Solid Beginning Draft

One of the Little Critter titles I read to my daughter all the time is "I Just Forgot." And I just forgot to do a blog post for this week... I think not having class threw me off.

I've been working hard on my PhD applications, to get them done by the end of November. This includes a writing sample, statement(s) of purpose, and the usual online application business. The reason this pertains to our class, and my thesis, is that I'm using what will become my thesis for the writing sample. So while I don't have a really strong proposal at the moment, I have something of a draft. And I'm pretty happy with it. It's 14 pages in its current state before the conclusion which I've yet to write. I think I could stretch it to maybe 18-20.

So I'm trying to figure out whether I can actually get to 40-60 pages without obfuscating the argument or convoluting the flow. I'm thinking of what I talked to Dr. Christie about in our conference... Maybe I can add a second part (or a first part, and have this be the second part), where I give more theoretical context ("Spatial Theory" is the term we were looking for, Dr. Christie.) Then I could close by tying my arguments on Emily Dickinson into the body of that theoretical conversation.

Is this a good idea, or will it make my thesis too broad? I feel like I'd be at my absolute limit at 25 pages with the argument I'm interested in making. Any suggestions on how to enhance the argument by taking it in another direction without taking on too much or losing the focus on Emily Dickinson?

Strides

This week I made some small movements in the development of my argument, but I have made pretty big strides in clarity. I feel I have been trying to anticipate Dickinson's intentions. Even the former title of my paper suggests it: "Traversing Spiritual Space in Emily Dickinson's Prayer Poems" I feel as thought that is something I have tried to do as well as explain... act as a sort of guide through ED's poems, in order to elucidate an aspect of them I feel has been largely overlooked. So I've put some distance between myself and my subject. The new title is "Spatiality in Emily Dickinson's Prayer Poems." So with my new approach, I've tried to explain what I mean by spatiality, and demonstrate how ED establishes it. That's it. I have a bit more of a "so what" paragraph towards the end of my introduction, but this is essentially what I'm going to argue. I think I was overreaching before. So I'm seeing a direct relationship between the size of my claim and the amount of stress I feel. When I step back and try to accomplish less (not be less awesome, just more controlled), I feel more confident that I can make it happen. Sounds like common sense, but it's been a lesson I've struggled to learn since the 4th grade, and will continue to struggle with for the rest of my life, I'm sure.

Right now I'm in the middle of getting my PhD applications together. I plan on submitting an excerpt of what will become my thesis as my writing sample. I'm interested in the different approach I feel I would take towards the paper, depending on my end goal. When I was working on my conference presentation, I was less formal and less concerned with engaging secondary sources. This writing sample is more polished, more professional, and slightly more academic. When I finally put my thesis into full gear, I'm going to need more engagement with secondary sources. But I think I will also have a little more room to explore. I don't know if that's true or not. Whatever, I'm writing this at 11:30 PM.

Methodology

The methodology class on Wednesday kind of messed me up. I appreciated Dr. Christie going around to help everyone figure out this part of their proposal. I'm still not sure what my methodology is. My methodology is informed by my ultimate goal, isn't it? If my goal is to argue similarities between two texts, I would compare the texts to one another. Sure. My goal isn't so concrete as that, though. At this point, all I really want to do is bring a certain aspect of Emily Dickinson's prayer poems to attention. That's it. How do I do that? By analyzing the poems, I guess? By deconstructing the poems? I'm not sure, but isn't that the same exact thing as just doing a close reading? Is that seriously what I'm trying to do? If so... ugh. It doesn't feel like that is what I'm trying to do. What I think I'm trying to do is push against the standard criticisms of Dickinson's relationship to God and religion. I feel like they are missing something, something that would enhance our understanding of Dickinson as a poet. How would it enhance it? That's the part I'm afraid I'm gonna botch. I'm not sure. So if I can't even explain what it is I'm doing, how in the world can I actually try to explain how it is I'm going to do what I'm going to do? It's aggravating.

I keep meaning to post on Thursdays or Fridays, and I always remember those days, but I think to myself, "I'll do it tonight." And then I forget. So here is my second super-late post.

I stalled this week with my work, which is not good, as anyone who has stalled their car in the middle of an intersection or the highway can attest. Things were going pretty well. I was working and reworking my introduction to death, and finally tried to move on to the body of my paper, but I got about a page in before I realized I didn't know what the hell I was talking about. You see, I'm still not super confident about my argument as a whole. I'm not an authority on Emily Dickinson. I've read a number of articles and book chapters. I can't be sure no one has made my argument before. And I'm even more afraid my argument isn't answering the "so what?" the way it should. If you asked me "so what?" I'm not sure I could answer it in less than 5 pages, if at all. What if I write this thing, and then someone asks "why didn't you mention the work of so-and-so, it really would have made things more concrete" or whatever. Stalled.

