, decent structure, a conclusion that wraps things up. That works fine for A-levels. At university, it's not enough.

Academic writing at degree level is a different skill — and nobody tells you that clearly enough when you arrive. The jump from A-level to Year 1 is real, and the jump from Year 1 to final year is even more so. What gets you a B at GCSE will get you a 2:2 at university, and what gets you a 2:2 in first year won't get you a First in third year.

The good news is that academic writing is learnable. It's not a talent. It's a craft. And there are specific, concrete things you can do to get better at it.

Understand What "Academic Writing" Actually Means

Academic writing is not about using long words or complicated sentences. That's a myth that produces some of the worst student writing out there — padded-out prose full of jargon that says very little.

What academic writing actually means is this: making a clear, evidence-based argument in a formal register, with precision and logical structure. Every sentence should do something. Every paragraph should have a point. Every claim should be supported.

If you're writing to sound impressive, you're doing it wrong. If you're writing to be clear and persuasive, you're on the right track.

Start With a Clear Argument

The single biggest difference between a 2:1 and a First is almost always the strength and clarity of the central argument.

Before you write a single word, you need to know what you're actually arguing. Not what you're going to "discuss" or "explore" — what you're going to claim. A thesis. A position. Something a reasonable person could disagree with.

"This essay will discuss the causes of the 2008 financial crisis" is not an argument. It's a topic.

"The 2008 financial crisis was primarily the result of regulatory failure rather than individual bank misconduct" is an argument. Now you have something to prove.

Every paragraph you write should be advancing that argument in some way. If a paragraph doesn't connect to your central claim, cut it or rewrite it.

Write Topic Sentences That Actually Work

A topic sentence is the first sentence of a paragraph. Its job is to tell the reader exactly what the paragraph is about and how it connects to your overall argument.

Most students either skip topic sentences entirely or write ones that are too vague to do anything. "There are many factors to consider" is not a topic sentence. Neither is "This paragraph will discuss Smith's theory."

A strong topic sentence makes a claim. Something like: "The absence of regulatory oversight in the derivatives market was the most significant contributing factor to systemic collapse." Now your reader knows exactly what the paragraph will argue before they've read a word of it. And you know exactly what evidence you need to support.

Write your topic sentences first. If you can't write one for a paragraph, that's a sign you don't know what the paragraph is for yet.

Use Evidence Properly — Don't Just Drop It In

One of the most common weaknesses in student writing is what's sometimes called the "quote drop" — where a source is quoted or cited but never really explained or connected to the argument.

It looks like this: "Smith (2020) argues that 'regulatory frameworks were insufficient to prevent systemic risk.' This shows that the crisis was avoidable."

That's not analysis. That's a quote followed by a vague assertion. The gap between the evidence and the conclusion hasn't been filled. Why does Smith's point show the crisis was avoidable? What specifically does "insufficient" mean in this context? How does this connect to the argument you're making?

The PEE or PEEL structure is a useful discipline: make your Point, provide the Evidence, Explain what the evidence means and why it matters, then Link it back to your broader argument. It's a scaffold, not a straitjacket — but it forces you to do the analytical work rather than skipping it.

Be Precise With Language

Vague language is one of the clearest signals of weak academic writing. Words like "many," "some," "various," "a lot," and "things" are almost always replaceable with something more precise — and more precise language makes stronger arguments.

"Many scholars have argued that globalisation has affected inequality" is weak. "Economists including Stiglitz (2002) and Milanovic (2016) have demonstrated that post-1990 trade liberalisation increased income inequality within developed economies while reducing it between nations" is precise, evidenced, and specific.

You don't need more words. You need better ones.

This applies to hedging too. Academic writing does require appropriate qualification — you're rarely able to make absolute claims — but there's a difference between careful hedging and empty hedging. "This may perhaps suggest a possible link" is three hedges stacked on top of each other. "This suggests a causal link" is appropriately qualified without being evasive.

Sort Out Your Paragraph Structure

A well-structured paragraph has a clear job to do, does it, and stops. That sounds obvious. In practice, it's harder than it looks.

The most common paragraph problems are:

One paragraph doing three different jobs. If you find yourself writing a paragraph that covers three separate points, it should probably be three paragraphs. Each idea needs room to breathe and be properly developed.

Paragraphs that end before they've done anything. A two-sentence paragraph is almost never enough to develop an argument properly. If you've made a claim, cited evidence, and moved on without any explanation or analysis, you've left the work half done.

No clear link back to the argument. The last sentence of a paragraph should connect what you've just argued back to the bigger picture. Not mechanically — not "therefore this relates to my argument" — but in a way that shows the reader why this paragraph mattered.

Ditch the Filler Phrases

Every discipline has its version of filler phrases — transitions and constructions that take up space without adding meaning. In academic writing, the most common ones are:

• It is important to note that...
• As previously mentioned...
• This clearly shows that...
• In today's society...
• Throughout history, humans have...
• It could be argued that...

Some of these are just padding. Cut them and the sentence usually becomes stronger. "It is important to note that the legislation came into force in 2012" should just be "The legislation came into force in 2012."

Others mask a lack of confidence in your own argument. "It could be argued that Smith's position is flawed" is weaker than "Smith's position is flawed for three reasons." If you believe the argument, make it. Don't hide behind "it could be argued."

Read Your Work Out Loud

This is the simplest editing technique and the most underused. Reading silently lets your brain fill in gaps and skip over problems. Reading aloud forces you to process every word.

When you read your assignment back, you'll catch sentences that go on too long, repetitions you didn't notice, transitions that don't flow, and claims that are less clear than they seemed when you wrote them. The ones that make you stumble or take a breath mid-sentence are the ones that need rewriting.

Do it slowly. Do it at the end. It takes twenty minutes on a 2,000-word assignment and it will improve every piece of work you produce.

Learn From Your Feedback — Actually

This deserves its own section because it's so consistently ignored.

Feedback from your tutors is personalised, targeted, and free. It's written by someone who has read your work closely and knows exactly where your argument lost them or where your writing let your thinking down. And most students read it once and move on.

Before you start your next assignment, pull out every piece of feedback you've received this year. Read it. Look for patterns. If "lacks critical analysis" has appeared more than once, that's not a coincidence — it's telling you where your marks are going. If "referencing inconsistent" keeps showing up, fix it before you submit again.

The students who improve fastest at university are almost always the ones who treat their feedback as a revision list, not a verdict.

Write More Than You Need To, Then Cut

One of the counterintuitive truths about academic writing is that your first draft should be too long. Write without worrying about word count. Get the argument out, get the evidence in, follow your thinking wherever it goes.

Then cut. Hard.

The discipline of cutting — removing sentences that don't add anything, trimming paragraphs that repeat points you've already made, deleting entire sections that don't serve the argument — is where academic writing actually happens. A 2,000-word essay that's been cut down from 2,600 words is almost always sharper and more persuasive than one written directly to length.

If you're regularly running out of words before you've covered everything, that's a sign your paragraphs are too padded. If you're regularly going over, that's a sign you haven't edited ruthlessly enough.

The Honest Truth About Getting Better

Academic writing improves with practice and attention — and it takes longer than one assignment. Most students write two or three essays before they start to feel the structure clicking. By final year, if you've been paying attention and acting on feedback, it starts to feel natural.

If your writing isn't where you want it to be yet, that's not a fixed thing. It's a current thing. And it's fixable.

If you're in the middle of an assignment right now and the writing isn't landing the way you want it to — or you simply don't have the time to do it justice — that's what we're here for. Every assignment we deliver is written by a human expert who knows what a UK university marker is looking for, and it's checked before it leaves us.