I am currently in the process of writing my dissertation prospectus. It’s a lot of work that I wish could be directed toward the dissertation itself, but, alas, there are rules about these kinds of things. At least it’s the next-to-last big check mark on the requirements list.
The prospectus is to consist of several parts. The first major part is an introduction of sorts. It should create a shaped context for the project, giving chronological, national, sociological, or other relevant parameters. It should explain if historical or literary periods have any bearing, if gender or class is relevant, and if so, why. If there are formal or aesthetic issues, these should be addressed. It should contain a map of relevant broad criticism on the topic.
The next section should precisely identify and support the actual issue at hand. It should relate how I came to this topic and, within a mini-survey of existing scholarship, argue for its place in the field. It should explain important underlying issues, make connections, define key concepts, and present my methodology.
Next comes an expanded outline. Chapter titles should be listed, along with one-to-two page proposals for each chapter. These should set out the theme for each chapter, the questions that will be explored, what I expect to find, the ideas or problems that intrigue me.
And finally, I must include a prospectus bibliography, a list of works I will consult during the project.
Well, the bibliography has been a work-in-progress for some time, so I started there. It took only half a day to do a little more research, add some sources I’d found recently, and pretty much wrap it up.
So, logically, I moved to the beginning, the introduction, and here’s where the problems began. Introductions have always been the hardest part of a paper for me to write, for a couple of reas
ons. One is that it does not follow that just because I have a good idea for a particular project I also have a good idea for the introduction. Introductions are important—they are an invitation for the reader to enter my argument, they are a bridge from the reader’s world into my own. I can’t take that lightly. And, as I’ve told you before, I’m not a fast thinker when it comes to the writing process. I have to allow myself time to let ideas simmer on the back burner and trust myself that they will eventually reach a boil. I’ve been at this long enough to know that they will; I just can’t predict the timing.
The second problem is my perfectionist tendencies. Some people just begin writing with a brain dump. They spill all their ideas onto paper quickly, with no restraint, and clean up later. Not me. I will sit there in front of the computer, unwilling to write until I have the perfect beginning sentence, and then a perfect second sentence, and so on, tinkering with wording and sentence structure until I am finally satisfied. This is not a process that lends itself to swift writing.
Added to these regularly recurring problems was the fact that this project is just so huge. My mind kept darting in different directions, thinking about the subject itself, the larger context, the existing criticism, what I’ve already discovered, what I hope to explore, and so on, and so forth. After a day, I had a page and a half of text, but nothing I was even remotely pleased with. I went to bed that night giving my brain the assignment of sorting all this out while I slept.
And the next morning, I had an idea. Not for the introduction, but for a way to begin working. I realized that I already had an outline of chapter titles and a list of thoughts/questions about each one. Why not start with the chapter proposals? I’d be getting another section of the prospectus done (very important, because I’m working against a deadline), and while spending time focusing on the sub-topics and all their ramifications, I’d also be allowing my brain much-needed time to sort out a way into project.
The first day I completed two chapter proposals. That night, I had a couple of ideas for the introduction. Since then, they’ve been trickling in slowly. Of course, I write each one down. And gradually, over the last few days, a kind of structure has been forming in my head—where to begin, how to link these two areas, a new way to present an idea, what to discard.
I’m starting to believe I’m gonna get there.
The prospectus is to consist of several parts. The first major part is an introduction of sorts. It should create a shaped context for the project, giving chronological, national, sociological, or other relevant parameters. It should explain if historical or literary periods have any bearing, if gender or class is relevant, and if so, why. If there are formal or aesthetic issues, these should be addressed. It should contain a map of relevant broad criticism on the topic.
The next section should precisely identify and support the actual issue at hand. It should relate how I came to this topic and, within a mini-survey of existing scholarship, argue for its place in the field. It should explain important underlying issues, make connections, define key concepts, and present my methodology.
Next comes an expanded outline. Chapter titles should be listed, along with one-to-two page proposals for each chapter. These should set out the theme for each chapter, the questions that will be explored, what I expect to find, the ideas or problems that intrigue me.
And finally, I must include a prospectus bibliography, a list of works I will consult during the project.
Well, the bibliography has been a work-in-progress for some time, so I started there. It took only half a day to do a little more research, add some sources I’d found recently, and pretty much wrap it up.
So, logically, I moved to the beginning, the introduction, and here’s where the problems began. Introductions have always been the hardest part of a paper for me to write, for a couple of reas
ons. One is that it does not follow that just because I have a good idea for a particular project I also have a good idea for the introduction. Introductions are important—they are an invitation for the reader to enter my argument, they are a bridge from the reader’s world into my own. I can’t take that lightly. And, as I’ve told you before, I’m not a fast thinker when it comes to the writing process. I have to allow myself time to let ideas simmer on the back burner and trust myself that they will eventually reach a boil. I’ve been at this long enough to know that they will; I just can’t predict the timing.The second problem is my perfectionist tendencies. Some people just begin writing with a brain dump. They spill all their ideas onto paper quickly, with no restraint, and clean up later. Not me. I will sit there in front of the computer, unwilling to write until I have the perfect beginning sentence, and then a perfect second sentence, and so on, tinkering with wording and sentence structure until I am finally satisfied. This is not a process that lends itself to swift writing.
Added to these regularly recurring problems was the fact that this project is just so huge. My mind kept darting in different directions, thinking about the subject itself, the larger context, the existing criticism, what I’ve already discovered, what I hope to explore, and so on, and so forth. After a day, I had a page and a half of text, but nothing I was even remotely pleased with. I went to bed that night giving my brain the assignment of sorting all this out while I slept.
And the next morning, I had an idea. Not for the introduction, but for a way to begin working. I realized that I already had an outline of chapter titles and a list of thoughts/questions about each one. Why not start with the chapter proposals? I’d be getting another section of the prospectus done (very important, because I’m working against a deadline), and while spending time focusing on the sub-topics and all their ramifications, I’d also be allowing my brain much-needed time to sort out a way into project.
The first day I completed two chapter proposals. That night, I had a couple of ideas for the introduction. Since then, they’ve been trickling in slowly. Of course, I write each one down. And gradually, over the last few days, a kind of structure has been forming in my head—where to begin, how to link these two areas, a new way to present an idea, what to discard.
I’m starting to believe I’m gonna get there.
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