Take a break from the holiday madness to breathe, reflect, and regroup. Here is a selection of Love Your Dissertation blogposts to motivate you to get your proposal or manuscript to the next milestone so you can earn your Ph.D. and get on with your career.
Feel like you can’t? Get busy and get it done
Ask my mother, I bet she will say I was born moaning “I can’t!” Rarely is the problem as simple as I don’t know how. I get paralyzed by my fear that I will fail. Here’s what to do when you are struck with a case of the “I can’ts” as you are struggling to get your dissertation proposal approved. [July 2017] Read more
Should we finish everything we start?
When I was a teenager, I would start sewing a garment, make a total mess of it, realize the endeavor was hopeless, and consign the pile of abused fabric to the trash in disgust. What might I have learned from the debacle if I had kept working at it, seeking creative ways to turn my mistakes into something useful? [September 2018] Read more
Perfection is the enemy of the good enough
Have heard your dissertation chair say, “Good is the enemy of the best,” and taken that as an exhortation to settle for nothing less than perfection? Sometimes I thought I wrote something that was perfect, but even a few hours later, I discovered typos, grammar errors, and faulty reasoning. Maybe it is time to let go of our obsession with perfection and focus on doing our best. [October 2019] Read more
Perfection is not required, but persistence is essential. Take a break from the writing. I hope you get as much writing done as you can stand while still enjoying a peaceful holiday season with family, old friends, and new friends.
Life is more than a Ph.D., my dissertator friends. I hope you take time now to be present to the magic in the moment. Don’t look back later with regret that you missed opportunities to be with loved ones. We never know when they may be gone.
Back in March of 2012, when I was working on my dissertation
proposal, I frequently wondered if I was going to survive writing my
dissertation. When people asked me how things were going, I used words like fiasco. Debacle. Nightmare. Train wreck. I was just beginning to
understand the true meaning of the phrase terminal
degree. The terminal degree is the one that makes us stronger—unless it
kills us first. The dissertation journey is not for the faint-hearted. However,
if you are working on your dissertation right now, take heart: You can survive
this. I learned three valuable lessons from my dissertation journey. I share
them with you.
1. Don’t worry if you can’t remember everything
I enrolled in an online doctoral program at a tiny
for-profit research university in December of 2005. By 2012, I had written
hundreds of papers, large and small, and read a thousand articles by hundreds
of scholars. I had valiantly completed and submitted umpteen assignments to
dozens of faceless mentors in scads of virtual course rooms. Like the shelves
in my basement, my 56-year-old brain was crammed with poorly packed, improperly
labeled knowledge. Almost as fast as I learned it, I’d forgotten most of what I
had learned.
Knowledge evolves. Knowledge waits for no one, especially
not tired dissertators. Ninety-nine percent of the course assignments I
completed were based on obsolete textbooks and five-year-old journal articles. New
theories, methods, and technologies were constantly emerging (e.g., e-commerce).
In addition, because it was the 2000s and not the 2010s, much now-essential knowledge
was missing from my marketing curriculum (e.g., social media).
Knowledge is obsolete before it is published. In that sense,
acquiring book knowledge is like buying a new car: Knowledge loses at least
half its value the moment we exit the course room. A newer shinier bit of
knowledge is always glittering around the next corner. Eventually we discover earning
a doctorate is not about acquiring knowledge. It never was. I don’t bother
trying to retrieve things I “learned” during my course assignments. It’s like expecting
new-car smell when I get into my old Ford Focus.
2. You can succeed with mediocre research and writing skills
You don’t need to be a great researcher or writer. I thought
I did. In fact, I thought I was. Even as I was studying obsolete topics such as
e-commerce and Maslow’s hierarchy of needs theory, I consoled myself with a
belief that I was honing my research and writing skills. I admit, I’ve always
been a little smug about my ability to find and describe arcane stuff about
which nobody cares.
Modern academics don’t need research skills. We have Google.
We don’t need writing skills. We have Grammarly. Moreover, the gatekeepers who
approve dissertation proposals and manuscripts seem to focus more on adherence
to templates and formats than they do on content and scholarly excellence. Of
course, I’m biased by an information deficit: as an editor, I see only a tiny
fraction of the social science dissertations trickling out of U.S. higher
education institutions.
