I know, I know, it’s been a long while. In the past three weeks I definitely decided to 1. Write my dissertation as quickly as possible, 2. Not write my dissertation and get the fuck on with my life, 3. Write my dissertation as painlessly as possible, and finally, 4. To seriously reconfigure my relationship to my work. Part of #2 was the decision to pretend that this blog never happened (and really that the last six years haven’t happened either). But it seems that somehow I just keep going, if only to avoid having to be 40 and plagued by self-loathing that I didn’t write the damned thing.
In a fit of rage and anxiety – that lovely combination that makes me yell at my dog and run five miles a day – I decided that it would be a good idea to level with my advisor this week:
“I need you to know that I can’t, or rather don’t know how to, or maybe don’t want to write my dissertation.”
“and you think you’re alone in this anne, that you’re the only one who has ever struggled in this?”
“well, I don’t know, everyone else seems to be sailing along.”
“get over yourself, anne. now.”
I then went on to sob while she then reminded me (with equal parts annoyance and complete confidence) that this process was bound to suck for me, that I’d struggled with debilitating anxiety for the entire year before my exams, and that she was frankly surprised that I’d made it this far without a complete breakdown in her office. And so I left, knowing that I’d hang with it, knowing that it would indeed be a struggle, and even that periods of easy writing would be infrequent at best. But nevertheless I’d keep on.
Now I’m determined to rethink the way I think about my writing. Of late, I’ve stared at the screen and cried because every sentence feels impossibly difficult. The architecture of each paragraph haunts me. I obsessively worry that I know not even enough to make common-sensical claims. So it’s time for operation behavior modification:
1. write in 30 minute blocks with five sentence goals, i.e. not the pressure of a full paragraph.
2. if said writing is actually completed, allow myself to do whatever I want for an hour.
3. if said writing is not completed, force myself to do whatever I want for an hour.
4. do not even attempt to write in a linear progression; just choose a bit of material and start recording observations.
That’s the plan for now. We'll see.
p.s. thanks heather for egging me on.
3 comments:
I think the goals are good. If it helps at all, I hate writing (and can't write) 90% of the time. Maybe more. Why do you think I do all these fracking crafts, for god's sake? (p.s. thanks so much for the cookie cutter!). I'm sorry that you've been feeling so up and down about it, though. But the 30 minute on/1 hour off thing sounds good - and doable. And I bet you will be surprised at what you can get done (on a number of fronts in your life) by experimenting with that method. Good luck!
I think we should figure out the perfect actress to play the made-for-television version of your pre-exam days; this is an open call for someone who can combine madness with brilliance far better than Gwyneth.
Ah, our advisor...I know that tone all too well. Those rules make perfect sense to me. I'm betting Maura is right (as always) and you'll be shocked what that pace generates in a few weeks. I've been obsessed with baseball metaphors lately, but you don't have to hit a home run on your first swing. You just get on base when you can, know you'll strike out a few times along the way, and score a few points across nine innings, not in the top of the first. Then you strain your metaphors to the breaking point.
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