Life in Thesis-land : one word after another

Thesis Out-takes

Karen.Hall — Mon, 10 Dec 2007 00:34:00 GMT

Writing a thesis is often as much about deciding what goes out as well as what goes in. One frame for deciding what goes in is to divide up your material into three categories: things that are 1) imperative, 2) good or 3) nice for your reader to know. And if the material isn't imperative, then perhaps it can go.

However, that kind of ruthless editing can leave you bemoaning the hours of work on something that doesn't make the final thesis cut - that is certainly the case with me. So I'm sharing an out-take from chapter three of my thesis, which looks at pulp science fiction magazines in the first half of the twentieth century. The material either summarises information available elsewhere, or falls into the 'nice' category - interesting, but not directly engaged with the arguments in the chapter.

On 20 February 1929, Gernsback went into receivership and Amazing was sold to B.A. Mackinnon, then through another few companies to end up under the control of Macfadden Publishing in August 1931. Amazing survived the Depression, continuing regular monthly publication, though the Amazing Quarterly was only released irregularly. Astounding was more deeply affected by the Depression than Amazing: publication dropped to bi-monthly after June 1932, ceasing after January 1933, before a final one-off volume in March 1933.(Ashley, 2000, pp.76-77) The Depression influenced the content of the magazines as well as their publication. For example, the story ‘Two Thousand Feet Below’, in which the descendants of an ice-age tribe trapped in subterranean spaces plan world domination using heat rays and flames throwers, requires the united response of the US government, armed forces, and captains of industry to defeat (Astounding Stories, June 1932 pp. 311-335; September 1932 pp. 34-62; November 1932 pp. 191-219; January 1933, pp. 346-364). While this story can be seen as an estranged exploration of contemporary issues and the need for a multi-facet response to the Depression (the New Deal), other stories from the same era were more direct. Laurence Manning’s ‘The Moth Message’ (Wonder Stories December 1934) depicted the remaining descendents of an Atlantean mining colony left behind on Colorado mesa top after the end of Atlantis who are eventually persuaded to release their huge accumulated stash of gold bullion – which the narrator suggests will be use to relieve Great Depression. This story proposes a straightforward fictive redress of contemporary problems: Atlantis’s past legacy will ameliorate America’s current crisis.
Ashley, M. (2000). The Time Machines: The Story of the Science-Fiction Pulp Magazines from the Beginning to 1950. Liverpool, University of Liverpool Press.

a little reflection on my research

Karen.Hall — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 08:11:00 GMT

It's been quite a while since I've posted about my research: in part, because I haven't been posting much at all, with the demands of full-time work and thesis writing fitting in whenever I find the time and energy, but also because I don't want to add to the negativity around the process of thesis writing while still reporting honestly on my own experiences. Thus, silence. Today I've been tireder than usual - the mistake of trying to have a life somewhere in the weekend - but for me tiredness also seems to clarify things in a strange distanced way. I'm staring down the barrel of just a little more than two months to submission, and still a lot of work to do. My abstract is heading out into the universe today, while I have six months of a future planned the rest is still unsettled, and a house move is on the horizon. So I'm tired, and I'm stressed, and I have hours in the middle of the night where I hate my thesis and want to hit myself over the back of the head but still, as I insist to all the students I work with, my research does matter. I need to hold onto the passion that I felt for it somewhere along the line, and I need to convey that - to myself, to my examiners, to the universe at large.

What does my research do? It complicated things. While this might not sound like Nobel-winning stuff, to my mind, complicating things is the job of the humanities and social and cultural studies: to insist that people are messy, that history isn't singular, that we always say both less and more than we mean, that reading is an act of transformation, that trying to pin things down just creates more things. My thesis looks at one sub-genre of science fiction - the lost race story - and argues that recognising its presence in science fiction unsettles previous critical accounts of the development of science fiction. It helps to connect up science fiction to writing and reading practices in the Victorian period, while still showing how the pulp science fiction magazines of the early twentieth century were where the genre was first really articulated. Looking at lost race stories shows how pulp science fiction ambivalently negotiated the radical social and technological shifts of the period: that its 'prophetic vision' of the future was in fact underwritten by construction of its pasts. The writing, publishing and reception of lost race stories show how together, these factors created a shared memory of what science fiction was and how it worked: a dialogue both inside and outside fiction texts building a cultural memory of genre. And finally, that even up to the present, lost race stories keep being written and rewritten by science fiction authors, mapping newly imagined spaces through familar narrative terrain.

There's more, of course, but my head hurts enough without going into the critical theory side of things. From long experience, the best way for me to handle the way I'm feeling now is more writing and more sleep. Homewards and onwards.

