The title is a bit gimmicky, but, you know what? I like it. It represents the exhibition in a nutshell, and that's what an exhibition title should do.
The first clue that Pompeii would be good were the partners that worked with the Royal Ontario Museum to create it. It was three years in development, and timed to coincide with Italian Cultural Month in Toronto (and the Italian Film Festival) and - we can assume - the Pan Am Games. It's certainly well-timed, with Canada hosting the woman's FIFA World Cup, the aforementioned games, and it's usual long list of annual events in the city that draw a large international (and local) crowd. And the marketing campaign has been running rampant for weeks now, coming across almost like a movie (including dramatic trailer with even more dramatic voice-over). Leaving aside my opinions on 'blockbuster' exhibitions (that's a whole other post), let's reviewing Pompeii: in the Shadow of the Volcano.
There are six galleries (plus an 'introduction), although only the last is clearly separated into its own space. The others flow from one to the other, and after the entry hall, it's very much a non-directional design. Which I like. Too often exhibitions tell you what to look at, and in this 21st century museum we need to understand that visitors are different, rather than one solid whole, and exhibits need to cater to that. Free-flow galleries are a good way to do this. I went off on a tangent last year about the British Museum's inability to properly do labels for their Vikings exhibition, and blessedly the ROM makes far fewer mistakes with Pompeii. There are the larger 'theme' text panels which introduce each exhibit, and then text panels for individual objects/pictures. It's a nice way to cater to those that want to read everything and those that would just really like to see things and keep on walking.
The main emphasis is entirely on people. The objects and text panels are focused on the stories of Pompeii, directed towards Roman life especially. As a theme of an exhibition about death, I like this focus. It makes the first five galleries feel like a story about life. There's an underlying theme about the volcano, which mostly appears at the start of gallery 1 and in gallery 5, but it's not the focus, anymore than it was for the people of Pompeii. The stories are not morbid, but explain how people lived in Pompeii, using objects from the site and from Herculaneum (and I think Stabiae, too, though that isn't specified). The exhibits all coincide with each other, showing food, entertainment, daily life, the rich and the poor, architecture, religion, etc. There is also a small section on sex in the ancient city, which is separated in a corner with a warning label on the front. It's also painted in red. Just to be obvious. It's not blatant, however, and would certainly be okay for very young children (toddlers and below), but not for those a little more aware of things (they'll be questions!) But it's parents' choice. It's interesting that, in this exhibit, sex is quartered in a small area, but death is ever present and visible. An interesting take on how we usually do exhibits and one that I don't disagree with.
I could have used more contextual labels. The objects explain what they are but not what site they are from, their known (or guessed) dates, or specify materials. I was missing those (the BM had the opposite problem). I know a lot of people don't care, but it's important to give context and be specific. People will look if it's there and they might actually learn something. And ancient dates tend to bring it home. The coin timeline, however, was nicely done.
Also nicely if...graphically, done was the timeline of the eruption, making it starkly clear in black and (red) what happened from the moment of eruption to the end. The focus on Pliny's account to Tacitus of the eruption is also good, though again a bit more about Pliny might have been useful context.
I can't comment on the interactives. Most of them were not yet in situ for the media preview, but I have it on good authority they will be there by the launch. There are two nice (if small) screens that offer visitors a 360 degree view of parts of the Pompeii site, for those who have not visited (or will never visit), although bigger might have been better - they are stashed in a corner and I wonder if they will be obvious when the gallery becomes busy during timed entry. However, from what I've heard about the interactives to come, they should be fantastic for kids and definitely enjoyable, though in very specific areas. The vast majority of the galleries are things in glass with text panels, and I think many family groups are going to be somewhat lost. However, though Pompeii is a great subject to tie in with Roman history for children, it is desperately hard to make 'child friendly'.
Full points go to the team that decided on the first object in the first gallery, though: it's a large piece of pumice stone with a PLEASE TOUCH panel above it and right at kid level. It may turn out to be the only touchable object in the galleries, but it's a good one. Though being able to pick it up and feel the lightness would have been a fun addition (though hard to engineer).
