An end of year review: 2020

Hello blog readers! Have you missed me? Once again, I went on hiatus from posting, but I have a very good reason. I have devoted most of this year to completing my book, which I am pleased to say I handed in to my editors yesterday. The plan for today was to rest, but I have felt a restless need to reflect on the year. So, here we are.

At the start of 2020, I set two goals:

1. I want to complete and send in the manuscript for my first monograph.
2. I want major grant funding for my new project, which will lead to my second monograph.

I can put a big tick next to goal number one. As for goal number two, the answer is a bit complicated. I have a much clearer vision for the project I imagined last year. I have a more detailed idea of what I need to do before preparing an application. I have a clearer idea of the questions, the outcomes and even who I want to be on my research team. These are aspects of a project I never really put a lot of thought into before. I naively thought I could do most things myself, or that funding would give me the time to work out the particulars, but that isn’t how this works. I have learned funders like to see a project is viable before they make a firm investment and that means knowing, for the most part, all the cogs are in the right place. My planning is far from over and now the manuscript is in, I plan to devote research time to developing the idea further before writing a funding app, but plans are in motion.

How did I learn this? Well, because I did get funding this year and for a project I never saw on the horizon in January 2020. This project emerged from a conference I helped to organise in May, and from there clear research questions and a research team fell into place. This time round, I wasn’t writing the application for me, it was for my team. I had to convince both them and myself what would work and what wouldn’t and I could almost see the project through a funders eyes. I have never felt so confident about a funding application going in before. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop me jumping for joy when we heard we had won the funding!

So, let’s talk about what I have done this year:

1. I wrote four articles, two are published, 1 rejected and 1 still pending.

2. I spoke at four different events – from my living room (organised by various universities across the world).

3. I completed and graduated from another Master’s.

4. Ran two extremely popular staff/PGR student workshops and received overwhelming excellent feedback.

5. Helped to organised an online conference

6. Currently organising another online conference.

7. Helped to organise an online seminar series.

8. Got funding.

9. Finished my book.

10. Got two beautiful kitties!

And I did it all during a global pandemic!

That last part is very important. Not everyone will have been as productive as me, because not everyone has the same circumstances. There were times when I felt I was failing, when I didn’t think that what I was doing was good enough, and times when I desperately wanted to escape the confines of my home and work. There were also times when I felt really lucky to have space, time, and few distractions! 2020 has thrown so many curve balls, but looking back on the year makes me feel so grateful that I have a patient and understanding husband, stable technology, a quiet home, space to walk, and my health. All of these things (and much, much more) have allowed me to committ so much time and energy to my work and to achieve dreams I didn’t think I would ever see come to fruition.

Personally, we have been effected by the pandemic. My husband lost his job, but gained a new one. Family members have struggled with their mental and physical health. But, we also felt we had the time to get a friend for our cat, Nimueh. We are now a two cat family and they have given us so many precious moments this year. I have also spent more time talking to family, especially my brothers, who often work and study away from home. A pandemic is awful, but the multiple lockdowns and limited ability to travel does have its blessings.

I have no idea what 2021 will bring, but I am committed to getting funding for my project idea. That is my one, and only focus for the year. That doesn’t mean I won’t do other things. Of course, I will, but focussing on one thing only feels manageable and exciting.

It’s 2020! Quitting SM?

Welcome to the New Year and a new decade!

I was on social media (SM) and YouTube this morning and so many were reflecting on their last 10 years, highlighting personal and professional gains but also losses. I even did this myself. In the last few months the craze ‘the 10 year challenge’ had been around multiple SM platforms, and allows everyone to share with the world how much they have visually changed between 2009/10 and 2019/20. I was surprised to see just how many were able to pull photos from SM. After all, these platforms have been with us for the past decade and now dictate most of our personal and professional lives. This morning, I woke and thought about what it would be like to delete my Facebook account. But, I use it for so much professional interaction, the thought of deleting it or even deactivating it for a short time feels impossible. Instead, I have opted to uninstall the app from my phone. Now, I will need to actively log in via a browser, which I am hoping will break my habit of hitting the “F” button and scrolling whenever I feel bored or disengaged from “real life”.

Why do I (and many others) feel the need to disengage from digital socialising?

I use social media to share the inner workings of my own mind. I find it easier to clearly articulate my thoughts in writing and in the past SM felt like a safe space to reveal my struggles without having to talk about them in day-to-day life. While I am an outwardly confident person I tend to overanalyse and I am quick to anger. In “real life” I have learned to temper my anger, but this does mean I often shy away from confrontation entirely and internally over analyse the situation. It’s not a healthy way to be and Facebook had been a place to get some of my feelings out in a call and considerate manner.