To broaden my perspective, I study published dissertators to understand what they did to succeed (i.e., what they got away with); then I write books to help dissertators who are struggling to get approvals. My intention is to reassure you that research and writing can be much less daunting than you anticipated or feared.
You might be pleased to know I’ve seen many errors, large
and small, in published dissertations. I’m trained to catch format and style
errors so of course I see those. However, every now and then, I’ll run across
text like this: [expand on this section]. Just like that—an insertion of a
direction to the dissertator to do something before submitting. Clearly, sometimes
dissertators (and their reviewers) fail to catch and remove embarrassing text; thus,
these errors become a permanent part of the academic record. Just as all my
incorrect dois are captured for posterity in ProQuest Open Access. Hey, it
happens. In my case, happened. I
can’t go back and change the past.
3. You will learn how to survive
Long after it was too late for me to quit on my
dissertation, I had the disheartening realization that when I finished this
degree, I would have a smattering of mostly useless knowledge and lots of
practice researching and writing on a topic few people cared much about,
including me. Was that it, I wondered, after six years and $42,000?
Pursuing a doctorate is about developing survival skills.
That sounds melodramatic, doesn’t it? What kinds of dangers could possibly
threaten a doctoral candidate? It’s not as if we are lost in the woods.
The dangers that threaten us are the internal monsters that
lurk in our minds: boredom, doubt, anguish, impatience, resentment, and
despair, to name a few. I’m sure there are more. Like sturgeon, we will survive
by settling for good enough instead of aiming for perfection.
Pursuing a doctoral degree is like giving our internal
saboteurs a grenade launcher and hanging a target on our back. Now I understand
why so few people seek doctorates. Not every crosses the finish line. Those who
do share a special bond—a unique form of misery that gradually transforms into
a triumph unlike any other.
Summary
Don’t worry if you forget most of what you learned. If your research
and writing skills aren’t perfect, don’t fret. You are learning how to survive
the pitfalls of the dissertation journey. Once you cross the finish line, you
will realize you now know the secret to overcoming just about any challenge:
Show up, do your best, and don’t give up.
Navigating our dissertation journey requires a lot of
planning. Most of us have massive handbooks, daunting rubrics, and detailed
templates to guide us through each document milestone, from concept and
proposal through manuscript and defense. However, planning requires a Jedi mind
trick I call detaching from outcomes.
We are used to planning everything in our lives, from budgets to babies, but we
sometimes forget we don’t control what actually happens. Nevertheless, we still
need to plan.
Failing to plan (probably) is planning to fail
“Failing to plan is planning to fail” is an aphorism attributed to Benjamin Franklin. In my ruthless pursuit of robust scholarship to support this blogpost, I scanned the “apothegms and proverbs” in the U.S.C. Publishing Company’s 1914 excerpts from Poor Richard’s Almanack. The Almanack is a collection of Franklin’s sayings, written between 1732 and 1738 under the penname of Richard Saunders. For more, click here.
I lost myself in the list of pithy aphorisms but did not
find a quote about planning to fail. (It was certainly entertaining reading,
though. One of my favorites: “The learned fool writes his nonsense in better
language than the unlearned, but still ‘tis nonsense” [Item no. 502]. Ouch.)
Social sciences dissertators, especially those who attend doctoral
programs at for-profit online universities, are besieged with rules. These rules
help us plan our academic strategy. However, at for-profit universities,
learners often don’t get enough guidance from Chairpersons and other mentors. (I
say this based on my experience as a former doctoral learner at a for-profit
online university and as a current academic editor). Thus, handbooks, rubrics,
and templates are essential to the dissertation planning process.
Some examples of planning
Even before I passed my comprehensive exams, I started planning. First, to get a handle on the massive project in front of me, I went through the dissertation handbook and made a list of all the tasks required to complete each milestone document and task, from concept paper through defense and publishing. Next, I identified the subtasks under each document milestone. Finally, I set up an Excel spreadsheet, entered all the tasks, and estimated how many days each task would take.
Here is one of my many timelines.