The galleries all have a similar vibe (hence why it's so hard to tell when you've strayed into a new one), but the last gallery stands out. It's harsh and cold and very, very, clear. You've just walked past a 30 foot screen showing a pyroclasic cloud barrelling down at you and suddenly it's behind you, the noise slowly fading, and you walk out into a wide space where there is one panel five displays; wide shelves with trench barricades and figures in plaster. It's is both more eerie and less so than rounding a corner in Pompeii to a display case full of plaster casts. The lighting and mood (and the silence of the gallery here - by this time most everyone had left and there were only 5 of us and a film crew in the space) lend an eerie feel to the place and make you feel like you're walking through a graveyard - at night. But in another way, they are more 'display' pieces here then they are in Pompeii. More things to be looked at rather than shied away from. In Pompeii, I couldn't bring myself to take photos of the casts; it felt wrong, somehow; like an intrusion on a private moment. Here, that feeling was suppressed. It wasn't so much a private moment, but one fully on display. And maybe that's a bad thing. The casts are not considered human remains, although in many ways they are more human than most skeletons appear. And yet, they are not treated the same, because they are not the same as a 'dead body'. They are only the ghost image of one, and yet the visceral feeling of them is much more real than a skeleton will ever be. These are people in their death throws; screaming, yelling, clutching each other in their last moments while they quickly suffocate. It's horrible; but it's a lasting image the visitor will take with them into the (thankfully) staid gift shop.
I almost wanted something more. Some small space before I was spilled out into commercialization, just to reflect on the fact that - although Pompeii is an excellent snap-shot of Roman life - it exists only because it was destroyed, unlike most archaeological sites that exist because they were not. It's something to think about.
Mostly, I ponder what my old instructor Andrew Wallace-Hadrill might have thought. Italy has done well to loan these much treasured objects (though the best of the murals and mosaics for which Pompeii is famous are still housed in Italy), and to be so very generous with their help in creating the exhibition.
It's not perfect, but it's pretty good, and that comes from both a student of Roman History and a doctor of Museum Studies. So I should know, right?
It does remain an expensive day out, with transportation and parking fees getting ever higher in Toronto, not to mention the ROM's entry fee ($28 adults, $20 children). For this, it might just be worth it becoming a member for the year, at $97 for an individual. Four trips would make it worth your while, if you live around the city. I do, however, wish they would do family prices for exhibitions, much like museums in Europe do. Two parents and two children would be $96 entry, if my math is correct, which continues to make this a rather exclusive museum. I'd recommend going Friday evenings, if you can, when tickets are helpfully cheaper. But, if you can't get to Naples, then this will be worth the price of admission.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Stress and the Machine
Ostensibly I have seven novels on the go. Ostensibly. The reality is that two of them are with test readers, one of them is sitting untouched (for 8 months) on my hard drive, two of them are no more than a summary, and two of them are on my to-edit list this summer. So, actually, right now I have no novels on the go.
This would be grand in most circumstances. Particularly if those circumstances were: agent man is looking for more books to sell. But I don't have an agent, or a single book sold, or even time to query any of the books that are works-in-progress.
Instead, I am revising a thesis. There are few things I dislike more than academic editing. I can think of a few, but most of them involve death and dismemberment. I am not an avid editor, but I can just about manage with fictional editing; academic editing is another kettle of fish (barrel of monkeys?). I spent five months last year editing this thesis, and now I'm spending another five months editing this thesis, and in many ways I am simply taking what I already changed once and changing it again (sometimes back to what it was originally!). I am bored and disheartened and thoroughly, thoroughly, frustrated with the whole thing. As usual with editing, one edit changes five other things, or you remember that if you reword this you have to go find that other sentence 10k words later and reword it too. It's awful. But it's revisions, and just like editing a novel, it has to get done.
But in many ways, I'm lucky. I have nothing else to do with my time except plug away on this, so in many ways it is not very stressful. That's not to say it isn't stressful. It is. Anything on which your future career lies engenders stress. This is not, however, as stressful as the first round of edits was last autumn where my feeling was 'it's utter shite, what am I going to do?' Now it's a matter of considering 'well, they told me it wasn't shite, so I just have to take it from being acceptable to being good'. That means less stress as well.
