Yes well, that was unplanned

These things happen, of course. Sometimes I feel they only happen to me, but that's clearly not the case. The last month has been rather a constant schedule of changing plans, but I think it's finally starting to settle again (*knocks on wood*) so I can get back to actually knowing what I'll be doing for the next week. Which is about the only stress relief I conceivably get these days, so I've naturally missed it. I have nowhere to be in the next two months, and no pressing concerns other than my thesis (in fact, no non-pressing concerns that I currently know about). Hopefully that means I can get back on and remain on track until this is done.

In writing news, I am editing. Which is not really writing, per se, but yet it is. It is writing because there are some new words to put to paper, and yet it's not because it's really just rewriting sections to sound better, or moving sections around, or adding in references. To me, writing is sitting down and writing, editing is much more piecemeal, and for that reason, often more difficult. But today went alright, considering it was my first go, and I have a game plan for tomorrow. I think I'm going to very much take this one day at a time, but eventually I'll get there (by the 25th, one hopes). If I can manage a chapter every few days, we'll be fine. I haven't seen four of the chapters yet and have no idea what their corrections are like, but for the ones I have, 2-3 days per chapter is entirely doable. Particularly when I am no longer ill with the fugue.

Concurrently, because my Muse is entirely like that, I started yet another novel, for which I have my holiday relaxing to account for. I'll never actually write the thing but the idea is there if I ever get bored (or run out of more usable novel bunnies [plot bunnies, but more encompassing]). I know not to fight it now, anyways, and if my Muse wants to write about lost Rus princesses and weird versions of immortality, that's her business and I won't argue too much. I really would, however, prefer she devoted her time to the actual usable novel bunny instead, but one can't have everything. As long as she doesn't abandon me, we're okay here.

It is hard to believe it's October already. Of 2014. Really, this year has contained so many things, and has gone so quickly and yet so slowly at the same time. I really would like to be done with it, not least because I have high hopes for 2015 (well, higher). But right now there are two months left, plenty of miserable weather to contend with, and a thesis to finish, so I suppose I'll not have to worry about time passing too slowly.

In Conclusion

I have always found conclusions to be especially difficult things to write. I know rather a lot of people who find introductions the hardest, but those are easy. Starting is always easy, ending is never that.


I have just begun Chapter 8, which is the conclusion. I have a very detailed outlined of what needs to go into it, and it should be easy to follow, but I'm struggling nonetheless. I am struggling to find the words I have not already said in 70,000, that say the same things I did in the first 5000. I am struggling, really, to understand how a thesis I lost interest in six months ago can remotely be said to be useful and interesting for my field (or others). I am struggling to justify the last three years of my life in a few thousands words. And really, the main reason for that is because I am struggling to justify the last three years of my life period.


It seems to be running rampant in my department right now, but most people I know are questioning the sanity of doing their PhDs. We are all wondering why we are doing this and why it sounded like a good idea and why we just didn't take that job that probably would have gotten us a promotion (or at least a permanent position) by now. I think the main reason for this department wide questioning is because we all thought, three years ago, that that was enough time for the world to sort itself out. That by the time we graduated there would be jobs again. But they're aren't. It's still very difficult to get employment in this sector. It's still something that takes years and years of struggle and after years of struggling to get through academic (and get our careers started amidst that) we are all wondering if we'll ever actually get anywhere.


I look back on the last twelve years of my life since I first went off to university and I wonder - I can't help it - why I made the choices I did. I am grateful for so many things in those twelve years, and ungrateful for so many others. We take the good with the bad, and that's life. But after twelve years of upwards struggle to find my place, I know there are many more years left before I secure that place and I cannot help but wonder when I will ever be in a place financially, professionally or personally that I won't lie awake every night worried about tomorrow. I'm very tired of worrying and wondering.


And maybe the real reason it's so hard to write conclusions is because you know it's the end. That something else has to start and that's always going to be exciting but frightening. This conclusion is the conclusion of my PhD (not nearly, still 6 months to go after this) and therefor the conclusion of what is the background of my career. Now I have to work on the career, and that's an introduction I am both thrilled and terrified about, but it still means the end of something and ends are always hard.

Good heavens, golly and gosh. Or rather, bloody hell.

It's been a while, hasn't it? Let me tell you what my life has consisted of for the last 6 weeks.