In the early months, my timing was ridiculously wrong. As
each term progressed, I revised my timeline, and eventually, it became quite
accurate. Without that timeline, I would not have realized I was on track to
run out of time in my program. Crisis averted, thanks to planning.
As an artist, I’m all about visualizing things. I can spend all day visualizing, but not a lot of time getting things done. I’m a dreamer, less of a doer. I know this is my weakness, though, and I mitigate it with planning. Here is one of my many attempts to visualize my research study.
This plan, neatly executed in PowerPoint, was a total pie-in-the-sky
dream, a hallucination of a ten-month mixed methods study lacking any basis in
reality. Hey, we all start somewhere. Not only did I fail to include turnaround
time for my many reviewers but I also assumed I would have little need to
revise my writing—because it would naturally be perfect. I was wrong on both
counts. My reviewers enjoyed at least fourteen days to return my latest train
wreck, sometimes more, and I needed much longer than I anticipated to make the (ridiculous)
revisions they demanded.
Detaching from outcomes
I learned a valuable lesson from this iterative process. Submitting
and revising, submitting and revising—the seemingly endless cycle eventually
drove the arrogance out of me. I learned to write my best work, submit with a
realistic amount of hope, and detach from the outcome. I learned not to assume
my writing was so stellar, my idea so ground-breaking, my research approach so
unique, that they would have to grant me immediate approval, showering me with
accolades and dissertation of the year
rave reviews. Dream on!
Finally, I realized I had to let go of my unrealistic
expectations if I wanted to earn the Ph.D. After I got over feeling personally
bludgeoned by the submission and rejection process, I began to hone my
detachment skills. This personal improvement effort is now standing me in good
stead as I submit queries and receive rejections from agents who could help me
publish my first novel.
Showing up for the work
It’s easy to submit once and loftily detach from the
outcome. One rejection is tolerable. We’re tough—we can take it—once. However, the
persistence to repeatedly take it on the chin and bounce back up to keep fighting
separates the professionals from the dilettantes. Thanks to the hammering I
received from writing my dissertation, I am now equipped (and mostly willing) to
enter my writing into the broader arena and let the universe decide the
outcome.
I admit, receiving rejection after rejection is
disheartening. However, all those rejections are evidence that I’m in the game.
I’m not on the sidelines. I’m showing up for my work. I’m learning that it
doesn’t matter how discouraged I feel sometimes; all that matters is doing the
work. I consciously try to compartmentalize my discouragement so I can get on
with the business of writing. Feeling disappointed is only useful if it spurs
me toward positive action.
Letting go of perfection
A component of detaching from outcomes is a need to let go
of perfectionism. Perfectionism stifles creativity; moreover, perfectionism can
hinder realistic planning, thereby bringing our forward momentum to a
standstill. I have a perfection monster screaming inside me at times. I’ve
learned to acknowledge my desire to be perfect, laugh at the monster, and move
on.
Writers rarely write perfect first drafts. The first drafts
of my dissertation milestone papers were wretched on multiple levels:
scholarship, methodology, APA style, grammar . . . you name it, I butchered it.
After my dissertation was approved and published, I found myriad grammar
errors. I discovered I had typed a shocking number of my dois wrong because I
didn’t know then that I could copy and paste them from the pdf files I was
citing. Sheesh. Talk about humiliating.
Now I know to focus on making progress rather than bludgeoning
myself with the impossible goal of achieving perfection. Hey, we are all human,
by nature imperfect. If we already know everything, what’s the point of doing
research or sharing what we’ve discovered with the world?
Summary
I encourage you to honor your dissertation journey by making
a plan and showing up for your writing. Practice detaching from your desire to
achieve perfection. Perfectionism is a waste of your precious life energy.
Instead, submit your best, learn from your mistakes, keep writing, and let go
of outcomes. The life lessons we learn from the tedious, frustrating dissertation
journey may not be evident while we struggle to reach the finish line, but I promise,
you will reap the benefits for the rest of your writing career.
Sources
Franklin, B. (1914). Poor Richard’s Almanack (pdf version). Waterloo, IA: U.S.C. Publishing Company. Available through Google Books: https://www.google.com /books/edition/Poor_Richard_s_Almanack/o6lJAAAAIAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=0 (Original work published 1732–1738)
