#14daypaper Part 5: Lessons Learned

Welcome back to  #14daypaper - the short series in which I try to write a conference paper in a fortnight. As always, this is not the definitive way to write a conference paper. It's just the way that I'm going about writing this particular conference paper.

Introduction: How to Write a Paper in a Fortnight
Part 1. Planning
Part 2. Research
Part 3. Write, Write Again  
Part 4. Fine Tuning
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1) Everyone writes to their own schedule.
When I've spoken with people about this project, reactions have varied. Some people think 14 days isn't long enough. Others have wondered why on earth it would take so long to write roughly 2,500 words. In short, I've realised I work quite slowly. It's likely that practice will enable me to work more quickly. But I doubt I'll ever be cavalier enough to write a paper on the way to a conference, or while I'm there. 



2) It helps to walk your audience through your ideas.
This (along with 4.) is the most important technique in this whole process. By framing my paper around what the audience knew, I could easily identify where to offer more detail. Focusing on the audience also made it easier to identify where my argument needed to be stronger.  This meant that when I sat down to research my paper, I had a list of things I needed to know. This is useful if - like me - you have a tendency to fall into research rabbit holes.

You don't need to do this with coloured pens or pencils. You could do it in blue biro on a piece of lined A4. But whatever method you choose, focusing on the audience will change the way you write.


3) Taking 'quick notes' can be a false economy.
Like the use of coloured pens, this might be something that only applies to me. I've spent most of my academic life loathing the process of writing. I've always found it to be long-winded, stuttering and dull. This is because my plans always contain either a) a scribbled half-quotation that I can't quite read or b) a note like 'see J.Blogs page 50.' This means pulling out my original notes and rifling through them. Or worse, going through the book or article, and trying to reconstruct which bit of page 50 was relevant.

Writing down quotations in full meant that when I sat down to write, it was surprisingly easy. I didn't use all the quotations I wrote down. In most cases, I re-drafted the contextual sentences I copied down. So, some of the time copying down notes didn't produce results. However - for me - it was worth the extra time because it made writing less painful.

4) First, record yourself. Then, re-draft.
This. I know I've already been harping on about this on twitter. But, really. I found that recording myself reading my paper has improved it for the better.

Firstly, recording myself meant that I could identify which sentences or phrases are jarring when you try and listen to them. This makes sense: papers are heard by our audience, but we write them as though our audience is readers. When I listened back to the recording, some sentences that sound fluent and clever on paper just sounded convoluted. 

Secondly, recording myself - and listening back to the recording - meant that I could identify where my argument got a bit fuzzy, or a bit lost. This has enabled me to go back and tighten up those sections, and make my argument clear. 


Is it a slightly painful process? Yes. Is it awkward? Absolutely. But recording yourself has benefits in a way that practicing in front of someone doesn't.  But I believe it will make it easier for people to engage with the final paper. And, ultimately, the means the paper will do exactly what it's supposed to do: share new research with a broader audience.

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And with that, it's done. I have a paper which is almost ready to present. You (hopefully) have come away with something that might help you write your next paper.

I've really enjoyed having a chance to reflect on writing. It can be a fraught process, especially at the start of a PhD. If you've read along with the whole series so far: thank you.

And happy conferencing!

3 Month Update - November 2015

In Numbers: 

Thesis words written: 3000(ish)

Supervisions attended: 2

Conference papers accepted(!): 1  
Conference papers written: 0

Loaves of soda bread baked: 4 (it's an obsession)

In Words

The last three months have really felt like a period of transition. This has to do with a few things, I suppose. Autumn (and the new academic year) always feel like a new start to me. But there have also been changes in my research environment: finally, there are new PhD students! Up until now, I've felt a little at sea amongst other PhDs who are much further into their research than I am. And while everyone has always been friendly, there's a renewed sense of community now that there are other newbies around. 

With regards to the research? It's been slower than in previous months. My thesis is based around a codex so, my primary texts are chosen for me. And because the manuscript is a miscellany, not all of the texts marry closely with my research interests. Which, necessarily, makes the process a little more laboured. But, for the most part, there has been something of interest in every text I've read. (Although Maidstone's Penitential Psalms is not one I'm going to be falling over myself to re-read.) But, the primary reading is done! Hurrah!

