It's possible that some of you have noticed I have been absent without leave from Walking Distance for several weeks. This could have been interpreted in several ways.
a) I have abandoned writing to pursue my true passion, moonshining.
b) I have been too darn busy writing my dissertation to do anything else.
c) I was kidnapped by pirates who refused to free me until I taught them the hokey pokey.
If you guessed any of the above ... you were wrong. (And shame on me that the correct answer wasn’t b.)
Truthfully, I have been busy, yes, but with the usual juggle of writing, working, family obligations, and the added bonus of holiday planning/celebrating/recuperating. On all fronts, I suggest I was successful, as progress was made, work was accomplished, family time was happily spent, and the holiday was especially enjoyable. While I did not keep my nose to the proverbial grindstone on the dissertation writing to the point of agony, I did move ahead quite a bit, and for all this good progress, I am feeling good about where I am in that process.
Excited, even. I feel it coming together. I can see it happening and I can confidently say that I expect to finish my PhD in 2012. It won’t come easily, of course, and why should it? It has been a bear of a journey so far, and I don’t expect it to be any different as I pull it all together now.
The reason I have been quiet here is simply this: I did not have a particular message that I felt was significant enough to waste words. As I sit here now at 5:19 a.m. after having been up all night (ah, the familiar state of insomnia, a PhD candidate’s normal state of being!), I realize that this is an important message to pass along.
You see, my friends, there are times when silence is truly golden. Sometimes, it’s best to say nothing and savor the power of the unspoken.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
Friday, December 30, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Cherish the moments
There I was, minding my own business, undergoing an interesting outpatient procedure at a local hospital, when Eleanor Roosevelt sent me a message.
OK, so it wasn’t exactly Eleanor Roosevelt. It was more like a former student in the hospital’s internship program who left this message on a chalkboard that faced my patient station. She decorated that chalkboard more than three years ago, and the staff has left it intact because the words are timeless and oh so inspiring.
"I could not, at any age, be content to take place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life." - Eleanor Roosevelt.
Usually, I interpret this kind of message, randomly delivered, to be personally directed at me, of course. Rather, I personalize it, internalize it, and take it to heart. We don’t know everything, so when a message touches us, we should embrace it and apply it, because such things surely can’t be accidental.
I’m pretty sure in this case I am right. For this message spoke to me at a time when I was thinking about a very cool uncle of mine.
Uncle Frank is my father’s youngest brother. In our family, the DNA runs strong and deep, so you can see the family resemblance quite strikingly when you look at my Dad and Uncle Frank. It goes beyond that, too. Both of them worked at Sikorsky Aircraft here in Connecticut, one of the state’s major employers and the manufacturer of the well known Black Hawk helicopter.
Proud union members, they. Strong minded in their beliefs. Dedicated to their jobs because dedication to the job meant dedication to the families they were providing for. I think that was inherent in their generation, because work ethic these days for many people has a different definition.
Until last August, Uncle Frank held the title of being the longest serving employee at Sikorsky - just shy of 56 full years. He started working there directly after he concluded his military service as an Airman Third Class in the U.S. Air Force, and there is not a time I can remember seeing Uncle Frank over the years when he did not smile when he spoke about his job at Sikorsky.
“I got it made,” I think was the most common remark. He had his spot in the sheetmetal fabrication department. If I was lucky, I would catch him there on a rare occasion since I started working at the company several years ago. Without fail, he would break into an instant smile when he saw me coming.
For reasons that are his to hold, Uncle Frank decided it was time to call it a career. I say, good for him. His retirement is well deserved, and I hope it means he will have plenty of time now to drink in the love and attention of his family and good friends.
Over the years, Uncle Frank would be the rare uncle at a family gathering who would be taking video or photographs to capture the occasion and the family members that were there to share it. I remember him telling me that he kept a scrapbook of any newspaper articles about relatives, keeping track of the success story that accumulated over the years to continue telling the family story.
How can you not love a guy who is sentimental and proud of his family?
There are so many ways to describe Uncle Frank, from his affection for his German shepherds through the years (each one, according to him, being the “best dog in the world”) to his contagious laugh and an overly generous heart. He has always been exceedingly proud of his children, encouraging them and doing whatever he could to make their lives comfortable. I don’t know for sure but I would bet it was Uncle Frank who ignited the love of music that they each have and cultivate daily.