Writing. Swearing. Writing. Sleeping. Procrastinating. Procrastinating. Procrastinating. [Not necessarily in that order or weighted to that number of times the word is repeated.]

In other words, I haven't had a lot to write about, and writing has sort of been the issue. It's not writer's block. Because I write something every day. It is, rather, a complete and utter lack of conviction towards writing this thesis. I'm over it. I really, really am. I just want it to be done already. I don't want to spend the next four months finishing it and then have to viva and then have to fix it. I want to be done already. I want to be employed and making money to start paying off that massive debt over my head. I want to live in my own place (rented though that will be). I want to get on with my life. I'm over the PhD. Three years doesn't sound like a long commitment (my undergrad was five), but I'm telling you now, at this stage in my life, three years is a bloody too long commitment. Too long chained to one thing with no way out. I knew that, theoretically, when I started this, but theory and practice are (as my thesis shows) two different things.

But I'm waxing lyrical and there's no point. Because I am not done. Because I may just have another 12 months of this to go. And there is no choice here. This isn't one of those crossroads in life where I get to decide which path I turn down. No, there is only one path, and no shortcut (or long cut) across country either. I'm all about forging new paths, but in this case there's a cliff on either side and I'm walking a very narrow bridge. It's go forward or go back. And how do you go back on life already lived?

[You don't.]

So, I haven't really had much of note to talk about with you, my readers. Each day is an effort to keep my head above water, and each night I am thankful to find my bed and rest (when I can). And that is going to be my life for the foreseeable future. I can't think past that, I really can't. Because for me, passed this doesn't exist in anything other than the most abstract terms, and I've never been good with abstract (art or theory).

I go on, each day. I get up, I write what I need to, I try not to hate it too much, I eat, I sleep, I go to the gym when all else fails, I try not to be too depressed, and tomorrow I get up and do it all again. 

Possibly, however, that's normal.

It be Summer

I have 9000 words of a chapter due in 11 days, and I can't for the life of me really tell you what it's about. I know what it should be about. I know what it needs to be about. But at this point, it's become more about manipulating the data to fit the chapter, so that this chapter aligns with the next chapter (which I don't have to manipulate the data for). So it's forced. I hate forced writing.

I need to write 800-1000 words a day if I'm going to finish this on time (in order to start the next chapter that has a rather firm due date).

I have been using a segmentation writing style suggested to me by a palaeontologist. I know, that sounds weird. But it's working. It automatically separates everything down into 500-1000 words segments in the first place, which makes writing easier. It also requires that the entire chapter be outlined in detail (down to, you know, 1.1.2.3, for example) before writing commences, so you know what goes where. I'm not usually this scientific when I write, but it appears to be helping me organise my thoughts. I think it's not very historical, or even really social science-y, but it's working, so I'm going to keep doing it. Hopefully it won't pose too many difficulties when it comes time to finalising the whole thesis before submission (in 5 months - gods help me).

Right now (nearly wrote that as 'write' now - clearly the PhD is having an adverse brain effect), I just need to start writing, but I'm really rather afraid this chapter is going to be as hard as I think it will be, and therefore cause me a lot of grief to write. And grief isn't something I want to deal with, I'm sure you can understand. I don't want to be slamming my head into the desk time and again for the next 11 days.

But I must. I really, really must. I have a PhD writing buddy now, and we are trying to motivate each other to hit our daily word counts, and suffer through together. I think it's helping a bit. I'm a bit more motivated, at least.

Of course, booking a hiking trip to the Peaks when I finish this chapter should help too...

University Museums Group Conference

This one isn't really about writing.

A few weeks ago I got the sort of email in my inbox that typically makes me want to go 'crap' and hide in a corner until the anxiety attack wears off. However, as the email was from my supervisor, I instead wrote back and said 'yes' and then went 'crap' and hid in a corner. Priorities, I have them.

I spent a lot of the last couple of weeks going out of my way to stave off the brewing anxiety. I don't do presentations. I absolutely loath it. I am, borderline, phobic about public speaking. It just is not my thing. And that's okay, because rarely am I required to stand up at the front of a room and present. I can do meetings. I can chair meetings. I can talk in a group. I cannot stand in front of a conference and present. We all have our failings.

