Skip to main content

The Diary of a PhD Student: Is it normal for me to feel this overwhelmed?

Or, in this case, just before you start again.
So I’m aware that it’s been quite a while since I updated this space and I thought that rather than let the silence linger on for another uncomfortable month, it might perhaps be a good thing for me to actually write about what’s been going on.

It turns out PhD degrees are actually quite difficult. I know - who would have thought it? It also turns out that despite writing 30,000 words of the first draft of my novel, I had somehow still ended up writing my way down the wrong road. And this is where the cracks appeared.

For those who aren’t familiar with the process of doing a PhD - or at least, the process at the university where I’m doing mine - during your first year you are faced with the daunting task of going through Panel. It’s terrifying; the thing of nightmares, in fact, and I can feel palpitations building at the very mention of it. It was during the first few weeks of discussing Panel that it first became clear to me that maybe my book wasn’t going in the right direction - so, as if the Panel process itself wasn’t scary enough, I was also suddenly faced with the idea that I’d wasted a massive amount of time writing something that I wasn’t even going to use.

Side note: I have since realised that time spent writing is never time wasted.

I started the degree with a clear-cut idea of exactly what I wanted my novel to be, fully-loaded with blind ignorance towards the possibility that the more research I completed and the more books I read, that clear-cut idea was actually subject to change. The thought of starting over already was pretty horrendous to me, which is perhaps why I moved forward for so long with a style of writing that I’m now cautiously backing away from. The meetings with my supervisor began to terrify me because he was asking questions that I just couldn’t answer - in fact, never mind not being able to answer them, sometimes it felt like I didn’t even understand them. Which is perhaps a contributing factor to my change of tone/voice/style/everything: I was beginning to feel like if I couldn’t find rhyme or reason behind what I was writing, then maybe I was writing the wrong thing. Or at least, the right thing, but a wrong version of it.

The final push - that now, a week or so later, I’m actually quite grateful for - came during a work-sharing session with fellow PhD students who were asking questions about my protagonist that I hadn’t asked; having thoughts that I hadn’t thought of, and raising issues that I hadn’t even noticed, let alone considered.

That afternoon I stayed behind to talk to my supervisor and said:

‘Is it normal for me to feel this overwhelmed?’

It turns out that it is.

It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Similarly, it’s okay to feel scared, and doubtful; it’s okay to have too many ideas. It’s also okay to walk halfway down one road and then start peddling backwards because you’ve suddenly realised that you’re going in the wrong direction. In fact, it’s better to start peddling backwards.

So I’m now redrafting my novel. I’ve rewritten my prologue and I’m tentatively edging into the rewrite of my first chapter - and so far I haven’t typed a single thing. Pen and paper are the way forward, for the time being at least. I’m slowing my thoughts down, mulling things over, and taking my time to put one word in front of the other - rather than bulk writing one paragraph after the next. And - occasional moments of blind writing- and Panel-related panic aside - while it seems a stretch to say I’ve turned a corner, I think that I at least have the corner in my line of vision now.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Diary of a Whatever I Am Now: Transition period.

Transition: 'the process or the period of changing from one state or condition to another'. I wanted to make this blog more of a regular thing once my PhD was over, for several reasons. Partly it’s just to log what happens next and this, in itself, is two-fold: I want to have some kind of documentation of this recovery process (yes, that’s what I’m calling it) that follows the PhD, but I also live in hope that someone who is struggling with having finished their PhD might find this blog some day, and breathe a hefty sigh on realising that the weird grief-cum-relief they’re feeling right now isn’t totally abnormal – in fact, it might even be quite common. I also want to get into the habit of writing more – something I’m encouraging my own students to do now and I hate giving out writing advice that I haven’t/am not taking myself, and so here we are. This is my first post as a Whatever I Am Now (because I still don’t have balls big enough to write The Diary of a Writer in th...

Copycat: Second book fears, panic-writing, and plans for a sequel

When people ask me how I wrote Copycat , I have to explain to them the constant state of panic that I was in while I pulled this book together. Intention , my debut novel which was also published by Bloodhound Books, was a labour of love that lasted three years in total, and five years to the point that it was published. I wrote that book as part of my PhD programme, which also means that throughout those three years I had a great support network in place to get me through the process of writing a book. The reason behind the Copycat -panic then was that this would be the first novel I would write without someone holding me up, and those first steps to get the book together were nervous and wobbly ones to say the least.             Copycat ’s  first draft came together in about two months. At the beginning and end of most days, I would sit down at my laptop and I would push and push until I managed a few hundred words at a...

The Diary of a Whatever I Am Now: Corrupted Hard Drive.

Take a walk with me. We’ll go back to August 2010, late August, when I finally found out that despite my below par A-Level grades, there was a university in the country that was prepared to give me a chance. Praise be to them. Ahead of starting this journey, my generous mother bought me a laptop. A brand spanking new laptop. That my kind and patient sister, and her partner, set up for me and taught me how to use. They deliberately picked something that would suit the university life style – and they were bang on the money in that respect. That laptop lasted I-don’t-care-to-remember how many assignments and a 10,000 word undergraduate dissertation. Let’s not forget, either, that during my first and second summers home from university, I also wrote two “novels” (I use that word in a bland and unimpressed tone, incidentally) that were typed on that same laptop. From there, we moved to postgraduate studies. More assignments and eventually a 25,000 word dissertation. By this point ...