Now, I'm having to look forwards. And, I'll admit: my primary texts have acted as a pathfinder for me. Thus far, my research has been guided by those texts, the primary bibliography, and my own related literature searches. But now I feel as though I've reached the end of the known world and I'm now heading firmly towards the 'here be monsters' section of this literature review. 

But, there is a reprieve: I've had a paper accepted for Gender and Medieval Studies 2016 in Hull in January. Apart from being hugely excited that the paper has actually been accepted, I'm also somewhat relieved that I have another short-term goal to work on!

So, here's how I've progressed on my goals from last time:

• Finish my primary reading: DONE.  41 items of late medieval literature: read!
• Decide on my next research goal: IN PROGRESS. After the conference in January, I have a long and disorganised list of 'things I need to learn about.' I need to sit down and work out which things take priority and how to approach them.
• Send out a call for papers for a conference I’m organising: DONE The call for papers is out, and open! I'm so pleased we've been able to keep the focus on professional development, and the focus broad. You can find the CoP here..
•  Hit 2,000 page views on this blog: DONE. I thought this one was far too ambitious, but it's been done! Thanks to a post on stress, which you can read here. I was a little anxious about being so candid, but it seems to have struck a chord. Thank you for anyone reading this!

 Looking Forward to February 2016

(just writing that is scary - it will be a year since I started this PhD!)

• Send follow up emails to interesting people I meet at Gender in Medieval Studies. I know a lot of people dread conferences, but I find they can quite often be quite enjoyable, especially if you meet people who you find interesting. But I am awful at following up with people: I never have any means of chatting with them again. So my aim is to follow-up with anyone who I find interesting, even if it's just to say 'that was a nice chat, thanks.'
• Do something to celebrate my thesisversary (yes, I am calling it a 'thesisversary'). With all this relentless looking forward, I don't want to lose sight of the progress I've already made. With this in mind, I am going to plan something: it might be a day trip, it might be a massage, it might be a fancy meal. 
• Attend Old English Reading Group at least one a fortnight. I'm very mindful I don't want to get stuck in an uber-late Medieval bubble. And I'm still upset I can't study both ends of the medieval period. So this is a way to remedy that.
• Book a trip to Oxford to see my manuscript in person. I have to admit, I think of the manuscript as 'my' manuscript. And although I'm not a codicologist, I'd like to see the real thing, make use of the Bodleian, and catch up with old friends.

 

7 Thoughts on Leadership

You may remember a few weeks ago, I wrote a blog post about attending the Aspire Trailiblazing Leadership conference. You don't remember? Don't worry: it's here. If it isn't evident from that post, I went to the conference with very clear professional goals that I wanted to explore. But I couldn't do justice to everything I learned. So, instead, here are 7 things I learned from the conference.

1) Everyone is Terrified of Failure

For me, one of the most powerful exercises was early on in the first day. We were paired off, and asked to share with a partner our biggest fear, and accept it.

All the women I spoke to about this exericse said fear of feeling like a failure was at the heart of their fears. What varied is what will trigger that feeling of failure. For me, it would be failing this PhD. For another, her charity not getting funding. For another woman, it was failing to get a promotion. For another woman, it was not keeping a roof over her kids' heads.

But all these fears are necessary if you want to finish a PhD, run a charity, be promoted, house your children. Leaders are the people who welcome the fear, brave the possible bad outcomes. They risk feeling like a failure. But they also risk doing great things.

2) Leaders Start From the Inside Out

One thing that concerned me with this conference was the fear that, really, I'm not a leader. I don't line manage anyone at work (and never have). I'm only four months into a PhD - I haven't organised anything, and don't really know my way around the system.

What was stressed throughout the two days was that leadership is a ripple effect. You lead yourself, then your immediate circle. Maybe then you lead your organisation. Maybe then you lead the world. But those outer circles require self-leadership. Or - as I like to think of it - getting sh*t done. Leaders find something they care about and they motivate themselves to do something about it.