Professionally, my blog has become one of key places to do unload (particularly about writing, publishing and more generally about life as an early career researcher). I still feel regular written reflection is important – after all, I credit blogging with improving my writing overall. Twitter I reserve for professional reflection as well, but Facebook was a mix of personal and professional and herein lies the problem.

In the last 10-years Facebook has developed into a very complex community. Friends, family, colleagues, all these people I wouldn’t normally see interacting with one another are. Sending out personal messages now requires conscious attention, more often than not carefully worded to avoid tension – at least this is my experience, but this is not necessarily the opinion of others.

Even as recently as the last few weeks, I have found myself getting angry at posts, or writing a snap comment in response to a post I do not agree with. Face-to-face, however, I would never dream of doing such a thing unless I was really pushed. I have complained to my husband ‘why don’t people realise they cannot post whatever they want?’ while also getting upset if I am called out for sharing incorrect information. The community of Facebook is still somewhat supportive, but more and more, it is becoming an environment where some treat it like their personal living room, sharing their opinions to a community they assume will all agree. Then there are others are trying to be more conscience of their message (with varying levels of success). A recent BuzzFeed article even spoke about how complicated running a community group on Facebook has become noting:

Local Facebook groups increasingly serve as a local area’s town square, classifieds section, Neighbourhood Watch, and emergency information centre all rolled into one. But, for the most part, they are run by volunteers who in 2019 are devoting huge chunks of time figuring out how to enforce rules, referee disputes, and avoid getting sued in the process.

These issues come out of the massive growth of Facebook, where everyone and anyone including Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Parents, siblings, Children, Friends, Cousins and everyone in-between are on Facebook and are interacting with each other. Those casual, outdated comments said by Uncle Sam over dinner that the family past off as inappropriately funny are not as easy to dismiss on a public network, where the wider community disagrees. And then who is responsible for telling Uncle Sam, ‘hey, I’m sorry but it’s not ok to say that on SM’? Well, since #cancelculture became a thing, everyone feels they can and should cancel behaviour they disagree with and here’s where it gets really tricky – what if others disagree with the cancelling? Sarah Hagi recently wrote an article about Cancel Culture in Time Magazine noting:

The problem with this perspective is cancel culture isn’t real, at least not in the way people believe it is. Instead, it’s turned into a catch-all for when people in power face consequences for their actions or receive any type of criticism, something that they’re not used to.[…] This applies to not only wealthy people or industry leaders but anyone whose privilege has historically shielded them from public scrutiny. Because they can’t handle this cultural shift, they rely on phrases like “cancel culture” to delegitimize the criticism.

No wonder anxiety, stress and general tension is on the rise. Personally, I want to be more mindful, more understanding and more open, but I feel increasingly frustrated and angry at those people who disagree. This is a juxtaposition I struggle to cope with -surely I should be mindful of everyone, even those people who have a different social or political position than I do? In “real life” when friends or family disagree we can either choose to ignore it or engage in debate for a short time, but then we all get to walk away and move on. In the SM community, there are a lot more people weighing in and it is much harder to walk away from the situation! Shanna Trenholm likens it to a dopamine hit we crave:

Using apps to limit your time or straight up willpower are no match for the dopamine hit you get when scrolling through the socials.

In researching this blog post, I discovered article after article recommending the top 5 or 10 ways to wean ourselves off SM and why we should. Several writers who have deleted their SM accounts note the benefits of a SM-free life, but almost all liken it to coming off a drug.

So, I opened this post saying I was deleting the Facebook app from my phone, but I am also going to be more mindful of my activity. How exactly? The short answer is treating it like my other SM accounts. Facebook will become a space for my professional work and nothing else. While I had hoped to begin the year with a more positive blog about what I hope to achieve this year (which will be coming next week), I want to start 2020 by purging something in my life that has cost me far too much time and energy.

For more articles on quitting social media see:

John Paul Aguiar, WHAT I LEARNED BY WALKING AWAY FROM SOCIAL MEDIA FOR 5 DAYS, Money Dummy Blog, https://www.johnpaulaguiar.com/what-i-learned-by-walking-away-from-social-media-for-5-days/

Akshata Shanbhag, What Happens When You Quit Social Media? 6 Things I Learned, Mud, https://www.makeuseof.com/tag/what-happens-when-you-quit-social-media-i-found-out/

Lisa Valder, Life after social media: What I discovered after deleting all of my accounts, The Salon, https://www.salon.com/2019/01/19/life-after-social-media-what-i-discovered-after-deleting-all-of-my-accounts/

2019 Round-Up

What a year!

It has been a year where I have fulfilled personal and professional dreams.

It has been a year where I pushed myself harder than I ever have and I actually got the results I hoped for.

But, it has been a year where I felt lonely, unaccomplished and struggled to feel satisfied. I didn’t like feeling this way and I vowed to change my mindset and I am so happy to be ending the year feeling happy and really inspired by my own work.