So many gifts from one man. Uncle Frank has not turned his back on life. He is taking each day as a gift. Life is meant to be lived, right?
The other day, when I returned to my patient station for my last therapy session, I again faced the Eleanor Roosevelt quote and settled in. As it does each morning, the pastoral care department then issued its daily inspirational message over the intercom system. The message angels were two for two, offering words that I believe in and know to my core.
Spend time with your loved ones; they’re not going to be around forever... Say I love you to your spouse and your loved ones... Hold hands... Cherish the moment.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
OK, so it wasn’t exactly Eleanor Roosevelt. It was more like a former student in the hospital’s internship program who left this message on a chalkboard that faced my patient station. She decorated that chalkboard more than three years ago, and the staff has left it intact because the words are timeless and oh so inspiring.
"I could not, at any age, be content to take place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life." - Eleanor Roosevelt.
Usually, I interpret this kind of message, randomly delivered, to be personally directed at me, of course. Rather, I personalize it, internalize it, and take it to heart. We don’t know everything, so when a message touches us, we should embrace it and apply it, because such things surely can’t be accidental.
I’m pretty sure in this case I am right. For this message spoke to me at a time when I was thinking about a very cool uncle of mine.
Uncle Frank is my father’s youngest brother. In our family, the DNA runs strong and deep, so you can see the family resemblance quite strikingly when you look at my Dad and Uncle Frank. It goes beyond that, too. Both of them worked at Sikorsky Aircraft here in Connecticut, one of the state’s major employers and the manufacturer of the well known Black Hawk helicopter.
Proud union members, they. Strong minded in their beliefs. Dedicated to their jobs because dedication to the job meant dedication to the families they were providing for. I think that was inherent in their generation, because work ethic these days for many people has a different definition.
Until last August, Uncle Frank held the title of being the longest serving employee at Sikorsky - just shy of 56 full years. He started working there directly after he concluded his military service as an Airman Third Class in the U.S. Air Force, and there is not a time I can remember seeing Uncle Frank over the years when he did not smile when he spoke about his job at Sikorsky.
“I got it made,” I think was the most common remark. He had his spot in the sheetmetal fabrication department. If I was lucky, I would catch him there on a rare occasion since I started working at the company several years ago. Without fail, he would break into an instant smile when he saw me coming.
For reasons that are his to hold, Uncle Frank decided it was time to call it a career. I say, good for him. His retirement is well deserved, and I hope it means he will have plenty of time now to drink in the love and attention of his family and good friends.
Over the years, Uncle Frank would be the rare uncle at a family gathering who would be taking video or photographs to capture the occasion and the family members that were there to share it. I remember him telling me that he kept a scrapbook of any newspaper articles about relatives, keeping track of the success story that accumulated over the years to continue telling the family story.
How can you not love a guy who is sentimental and proud of his family?
There are so many ways to describe Uncle Frank, from his affection for his German shepherds through the years (each one, according to him, being the “best dog in the world”) to his contagious laugh and an overly generous heart. He has always been exceedingly proud of his children, encouraging them and doing whatever he could to make their lives comfortable. I don’t know for sure but I would bet it was Uncle Frank who ignited the love of music that they each have and cultivate daily.
So many gifts from one man. Uncle Frank has not turned his back on life. He is taking each day as a gift. Life is meant to be lived, right?
The other day, when I returned to my patient station for my last therapy session, I again faced the Eleanor Roosevelt quote and settled in. As it does each morning, the pastoral care department then issued its daily inspirational message over the intercom system. The message angels were two for two, offering words that I believe in and know to my core.
Spend time with your loved ones; they’re not going to be around forever... Say I love you to your spouse and your loved ones... Hold hands... Cherish the moment.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Update and a precursor to an upcoming special post
I have a lot on my mind lately and promised a blog this weekend to share something inspirational, but be patient, as that post requires more time than I can spare this evening and I thought I should keep you posted on my Journey to Dissertation while my latest efforts are fresh.
I’m happy to say I’m making progress but it may not sound like it to you. Sure, you would expect that by “progress” I mean I have written scores of pages of my insightful research project, but you would be mistaken, forgive me for saying.
No, I have been re-skimming an important book in my literature references as I prepare the introductory chapters that will explain why my topic, Literary Grief: The Changing Communication Technologies in Grief Memoir, is a subject that has fascinated, intrigued and poked at humankind at least since the Middle Ages.
Well, that is as far back as I am willing to go, so let’s just leave it at that.
