Revision Rage

In October, I'll be presenting at the annual general meeting of the Jane Austen Society of North America. The JASNA AGMs are always wonderful--interesting presentations and prestigious plenary speakers in great locations. I've attended AGMs in Seattle, Toronto, and Tucson. This year it's in Philadelphia, and I'm really looking forward to it. I can't wait to see the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, all the historic sights.

This year's theme is "Jane Austen's Brothers and Sisters." JASNA requires proposals to be sent in a year in advance, and, as luck would have it, I'd already planned for one of my dissertation chapters to be about the role of physical beauty within families, so I sent in my proposal hoping I'd get some mileage out of something I had to write anyway.

My proposal, "'Not half so handsome as Jane'; Sisters, Brothers, and Beauty in Austen's Novels," was accepted, and unlike many conferences, I'm actually alloted about forty minutes speaking time (with ten or fifteen left for questions and discussion), so I'll have time to present almost the whole essay and then be able to discuss it with other Austen scholars. Believe me, this can spoil you.

But right now I'm just plain aggravated. Why? Although I have plenty of time to present, if I want to submit my essay for possible publication in Persuasions: The Jane Austen Journal (which, of course, I do), I have to shorten my essay to 4000 words. Aaaarrrrgggghhh. I struggle to carefully construct an argument, and then I have to butcher it. I've done this before, and it hasn't gotten any easier. I think it's harder to cut huge chunks out of a finished essay than it is to write it in the first place. Aggravation is giving way to frustration.

What's the antidote for Revision Rage?

Overwhelmed. Again.

I'm a slow learner, I guess. Last Monday, after receiving suggestions from my dissertation director, I sat down to begin the process of revising my dissertation. I was pumped, and I worked hard all day long--until my brain refused to cooperate and informed me the work day was over.

Tuesday morning, though, I started thinking of all those pages of work ahead of me, and I simply could not force myself to sit down in front of the computer and start. I exercised, cleaned the kitchen, read the paper, made up the bed, checked Facebook, dusted the living room, read some blogs, did laundry, all the time promising myself I'd get to work on that pesky dissertation just as soon as I finished __________. My procrastination went on all day.

That night I decided that, if I ever hoped to finish this thing, I had to have a plan. I divided my dissertation up into a very manageable number of pages per day. Then, all that I had to ask of myself each day was to revise those pages. If it took an hour, I had the rest of the day to do whatever I wanted. No guilt. If it took all day, well, then at least I'd know that every day wouldn't be that bad. I'd be making measurable progress but still be able to have a life along the way. For the last week or so, my plan's worked. (Although I haven't had a day yet where I finished my work in one hour. I couldn't be that lucky.)

Sure seems like I've been here and done this before.

Nose Back to the Grindstone

For once, I had impeccable timing. On Saturday, I read the last page of Breaking Dawn, then walked out to get my mail, only to discover a packet from my dissertation director with revision suggestions. I knew it was coming. I'd just been trying to push the thought to the back of my mind while I enjoyed a couple of weeks of recreational reading.

Of course, I would have loved to have opened it up and read the words, "It's perfect! You're done!" but I'm not that naive. Actually, it wasn't that bad. He gave me two choices. He said that my committee would accept it with minor cosmetic revisions, BUT he thought it had the possibility of being an exceptional dissertation if I'd make the revisions he suggested in a seven page letter and detailed marginal comments. The question is, he said, "How good do you want to make it?"

Aaaaaarrrrgggghhhh. Having a Type A personality costs you.

A friend whom I really respect and who has already been through this process told me early in my doctoral studies to remember that I don't have to write the perfect dissertation; I just have to get four signatures and the diploma. And he's right. I have no illusions of being able to write the perfect dissertation and I'm really ready to get that diploma. But I don't want to finish by doing the least amount of work possible. I want four signatures, the diploma, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

So now I'm looking at about a month of revision, and every day as I sit down to work I can think of about a million things I'd rather be doing. My self discipline is wearing thin.