The introduction is where you set the stage. It’s longer (sometimes 1–2 pages), and it has a different job: to make the reader care about your problem and see why you’re the one to solve it.
It starts broad—a famous study, a real-world problem, a paradox—and then narrows like a funnel. By the time you hit your thesis statement, the reader should think, “Of course someone needed to study this. And of course it’s this person.”
This is where you cite other people’s work (the literature review). You’re basically saying, “Look at all these smart folks who missed one crucial thing. Cough—I didn’t.”
What goes in an introduction?
- Background context (why this topic matters)
- A summary of prior research (with citations)
- The gap or unresolved question
- Your research question or hypothesis
- A roadmap of what’s coming
Here’s the ironic part: Many people write the introduction first, then the abstract last. Why? Because you can’t summarize what you haven’t actually done yet. So write the intro when you have a plan, but save the abstract for when you have results. It’s like trying to describe a meal you haven’t cooked—it just tastes hollow.