I had no idea what I was doing the first time. No one does, the first time they write a thesis. I had about three different research questions and it took - what felt like - forever to figure out which one was the actual one (jury is still out on whether it was the right one). Even at the end I was still stressing about whether it was a good research question. So that stress is gone now, for which I am very grateful. And yet, some little niggling voice in my head still thinks maybe there was another way. I try not to give it much voice time.
So, I plug away, slowly but surely. When before I editing whole sections in a day, now I go one paragraph at a time. I am hoping that is a good thing. That I am being even more dedicated and careful. Time will only tell. What I do know is that it leaves me a lot of time for other things; things that reduce my lower stress even further and that I - mostly - enjoy.
Next week, look for a review of the Royal Ontario Museum's new blockbuster exhibition 'Pompeii: In the Shadow of the Volcano', and possibly some future ramblings about supervising and consultancy. Because apparently that is a thing I now do.
This would be grand in most circumstances. Particularly if those circumstances were: agent man is looking for more books to sell. But I don't have an agent, or a single book sold, or even time to query any of the books that are works-in-progress.
Instead, I am revising a thesis. There are few things I dislike more than academic editing. I can think of a few, but most of them involve death and dismemberment. I am not an avid editor, but I can just about manage with fictional editing; academic editing is another kettle of fish (barrel of monkeys?). I spent five months last year editing this thesis, and now I'm spending another five months editing this thesis, and in many ways I am simply taking what I already changed once and changing it again (sometimes back to what it was originally!). I am bored and disheartened and thoroughly, thoroughly, frustrated with the whole thing. As usual with editing, one edit changes five other things, or you remember that if you reword this you have to go find that other sentence 10k words later and reword it too. It's awful. But it's revisions, and just like editing a novel, it has to get done.
But in many ways, I'm lucky. I have nothing else to do with my time except plug away on this, so in many ways it is not very stressful. That's not to say it isn't stressful. It is. Anything on which your future career lies engenders stress. This is not, however, as stressful as the first round of edits was last autumn where my feeling was 'it's utter shite, what am I going to do?' Now it's a matter of considering 'well, they told me it wasn't shite, so I just have to take it from being acceptable to being good'. That means less stress as well.
I had no idea what I was doing the first time. No one does, the first time they write a thesis. I had about three different research questions and it took - what felt like - forever to figure out which one was the actual one (jury is still out on whether it was the right one). Even at the end I was still stressing about whether it was a good research question. So that stress is gone now, for which I am very grateful. And yet, some little niggling voice in my head still thinks maybe there was another way. I try not to give it much voice time.
So, I plug away, slowly but surely. When before I editing whole sections in a day, now I go one paragraph at a time. I am hoping that is a good thing. That I am being even more dedicated and careful. Time will only tell. What I do know is that it leaves me a lot of time for other things; things that reduce my lower stress even further and that I - mostly - enjoy.
Next week, look for a review of the Royal Ontario Museum's new blockbuster exhibition 'Pompeii: In the Shadow of the Volcano', and possibly some future ramblings about supervising and consultancy. Because apparently that is a thing I now do.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
CMA Conference 2015 - Banff
This past week was the annual Canadian Museum Association conference. It usually teeters back and forth between eastern and western Canada, and as last year was here, this year they went west. To Banff. As you do. In Canada.
I haven't been out to Alberta in 21 years, so my memories are a little bit hazy. I remember mountains, which, really, is the important part.
I didn't go out with very high expectations, in all honesty. I know people who have been and, honestly, this particular conference has a bit of a reputation for being the ol' boys club. It sort of is, I don't dispute that, now having been. The big museums are much better represented than smaller ones, because the registration fee is so exorbitantly high. Yeah, it was a nice conference, but the panels and discussion are the important part and I feel that has sort of been lost in the drive to pick the Best Hotel Ever and throw money away on food. But maybe I'm just really old fashioned and think conferences should be about the conversations, not the scenery.
But Banff is beautiful. I'd forgotten how beautiful it is. And how friendly everyone is. I have never been somewhere (even PEI) where people smiled at you and said hello and were welcoming and helping all of the time. Genuinely. But then, they live in Banff, so how could they not be happy? I was certainly quite pleased the whole week, every time I looked outside. There are mountains, Gandalf! Mountains!