The 614-word book I have been scanning to refresh my memory and highlight the important points is Philippe Aries, The Hour of Our Death (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1981.) Historian Aries spent almost 20 years studying his topic (so I suppose I am ahead of the game, as my Journey to Dissertation so far has only taken about 5.5 years): the changes in Western attitudes toward death and dying from the earliest Christian times to the current day (OK, so until about 1981 when the book was first published).
In any case, it is considered a landmark study that demonstrates a pattern of gradually developing evolutionary stages in our perception of life in relation to death. Each stage suggests a redefining of human nature.
I’ll leave it there for now. I am using Aries to help me set the stage for my exploration of how authors of books, documentaries, and even Internet blogs and web sites are publicly offering memoirs and memoir-like writings and whether these three distinct forms of writing all constitute memoir. I am a writer, after all. I am fascinated by compelling writing, and to me, telling the stories of people we love whom we have lost is possibly one of the most important works of writing anyone can produce.
I plan to do some of this myself, of course; another reason I need to understand this unique genre; another reason I want to share in a meaningful way the stories of my loved ones. I am doing some of it here, so you, too, perhaps find it helpful or perhaps even comforting in some way. I hope so.
I have three days before this book and two others that I borrowed via the state of Connecticut’s InterLibrary Loan system (which I highly recommend; you can find most anything you need with this valuable tool and it has saved me virtually hundreds of dollars in buying books that I may not need to keep forever -- contrary to the hundreds of books I already own which I will never give up).
This week, along with ripping through a few books (This is what PhD candidates do, by the way. We read. We “rip” through books, we skim, we glance, we speed-read. There are only so many hours in the day, you know.) to refresh my memory on the key points that are helping me to flesh out my Introduction and first chapter parts, I also did something that I require to be successful in this journey. If you are a list-maker like I am, you will appreciate this.
Of course, on the same piece of paper, I also drafted a list of Christmas gift ideas for my loved ones, a list far too long for my current budget, but nonetheless, a list to get my shopping mojo fired up). I can't just focus on one task, you know. Writers are all over the map. It is best you learn this now.
I drafted a “schedule” for the next month. Yes, a day-by-day estimate of the hours I will spend working on this massive writing project. Some days, maybe three hours is all I will achieve. Other days will be marathons including late nights. I can tell you this: I have a long stretch of “off” time coming up, unused vacation and personal days coupled with a lovely weeklong holiday vacation from work that my company generously provides (thank you, Teamsters Local 1150, for my father, a proud longtime former employee of my company, tells me that is why we have the holiday week off), and I intend to spend nearly every one of those days devoting a stretch of time to this project.
Mind you, it is an aggressive schedule and I am not foolish enough to believe I will hold to it scrupulously every day. My intentions are good and strong, and I know I can do it if I choose. The thing is, I also value time with my friends and family, and I know that I will give myself a pass to indulge in some visiting and relaxation because it is too important, too precious, not to.
This brings me to one of the next blog posts I need to share. It is weighing on me something fierce, and it is too important to keep to myself. A special family member is ill and I want to speak about this awesome man in the present, so I hope you’ll stop back to meet my dear Uncle Frank. I want to share him, because I know you’re gonna love him. Perhaps I will find the words tomorrow. Please stop back.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
I’m happy to say I’m making progress but it may not sound like it to you. Sure, you would expect that by “progress” I mean I have written scores of pages of my insightful research project, but you would be mistaken, forgive me for saying.
No, I have been re-skimming an important book in my literature references as I prepare the introductory chapters that will explain why my topic, Literary Grief: The Changing Communication Technologies in Grief Memoir, is a subject that has fascinated, intrigued and poked at humankind at least since the Middle Ages.
Well, that is as far back as I am willing to go, so let’s just leave it at that.
The 614-word book I have been scanning to refresh my memory and highlight the important points is Philippe Aries, The Hour of Our Death (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1981.) Historian Aries spent almost 20 years studying his topic (so I suppose I am ahead of the game, as my Journey to Dissertation so far has only taken about 5.5 years): the changes in Western attitudes toward death and dying from the earliest Christian times to the current day (OK, so until about 1981 when the book was first published).
In any case, it is considered a landmark study that demonstrates a pattern of gradually developing evolutionary stages in our perception of life in relation to death. Each stage suggests a redefining of human nature.
