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.
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)
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? Such statements don’t usually improve our performance. Perfection is
a high bar not easily defined let alone achieved. Can you claim to have
achieved 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.
In academe, perfection is a moving target
At this point in your academic journey, you have probably
read hundreds if not thousands of journal articles, books, and dissertations.
If you have written an annotated bibliography, you’ve delved deeply into your
sources. You’ve searched for support for your positions among the claims of famous
scholars and respected experts. Did you spot a few typos and grammar errors? Did
you notice some ideas that weren’t developed? Did you read some impolite references
to certain demographic segments that made you feel a little squeamish? Did you
perhaps come across some statements that lacked support?
If you are like me, you can overlook a few misspelled words
and grammar errors. You can note the unsupported statements and dig deeper. You
can forgive politically incorrect references written in a less “woke” time. At
what point do you toss the source out as unusable?
While I was writing my dissertation, I relegated about a
dozen sources to my Don’t Use folder.
The sources were so poorly written, I couldn’t identify the authors’ main
points. I can overlook a few errors, especially when the author’s first
language is not English, but when it becomes obvious the publisher failed to do
even basic editing, that is when my internal red flag starts waving: Danger, Will Robinson! If I can’t figure
out an author’s purpose and conclusions, I cannot consider the source reputable.
Perfection may not be easily identifiable because
definitions of “perfection” have changed. For example, writing styles regarding
gender and race/ethnicity have evolved to reduce bias and promote inclusion. Using
masculine pronouns to include all genders was acceptable in the 1950s—not any
more. I’m old enough to remember when the polite title Ms. was a big deal.
I may not agree, but it looks as if the word data will soon be allowed to take a
singular verb. Gah! Perfection is unattainable when the target keeps moving. Sometimes
we need to fight for our position; sometimes we need to adapt when the target
shifts.
A desire for perfection is not the enemy
I don’t want to imply that seeking perfection is a bad idea.
If we can figure out what perfection is, we should always aim toward it. Striving
to do my best always produces better quality work than if I take a half-hearted
stab at something and give up after the first try.
I used to believe my work was so stellar I didn’t need to
edit and revise . . . as if perfection streamed without fail from my fingers
onto the paper through some glorious channeling from the Muse. I admit, I fell
prey to a particularly hobbling form of arrogance, as if I had nothing more to
learn. This trap usually caught me when I had postponed doing the work until
the deadline was in front of my bleary eyes. Of course, the flip side of my
arrogance was my deep underlying fear that I really was incompetent and there
was no use in trying to produce good work, so I might as well just throw the
kitchen sink at it and go to bed.
I have a little note on my desk reminding me to A-B-C-D: Aim high, begin low, climb slowly, and don’t give up. I accept the
fact that I am unlikely to achieve perfection, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t
aim for it. Beginning low reduces the pressure. Climbing slowly and persisting
means I get a lot done. Aiming high gives me a target.
A desire for perfection can slow our forward progress
I know many artists and writers who produce very little work
because they are afraid their work is not good enough. I always wonder, good
enough for what and by whose standards?
Good enough for what
refers to the goal. Good enough to
publish? Good enough to hang in a gallery? Good enough to be approved by our
dissertation chair? What do we hope to accomplish? It’s helpful to be clear. For
example, for dissertators, the milestones we must achieve are usually outlined
clearly in our guidelines. Our literature review doesn’t need to be a thousand
pages! We don’t need ten citations to support a simple statement when one will
do.
By whose standards
means we need identify our gatekeepers. For example, our dissertation chair may
have some personal preferences that defy APA style. Hey, it happens! The review
committee might have other requirements regarding style and format. Our quest
for perfection sometimes clashes with our gatekeepers’ preferences. Whoever has
the key to the gate we want to enter, that is the person we want to please.
I ask you this: Would you rather be correct, or would you rather get
approved? Fighting over how many spaces should appear between sentences or how
many times we’ve used passive voice (yes, these fights happen) is not usually
worth the delay to our progress, although if you feel compelled to wage that
battle, I applaud you, you plucky dissertator, you.
Summary
Perfection is dandy, if we can get it, but waiting until we
achieve it can really slow us down. Focus on doing your best work and let
others spin their wheels striving for perfection. Let’s get busy. The world
needs our creative efforts!