In terms of the conference itself, we started with a great workshop that really sort of evolved as it went along to suit that fact a lot of attendees were more behind than the organizers expected (or I hoped). But I think everyone got something useful out of it, and I know I was pleased with myself for actually opening my mouth and saying stuff (because it *was* on my topic). And the organizers were really welcoming of that, bless them. In fact, so welcoming we ended up having a bowling tournament that night (I lost).
Wednesday had some quite interesting talks, and some ones that gave me that gut wrenching feeling that Canada really doesn't understand the cultural industry at all. My understanding of my own country's industry developed over the week and in many cases I had eye opening experiences. Not all of which were pleasant. I was aware of several issues in the industry, but did not quite realize how ingrained they were. It doesn't make me particularly hopeful of change anytime soon, but we'll see. The point was that I met a lot of young people that felt the same way and want to make things different, but haven't figured out how to have an impact on a industry that won't even employ them (tell me about it).
But some positives came out of the event, not least Richard Sandell's talk (one of my favourites of his) that seemed to floor a lot of people in the audience, judging by the tweets. And a fantastic panel about diversity on the Thursday afternoon that just gave me warm fuzzy feelings that there are people in the industry trying to make it better and succeeding - on however small a scale. If they can do it, it can be done.
The food was great (mostly the food I ate outside the Fairmont - though the coffee breaks were good there), my hotel was lovely and the transportation network never let me down. The weather mostly cooperated too, which is always nice for April in the mountains (it snowed only the day I went to the springs, which is what I was hoping for). And the scenery was amazing. Truly spectacular. So much so, in fact, that on the way up to Banff from Calgary I cried. It might have had something to do with the epic music soundtrack I was listening to as well. But, for a week, I was really wonderfully happy. Until I returned to Ontario. Life hasn't been so great the last couple of days, but I've made a few decisions and things are going to change in the next couple of months. And hopefully, they will start to get better.
Because, if not, I'm moving to Alberta.
I haven't been out to Alberta in 21 years, so my memories are a little bit hazy. I remember mountains, which, really, is the important part.
I didn't go out with very high expectations, in all honesty. I know people who have been and, honestly, this particular conference has a bit of a reputation for being the ol' boys club. It sort of is, I don't dispute that, now having been. The big museums are much better represented than smaller ones, because the registration fee is so exorbitantly high. Yeah, it was a nice conference, but the panels and discussion are the important part and I feel that has sort of been lost in the drive to pick the Best Hotel Ever and throw money away on food. But maybe I'm just really old fashioned and think conferences should be about the conversations, not the scenery.
But Banff is beautiful. I'd forgotten how beautiful it is. And how friendly everyone is. I have never been somewhere (even PEI) where people smiled at you and said hello and were welcoming and helping all of the time. Genuinely. But then, they live in Banff, so how could they not be happy? I was certainly quite pleased the whole week, every time I looked outside. There are mountains, Gandalf! Mountains!
In terms of the conference itself, we started with a great workshop that really sort of evolved as it went along to suit that fact a lot of attendees were more behind than the organizers expected (or I hoped). But I think everyone got something useful out of it, and I know I was pleased with myself for actually opening my mouth and saying stuff (because it *was* on my topic). And the organizers were really welcoming of that, bless them. In fact, so welcoming we ended up having a bowling tournament that night (I lost).
Wednesday had some quite interesting talks, and some ones that gave me that gut wrenching feeling that Canada really doesn't understand the cultural industry at all. My understanding of my own country's industry developed over the week and in many cases I had eye opening experiences. Not all of which were pleasant. I was aware of several issues in the industry, but did not quite realize how ingrained they were. It doesn't make me particularly hopeful of change anytime soon, but we'll see. The point was that I met a lot of young people that felt the same way and want to make things different, but haven't figured out how to have an impact on a industry that won't even employ them (tell me about it).
But some positives came out of the event, not least Richard Sandell's talk (one of my favourites of his) that seemed to floor a lot of people in the audience, judging by the tweets. And a fantastic panel about diversity on the Thursday afternoon that just gave me warm fuzzy feelings that there are people in the industry trying to make it better and succeeding - on however small a scale. If they can do it, it can be done.