The more immediate problem I'm having is I'm supposed to have a beta-version of this paper done by next Saturday to present at a conference. The thesis I have a ways left to work on, I'm less worried about that. I can make crap up, I know, and probably I won't have to answer any questions. Maybe one or two obvious ones. I can speak the circuitous scholarly dialect where I fill long sentences with big words, and drop one or two big names, and make some vague references to history. That would probably get me through. But I kind of feel like that's all I've ever done, is make an argument SEEM important. I want to actually have an argument, the importance of which is clear and on the surface. Something everyone, even someone who has never read Dickinson, can grasp. Something my parents can read and say, huh, that kid actually is contributing, go figure. It's the kind of argument I read all the time, the kind of book or article I walk away from and think "My God, that is freaking brilliant..." I think my argument matters, but I'm not confident in my abilities to make it matter to other people. That's really what scares me. Because I can make a pretty strong case, I think. I have my thoughts organized. I can support my claims. But at this point, I expect people would walk away and totally forget about it. "It might be a good argument, but why should I care?"

That's what I keep trying to improve on, rather than writing the damn paper... Am I doing it backwards?

Coming Along

Last class was sort of an eye-opener for me. I've been working on this paper for a while, so I thought I had the "introduction" assignment figured out. I didn't bother looking at the syllabus because I thought I was good to go. So then I showed up with only a copy to turn in, and that was embarrassing. And disappointing, because I would have appreciated everyone's feedback.

But Dr. Christie's feedback was really valuable. Honestly, I was expecting he'd hand it back and say "This is perfect!" But he showed me where I was weak, and it was helpful. It also brought me back down to earth. I've got a good bit of improving to do, especially where "Stating the Problem" and the "So What" question are concerned. I need to state the problem more clearly, and tell the reader why they are supposed to give a crap. (My words, not his.)

This weekend my wife and daughter left to visit family in South Carolina, so I was freakishly productive. I have tightened the scope of my argument, and gathered several more critical sources that will be helpful to me. I went back, starting from scratch. I made an outline of the paper I would LIKE to write, of where I'd like to take it. It helped me to focus on what I'm missing, where I can improve. It also made it easier for me to re-structure the introduction in a more cogent and cohesive way. My writing process might be backwards, but I'm never confident enough in my argument to BEGIN with an outline. I usually have to write a crappy paper, see what comes out of it, write an introduction, go back and write an outline, re-write the introduction and then actually start the process of writing the paper. It also makes it easier for me to do research, if I have a clear understanding of what I want to accomplish.

Calling an Audible (and other stupid football metaphors)

I simultaneously made progress and took about 10 steps backwards, all in the same decision. I saw the defense was gonna blitz... and I called an audible.

For the last 4 months I've been working my way slowly but surely through the works of Adrienne Rich (on whom I would probably bet to win the imaginary reality show "America's Top Literary Stars"... or runner-up, in any case). It's been a long process, as she is extremely prolific. I've also been reading up on as much literary criticism as possible. All this with the intention of writing my thesis on her.

Well, long story short, I just can't justify it anymore. Up until the annotated bibliography assignment, I didn't even have something specific to focus on. I asked a professor I've worked with in the past to be my advisor, and he turned me down. That got me thinking. This project I want to do is going to take a lot of time. A lot more than let's say if I decided to pick up from a paper I've already written and expand it.

I have this paper I worked on over the summer, the one on Emily Dickinson I've mentioned a few times. I'll be presenting it at a conference next month, on the panel of the professor for whom I wrote the paper. Natural advisor there. (Haven't asked yet.) The work is halfway done for me.

So I've sold out. I feel good about it, though. Adrienne Rich is heavily influenced by Dickinson, so the more I learn about one, the more I'll learn about the other. The critics who are known for doing work on Rich (Albert Gelpi, Helen Vendler) also are known for their work on Dickinson. So this feels like a smart move and a smooth one. Eventually I will write something about Rich. But I know myself, and the stress that such a project-from-scratch would produce in me would negatively affect the project itself.

Annotated Bibliography

The hardest part of the annotated bibliography assignment was narrowing my focus enough to pinpoint a critical conversation from which to draw sources. I was reading some of Adrienne Rich's poetry when I came across a particular poem that struck me. I just decided to take that spark and run with it. It was a love poem. I can't actually remember which one it was, but it wasn't a "traditional" love poem where the speaker describes the beloved or uses over-the-top Petrarchan metaphors. It was simultaneously tragic, political, sentimental and hopeful. So I, at least for the purposes of an annotated bibliography, to go somewhere in that direction.