And sometimes, these actions get them titles, or accolades. But often, their actions change things, including the people around them. And so, at the ripe old age of 26, I feel comforted that getting sh*t done is a good start.

3) One Goal Doesn't Negate Another.

As I mentioned above, my aim was to go in, figure out all my professional aims and find people who could help me with them. And then, things about family started coming up. In every exercise I did, my relationship with my family kept coming up. I hadn't even been thinking about it when I went in.  A voice in my head told me to focus on what I was there for. I ignored it, and I've been putting some of what I learned into practice. And it's already improving my overall happiness and - by extension - my desire to work on my thesis.

For you, it might not be family. But I firmly believe that everyone is more than just the sum of their wordcount, their paygrade, or their title. And that working on one area doesn't detract from your desire to work on another: in fact, it's neccesary.

4) If Something Seems Like Second Nature to You, it's Probably Because You're Pretty Good at it.

On Day 2, we split up into groups of 10 and instructed to ask for exactly what we needed to achieve our goals. Again, I thought What can I offer? No one is going to need help interpreting romances, or identifying episodes of the Simpsons by opening scene. Either side of me, women were saying the same. What do I know? But as people shared what they needed, we each realised we did have skill or knowledge to contribute: we just didn't value them because we were already good at them.

I offered my email address, and am already helping people out. And those same women who said they had nothing to offer, they're helping me, too.

5) Surrounding Yourself With the Right People is Vital.

Every person I spoke to was open, interested and engaged. Yes, plenty of us were nervous, but this was the first conference I've ever been to where I felt that people were interested in me. And I can't separate the work I've done (and will do) as a result of this conference from that atmosphere.

As PhD students, we can often be cynics. And I understand why: a PhD is grueling, requires a lot of sacrifice, and the outcomes are becoming less and less certain (oh what, you want a tenured position? ha!) The mental health issues and financial insecurities don't help, and are often not discussed at all.

But, the way we interact is so often based on low-level scepticism about the administration's latest blunder, or the replacement of chairs in the common room. We don't even talk about the big things. And I can't be alone in finding this constant, low-level skepticism tiring, can I? And I can't be alone in finding that my best ideas and aspirations don't come when I'm complaining about the department's foibles, can I?

6) There is another way for conferences.

Here's what the Aspire conference lacked:

• Name tags
• Rows of seats (think circles of 10)
• Formal sessions (more circles)
• A formal conference dinner
• Powerpoint (mostly)
• Jargon (entirely!)

These very simple, very deliberate steps meant people spoke to each other honestly and openly. The sessions were interactive. They invited discussion (and not the kind with destructive, self-focused questions). And, with minimal powerpoint, we focused on the speaker. No formal roundtables. No confrontational questions. No awkward people who came alone and are shut out of cliques.

I know that a professional development conference is aimed at a difference audience. And I know that the ExCel centre is very different from your Postgraduate centre. But all I can think about now is, what would an academic conference look like if we deliberately planned it to be more open?

7) You don't need always second helpings.

No-one needs two fudgy chocolate brownies. You will just feel sick.

On Panels

Last week, I was lucky enough to be invited to speak on a panel as a student panellist.  Having seen the verbal mauling that can happen at academic panels, I was nervous (read: terrified). But I said yes: I need to get over this fear, and what amazing opportunity to do it.

I was lucky - the panellists were supportive, the audience posed interesting questions, and I was able to answer them! Here are a few things I learned from my first ever panel.

1. Prepare, prepare, prepare.

With other types of public speaking, I actually try to go in feeling that I don't know everything. This gives me wiggle room, so I can respond to the people in the room rather than reading off my script. But normally when you do public speaking (a talk, a training session, a briefing) you control the content; a panel is audience-led.

Fearing the hostile questions, I read. A lot. I summarised articles for myself, wrote down key facts. This meant I was able to go in with bullet points of things that I wanted to mention in response to the areas of discussion. If anything, I wish I'd prepared more. When asked to introduce myself, I didn't have a pithy, witty summary like the other panellists. And a few questions threw me off.