The food was great (mostly the food I ate outside the Fairmont - though the coffee breaks were good there), my hotel was lovely and the transportation network never let me down. The weather mostly cooperated too, which is always nice for April in the mountains (it snowed only the day I went to the springs, which is what I was hoping for). And the scenery was amazing. Truly spectacular. So much so, in fact, that on the way up to Banff from Calgary I cried. It might have had something to do with the epic music soundtrack I was listening to as well. But, for a week, I was really wonderfully happy. Until I returned to Ontario. Life hasn't been so great the last couple of days, but I've made a few decisions and things are going to change in the next couple of months. And hopefully, they will start to get better.
Because, if not, I'm moving to Alberta.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Post Viva
My first thought, had anyone asked me six months ago, would be to say that of course I was looking forward to after the viva. You're a doctor after all. How cool is that?
It's sort of surreal, actually. All my very supportive friends and family keep calling me Dr. Hetherington, but yet, in my head, nothing has changed. I didn't just wake up and start feeling like 'now I have my PhD'. I'm still stuck somewhere in 'I'm a student' mode. Possibly this is because I have not yet moved from the student lifestyle and mentality onto something that might be considered more 'adult'. I am where I have been for three months, doing exactly the same amount of procrastination I've been doing, it's just no longer considered procrastination. I think, once I'm out in the world working again I will feel less like a student, but until then, I'm just having a bit of a time wrapping my brain around what being a Doctor means.
But, the fact of the matter is that the viva is over (gut wrenchingly terrifying as it was - I don't do well in those sorts of situations, and spent most of the day having a panic attack), and I was told I did really well (despite the panic attack) and should feel pleased about that. It's sort of really a blur (because of the panic attack), but I do know I'm glad it's over and I won't have to do that again (unless I get another hair-brained idea to do a PhD - please stop me if I do). Now I have a few months of corrections to do (well, it'll take a few months, because I think it's going to take me a month or more to work up to actually being able to face editing my PhD again - we've not really been on speaking terms lately). But I'm done the big, really hard work bit, now it's just a few things to tidy up (I was just told that by a previous graduate and I've decided it's a nice way of looking at life).
But I think I might not actually wrap my head around being a doctor until graduation. For both my MAs I didn't feel done until I held that piece of paper in my hand, even though I'd finished school 6 months before convocation.
It's sort of surreal, actually. All my very supportive friends and family keep calling me Dr. Hetherington, but yet, in my head, nothing has changed. I didn't just wake up and start feeling like 'now I have my PhD'. I'm still stuck somewhere in 'I'm a student' mode. Possibly this is because I have not yet moved from the student lifestyle and mentality onto something that might be considered more 'adult'. I am where I have been for three months, doing exactly the same amount of procrastination I've been doing, it's just no longer considered procrastination. I think, once I'm out in the world working again I will feel less like a student, but until then, I'm just having a bit of a time wrapping my brain around what being a Doctor means.
But, the fact of the matter is that the viva is over (gut wrenchingly terrifying as it was - I don't do well in those sorts of situations, and spent most of the day having a panic attack), and I was told I did really well (despite the panic attack) and should feel pleased about that. It's sort of really a blur (because of the panic attack), but I do know I'm glad it's over and I won't have to do that again (unless I get another hair-brained idea to do a PhD - please stop me if I do). Now I have a few months of corrections to do (well, it'll take a few months, because I think it's going to take me a month or more to work up to actually being able to face editing my PhD again - we've not really been on speaking terms lately). But I'm done the big, really hard work bit, now it's just a few things to tidy up (I was just told that by a previous graduate and I've decided it's a nice way of looking at life).
But I think I might not actually wrap my head around being a doctor until graduation. For both my MAs I didn't feel done until I held that piece of paper in my hand, even though I'd finished school 6 months before convocation.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Viva Prep
It's that time of year. Well, that time of the PhD, at least. It's time to start prepping for the viva.