I’ll leave it there for now. I am using Aries to help me set the stage for my exploration of how authors of books, documentaries, and even Internet blogs and web sites are publicly offering memoirs and memoir-like writings and whether these three distinct forms of writing all constitute memoir. I am a writer, after all. I am fascinated by compelling writing, and to me, telling the stories of people we love whom we have lost is possibly one of the most important works of writing anyone can produce.
I plan to do some of this myself, of course; another reason I need to understand this unique genre; another reason I want to share in a meaningful way the stories of my loved ones. I am doing some of it here, so you, too, perhaps find it helpful or perhaps even comforting in some way. I hope so.
I have three days before this book and two others that I borrowed via the state of Connecticut’s InterLibrary Loan system (which I highly recommend; you can find most anything you need with this valuable tool and it has saved me virtually hundreds of dollars in buying books that I may not need to keep forever -- contrary to the hundreds of books I already own which I will never give up).
This week, along with ripping through a few books (This is what PhD candidates do, by the way. We read. We “rip” through books, we skim, we glance, we speed-read. There are only so many hours in the day, you know.) to refresh my memory on the key points that are helping me to flesh out my Introduction and first chapter parts, I also did something that I require to be successful in this journey. If you are a list-maker like I am, you will appreciate this.
Of course, on the same piece of paper, I also drafted a list of Christmas gift ideas for my loved ones, a list far too long for my current budget, but nonetheless, a list to get my shopping mojo fired up). I can't just focus on one task, you know. Writers are all over the map. It is best you learn this now.
I drafted a “schedule” for the next month. Yes, a day-by-day estimate of the hours I will spend working on this massive writing project. Some days, maybe three hours is all I will achieve. Other days will be marathons including late nights. I can tell you this: I have a long stretch of “off” time coming up, unused vacation and personal days coupled with a lovely weeklong holiday vacation from work that my company generously provides (thank you, Teamsters Local 1150, for my father, a proud longtime former employee of my company, tells me that is why we have the holiday week off), and I intend to spend nearly every one of those days devoting a stretch of time to this project.
Mind you, it is an aggressive schedule and I am not foolish enough to believe I will hold to it scrupulously every day. My intentions are good and strong, and I know I can do it if I choose. The thing is, I also value time with my friends and family, and I know that I will give myself a pass to indulge in some visiting and relaxation because it is too important, too precious, not to.
This brings me to one of the next blog posts I need to share. It is weighing on me something fierce, and it is too important to keep to myself. A special family member is ill and I want to speak about this awesome man in the present, so I hope you’ll stop back to meet my dear Uncle Frank. I want to share him, because I know you’re gonna love him. Perhaps I will find the words tomorrow. Please stop back.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
Sunday, November 20, 2011
A little organizing, a lot of thinking
It’s been a week since my official signal to get going on the dissertation writing, and I have made small progress.
Small progress is OK. Got that?
I have a feeling this journey will have its fits and starts. Periods of marathon writing and editing, coupled with dry spells of thinking and figuring.
For me, that has always been the way writing has worked. Time away from the computer is not exactly time away from “writing.” It is time for the words to do their musical chairs impression, floating around while the music plays and scrambling for a seat when it abruptly stops.
I need the word juggling to take place. It’s the only way I can get to the right ones.
So for now, just an update so you know I am serious. I’ve done a bit more reading -- a stack of borrowed books on loan from various libraries is taking up major space on my dining room table, reminding me that the literature review does not end just because I am beginning to write.
I’ve started mapping out the Table of Contents in an order that will be helpful in getting me to take up the chapters in a logical fashion.
Maybe I needed this first week of “stretching” so that I can be ready for the marathon ahead. I do realize it is a marathon. Which means I have to pace myself and stick with it.
Just don’t remind me how much I hate running.
Better to remind me how good I will feel when I cross the finish line.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
Small progress is OK. Got that?
I have a feeling this journey will have its fits and starts. Periods of marathon writing and editing, coupled with dry spells of thinking and figuring.
For me, that has always been the way writing has worked. Time away from the computer is not exactly time away from “writing.” It is time for the words to do their musical chairs impression, floating around while the music plays and scrambling for a seat when it abruptly stops.
I need the word juggling to take place. It’s the only way I can get to the right ones.
So for now, just an update so you know I am serious. I’ve done a bit more reading -- a stack of borrowed books on loan from various libraries is taking up major space on my dining room table, reminding me that the literature review does not end just because I am beginning to write.