It was surprisingly easy to gather information on the subject. In fact it might be probably the first time I've ever stumbled across such a cohesive collection of criticism about my very subject. I found about 15 books and journal articles, and after going through all of Rich's work, settled on probably 5-6 collections of poetry and essays from which I will draw conclusions. It was fantastically stress-free. So check that off.

My next challenge was in finding the time to read everything. Obviously I failed at that. But I read enough to get a taste of the conversation. It's a body of criticism that is specific enough to my interest, but also extensive enough that I feel a bit intimidated by the task I have of contributing something "original," even if it is the small "o" kind.

Overall, it was a great assignment. Even if I shift my exact topic to be about something else, I learned more about Adrienne Rich as a writer, and more about how "love" as a subject is interconnected with nearly everything else she writes about in her poetry.

Proposal Guidelines

According to the Georgia State "MA Thesis Proposal Guidelines" distributed via mass email today by the Assistant Graduate Coordinator (or whatever her title is), our proposals should contain the following 5 criteria in order to be considered successful:

1. An extensive description of the topic.

2. A working thesis (liable to change).

3. An outline of structure (chapters, sections, etc.).

4. Discuss the existing secondary material.

5. An extensive working bibliography.

This seems reasonable. But somehow the tangible-ness (not a word, but I'm too tired and lazy to think of a real one) of this list forces me to reflect on my current state. And if you don't mind, I'm going to use this post as an opportunity to indulge in some self-interrogation. (This is going to be needlessly dramatic, I promise.)

I'm at a crossroads (ok, drama over). I've been trying to get some traction on my desire to do something on Adrienne Rich. I have a list of "themes" from which I could possibly narrow into a respectable topic. I've been reading criticism on her. I even emailed (whom I believe to be) the leading Rich scholar, Albert Gelpi, formally of Stanford, over the summer just to tell him how cool I think he is, and also ask how to pronounce his last name. And he emailed me back. (It's a hard 'G'.) This doesn't get me anywhere near a thesis proposal though.

On the other hand, my hard drive is full of papers I've written for classes, going all the way back to 2006. Papers I've presented at conferences. Papers I could use as a springboard for something bigger. And the hard work is done for me. I have an argument, at least somewhere to start. You get it.

I feel guilty not starting from scratch. But should I? No one cares, I know that. But I care. I don't know if I'll get into a PhD program, so this could be it for me. I want it to be awesome. I want to be proud of it, I don't want to look back and just remember taking a short cut. It would be so much easier to write. But I'm not sure whether starting from scratch will be that much more rewarding...

Clockwork Muse

I've tried observing my writing proclivities yesterday and today, and it's helped me to at least be more cognizant of my habits and tendencies. When I learned class was cancelled on Wednesday, I went to Barnes & Noble to work on the paper I plan on using for my PhD application writing sample. (So granted these were a couple of "re-writing" sessions, and I'm afraid I just can't bring myself to actually start from scratch, at least not yet.) Anyway, it was very helpful, both in terms of recognizing the stages of my process, and in improving the paper significantly.

Usually for my warm-up I go straight to ESPN to agonize over how close the Braves are to blowing the wild-card, or Hulu to watch an episode of the Daily Show. If I'm being completely honest. I think it helped for me to be away from home, I got right down to work. For the warm-up, I started reading the first couple pages of my paper. I was only a couple minutes in when I had an epiphany. My writing binge lasted a couple hours, and I paid more attention to my state of mind as my energy and mental capacity tapered off. I ended my session with 2 or 3 specific uncompleted tasks that I could pick up the next day. I felt good after, rather than drained. And I was excited to keep working the next day. I think that was a key piece of advice for me, to end when I'm on my high.

Thank you, Dr. Christie, for that. I think it is going to make a big difference for me.

On the Subject of My Thesiss

I have formally decided to base my thesis on the poetry (and/or essays) of Adrienne Rich (having just spent a good deal of money on those volumes I was lacking), primarily for two reasons:

1. I love her stuff. I have been reading her for several months now, and feel I have properly acquainted myself with her work, her life, her politics. I also have read several articles about her, and consequently become familiar with the major players in "Adrienne Rich studies," if I can call it that. I do not want to have to go through this process again with another writer.