But when your supervisor emails you to say he's putting together a panel and are you available, you say yes. And then you freak out.

I could have done a very simple 'this is my research' presentation, but the supervisor already had a theme in mind and so I sort of ran with that and…kept on running. These things happen.

Anyways, I ended up delivering a rather provocative presentation (thankfully, not directed at any of the museums in attendance) that pretty much said 'you are all doing it wrong, do better'. And then people agreed with me. And started following me on Twitter and retweeting quotes from my presentation. And sending me emails to say they've been discussing it in the office today.

These sorts of things typically give me anxiety attacks. Thankfully, I have two deadlines next week so I don't have time to have an anxiety attack (or more than one). Which is excellent timing, all around.

I do know that my supervisor is very happy. And that my fellow panelists (who I trust) told me it was really good. And I did not have a fidget attack sitting at the front waiting for 30 minutes to speak. Baby steps. Baby steps. I may be getting the hang of this whole presenting thing, even if thinking about having to do one will probably give me an anxiety attack for a long time to come.

The 'Starting Writing Writer's Block'

We've all suffered through it. You know you need to write something. You know what you need to write (well, mostly), but you can't seem to write it.

I have re-written my thesis outline three times in as many days. For future reference, doing so does not making writing the thesis easier. But it was worth a try.

I have been trying to take a new stance on life. When I cannot write, I will not stress about it. When I desperately need to write and nothing happens, I will not have an anxiety attack and lose sleep. Mostly, this is working relatively well. The unfortunate thing is that, no matter how I feel psychologically, the deadline is still getting closer.

I have two deadlines this month. They are both the same day. Neither is flexible. I am entirely certain the work for one of them will get done by then. That one, alas, is not my thesis. The thesis, despite my new stance on life, is worrying me.

My issue is simple (it's not). In my glory of being original, I got a little carried away. My thesis hinges on two disparate theories from two (almost opposing) disciplines, neither of which have ever been used for the discipline I work in. Possibly I went a little overboard (though my supervisor thinks otherwise). One theory informs my data collection, the other my data analysis. The first is not the problem. The second is supposed to be helping me structure the second half of the thesis, but instead it seems to be making it harder. However, at this stage, letting it go isn't really an option (not without rethinking my conclusions, redoing my analysis, and reworking the first half of the (already written) thesis). And I have a deadline I have to meet. In other words, I need to make it work.

It would be easier if certain people answered their emails, of course.

So now I am reduced to eating cooking chocolate, because it's the only thing in the house, drinking more tea than I need to on a reasonably warm day, and trying to rewrite the outline for a fourth time. All the while knowing that I have to do my other work this afternoon, or that deadline will become problematic too. And I might as well achieve one of them.

Future Planning

One of the things that has come out of my field work is the desire by museums to 'future plan' or 'future proof' their institutions. Instead of focusing on the now (or the immediate future), to look at the bigger picture of five, ten, twenty years down the road.

Museums don't do this very well. And very few individuals do it well either.

I used to do it really, really well. But that was in the days of stable jobs and very specific life plans. Those days are long gone.

Now I have a difficult time planning a month in advance. At the moment, I am struggling to plan for early 2015 (less than a year away) and finding it is nearly impossible. There are so many contingencies needed that having any plan is rather pointless, because it's not going to work out 'that' way. I mean, having goals is good, but plans are a bit more specific. It's hard for me, because I plan. I organise. I over-think. There perils of an OCD mind.

When it comes down to it, however, this is the same problem facing museums. The cultural industry seems to change on a pin head these days and there is now knowing if, perhaps, next month is the month you will lose your funding. Or perhaps that major grant application you just put in and don't hold out much hope for will actually come through. People are losing jobs left, right, and centre. Technology is bounding ahead (in fits and spurts for museums). Funding is ever changeable. It's very hard to future plan when you don't have any idea what the future will be like.

Obviously it's an issue facing a lot of fields these days, not just culture (and not just museums within culture). It's also a problem for a lot of people.

I know I need to get better at future planning, while still being flexible enough to amend those plans when the inevitable upset arrives. The PhD has certainly given me lessons in this in spades, and how I need to learn from those lessons and adapt them into my life.

My first plan? I'm planning to walk the Portuguese Camino in autumn 2016.

And if it's spring 2018, that's okay too. The point is, for now, that I plan to do it.