I’ve started mapping out the Table of Contents in an order that will be helpful in getting me to take up the chapters in a logical fashion.
Maybe I needed this first week of “stretching” so that I can be ready for the marathon ahead. I do realize it is a marathon. Which means I have to pace myself and stick with it.
Just don’t remind me how much I hate running.
Better to remind me how good I will feel when I cross the finish line.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
Sunday, November 13, 2011
They said, “Go ahead.”
When we last left our fearless PhD candidate, she was getting into her Jeep Liberty for the three-hour drive to Newport, Rhode Island, to deliver a formal presentation on her dissertation proposal.
It was 10 a.m. Armed with a chocolate protein bar, two bottles of spring water, and her trusty MacBook Pro, she promptly missed an exit while fumbling with prepared note cards, and continued rehearsing her presentation three times along the way.
Destination: McKillop Library on the Salve Regina University campus. The only "good" sign in this part of the process. Our heroine loves libraries, loves being surrounded by books. The one location that would surely offer comfort in calming her jitters would be knowing that she is in an environment that has always been a favorite place.
All this prepping for a roughly one-hour meeting with The Committee that would rule “yay” or “no” whether she is ready to render her accumulated knowledge and data (to date) into a written research report.
Would she right her vehicle to the correct highway route after veering off path?
Would one protein bar be enough to sustain her until late afternoon?
Would O.P.T. (Original Professor Three) stroll in and throw rotten tomatoes at the screen?
Ah, the drama of a doctoral candidate’s journey to dissertation. It is fraught with tense moments, highs and lows, every conceivable cliche that might conjure up horrifying images.
Is it really that bad?
In a word: Yes. I’m sure it’s supposed to be. Seeking a graduate degree is a challenge, no doubt. It demands that a student be dedicated, willing to sacrifice hobbies, family time, fun pursuits, sleep. I have not researched the number of people that are pursuing doctoral degrees in this country (give me a break, I’m already researching something here!) but I guarantee you it is not an overwhelmingly gigantic number.
Not everyone does this or wants to. Those of us who do usually have to go all in, or surrender much earlier in the process than dissertation phase. That’s because dissertation phase is the last big hurdle to clear before one becomes a doctor of philosophy.
As many of you know, I have come close to crumbling. It is not an easy process. On Friday, I successfully presented my topic and can begin writing. I gave myself one day to enjoy that little victory -- but only because yesterday was my birthday. I took the whole day to relax with my husband, take in a high school football game and enjoy the company of good friends and family.
I needed that, so I acknowledged that need and indulged it. Today I took time to give thanks for the blessings of the week and for those to come. Then I sat down to sift through my notes and Committee comments, and to begin organizing the first few pages of my dissertation.
Am I ready to write this thing?
As one of my coolest friends would say, “Hell to the Yeah!”
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
It was 10 a.m. Armed with a chocolate protein bar, two bottles of spring water, and her trusty MacBook Pro, she promptly missed an exit while fumbling with prepared note cards, and continued rehearsing her presentation three times along the way.
Destination: McKillop Library on the Salve Regina University campus. The only "good" sign in this part of the process. Our heroine loves libraries, loves being surrounded by books. The one location that would surely offer comfort in calming her jitters would be knowing that she is in an environment that has always been a favorite place.
All this prepping for a roughly one-hour meeting with The Committee that would rule “yay” or “no” whether she is ready to render her accumulated knowledge and data (to date) into a written research report.
Would she right her vehicle to the correct highway route after veering off path?
Would one protein bar be enough to sustain her until late afternoon?
Would O.P.T. (Original Professor Three) stroll in and throw rotten tomatoes at the screen?
Ah, the drama of a doctoral candidate’s journey to dissertation. It is fraught with tense moments, highs and lows, every conceivable cliche that might conjure up horrifying images.
Is it really that bad?
In a word: Yes. I’m sure it’s supposed to be. Seeking a graduate degree is a challenge, no doubt. It demands that a student be dedicated, willing to sacrifice hobbies, family time, fun pursuits, sleep. I have not researched the number of people that are pursuing doctoral degrees in this country (give me a break, I’m already researching something here!) but I guarantee you it is not an overwhelmingly gigantic number.
Not everyone does this or wants to. Those of us who do usually have to go all in, or surrender much earlier in the process than dissertation phase. That’s because dissertation phase is the last big hurdle to clear before one becomes a doctor of philosophy.