2. Meet the panellists (and the chair) before the start of the panel.

As I mentioned, the other panellists were great. I met them briefly before we went on and had a quick chat. This helped me remember names and made me feel more comfortable going on to the stage. It meant I had a feel for who I could bounce off in the discussion. (Which it turns out is great if you're a bit stuck for an answer!)

But since the panel was right at the start of the conference, we didn't have much time beyond introductions. Given more notice, and more time, I think I would make sure I had longer to get to know people.

3. You're allowed to make jokes.

I am a chronic wise-cracker.  I am perfectly capable of speaking in public without making a joke, or a wry comment, or a witty riposte, or a humorous barb....but I hate it.  So, going into a very formal industry panel, I was desperately trying not to be light hearted.

Of course, I cracked. Trying to be po-faced just made me more nervous: it was another thing to trip up on. It isn't anything like me. And, really? It was fine. A few people laughed (ok, I got a chuckle or two). But, the point is that in actually acting like myself, I was much more relaxed. Of course, I wasn't doing a stand up set, or being inappropriate. But just that touch of levity was well-received (I think) and more to the point: stopped me freaking out.

4. Be prepared for people to introduce themselves.

This was the most pleasant surprise of all. I expected that I'd get up, say my bit and get on with my day. But throughout the day, people were introducing themselves, commenting on the panel and picking up on some of the discussions we'd been having.

For someone like me who hates small talk, this was perfect. It was a great way to meet lots of people, to talk with them about something consequential, and then introduce ourselves. And more than that: people were really sincere in taking an interest in what I'd said: that was incredibly heartening.

5. It's like riding a rollercoaster.

When I've been on rollercoasters, I think it's a great idea. I get all excited. I queue for ages. I get in my seat. And as soon as the safety gear comes down, something in me changes. "Why I am I doing this? This is terrifying. This is really happening. Oh god, we're moving. Oh Christ, we're all going to die. This is awful it's too late to get off. Oh god, we're at the top, oh no, oh no oh - WOOOOOOHEAYEAHEYEAYH!!!! Oh. Is it over? Oh.......LET'S GO AGAIN!!!"

The same was true of the panel. First comes excitement. Then comes blind panic. Then comes adrenaline-fuelled excitement.  And, much like my first go on a roller coaster, my first experience of a panel has taught me that you just have to ride it out.

Trailblazing Women 2015

(Isn't it just the way? Not long after I resolve to start posting on a weekly basis, things get busy and I get behind. It’s not strictly PhD-related, but I wanted to use this post to talk about a conference I’m attending soon. I should be back to PhD-relating things soon.)

The Aspire Foundation aims to create a world ‘where women and girls are empowered and authentic leaders in both the developing and developed world for the sake of equality, justice, balance and success.’ They’ve worked with over 1 million women since they were founded by Sam Collins in 2001: as part of their aim to reach even more women, they’re running a two-day Trailblazing Leadership event. Which I am absolutely honoured to have managed to secure a scholarship for.

At this point I should give a shout out to Karen, my former colleague (hi!). Without her insistent encouragement, I would never have heard of Aspire. Last year, she suggested I attend an Aspire webinar. I was starting to get cold feet about the prospect of quitting my job, moving across the country, taking on 6 years of self-funded study and then having no guarantee of security afterwards. (Can you blame me?) I think the webinar was ‘Strategic You 2015.’ The aim was to discuss what goals you had in mind for the year ahead, how to implement them and how to balance them. That webinar really helped me: by the time that hour was up, I felt this quiet, diamond-hard certainty that I was ready to take this chance.

Between then and now, I’ve learned a little more about academia. And I wasn’t comfortable with everything I learnt. Some of that diamond-hard certainty was being undercut by the feeling I’m getting (at this early stage) that academia isn’t for people like me. 

So, when I got an email about the ‘Trailblazing Leadership’ event in March, I naturally thought “that sounds great, but it isn’t for me.” I don’t think of myself as a leader. And I certainly didn’t have enough money to fund my attendance. But the more I read about the conference, the more it seemed to me that people like me are exactly the sort of people who don’t have a voice in academia. And when I heard that Aspire were offering scholarships, I felt that same diamond-hard certainty that I should at least apply.  So I sent an email. I was invited to apply. And I did.