So what happened? Well, let me start with a little context…

At the beginning of 2018, I set myself a number of goals to improve my professional journey and at the end of 2018, I reflected on whether I had managed to achieve them. I pointed out that these goals were more like pointers for life-long learning, but it always useful to keep them in and strive for better.

They were as follows:

Goal 1: read more (and slowly). Stop binge reading!

Goal 2: practice writing.

Goal 3: say ‘no’ more.

Goal 4: ask more colleagues for guidance.

Goal 5: calm down.

I also avoided committing to a specific number of writing projects. This decision came from a place of fear and at the beginning of 2019, I said the same thing. I would continue to read, reflect and improve but I wouldn’t commit to a specific number of publications. This is partly because I viewed the final publication as the prize. My professional worth was not tied to carrying out good, innovative, timely writing, rather it was tied to the decisions of others. In the academic environment, it is understandable why this happens. So much pressure is placed on academics to produce, and yet the peer review process can be brutal as anonymous experts criticise the integrity and value of your scholarly work, ultimately deciding the fate of the work and by extension your fate in academia. After a fairly positive PhD process, the harsh reality of rejection was a bitter pill to swallow and it forced me to become more self-critical. This has probably been a good thing, but by the Spring of 2019, I realised I avoided regular writing, only committing to projects with a hard deadline, which enforced a cycle of binge reading and writing. I didn’t really want to engage with the peer review process at all, and anytime I thought I should try, I struggled to write coherently.

I wanted 2019 to be different. I wanted to stop saying yes to disparate, unrelated projects and instead do something that inspired me. I even said in my first post for 2019:

‘[This year I am going] to really think about who I am and who I want to be as an academic. A year to be a little selfish and do things I have always wanted to do. Do things I have said I will do and haven’t got round to. A year of acceptance that what the future will hold cannot always be planned or scheduled, but doing things that will build up rather than pulling me in several directions is a better way forward.’

And yet, I began the year knowing I was committed to a new project and a couple of pieces of writing that were slightly related, but not enough to show exactly who I was and who I wanted to be as a researcher. I didn’t give up on these projects, but I did realise I needed to make a change.

By April 2019, I felt I could no longer use past rejection as an excuse. I posted on the WIASN Facebook page my experience with rejection and how it had forced me to put a dream I had had since my PhD on hold. I always wanted to turn my PhD into my first monograph, but after tripping at the first hurdle I had metaphorically curled up in the sand crying and sobbing, instead of dusting myself off and trying again. Much to my surprise, a reputable editor got in touch, initially telling me about their book series and asking for more details about my monograph. After a few emails back and forth, I was invited to submit a proposal.

And then, I lost my best friend. A creature who had been with me through every exam, every degree, and every heartbreak – losing him was the final straw. I had lost so many close family members in the past three years, this felt like a cruel joke, especially when I just managed to muster the courage to take back control of my professional destiny. My heart was in pieces, and travelling back to Australia, the place I had been when my personal life had started to unravel, was not as cathartically healing as I had hoped. It may have poetically closed the door on three years of utter misery but throughout the trip, I just felt numb.

I came back home and locked myself in the house, vowing only to emerge when my book proposal was written. Creatively, I was inspired and spent hours getting to know my research again, but internally I was in agony, writing from a place of pain and self-destruction. This head-space was not healthy but it forced me to face my fears. It paid off, but I knew I couldn’t write like that again. Sorrow-driven creativity may work for many artists past and present, but it is not conducive to a healthy lifestyle.

Since starting the academic term, I have made many changes. I have taken Cathy Mazak’s advice and carved out a regular time for writing [side note, her podcast is amazing!]. I used all of my knowledge from the last three years to write more cohesively, developing coherent arguments that (I hope) are logical and enjoyable for a reader. I have kept track of the projects I am doing, the projects I want to do and the projects I have completed in Trello, which has shown me just how much I commit to in a year. I have actively celebrated submitting a piece of writing, rather than celebrating its publication to create a positive writing feedback loop and all of this has helped me feel much more positive about my work. I have even managed to highlight work that has been released or published and draw attention to my contribution within the scholarly community. For more, see my posts of the Sydney Living Museum exhibition, the release of Curious Caledonians, appearing on the Pop Enlightenments podcast, and a review of one of my book chapters. This shows just how far I have come as I neglected to blog about my appearance on BBC Radio 3s Music Matters in April, where Carmel Raz and I discussed the Ann Young Musical Game.

I still struggle with saying no, with binge reading, with asking for guidance when I need it and staying focussed on a project through to completion, yet putting in measures to change my behaviour and change my mindset, is improving all of these things and helping me to feel more certain and confident about my work. I never thought I would be finishing the year having posted a blog every week (except one) since the start of term! It may be small, but it is a sign of what can be done with consistent, small steps.