As many of you know, I have come close to crumbling. It is not an easy process. On Friday, I successfully presented my topic and can begin writing. I gave myself one day to enjoy that little victory -- but only because yesterday was my birthday. I took the whole day to relax with my husband, take in a high school football game and enjoy the company of good friends and family.
I needed that, so I acknowledged that need and indulged it. Today I took time to give thanks for the blessings of the week and for those to come. Then I sat down to sift through my notes and Committee comments, and to begin organizing the first few pages of my dissertation.
Am I ready to write this thing?
As one of my coolest friends would say, “Hell to the Yeah!”
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
Friday, November 11, 2011
Ready or not, here I come
I know I shouldn’t be spending these minutes blogging, but as I am about to get on the road to drive to Newport, Rhode Island, this morning, I am compelled to capture my thoughts now. Reflecting on them later will somehow make this part of my Dissertation Journey inauthentic.
So here it is: I am five hours from the start of my formal presentation on my proposed topic, and I am nervous. No matter how prepared I am, I think I would still be nervous because this is an important meeting. I have so much to say, but I need to stay focused. I have done so much work already, but I need to hit the highlights.
I am surprised at the thoughts that are popping into my head this morning. Mind you, I have been up since before 5 a.m., my brain reminding me that I had more “reviewing” to do of my presentation slides, and more rehearsing to get my speech down.
What thoughts are bombarding me?
Will I be able to articulate this topic without wandering down tangential paths?
Will my knees be shaking as I stand there?
Perhaps the oddest question of all: Will the original Professor Three make an appearance to poke holes in my idea and challenge my sources?
You may recall that I had a difficult experience with this professor, who is a well regarded grief expert and someone I had sought out to support me in this research effort, but ultimately became a Committee member that did not fit within my intended path of exploration or ambitious schedule. I found a new reader, replaced this one with courtesy and appreciation, but never received a reply from her when I officially notified her I was making the change.
I was disappointed at that, but tried not to take it personally. She is a busy professor, lecturer and author, and I don’t know what she might have said to me other than perhaps, “I understand,” or “Good luck.”
Still, for some reason she came to mind this morning as I stumbled through my slides to practice my delivery.
What if she, or other Committee members, or even random audience members, ask questions that I cannot answer?
I can’t go there. I’ll stop right here, thank you very much. Here is what I need to do. Take a deep breath. Gather up my laptop, my note cards, my bag. Get into my car and head to Rhode Island. I have about three hours on the road to rehearse and gain confidence. As a wonderful colleague and friend has reminded me over and over these last few years, this is MY topic. This is my project. No one is a better expert than I.
I can do this, and I will do this. Let’s get this show on the road.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
So here it is: I am five hours from the start of my formal presentation on my proposed topic, and I am nervous. No matter how prepared I am, I think I would still be nervous because this is an important meeting. I have so much to say, but I need to stay focused. I have done so much work already, but I need to hit the highlights.
I am surprised at the thoughts that are popping into my head this morning. Mind you, I have been up since before 5 a.m., my brain reminding me that I had more “reviewing” to do of my presentation slides, and more rehearsing to get my speech down.
What thoughts are bombarding me?
Will I be able to articulate this topic without wandering down tangential paths?
Will my knees be shaking as I stand there?
Perhaps the oddest question of all: Will the original Professor Three make an appearance to poke holes in my idea and challenge my sources?
You may recall that I had a difficult experience with this professor, who is a well regarded grief expert and someone I had sought out to support me in this research effort, but ultimately became a Committee member that did not fit within my intended path of exploration or ambitious schedule. I found a new reader, replaced this one with courtesy and appreciation, but never received a reply from her when I officially notified her I was making the change.
I was disappointed at that, but tried not to take it personally. She is a busy professor, lecturer and author, and I don’t know what she might have said to me other than perhaps, “I understand,” or “Good luck.”
Still, for some reason she came to mind this morning as I stumbled through my slides to practice my delivery.
What if she, or other Committee members, or even random audience members, ask questions that I cannot answer?
I can’t go there. I’ll stop right here, thank you very much. Here is what I need to do. Take a deep breath. Gather up my laptop, my note cards, my bag. Get into my car and head to Rhode Island. I have about three hours on the road to rehearse and gain confidence. As a wonderful colleague and friend has reminded me over and over these last few years, this is MY topic. This is my project. No one is a better expert than I.