I applied because I’ve had female mentors for most of my academic career. These people took an interest in me. They challenged me. They held me to account. My personal and intellectual development has been thanks to them. The only problem is that there seem to be fewer and fewer women available to lead, or to mentor. I’m very lucky that I like and respect my supervisors immensely, but academia doesn’t encourage a culture of mentoring outside of that supervisory relationships. If I look to my peers (fellow PhD students) we’re all competing for finite resources: funding, conference papers, jobs. And I don’t think that this intense culture of peer competition and lack of mentoring makes for happier graduate students, better researchers, or improved academics. In fact, I feel the opposite is true.

I applied because the whole thing about this PhD thing is that I’d quite like to be an academic. (I know, I know. It’s unlikely. But I could post a whole other post about my issues with that. So humour me for now.) So, I’d like to be an academic. Which means I’m effectively training for a career that favours people who aren’t like me.  Peer reviewers will assume my work is biased because I'm a woman. So, this means that when I am trying to publish and get a permanent job I'm less likely to get a permanent, full-time contract than a male. And if I do have children, I’ll be seen as less productive than my male colleagues: in fact, they’ll gain a net benefit from having kids.

 

I applied because this is all depressing and awful. But it isn’t just a broad political point. For me, it’s also intensely personal: my husband is an academic. And he’s a brilliant academic. (Again, I could write an entire post singing his praises but I’ll save that.) He’s an innovative, supportive, dedicated teacher. He’s a flexible, incisive researcher. He’s an engaging, personable presenter. All of these things mean that – as far as I’m concerned – he should have all the accolades in the world. But he should get them because of his qualities, not because of his gender. But as things stand, no matter how much we support each other, he is likely to do better because of something he can’t control.

And that’s not fair. So I applied. 
And I was accepted.

And now I’m nervous! At first, it was about what to wear (business casual? Conference wear? What are either of those things? I can’t afford to buy new clothes!! Will people know if I wear second hand stuff? What do I do??)  Luckily, Aspire have clarified that there’s no formal dress code, smart casual is fine. 

 So now I have to be nervous about the usual things. Like the fact that I’m awful at remembering names, and there are no name tags. Like the fact that when I get nervous I talk a lot. And a lot of it’s nonsense. But I’m also nervous about something specific to this conference: all these women are contributing amazing things to the world. And me? I’m contributing a potential thesis that I don’t have a research question for. What can I contribute?

I hope to find out that answer to that question at this conference. And I’d love to let you know how it goes, if you’re interested.

Photo credit.

The First Three Months

Words written: 8,500
Supervisions attended: 2
Cakes baked: 4

I can't believe that it's been just over three months since I started this PhD. The transition has been less dramatic than I thought it would be, although I have learned a lot over the last few weeks. And there's still a lot more to get adjust to. I'm sure in three months time, I'll look back on myself now and not quite be able to believe that I knew so little.

Hopefully, these recaps will give me some perspective, as well as a prompt to set (and reflect on) short term-goals.

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I think part of the reason that this transition has been less difficult than I thought it might be is because I've started developing routines. Some of these relate to my PhD work: for example, I always arrive at the workroom around 8.30 because I know this is when I do my best work. Some are more about making sure I take time away from the PhD. Regular lunch dates and weekly swimming sessions don't take me away from the PhD for that long, but they help me keep things in perspective. Finally, some routines are just as a consequence of moving house and our routines changing: with open kitchen living room, the Doctor and I hang out much more when we're making/washing up dinner. 

I've also made a conscious decision to try my best to attend as many relevant conferences and research seminars as I can. Many people I've spoken to say that they wish they hadn't waited until so late in their PhD to start going to these sorts of events. For me, it isn't so much about networking. (I don't find these events that sociable - is it just me?) It's more about seeing how other people approach and disseminate their research. I figure that once I have any research of my own, I'll know more about how to talk about it.

The only problem I've found so far is that between these events and work commitments, I can sometimes be quite far away from the actual research thing. I'm really excited for a one-day conference this Saturday, but coming after two weeks of lots of travel and very little time in the workroom, I'm a bit anxious that I haven't actually done any research in a while. I think I still need to plan my time better.