So what does 2020 have in store?

Well, I have a few hard deadlines for writing projects. One, which is pretty major and will take up most of the time. Mainly, I want 2020 to be a year where I take risks. Where I commit to a goal and see it through. More on that in the New Year.

2019, you gave me the opportunity to close the door in so many different ways; fulfilling a childhood dream, saying goodbye to a period of huge personal difficulty, and fulfilling a professional dream. 2020, I am coming for you!

Curious Caledonians out now!

In June this year, I had the wonderful opportunity to return to Australia and continue my research work on music Scottish emigrants who took their music collections with them to Australia. It was a crazy, invigorating, inspiring and exhausting trip! On my previous visit, I was mostly working alone and could only imagine the music in my mind (though I did record two if the songs as well) but this time a whole team of musicians were also part of the process! We now have a stunning album, which not only showcases some fantastic tunes, but also brings to life some really unusual music that hasn’t been performed in almost two hundred years. Here are some further details, taken from the Evergreen Ensemble Facebook page:

Evergreen Ensemble continues their fascinating journey into the sound world of colonial Australia with this enchanting album of instrumental and vocal music drawn from the music collections of Sydney Living Museums and the State Library of New South Wales. Bringing together Australia and Scotland’s finest Early Music talent and iconic folk artists, Evergreen Ensemble weaves stories back through time, rediscovering the sounds of folk melodies performed on period instruments.

For their new album Curious Caledonians, ensemble director and violinist Shane Lestideau has invited four renowned guest musicians to bring their specialised knowledge of eighteenth and nineteenth-century performance styles to the recording. With the help of Scottish researcher, Brianna Robertson-Kirkland, they have delved deep into the nation’s musical archives to discover treasures hidden in the personal music books and manuscripts lovingly bound together by their owners for safe-keeping. Much of this music bears the unmistakable flavour of Scotland: strathspeys and reels, haunting Gaelic airs and arrangements of favourite Scottish songs and tunes. It gives us the chance to ‘listen at the window’ of a Scottish-Australian house in the nineteenth century and consider what place these songs, piano duets and quadrilles may have had in their lives.

The album features the dulcet tones of mezzo-soprano Allegra Giagu and soprano Claire Patti, with Claire also appearing on Celtic harp. Australian violinists Shane Lestideau and Ben Dollman (Australian Brandenburg Orchestra) are joined by Aaron McGregor of the renowned Scottish Baroque ensemble Concerto Caledonia, with acclaimed Australian Baroque cellist Daniel Yeadon completing the string section. Performing on an authentic 19th-century Collard & Collard square piano are historical keyboard specialists Neal Peres Da Costa (University of Sydney) and David McGuinness (Concerto Caledonia).

Curious Caledonians offers a rare insight into domestic and public music-making in Australia since 1788, honouring the extraordinary contributions of Scottish culture to Australian society and exploring Scottish music’s unique ability to reinvent itself in new surroundings. Part classical, part folk, part Scottish, part Australian, this album captures the musical – and emotional – landscape of the early Australian settlement.

TRACKLISTING
1. Miss Susanna Baird’s Reel / Miss Johnston’s Reel
2. Black Mary
3. The Emigrant Highlander’s Wife *
4. The Blue Bell of Scotland
5. Morag
6. Laddie Oh Leave Me *
7. Hit Her on the Bum
8. The Favorite Scotch Rondo *
9. The Hen’s March / Sir George Murray’s Favorite / The Duke of Wellington
10. The Marquis of Huntly’s Welcome Home / [No] 6 Dance
11. Ye Banks and Braes *
12. Jenny Dang the Weaver
13. The Banks of Clyde *
14. Lord Moira’s Welcome / Miss Jeann Stewart of Bohally’s Reel
15. The Horse-man’s Port
16. Queen of France’s Lamentation *
17. Blackbird Waltz
18. La Fenella
19. Don Alphonso

Evergreen Ensemble
Shane Lestideau violin
Ben Dollman violin & viola
Allegra Giagu mezzo-soprano *
Claire Patti soprano & Celtic harp

Guest Artists
Aaron McGregor violin
Daniel Yeadon cello
Neal Peres Da Costa 19th-century square piano
David McGuinness 19th-century square piano & harpsichord

Research: Brianna Robertson-Kirkland

1CD + Digital album | Available 4 October 2019 | ABC 481 8774

Here is a link to the album playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_mkVPeV0hxkV4Bh0EmZWQK5Rz7obURGogg

An academic brand

A few weeks ago I mentioned the academic brand and how it was pointed out to me that my brand is a little… haphazard. While a lack of brand or a confusingly vague brand is an external problem — others in the field may not think of you as a subject expert in anything specific — it is also an internal problem. I don’t necessarily have my brand entirely figured out but I have been thinking a lot about where I want to see a change, what I can do to bring about that change and ultimately what I want to be known for in the wider world.

