Glum: how it feels not to be able to write

Write about how it feels not to be able to write. Scott Berkun says:

It’s sneaky, but damn, it works. The voice in our heads is always saying something, so get it down. Writer-weenies call this free writing, implying something unfortunate about other kinds of writing, but I find it easier to think of as listening. Imagine yourself as a recording device, writing down the radio broadcast of some other person who happens to live in your head. If you think this is weird, write about why it’s weird (See: you can’t win. There’s always a way). Eventually your mind will hit thoughts on the topic itself and, presto, you’re on your way.

But when I write badly, then I feel glum. When my supervisors say they can't understand what I've written, then I feel glum. It's not, not writing that's my problem. It's writing badly. It's not that I don't get the apostrophes in the right place, or split infinitives or misspell. It's writing the right content in the right way to say what I mean and say it so that readers understand, and so that readers find it interesting.

Glum.

Pugh - How to get a PhD

Derek Pugh spent the afternoon with us, advising us on how to get our PhDs.

Degrees - what they have been, what they used to mean:

• Bachelor - indicated you'd had a general education
• Master - gave you a licence to practise. The world expects you to know how this specialism works. It was originally a masters in theory and allowed you to practise as a priest
  
• Doctor's degree - a licence to teach in a university. i.e. you know your field and you are capable of adding to it.
  

So to get a PhD you have something to say that your fellow professionals want to listen to.

We discussed what this meant, and so also what examiners look for in a PhD. (see Derek Pugh's web site for suggestions on aims, knowledge, skills and values). Then we went on to discuss what to write and when to write - don't think about it - it's no good saying, "it's all in my head", just write it, then refine it. He gave writing us a task there and then, to write for twenty minutes on the aim of our research. And despite poor handwriting and cramped fingers, we all diligently wrote. What he hadn't told us, was that we would then swap our writing with a colleague and critique it, giving critical feedback that would help us make progress. It was a useful exercise that made you feel you could write.

There's a web site called The One-Minute Writer, that gives a prompt every day, and a timer for sixty seconds. Derek's exercise was a bit like that, but academic and twenty times as long.

Try it.