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Knowledge is obsolete before it is published.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)
The final milestone of our dissertation journey is our
dissertation defense. Most of us must prepare some sort of presentation to
defend what is likely the largest research project of our lives thus far. Are
you wondering when you should start thinking of your defense? The answer is now!
In this blog post, I present a few tips to help you defend your
defense successfully. First, I encourage you to start with the end in mind.
Next, identify your potential audiences. Figure out the requirements and
assemble your tools. Finally, visualize your success. As I discuss these tips,
I describe my own sweaty defense experience, which happened on a conference
call.
Start with the end in mind
Making choices with the end in mind at the beginning of our
dissertation program can help us justify and defend our decisions when we get
to the finish line.
Even if we are just starting our journey, it’s not too soon
to start picturing how we will defend our choices. Why did we choose the topic?
Why did we choose to study the topic in this place, with these subjects, using
this theory and this method? What kinds of findings could we anticipate, and to
what conclusions could they lead? What could practitioners do with our findings
and conclusions?
When I was struggling to reach the milestones of my Ph.D.
program—writing the concept paper and the dissertation proposal, collecting and
analyzing the data, and writing the dissertation manuscript—it never occurred
to me to think about the final milestone, my defense. In the last two months of
my program, I was working on my manuscript and my defense simultaneously.
After so many years working alone, the thought of presenting my findings to a wider audience was intimidating. If I had kept the end in mind from the beginning, discussing my study with so little time to prepare wouldn’t have been so fraught.
Identify your audiences
We all know we should identify our audiences before we give
our presentation, if we want to optimize our communication efforts.
Toastmasters learn this. Teachers learn this, sometimes the hard way.
Few things are more embarrassing than going through our
entire presentation, only to find out most of the audience had zero interest in
the topic. I witnessed this error recently at a professional development
workshop I attended on improving student engagement. The presenter assumed we
were all traditional faculty, constrained by grades, attendance records, and
bored students. Actually, we all taught in the community education program—no
grades, no attendance sheets, and no bored students. If the presenter had asked
a few simple questions up front, she would have probably chosen to shift the
focus of her discussion to address our specific needs.
For dissertators, we know our committee will attend our defense. Will we have others in our audience? Dissertation defenses aren’t typically open to the public, but members of the academy are often welcome and invited to attend. That means other faculty, administrators, and fellow students might be present. Are they practitioners? Are they doctoral students wanting to learn from watching a peer?
At my school, all the defenses for the week appeared on the
student portal. Anyone attending the university could download my PowerPoint file
and dial into my defense conference call with the passcode. Knowing faceless
strangers could listen in and comment gave me some nervous flutters.
At the time, I was certain of only two people on the line—my
Chair and my committee member. I don’t know how many people were actually on
the call. Only a few, I think, judging by the dead silence when my Chair asked
if anyone had any questions for me. Later, a fellow dissertator emailed me to
let me know she had dialed in silently to listen and learn.
This adventure occurred in 2013, before we all became old hands at muting ourselves on conference call lines. As the dissertator, I did not have access to the conference call moderator tools, and I’m not sure my Chair did, either. Her skill and ease with conference call technology seemed low. Still, we fumbled through the process. The call wasn’t dropped, even when she asked me to hang up and dial in again in five minutes to learn my fate. I assume all those silent lurkers on the call were present to the discussion regarding my merits, while I sweated in anticipation with my proctor, who was hopeful on my behalf, and my cat, who slept through the whole thing.
Learn the requirements and assemble your tools
What our actual defense will look like depends on our field
and institution; however, most dissertators must meet certain requirements
related to format and content. Designing the defense is an iterative process,
much like writing the dissertation itself. We propose some designs and outlines
and revise several times with our Committee members’ feedback. Designing the
presentation depends on several factors.
Platform. Will your defense occur in person or virtually? The defense may take place in a classroom at your school, where your audience is in the room with you. Alternatively, the defense may happen in a virtual meeting space—for example, participants may dial into a telephone conference call, join a web conference on their computers or phones, or join using Skype, Wire, Facetime, Google Hangouts, or something similar.
You may be responsible for arranging the technology
necessary to show your PowerPoint slides and be able to hear and see your
committee reviewers; however, most institutions have the technology in place. For
in-person presentations, most modern classrooms are equipped with computers,
projectors, and screens. For a virtual defense, most institutions maintain
conference call or web platforms and give participants the passcodes to join
the defense space.
I earned my degree from an online university. Web platforms
weren’t common in 2013. That means I defended my dissertation on a conference
call in my apartment. It was an early December evening, dark and dreary. Other
than my teacher-friend proctor, I was alone and invisible; my audience was
faceless. As I spoke into my phone, I worried repeatedly that the call had been
dropped, leaving me speaking to dead air.