What is an academic brand?
John Tregoning was writing about this very subject in 2016, where he described the brand as ‘selling yourself’. He sums it up nicely stating:

This brand comes into play when meeting potential collaborators, conference organisers and funders. Interactions with other academics tend to have three levels: an entry-level overview of your work to check you are in the same field, followed by a description of a specific piece of work and, if you really click, detailed dissection of experimental design. There is no space for English modesty: don’t say “you know, this and that, some stuff on respiratory infections”. Do define your brand and develop a snappy single-line pitch that summarises what you do, backed up with an exciting case study. You are pitching this brand so that when other academics need someone with a particular skill set they think of you.

The article continues to articulate clear advice about the brand – craft the brand by publishing and network so that the world realises who you are. This is excellent advice, but these are all external factors for creating a brand. An ECR coming out of the PhD doesn’t necessarily know who they want to be when they grow into senior lecturers, especially in a noisy academic world.

A graduating PhD has to face a plethora of issues, issues that were not as prominent in the academic job market 10 years ago. The job market is incredibly competitive, and while establishing a brand may help to get a job, in reality most ECRs are willing to try anything to get their foot in the door. Atma Ivancevic in 2017 wrote a huge list of things to help survive the ECR period of an academic life. Included were travelling, entering competitions, writing, networking both live and online, talking to people, taking advice, creating an online presence, maintaining a personal life, exercising and avoiding overwhelm. Whew! I was overwhelmed just reading the list and teaching, funding and building a brand weren’t even on it!

Then there is the real possibility that the brand the ECR wants to build doesn’t exist or isn’t easily fundable. What to do then? Build a different brand? What if there are no jobs in the area an ECR wants to work in? Do they press on with who they want to be albeit jobless? Do they pay their dues and hope that once they have a job they can manipulate it to suit their brand? Or what if they are interested in a lot of areas and need time to figure out how it all fits? That is certainly my problem, and while I am slowly narrowing down my specific area, it physically hurts to have to give up other activities I genuinely enjoy exploring.

Most of these articles explore external factors for establishing a brand, but what about internal factors?

I am speaking about personal motivations. The physical and mental reasons why a brand is important. This became really obvious to me at the end of the summer and I spoke about it a couple of posts ago. An academic brand gives focus, purpose and prevents a person taking on projects that sits out with their area (not necessarily their area of interest, but their brand). I have so many things I like to work on and because my expertise are in a broad area I justified to myself that I could make it all fit. Well, it doesn’t and it can’t. I never want to have a summer like I did this year and while I still have ‘off-brand’ projects I need to finish, thereafter I need to really focus.

So, who am I as an academic?

Well, that is the $64,000 question. Even as I write this post I am a little scared to admit it, but I shouldn’t be. It’s irrational to hide behind other topics all the while privately hoarding research data that centres on a true passion. So, here we go…

I love singers and singing, I love looking at treatises and I love historically informed performance. I have been working on all three areas for about 10 years, but not necessarily a the same time or in the same project. I was really inspired to write my thesis topic because I wanted to know how 18th-century teachers taught their students, but I realised the treatises alone were not enough to tell me how they did this. In fact, the treatises can’t really be fully understood without have a wider interdisciplinary knowledge of the cultural context (I did say my area is really big and I can justify looking at prety much anything!). This is why I (alongside another colleague) came up with the Eighteenth-century Arts Education Research Network — it’s aim was to bring practitioners and researchers together to explore these issues, and while the network has been really useful it brought up several other issues that got me off track. Singing treatises is actually what I want to explore in more detail. To figure out what parts of the treatise were used in lessons, what parts were idealised versions if a lesson created by the teacher, and what parts relate to the wider context. I truly believe that a more contextualised, interdisciplinary examination of treatises will help us understand historical vocal training, but will also dispell myths still passed down from teacher to student today. That’s who I want to be when I grow up… Oh yeah, I’m already grown up… So, let’s do this!

Annual leave!

Part of the reason why I worked so hard for most of the summer was that I had a huge, 16 day trip to Asia planned. My husband and I set out on a quest to visit all the ‘Eastern’ Disney parks: Shanghai, Hong Kong and Tokyo. “Why?” I hear you ask? One of the first coherent memories I have from my childhood is watching a film of a family fly together in a hot air balloon over Disney World in Florida. It was a commercial at the end of a Disney movie and I vividly remember watching it while sitting on my Gran’s blue recliner chair. She was cleaning the living room and I asked how many Disney parks there were. I can’t recall if she told me the exact number, but I do remember her telling me a story about visiting Disneyland soon after it opened. During this conversation, I told her I would visit all the Disney parks one day and I can now say that dream has come true.