The PhD experience is a very individual one. Each person has their own project, their own methodology, their own timeline, and, in the end, their own thesis. Though other people are also going through a PhD, they have their own individual journeys and things will never be exactly the same for any two people. So too with the viva (I've been told).
We've been lucky in my department. Very few people have had an awful experience. Partly this is because external examiners are chosen very carefully. A good external and make a viva and a bad one can break it. I know I have a great external (and a good internal, for that matter, though I didn't get to choose). That is the first hurdle out of the way.
The second is writing a good PhD thesis. I think I've done this, but I also know, without a doubt, that there are issues. There unanswered questions or things I probably should have done differently. Every PhD has those, though, and they don't mean it's a bad thesis. Knowing what they are and acknowledging them is a great first step. It means fewer surprises in the viva!
I also know that the viva is as much a mental thing as it is a physical event. I have known a lot of people to freak out before their vivas, convinced that they've ruined their thesis or made so many mistakes there's no way they'll ever pass. I've known others that have torn their research in two, looking for all the things they might get called out on. It's hard not to do any of those things. We're sort of conditioned towards it. It's not easy, critiquing one's work, but you do get good at it while writing a thesis.
The third thing about having a good viva is to just be prepared. It sounds so simple, but it's not easy (but it shouldn't be hard either!) After all, you've done the hard work already. You've researched and written the thing. It's just a matter of defending what you have already done. That's in the past now, and you can't change it. But you can acknowledge that and understand that it was never going to be perfect, and it doesn't need to be.
So, my viva prep will consist of rereading my entire thesis (which I haven't done in two months), and acknowledging what the strengths and weakness are of each chapter, and each of my main arguments. I've already made a list of likely questions (the typical ones most people are asked, and ones specific to my research) and started to make bullet point answers to them. Once I've gone through all the chapters, I'll go back to those questions and have another go (and see if any more questions occur). After that (which I figure will take about 2 weeks), I'll have a brief look to see if (shockingly) anything new has been published on my subject since September last, and then have a look through my external's publications (again) to remind myself where they are coming from (those will take about a week). At that time I'm going to be getting on a place to return to England, so that's my deadline. It also means I'll get a bit of a break right before my viva, because it's hard to concentrate with jet lag!
As for the run-up to my viva, I've got stuff to do and places to be the few days before, so that's good distraction. And I've got an amazing supervisor who has offered to be there if I need help (calming down). And lots of friends around who I am sure would be more than willing to tell me 'It'll be fine!' (or similar versions). Some of them have actually been through vivas and can give me honest and useful advise. I'm relying on that!
But, in the end, the best piece of advice I have ever been given is...enjoy it. It's probably the hardest piece of advice (considering I am A) prone to fists of anxiety and B) a worst-case scenario-ist). I do, however, aim to try.
The PhD experience is a very individual one. Each person has their own project, their own methodology, their own timeline, and, in the end, their own thesis. Though other people are also going through a PhD, they have their own individual journeys and things will never be exactly the same for any two people. So too with the viva (I've been told).
We've been lucky in my department. Very few people have had an awful experience. Partly this is because external examiners are chosen very carefully. A good external and make a viva and a bad one can break it. I know I have a great external (and a good internal, for that matter, though I didn't get to choose). That is the first hurdle out of the way.
The second is writing a good PhD thesis. I think I've done this, but I also know, without a doubt, that there are issues. There unanswered questions or things I probably should have done differently. Every PhD has those, though, and they don't mean it's a bad thesis. Knowing what they are and acknowledging them is a great first step. It means fewer surprises in the viva!
I also know that the viva is as much a mental thing as it is a physical event. I have known a lot of people to freak out before their vivas, convinced that they've ruined their thesis or made so many mistakes there's no way they'll ever pass. I've known others that have torn their research in two, looking for all the things they might get called out on. It's hard not to do any of those things. We're sort of conditioned towards it. It's not easy, critiquing one's work, but you do get good at it while writing a thesis.
The third thing about having a good viva is to just be prepared. It sounds so simple, but it's not easy (but it shouldn't be hard either!) After all, you've done the hard work already. You've researched and written the thing. It's just a matter of defending what you have already done. That's in the past now, and you can't change it. But you can acknowledge that and understand that it was never going to be perfect, and it doesn't need to be.