The other thing I've tried hard to do is to write. A lot. I get very anxious about putting work out there, and I don't ever want to be in a position where I'm sitting down to start writing my first draft. I figure if I write as I go, I can cannibalise these little snippets when I start writing properly.  Of course, part of my commitment to writing is this blog. Which I am still confused about. I don't know whether I just want to focus on my research, or on this PhD process more broadly. I don't know who the audience is. I don't know who would even care to read it. I don't know how to find the other first year PhD students who might find any of this relevant. Thoughts would be very welcome! At the moment, I'm just intending to keep on doing it and see where it goes. But that isn't a particularly long-term plan.

Goals for the Next Three Months

Reading

• Finish reading my primary texts.

Writing

• Draft a paper proposal for Gender and Medieval Studies.
• Continue to blog once a week.
• Write a blog post that gets a comment.

Events

• Sign up for Parenthood and Childhood in the Middle Ages.

How to Make Every Session useful

Picture the scene.

You're at a mandatory training session. Or a conference session that isn't in your area. Or a research seminar. 

 

You sit down. You get ready to take notes. Your speaker[s] welcome everyone. And they start. And maybe after 10 minutes, maybe after 15, you think 'oh god: this session is irrelevant....and I'm stuck here until it finishes.'

It happens. It may be that the session doesn't match your interests. Or that you don't gel with the speaker's presentation style. Or maybe you're already familiar with the topic. In any case, you can't really leave. As I see it, you've got three options:

1) Sit there, silently fuming at this poor speaker, and hating anyone who asks a question because they're prolonging the agony.

2) Ignore the speaker. Browse the internet, check twitter, send emails. Try not to feel guilty when the speaker catches your eye.

OR

3) Focus on making the session useful for you.

So, before I adopt 1) or 2) and make the speaker very uncomfortable, I try 3). Here's how.

Wait Before you Check-Out

If a session starts off with information you already know, or on a topic you aren't that interested in, it's tempting to disengage and save yourself the trouble. But, if you've given papers, or delivered sessions yourself, ask yourself some questions. Do you always introduce your key points at the start of every session? Every time? Do you sometimes take a while to warm up when you start a session? Perhaps days where you don't feel up for it? Do you sometimes remember a relevant point when you're in mid-flow and add it in?

From experience, I know that the best part of session I've delivered are very seldom the first 5-10 minutes. I know that I'm guilty of all of the above. Because of this, I try to give the speaker the benefit of the doubt. And very often, there is at least one nugget of useful, thought-provking information somewhere in there. 

Take Part!

This is particularly useful for sessions where you already have quite a lot of knowledge in the area. Retention rates are highest when individuals are asked to teach someone else what they've learned. If the session invites small group discussion, don't hang back. Share your knowledge with the people you're talking with, ask them questions.

A while back, I went on a mandatory training session which replicated training I'd had elsewhere. Although I went in sceptical, when we got to group discussions, the people in group actually challenged me on something. And I realised I didn't know the answer. Apart from being humbled by this, it challenged me to go and read up on that particular area, and fill the gaps in my knowledge.

Don't Focus on What They're Saying...

...focus on how they're saying it. If you're a PhD student, the odds are you'll one day be giving a conference paper, or delivering a lecture, or a seminar. Every example of public speaking is one you can learn from, and this session is no exemption. Is the speaker [over]using power point? How do they introduce their points? Do they look and sound confident? Why? How are they providing the right background without boring those in the know? Are they using notes? Flashcards? Are they winging it?

At my first ever conference, I went to a session that was completely irrelevant to my research. But the person giving it had the most natural, authentic and knowledgeable manner I'd ever seen. I spent the entire 20 minutes taking notes on how they did it. I still refer back to my notes if I'm presenting a lot of complex information. 

Not every session you ever go to is going to be relevant. But since I started trying to engage with every session I attend, I spend a lot less time feeling grumpy and resentful. 

How about you: have you been to any sessions that turned out to be surprisingly useful?