It was a more extensive and expensive trip than what it might have been in the early 90s. It may seem childish or silly to some, but hearing about the early days of Disneyland from my Grandparents, listening to stories about my parents working in the California park as teenagers, visiting Californian and Paris Disney parks as a child and falling in love with the complete immersive experience gave me and continues to fuel my fascination. Each park has its similarities: most are set out in a similar structure, all have parades, high-quality song and dance shows, and of course, rides. But, each one also has several unique features, some suited to the country and culture and others exploring new innovations in ride tech or creative immersion. My husband and I often say we are happy enough to walk the parks all day long without going on a single ride, and this is simply because the parks offer so much more. So here are a few highlights from this trip.

Shanghai

It is the newest park out of the 3, and even though it is only a few years old, it is already growing and expanding to include new lands and rides. The ride tech for Tron and Pirates of the Caribbean is out of this world and the level of ‘imagineering’ (a Disney-coined term) really shows what technology can do in terms of story-telling and creating a fully immersive atmosphere. The layout of the park is relatively unique and while I appreciate the aim is to facilitate the maximum number of guests, I found it difficult to navigate at times. I missed the old, familiar layout that all the other parks have and I couldn’t quite get my head around the transition from Mickey Avenue, ‘the hub’ and the four lands. Some of the magic is missing from the cast members as well, who aren’t quite as peppy and upbeat as a Disney veteran might expect. These are minor complaints, and I did find the park really beautiful. When we visited, it was easy to ride most rides in a day as crowd levels were low. We benefitted from ‘Magic Hours’ – a luxury bestowed on guests who stay in a Disney hotel, which means we could enter the park 1 hour earlier than those who had only purchased park tickets.

Hong Kong

We stayed ‘off property’ at Hong Kong, partly because I knew the park wasn’t as popular, so we wouldn’t be battling potentially high crowd levels. We also wanted to explore a bit more of Hong Kong itself. We stayed in a lovely resort called Noah’s Ark, which really wasn’t what we expected. It is genuinely an Ark built on the Park Island coast, complete with its own education area, which focusses on world history and the environment. There is also a lot of life-size animal models replicating the Biblical story. Inside the rooms all had a balcony view and it was wonderful to eat breakfast overlooking the busy sea.

The park is the most similar to the ‘Western’ Disney parks in terms of layout and rides, which isn’t really a problem considering the other two are very different, but it is by far the quietest and unfortunately the weakest in terms of its performance. Half of the restaurants were closed when we visited and the park opens very late in the day (1030am-8pm). There are no fireworks to close the night, though the Electrical Light Parade was brilliant. The meal-deal isn’t worth the money, particularly with so many restaurant closures. The cap of 130 HKD for meals is too restrictive (basically, unless you want to eat a burger and fries, only a couple vegetarian dishes are available) and there are only a few snack choices included in the deal. We had our 2nd day of meals refunded once we realised all of the imposed restrictions. However, the park was very quiet and we easily did everything in a day. It was nice being able to walk around a Disney park with almost no crowd or queues! Mystic Manor is unique to the park and is definitely a highlight. It is worth the trip just for this ride alone (but maybe pair up the Disney park with other sightseeing).

 

Tokyo

We spent a lot of time exploring Japan before going to the Disney park. It was nice to have a break and see different cities for a while. I would definitely recommend the Japanese Rail pass, which gives unlimited travel on most train lines all over the country. We even got to ride the bullet train to Kyoto with the pass. The country is very clean and most hotels provide a whole host of pampering products such as a hairbrush, toothbrush, razor, shower cap, as well as washing essentials.

Disney has 2 gates: Disneyland and Disney Sea and both are extremely popular with huge crowds. Though we stayed in a Disney partner hotel, we didn’t have Magic Hours so we struggled to ride all the rides and catch all the shows in the 3.5 days we were there. It’s just about possible to do Disneyland in 2 days, but Disney Sea needs 2-3 days at least, especially if you plan to ride the E-ticket attractions. ‘Soarin’ was never below a 160-minute wait the whole time we were there and many of the other big rides were over 100 minutes. We decided to focus on shows and forget most of the rides. Big Band Beats was a song and dance jazz show featuring numbers from the 1920s-1940s. With a live jazz band, singers, dancers and all the favourite Disney characters, it was just wonderful from beginning to end. The Hallowe’en show Festival of Mystique was a simple concept but impeccably executed.

We watched it twice and both times I was drawn in to the point I felt a little scared by the action! Fantasmic is the evening show, which is followed by the fireworks and while those who have been to Florida and California may recognise the overall premise, it has some unique elements.