So, my viva prep will consist of rereading my entire thesis (which I haven't done in two months), and acknowledging what the strengths and weakness are of each chapter, and each of my main arguments. I've already made a list of likely questions (the typical ones most people are asked, and ones specific to my research) and started to make bullet point answers to them. Once I've gone through all the chapters, I'll go back to those questions and have another go (and see if any more questions occur). After that (which I figure will take about 2 weeks), I'll have a brief look to see if (shockingly) anything new has been published on my subject since September last, and then have a look through my external's publications (again) to remind myself where they are coming from (those will take about a week). At that time I'm going to be getting on a place to return to England, so that's my deadline. It also means I'll get a bit of a break right before my viva, because it's hard to concentrate with jet lag!
As for the run-up to my viva, I've got stuff to do and places to be the few days before, so that's good distraction. And I've got an amazing supervisor who has offered to be there if I need help (
But, in the end, the best piece of advice I have ever been given is...enjoy it. It's probably the hardest piece of advice (considering I am A) prone to fists of anxiety and B) a worst-case scenario-ist). I do, however, aim to try.
Friday, November 28, 2014
The End is Nigh
No, okay, the apocalypse isn't coming. Well, at least not to me. In my novel it's already been and gone and humanity is dealing with the utopian aftermath. But in real life, 'apocalypse' is a nice turn of phrase that we rather overuse. After all, December 2012 passed without any adverse effects, despite dire predictions to the contrary because people don't understand Mayan cultural history.
But I digress. I've been doing a lot of that these days, because - like a five year old who's grown up on technology - I do in fact have no attention span whatsoever. Even writing a blog post takes more concentration than I can typically expend. This is, unfortunately, normal in the final months of a PhD. That doesn't, however, make it easier to live with. I am quite proud of my ability to focus on one thing for - literally - days on end, but even the things I used to expend vast amounts of time on last me about five minutes now.
So no, the apocalypse is not coming, but the end is - thankfully - nigh. And that's a blessing, because the inability to focus is a frustration and only adds to the stress I'm already experiencing as being about to submit. It makes editing hard. It makes watching television hard. It makes meetings next to impossible. I lose track and focus from one minute to the next and honestly forget what I was about to say half way through a sentence. It's not particularly fun, living this way. But the end is nigh and - I can hope - it does get better afterwards.
If you have read the above three paragraphs, you have all the proof I need of my lack of focus. The overall theme may be the same, and we might end where we began, but even those 19 sentences skip around, backtrack, repeat and sometimes make little to no sense even to me.
Though, if they do make sense to you, that's proof I'm suffering from problems other than just a lack of focus, so please let me know.
But I digress. I've been doing a lot of that these days, because - like a five year old who's grown up on technology - I do in fact have no attention span whatsoever. Even writing a blog post takes more concentration than I can typically expend. This is, unfortunately, normal in the final months of a PhD. That doesn't, however, make it easier to live with. I am quite proud of my ability to focus on one thing for - literally - days on end, but even the things I used to expend vast amounts of time on last me about five minutes now.
So no, the apocalypse is not coming, but the end is - thankfully - nigh. And that's a blessing, because the inability to focus is a frustration and only adds to the stress I'm already experiencing as being about to submit. It makes editing hard. It makes watching television hard. It makes meetings next to impossible. I lose track and focus from one minute to the next and honestly forget what I was about to say half way through a sentence. It's not particularly fun, living this way. But the end is nigh and - I can hope - it does get better afterwards.
If you have read the above three paragraphs, you have all the proof I need of my lack of focus. The overall theme may be the same, and we might end where we began, but even those 19 sentences skip around, backtrack, repeat and sometimes make little to no sense even to me.
Though, if they do make sense to you, that's proof I'm suffering from problems other than just a lack of focus, so please let me know.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Hello and Welcome...
...To my nest of insanity, that is.
There are certain things that would be inadvisable to do in the last month before you submit your doctoral thesis. The first would be to go on holiday (that comes after). The second would be to suddenly quit (awfully late for all the work you've put into it).
And the third? The third would be to sign up to National Novel Writing Month with a goal of 50,000 words.