According to a current student, the school has started using a web conferencing platform so dissertators can more easily present their slide decks; however, I don’t think video is involved, mainly because of the difficulties of showing participants’ faces in addition to the slides.
Asking participants to download and navigate web conference platforms can be problematic: Audience members’ expertise with different platforms will vary on a continuum from expert to incompetent. With a web conference platform, participants will hear the moderator (your Chair) and you; they may not be able to speak and be heard, though. Instead, they may have to “raise their hand” virtually to ask their questions. My guess is institutional leaders opt for the simplest method available that will accomplish the goal.
Format. Will you need a PowerPoint slide show? Most dissertators need some visual aids. Audiences are used to seeing information presented using PowerPoint or some other type of presentation software. Using the slides, we walk our audience through the main points of our study.
Take a look at my PowerPoint. This is a pdf file.
I’m relatively skilled at PowerPoint, so that part wasn’t too scary. My challenge was adapting my design style to the color constraints of the university’s PowerPoint template. I show a sample slide from my PowerPoint below.
The main pitfall for most presenters is overloading the
slides with information. Simple bullet points work best. Fill in the details
verbally. I used photos and images from my findings. (Some of the data I
collected consisted of “rich pictures,” perfect for presenting visually with
PowerPoint.)
Timing. How much
time will you have to present? My Chair’s main concern was that I not talk too
long. I had a maximum of thirty minutes to present, and twenty-five minutes,
she said, was better.
To adhere to that agenda, I wrote out my script for each
slide and recorded myself reading my script, timing each section. I averaged
about a minute per slide. Some slides held more information, some less.
Including the title slide and the closing slide showing the few sources cited
in the presentation, I presented twenty-six slides in twenty-five minutes.
What happens if you exceed the time allotted? To scare me,
my Chair told me stories of reviewers who cut off dissertators mid-sentence
because they lollygagged through their slides. I understand: The reviewers need
time to ask us questions. Sharing our research findings in a fancy slide show
is fun, but the point of the defense is to defend our study to our reviewers.
Photos. My
dissertation happened to include visual data, which was perfect for a slide
show. I incorporated other photos as well, to break up the bullet points and
give the viewers something to look at while they listened to me talk.
Outline. The
content of the slides typically follow the outline of the dissertation itself.
Your outline will vary depending on your field and institution. My dissertation
was a traditional five chapter document, consisting of Introduction, Literature
Review, Methodology, Findings, and Conclusions. My slide outline closely
mirrored those elements.
Questions. My
Chair gave me a list of typical questions I might be asked. I Googled defense questions to see what was
floating out there in the zeitgeist. That was intimidating. In addition, I
dialed into a dissertator’s defense to get a feel for the process and visualize
my own experience. I wrote out answers to what I imagined would be the most
common defense questions.
I did not record my actual defense, although it’s possible
the conference call software did “for quality assurance purposes.” Or not. I
don’t have a recollection now of what my Chair and committee member asked me,
other than the question I flubbed: “Tell us in one sentence what your study was
about.” I couldn’t do it in one sentence under pressure. Other questions I
prepared to answer included:
What was most challenging?
How generalizable are your findings?
What will you do with the findings to make a difference?
What advice would you give a student who is starting the dissertation process and considering using the methodology you used?
If you had to do it over, what would you change?
Practice your presentation
I didn’t automate the slides because on the conference call
platform, the participants in the call were viewing a downloaded version of the
PowerPoint on their own computers. I verbally told them when to advance to the
next slide, but I had no control over their ability to follow my direction. As
I mentioned, I wrote out my script and recorded myself to get a sense of the
timing and pacing.
Listening to recordings of our own presentations can be
humbling, but this step is so helpful, once we get over our distaste at hearing
our own voices. I’m not enamored with the sound of my own voice, but I learned
long ago to get over myself and focus on communicating my message to the
audience.
Finally, visualize success
Olympic athletes employ visualization and imagery to prepare for success. Dissertators can do the same thing. What does success look like for you? If you followed the tips in this blog post, you have a good sense of what to expect and how to prepare for your defense. The final step is to imagine defending successfully without melting down in a panic attack or throwing up behind the lectern.
Visualize yourself in the setting, performing effectively,
receiving approval, and earning your degree. Practice this mental exercise daily.
Conjure as much detail as you can. If you have access to the classroom or
auditorium where your in-person defense will occur, stand on the stage or
podium. Practice delivering your presentation, using your visual aids.
If you are defending in the virtual space, download the web
conference software ahead of time, make sure you have all updates installed,
and open the platform to see how it works. Sit in on other defenses and imagine
it’s you clicking the slides, describing your study, and fielding questions.
Summary
No matter where we are in our dissertation journey, it’s
never too soon to plan for our dissertation defense. Begin with the end in
mind, do your homework, and visualize success. Then get a good night’s sleep,
show up, and do your best. You got this! No one knows your study better than
you.