It is much easier to ride most rides in the late afternoon in Disneyland, particularly between 4pm and 6pm, when families are heading off and before the night time crowd arrives. We managed to see the park at the beginning of the Hallowe’en season, so the Haunted Mansion had a Nightmare Before Christmas holiday overlay, which was amazing. Most rides are similar if not the same to those in Western parks, but Pooh’s Honey Hunt was surprisingly unique! The Hallowe’en parade was spooky in all the right ways and the Electrical Light Parade was dazzling. I really liked that everyone was encouraged to sit down and watch the performances, so I didn’t struggle (as I often do) to see the performances.

I realise this is a bit of a deviation from my typical posts, but it is important to take time away. I certainly don’t wish to glorify overwork and it is important to remember that no matter what the time off is – a lifelong dream holiday, a spontaneous trip, a city break or just time to read in the garden – allows for a mind reset. I cannot say this trip was quiet or relaxing and I didn’t avoid work completely, but it did give me time to focus on something else; to reflect, to regroup and to reset, which are all very important.

Facing fears leads to an academic win!

On the 1st April of this year, I posted the following to the ‘Women in Academia Support Network’:

Hello everyone*. I hope you don’t mind me sharing a rather long post, but I want to make this year, ‘the year I face my academic fears!’ I passed my PhD with very minor corrections in 2016 (I got 2 weeks for the corrections) and I had always planned to turn it into a monograph. The perfect book series was launched right at that time and I got in touch with the editors and asked if they would be interested in a monograph based on my PhD thesis. After getting the ok, I created a proposal, re-shaped a couple of the chapters, acted on feedback given from colleagues and sent it in. I was so happy to get a positive response from the commissioning editor who sent it out to readers.

I didn’t get a response for almost a year. After a few chasing emails, I finally heard back in October 2017 that my proposal had been rejected. The commissioning editor’s email was apologetic and tried to provide constructive criticism, even suggesting a way forward. The initial read of the email confused me, as it seemed she was trying to apologise for something other than only being able to provide one reader’s report…

Well, as soon as I opened the single reader’s report, I was met with such nasty, negative comments it still makes me sick. This came as such a shock. Up till this point, comments had been positive and I falsely thought things were moving in the right direction. Even since this experience, I have had so many people who have read my thesis ask when the monograph will appear and I have no answer. Clearly, there are people out there who want to see more of my work and I continue to question ‘why?’

Since 2017, this review made me hide from my thesis. I put it away in a digital box and seriously questioned my ability to research and write. I still get really nervous writing and don’t think my work is good enough. Up until this review, I felt productive and didn’t struggle to articulate my thoughts. Now, every piece I write is an up hill battle.

Not this year! This year, I plan to turn my thesis into a monograph. This year, I will take a deep breath, get my head down and shape it into something I am proud of. This year, I will submit a proposal elsewhere and if it gets rejected, I will act on the comments and send it out again. This year, I will grow from the negative experience of 2017 and turn a resounding ‘NO!’ into a ‘Yes!’

I hope you don’t mind me sharing this experience, and I know many of you have had negative rejections as well. I hope others can learn from my experience and are not faced with the complete shock I experienced. I know it has made me better at research and writing in the long-run, but I didn’t need to drown to learn how to swim!

*Edit to remove ‘ladies’ as a recent request was made to use a more inclusive term.*

I received so many kind and encouraging comments on this post that it inspired to commit! I even received a PM from an editor who encouraged me to send her a proposal for the series she edits, which I did.

This post didn’t come out of no where. Turning my thesis into a monograph had plagued my mind since the viva and the sickness only got worse after the first rejection. Despite thinking about it non-stop I avoided finding the time to write a new proposal.

At the 2019 American Society for Eighteenth-Century Studies conference I visited one of the ‘Doctor is in’ volunteers and I spoke to a wonderfully supportive academic, who sympathised with my struggles and offered to turn the negative comments from the reviewer into kinder action points so I could more effectively work on the new proposal. I am so grateful to her for taking the time to do this and for telling me the proposal only need a little bit more work and certainly wasn’t as bad as the reviewer made it seem.

In the end, I didn’t use the old proposal as a template, rather I started with a new rewrite of the monograph introduction and from there I realised the new direction the book had to take. I worked on the rewrite while doing the Wendy Belcher task, which I posted about on here and got some feedback from my writing group colleagues on the chapter abstract. In truth, this chapter took about 3-4 months of work and I rewrote the opening several times, but what came out in the end really worked.

My writing group also gave me support with the proposal, with one very kind member sending me a copy of their successful book proposal. This was another month of work and thereafter I sent it to 5 wonderful colleagues who gave me comments on how to make the proposal and chapter even stronger.