Naturally, I did option three, because I'm a masochist, an idiot, overambitious and any other negative comment you want to send my way. It's okay, I know how stupid I am. But it's done and there is no undoing it now.
The upshot is that the novel that was supposed to be written over the winter can now be edited over the winter, so I might actually be able to query it next year along with Amoron. I'm not sure it's advisable to query two novels at once, but since I don't like to either be normal or to do advisable things, I guess I can try.
In other news I submitted my final draft of the thesis to the second supervisor, who has to sign off on it from an internal examiner point of view before I can submit to the university. I am therefore just crossing my fingers and praying/wishes/hoping/fretting that he doesn't come back next week with major corrections, because I only have until the 24th to do them! And write a novel!
And hang myself because I'm an idiot.
In regards to finally getting the draft done, it feels anti-climatic. I have, unfortunately, now been told this is normal and will be what the next few months of my life feel like. That's not exactly great to hear, so I apologise for sharing. It appears that most of the stress and climactic feelings of misery leave you behind at this point (if you submit on time) and don't really give way to anything other than 'well, okay, what to I do now?' until the viva which (if you pass) leads to more anti-climactic feelings of 'right, so I can get on with my life now?'
This isn't exactly the happy exciting relief-filled time I was planning on. However, in a strange way, it solidifies what I thought post-submission is like, which is basically a month of being unable to do anything because you are exhausted and have no ability to focus. It's like a four year old who's watched too much telly growing up. Exciting times.
But this is a really strange part of the process, and not one anyone really talks about. They talk about after submission. They talk about those last months of writing up misery. But the part between those two? Not so much. I really have no idea what to even attempt to do with myself, except take my supervisor's advise yesterday (which was: 'enjoy the three day conference and spend some time with your friends'). So, I am enjoying the conference, and planning time with friends.
And I went shopping. And I'm trying to catch my already-behind-word-count for NaNo.
Further up and further in. Winter is coming.
There are certain things that would be inadvisable to do in the last month before you submit your doctoral thesis. The first would be to go on holiday (that comes after). The second would be to suddenly quit (awfully late for all the work you've put into it).
And the third? The third would be to sign up to National Novel Writing Month with a goal of 50,000 words.
Naturally, I did option three, because I'm a masochist, an idiot, overambitious and any other negative comment you want to send my way. It's okay, I know how stupid I am. But it's done and there is no undoing it now.
The upshot is that the novel that was supposed to be written over the winter can now be edited over the winter, so I might actually be able to query it next year along with Amoron. I'm not sure it's advisable to query two novels at once, but since I don't like to either be normal or to do advisable things, I guess I can try.
In other news I submitted my final draft of the thesis to the second supervisor, who has to sign off on it from an internal examiner point of view before I can submit to the university. I am therefore just crossing my fingers and praying/wishes/hoping/fretting that he doesn't come back next week with major corrections, because I only have until the 24th to do them! And write a novel!
And hang myself because I'm an idiot.
In regards to finally getting the draft done, it feels anti-climatic. I have, unfortunately, now been told this is normal and will be what the next few months of my life feel like. That's not exactly great to hear, so I apologise for sharing. It appears that most of the stress and climactic feelings of misery leave you behind at this point (if you submit on time) and don't really give way to anything other than 'well, okay, what to I do now?' until the viva which (if you pass) leads to more anti-climactic feelings of 'right, so I can get on with my life now?'
This isn't exactly the happy exciting relief-filled time I was planning on. However, in a strange way, it solidifies what I thought post-submission is like, which is basically a month of being unable to do anything because you are exhausted and have no ability to focus. It's like a four year old who's watched too much telly growing up. Exciting times.
But this is a really strange part of the process, and not one anyone really talks about. They talk about after submission. They talk about those last months of writing up misery. But the part between those two? Not so much. I really have no idea what to even attempt to do with myself, except take my supervisor's advise yesterday (which was: 'enjoy the three day conference and spend some time with your friends'). So, I am enjoying the conference, and planning time with friends.
And I went shopping. And I'm trying to catch my already-behind-word-count for NaNo.
Further up and further in. Winter is coming.
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