Dissertation blues

Dissertation blues

Dissertation Blues

Writing this thing is like building a house. Only I can’t actually see what I’m doing, the plans keep changing, and there are periodic earthquakes. It’s a wonder that I’m this far along at all!

A brief progress report: I broke ground on this, officially, on February 28 2018, so almost a year ago. I know this because I’ve been keeping a strict work diary so I don’t lose track of myself or the overall sweep of things. This is not my first big project, though it is by far the most rigorous and challenging. And it’s certainly the only on where I’ve felt so profoundly out of my depth and, alternately, out of this world ebullient.

I started with my methodology chapter because my advisor thought that would be the easiest way in. It’s a surprisingly tricky problem, actually: where to start? In a monograph like mine, each chapter has to build on and reinforce the others. For the longest time I couldn’t find a way into that circle, but methodology seemed like a reasonably simple entry step. I spent 26 days writing it, with an eight-day break in the middle. It ended up being 10,882 words – a fine length, considering my overall limit of 70,000 words. I know many dissertations are longer than this, but my advisor said he doesn’t want me to write a doorstop, and I quite agree. Short and sweet. Sharp and to the point. 

That first methods chapter was, I thought, a good start. I was deeply inspired my colleague Elisabeth Militz, who generously let me read her thesis, and who advanced a feminist sensibility that took nationalism seriously by grounding it in the body, through emotion and affect. Unfortunately my committee did not agree and, during our last meeting at the AAG in New Orleans, they cut me down to size.

Which I needed, of course, and unfortunately. I didn’t see it at the time, but the chapter was whiny. Positionality is crucial but it shouldn’t be navel gazing.

My advisor put it more nicely: “You’ve put fine sports car tires on a rugged off-road vehicle.”

I spent months writing on other projects – a book chapter, a commentary, an article – while trying to organize my material for another attempt. On September 21, I started again, this time with an outline. I wanted to have a clearer blueprint for this house I was trying to build.

When that outline reached 30 pages, I realized I had to cut myself short. So I worked on distilling it and eventually ended up with a clear enough picture to present to my advisor. The pressure involved in that step was immense. But he approved, thank heavens, and so I could go on. I only wish I had tried this at the very beginning.

The next step was to write the introduction, which I approached like a mini version of the dissertation. That was approved too – thank the gods – and I wrote this in my work diary: “Excellent meeting. He likes my intro! He has no doubts I can do this. I’m on my way. I feel ebullient. I really want to keep this feeling!”

And yet somewhere along the way I lost the thread, which is what I’m trying to find right now. I currently have a structure of eight chapters but I’ve gone off-piste with my empirical engagements. It’s so hard to keep in mind all the different moving parts! So my central problem at the moment is that I don’t feel that my empirical chapters are actually advancing my arguments at all.

I have two main contributions, I think. The first is based off of Neil Brenner’s notions of state rescaling, wherein I am trying to show that mega-events are more than simply the agents of neoliberalism run amok. The second thrust deals with Joseph Nye’s conception of soft power, but I’m unhappy with how I’m treating this. I don’t know any recipe for getting over this impasse other than suffering my way through it. Taking the ideas out into the open, airing them out, pulling them apart and putting them back together. It’s surprisingly difficult work and I’m glad my advisor has confidence in me because, to be perfectly honest, at the moment I really don’t.

Time to revisit the outline, right? Time to refresh my memory about what I’m actually trying to say, and why.

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