2. Adrienne Rich is a unique subject in that I am provided several scholarly doors to choose from. If I were to write my thesis on John Steinbeck, for instance, I would show competence in just one or two areas of scholarship (Early 20th C. American Lit, for example). With Rich, the possibilities are essentially endless (as far as my own interests are concerned): Gender Studies, Sexuality Studies/Queer Theory, Jewish-American Lit, Late 20th Century American Lit, even Holocaust Lit/Trauma Studies, etc. I can show I have a background in any one of these areas. And while she is a well-known literary figure, she is not necessarily a popular scholarly subject.

Epiphany of the week: All the stress I'm bringing to this long-term project is counterproductive at this point. I mean, this is supposed to be the fun part, right? Right now the possibilities are endless. I need to relish it. As I continue to read, I can plan and organize according to the principles of The Craft of Research. I don't need to have an exact idea of what I'm going to do. My ideas will inevitably evolve into something completely different, anyhow.

Right now my biggest concern is becoming better acquainted with the works of Adrienne Rich. I'm reading "The Sounds of Poetry" by Robert Pinsky to help me see and hear more deeply into the sounds and structure of the poems. I also plan on memorizing a few of my favorites.

Cynicism or Pragmatism?

Reading about the institutional history of the formation of English departments and evolution of Theory as a discipline has been eye-opening. I'm learning that departmental and disciplinary politics are essentially built into the structure of higher education, and therefore unavoidable. It seems political considerations influence even the "purest" of pure research, and (more importantly) inform the crucial question of whether or not I'll be able to get a job at the end of all this.

At the risk of seeming to disregard Dr. Christie's advice that we approach the political aspect as a "game" of sorts, I feel some introspection is in order. So to address one of the big questions of this class, how does this dawning awareness of political disciplinarity influence my ethos as a writer? How does it change the way I address my audience? It's kind of a blow to my youthful, idealistic ego to realize that one's ideas can only get you so far.

Bruce Robbins asks, "How cynical should we be about the disciplinary motives of the knowledge makers?" (98). How cynical, indeed? I'm actually asking, because I have no idea, and Robbins doesn't help me very much. To be fair, I feel like I'm looking for a one-word answer, which I realize is impossible. But it is the very unanswerability of this question that is the cause of my anxiety. (Again with the therapy.)

What are the consequences of this for my writing? On top of writing a really mind-blowing paper, I have to worry about the political implications of my theoretical orientation. I have to acquaint myself with the biases not just of entire departments or editorial boards, but of individuals who are in a position to Yay or Nay my very scholarly existence. I have to anticipate years from now defending a body of work that may or may not clash with the ideals of the group holding that ever elusive pot of job-security-gold. If I'm honest, I'd be willing to do whatever it takes to get there. I'm sort of a closet whore of the intellectual kind. Light side, dark side... doesn't matter to me, as long as I'm on the winning team.

This is all very unsettling.

Research Problem Exercise

I want to hold on to what we read in The Craft of Research, and the exercise we struggled to get through our second day of class. Answering the "So what?" question has always been the biggest challenge for me, so I feel strongly that if I can fill out the three parts of what Booth, et al. consider to be a good research problem (Topic, Question, Significance), my papers will basically write themselves.

So I've been working on this for a few days, using a paper I wrote for a class I took over the summer, and I wasn't actually able to do it (to my satisfaction). But the good news is by using this model, I performed some fantastic brainstorm-style gymnastics. And I think I have a pretty good idea of where I could go to take the paper to the next level.

Here was my paltry attempt:

1. I am studying the structural ingredients of Emily Dickinson's religious poetry because I want to reconcile (?) the paradoxical nature of Dickinson's spiritual (and poetic?) relationship with God in order to illustrate her influence on 20th century (American? Women's?) poetic depictions of prayer (for example, Adrienne Rich).

Alright, I know that's horrible. It doesn't even really make sense, but the point is I was forced to examine my writing (and thinking) process in a way I never have before. Usually I spend hours researching, hoping to come across a problem somewhere along the line, and then spend the last 36 hours before it's due whipping out a subpar paper. The exercise was uncomfortable and frustrating, but ultimately productive. It will become a crucial part of the planning stages of my paper from now on, to guide my research, and keep me focused on my task. If I can actually address the three elements of a good research problem, I might even finish my papers before "the night before."

Test, Test

Believe it or not, I don't blog. So for my first post, I want to test the waters to orient myself with Blogger and whatnot.

Here's a random picture of my daughter, Adelaide.

For my first official entry, I'm going to attempt the exercise we discussed in class, and record my experience and inevitable frustrations.

P.S. My wife designed the header for this blog, it's not a picture I found online... I thought it was pretty good.