Waiting for results…

Two weeks ago the uni emailed me to confirm that my dissertation had been sent to the assessors.

Having submitted weeks before that, it hadn’t occurred to me that there are processes at the uni before the assessors are involved. It makes sense. Of course it does.

I just wish they didn’t send that email.

Having recovered from the Covid drama around submission time, I had managed to put assessment out of my mind. I started back at work, teaching teenagers English (the subject, not the language—they are are supposed to already know the language…).

Learning seventy names and planning lessons and finding my feet in my new role as ‘teacher’ and nothing else, kept me pretty busy. And kept my mind occupied.

Stepping away from leadership has proved to be the right move for me. No more politics, no more overflowing inbox, and an awesome replacement, has allowed me to just think about the learning happening in my classrooms.

Then I got the email.

And now, in the back of my mind, I am counting. It’s been two weeks. Have they even opened it? Are they busy with the start of their year and hoping to ‘get to it soon’? Will they read it all at once—what a marathon that would be—or are they going to tackle it piece by piece, chunk the work.?

Why am I even wondering about the work practices of my assessors?! They are professionals who know how to manage their work loads.

To distract myself, I have been trying to focus on publication.

Publishing is tough.

There is a process to go through in order to get published and there are no real shortcuts.

You can self publish, like here on a blog. It is fun and I enjoy sharing my life on this platform—in fact, I am trying to decide where to go with this blog now. Perhaps I’ll call it ‘Life after a PhD’. Thoughts?

Anyway, I could invest some money and publish my collection of poetry myself and then be responsible for marketing it, sell a few to family and friends and then keep the others in a box under the stairs. But I’m not really up for it.

I want to earn my stripes. Be peer reviewed. Be able to point to work that others consider publishable. This means developing a publishing CV, sending out individual poems and writing articles. It’s a matter of chipping away at things and holding on for the ride.

I’ve just had another poem accepted for publication—I must sign the publishing contract and send it back today—and I have sent a Creative Non-Fiction piece to my supervisor for his feedback.

Creative Non-Fiction (CNF) is in the same genre as this blog. It comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes. I’m not as fluent in the varieties of the genre as I used to be as I’ve spent the last eighteen months in academic writing—which I love, by the way. There really is nothing quite as satisfying as pulling together quotes and ideas from others to support your own innovation.

My latest article that I am preparing for submission sees me experimenting with blending a prose-poem style/vignette and formal writing, sectioning it off, but we’ll see whether it sings. I read the opening at my last uni Summer School event a few weeks ago and it was well-received. It helps that I seem to have a knack for reading.

I think it works. But I’m not sure. My supervisor’s feedback will be helpful. He’ll know straight away if it working. And he’ll tell me.

Publishing is subjective. The right person at the right time. And a CV to reassure the publisher that someone other than your mum will buy the work.

It’s all about holding your nerve.

So many things are about holding your nerve. It is amazing how many times the key to a situation is committing to the course and holding on. There is no doubt that you have to put in some effort. Walk toward your destination. Do something.

It’s the doing something that get’s forgotten.

You can’t steer a stationary car and a yacht with the an unhoisted sail goes only where the current takes it.

While I wait for my results, I do something. I write and I garden.

It isn’t lost on me that my garden is the physical representation of my creativity and transformation over the past three and a half years.

Growing food takes time. Growing a readership and reputation does, too. That doesn’t mean I won’t keep planting. Something will make it from garden to plate, even if it isn’t what I expect.