Good Habits

Karen.Hall — Thu, 02 Aug 2007 06:47:00 GMT

In the quest to find some way to balance the job-thing and finishing-thesis-thing while maintaining some shreds of sanity (don't laugh!) I've decided that the key is good habits. There is no point in pretending that I can manage to live on sugar and caffiene for the next five months, just writing and not sleeping, and doing well at either of the things. So I am aiming for sustainable but solid work practices and balance. So here are my new habits:

Going to the gym again. Having fallen into a gym slump in the absence of my gym buddy - because gossip can motivate me to get out of bed, but machines of torture aka circuit and pump classes cannot - I'm trying to reverse the trend and get to the gym 3 times a week.
Restricted TV watching. As some of my previous frivolous posts might have shown, bad TV has to get pretty bad indeed to stop me watching it. My current scheme requires me to register with Housemate Sister a weekly roster of shows I am allowed to watch, while she has total control of the remote and permission to be Official TV Doorbitch.
A tidy study desk, with all the resources I need on hand. Any junk that tries to move onto the desk has to go to a proper home or the bin.
Blocks of time. Thesis writing time is two hours each weekday evening. That means the two hours have to be done, but also that once they are done I can switch off the computer and go to bed.
Rolling Things To Do List. All the steps that need to be taken to get the thesis done get written down, and eventually crossed off. At the end of each evening's writing time, I select that tasks for the next day from the list. For example, tonight is two paragraphs of writing for Chapter 5, where I've blocked in the topic but haven't written the content, and one paragraph for Chapter 6. Small steps and attainable goals, that's my mantra.
And in a confession of potential New-Age wackiness, I've found that using an oil burner at my desk can help me get into writing headspace. I guess it is a sensory signal to myself to get to work, plus having the candle burning makes me feel like I shouldn't leave the room.

Strangely Enough, I'm In The Zone

Karen.Hall — Wed, 30 May 2007 09:07:00 GMT

'The Zone' - for me - is that semi-mythical space where sentences move from your brain through your fingers and onto the keyboard. It's where thesis work actually happens, where at the end of the day you can stop and look at the x number of words or pages with a sence of accomplishment and a conviction that you can get up and do it again tomorrow, and eventually, everything will be done.

I stopped believing in the zone sometime ago - it was so long since I'd been there I'd forgotten the directions.

But for some reason, today has been different. Despite staying up late and getting up early to get marking done, teaching this morning, detouring to the department for some admin work done, sore neck/shoulders/back/elbows/fingers (yes, I'm planning to go to the physio soon), and eyeballs telling me I've spent too long looking at the screen, I've been in the zone. Chapter Five, bane of my life for the last month, is being rapidly whipped into shape. Despite the pre-emptive editorial notes for myself ([PARAGRAPH NEEDS TO BE PUNCHIER]; [TRANSITION]; [AARGH - CLUNKY] and the deadly FIND REF!!!), another few hours of work should have it coherent enough to hand in to the supervisors as a first draft.

So, what might the landmarks be for finding the zone again? No email. I haven't checked once today, and my god does this help. Good music in the background. And a stuff it, just say something attitude that comes from a lack of sleep, a sense of being over this thing, and a lillte bit of supervisorial fear.

Back to it!

(metaphorical) nose back to the (metaphorical) grindstone

Karen.Hall — Mon, 26 Mar 2007 09:04:00 GMT

Today is my first day back from suspension. It feels a little like sitting in a rollercoaster carriage as it settles momentarily into stillness at the top of the slope before plunging downwards. From here it is - or should be - all down: finishing the drafting of the last two chapters, conclusion, editing, checking, formatting ... done. The 'done' is still hard to imagine, but I can feel the vertigo as I stare at the rest of it.

The morning started with a stall: literally, in that my car battery waved this life farewell with one last feeble splutter. I was left sitting in the driveway waiting for the RAC, then again waiting for a new battery. Autumn was in the air, I decided, sitting in the sun in a cardigan soaking up the warmth as through it was a transitory gift. Then uni, and the parking run around, and the computer run around (my SNAP snapped!), and the admin run around when I found I needed yet another form filled in.

But I have bombarded ILL with requests for the articles that I need for the writing that is slowly accreting into chapter shape, and written 500 words. Not a total write-off of a day. It's hard to find much enthusiasm at the moment, though: not much momentum behind me, I'm either over or was never that into the texts I'm writing about, and even the arguments I'm trying to make seem either too obvious or too hard. Nose to the grindstone, I tell myself. One word after another.