I can do this, and I will do this. Let’s get this show on the road.
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Making the pitch
It’s kind of a big week for me. I am in the “Countdown to Proposal Presentation.”
For a PhD candidate, this is a key milestone, and I am happy to say I am finally on the brink of achieving it. After submitting a full draft proposal on my research topic, Literary Grief: The Changing Communication Technologies of Grief Memoir, I faced yet another arduous task that must be tackled to get past this critical stage: The task of corralling my three-member Committee for a scheduled appointment to hear my pitch.
This is not as easy as you might think. Does the term “herding cats” mean anything to you?
First of all, the Graduate program requires that you have a three-week lead time for scheduling this presentation. That window of time presented a challenge for me since the Fall semester ends in early December, and there is a cutoff prior to that which precludes these presentations from being scheduled until the next semester.
Then there was the “herding cats” aspect: Finding a time and date when all three Committee members would be available to attend my briefing. Since these are full-time professors with classes to teach, other PhD candidates to support, lecture responsibilities and a host of other obligations, this was a fun game of back-and-forth to shake out a common time slot that would work for everyone. As the presenting student, you have no say, by the way. When your Committee says THIS is the day and date I can do this, you must throw your entire schedule out the window and plan to be there.
For me, this meant giving up my plans to indulge in a spa treatment or two to relax, de-stress, and treat myself to an early birthday present for a change. Heck, I’ve been working hard. Life has been pretty intense of late. I deserve it. More than that, I need it. But hey, I can reschedule. If the Committee says “Be there,” I’m there.
So here I am, prepping for my moment at the front of the room. This is when I tell my team what question I am exploring, how I will explore it and what it potentially will contribute to the Humanities when I have finished. I do not enjoy public speaking, usually, so it will test my nerves and tax my knowledge on the topic – much of which has been collected in fits and starts over the past two years.
When I have finished presenting, I will likely be peppered with questions from the Committee, and potentially from any other guests who wander in to check out what I am attempting to do. I hope to have the right answers or at least an intelligent way to suggest that I will find those answers as I proceed to writing my dissertation.
At this point, the only thing that matters is that I clearly articulate my road map for scholarly exploration and ultimate success. Friday at 2 p.m., it’s Go Time.
Copyright 2011 by Marianne V. Heffernan
For a PhD candidate, this is a key milestone, and I am happy to say I am finally on the brink of achieving it. After submitting a full draft proposal on my research topic, Literary Grief: The Changing Communication Technologies of Grief Memoir, I faced yet another arduous task that must be tackled to get past this critical stage: The task of corralling my three-member Committee for a scheduled appointment to hear my pitch.
This is not as easy as you might think. Does the term “herding cats” mean anything to you?
First of all, the Graduate program requires that you have a three-week lead time for scheduling this presentation. That window of time presented a challenge for me since the Fall semester ends in early December, and there is a cutoff prior to that which precludes these presentations from being scheduled until the next semester.
Then there was the “herding cats” aspect: Finding a time and date when all three Committee members would be available to attend my briefing. Since these are full-time professors with classes to teach, other PhD candidates to support, lecture responsibilities and a host of other obligations, this was a fun game of back-and-forth to shake out a common time slot that would work for everyone. As the presenting student, you have no say, by the way. When your Committee says THIS is the day and date I can do this, you must throw your entire schedule out the window and plan to be there.
For me, this meant giving up my plans to indulge in a spa treatment or two to relax, de-stress, and treat myself to an early birthday present for a change. Heck, I’ve been working hard. Life has been pretty intense of late. I deserve it. More than that, I need it. But hey, I can reschedule. If the Committee says “Be there,” I’m there.
So here I am, prepping for my moment at the front of the room. This is when I tell my team what question I am exploring, how I will explore it and what it potentially will contribute to the Humanities when I have finished. I do not enjoy public speaking, usually, so it will test my nerves and tax my knowledge on the topic – much of which has been collected in fits and starts over the past two years.
When I have finished presenting, I will likely be peppered with questions from the Committee, and potentially from any other guests who wander in to check out what I am attempting to do. I hope to have the right answers or at least an intelligent way to suggest that I will find those answers as I proceed to writing my dissertation.
At this point, the only thing that matters is that I clearly articulate my road map for scholarly exploration and ultimate success. Friday at 2 p.m., it’s Go Time.
Copyright 2011 by Marianne V. Heffernan
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