And I can now say that I successfully have a contract with Routledge for my first academic monograph. This process was so different from my last experience. It was quick. The decision was clear and I felt supported by the series editors the whole time.

In respect of privacy, I have not included the names of those who helped me along the way but the intension of this post is to demonstrate the number of kind people who offered their free advice and time to help me throughout this journey and I am so very grateful to each and every one of them!

It took me 6 months from articulating my goal on #wiasn to actually achieving it and I am proud to go into academic year 2019-2020 with a contract under my belt. Fears are real and facing them is hard. But, with a little help from our friends it both possible and worth it!

Once again… Where have I been?

The last few blog posts were many months ago and I realised I jumped from regularly posting about Wendy Belcher’s Write Your Journal Article in Twelve Weeks to a brief post about my adventures in Australia. I really wanted to post more, but instead I spent the summer actually writing. And I worked, and I worked and when I felt like I had had enough, I worked some more. In fact, by mid August I was feeling pretty burnt out and pessimistic about the whole academic thing. Seem strange? Why would I feel down and out after working so hard? Well, there are a few reasons and it is only after taking a step back (and following some much needed advice).

1. There were pieces I wanted to write, pieces I had to write and pieces that I probably should have written but didn’t…

Unfortunately, I am one of those easily distracted workers… Not in the sense that I get easily distracted from a task. I will work until I see a project through to completion, but I am interested in so many things (and I have worked on so many different projects) I now have a very diverse skill set. I tend to get asked to do more and I like being able to say yes and see that project through efficiently. The only problem is I say yes to more than I should, the projects don’t align, which means there is no logical, progressive pattern and while it may give me the satisfaction of finishing something, it’s not giving me the long-term momentum I need to establish myself as an expert in one particular field. Cathy Mazak describes this as building an academic brand and to my surprise, my line manager asked me this very question in my annual progress review. What is my brand? What do I want to be known for?

To be perfectly honest, I have lived for so long, desperately building a diverse skill set in the hopes of securing a permanent academic post, I never thought about what came next. Even after I got the permanent job, my mindset never changed. I have spent the last two years living as if I still need to prove myself to everyone, rather than decided who I want to be. That is a subject for a different post, but it explains why I worked so hard throughout the summer, but didn’t feel like I have benefitted much from it.

In my past posts I have often talked about following Cathy Mazak’s academic writing programmes, and she had recommended setting up a Trello to help see projects through from idea to completion. I started my Trello board at the start of the year and it has been really useful to see how much I am actually completing. It is more than I thought, which is great, but once my line manager pointed out my lack of a brand, I was able to go back to the board and see just how much my work varies from project to project.

I have a long list of ideas on all different subjects. Similarly, my completed pieces of work are also diverse. A range of funding applications – all different subjects, blog posts, conference papers also on a diverse range subjects, and pieces I have been asked to write, again mostly different subjects. All of these pieces of work have one thing in common – external deadlines. They need to be done because someone else depended on me to do it. There are only two pieces I have written of my own volition and this was partly because I got in touch with editors and had deadlines in place. In effect, these pieces became work I needed to do for someone else rather than work I should do for me. In these two cases, the end result was mutually beneficial but that won’t necessarily work for every future project.

So the real question is: can I work without an official deadline? The answer is yet to be determined…

That brings me to the next reason why I felt done…

2. I worked solidly every day, rarely took breaks and barely had contact with anyone other than my husband and my virtual writing group.

My virtual writing group are a wonderful bunch of academics. They provide support and encouragement and while I checked in with them and worked alongside them doing pomodoro sessions, and longer co-writing sessions, it isn’t quite the same as engaging with live people. On the other hand, it takes me a long time to get into the writing flow. A a result, I was reluctant to schedule anything other than writing days to ensure I got through all my projects. It worked, but at the cost of my physical and mental health. I stayed in and wrote all day, every day and such seditary behaviour caused me to put on a few pounds (which I hate and I am now working hard to correct). Mentally, I was frustrated, angry and emotional. I lacked confidence in my work and replayed past blows on my mind. I still feel uncomfortable when I receive praise and internally question I the person giving the praise is just being polite. Imposter syndrome is a hard condition to cure. I have experimented with a couple of writing styles to help with flow, so I don’t feel like I need to write all day, every day to finish writing project. They have helped and I will share that experience in another post as well.

3. I know change is in my future, but I’m terrified to move into the driver’s seat and take control of my own career.

An academic’s life is odd. Years are spent in training, and even after graduation is over and hopefully the student moves into their first post docs or lectureships, it still feels like driving with P plates. (I am going to continue with a driving analogy for while…) How does an ECR know when it is time to go the distance alone? To upgrade from their parents’ hand-me-down car –you know, that car that’s safe and reliable but fully expected to get a few dings– to a BMW or a Mercedes. It’s risky to do it too soon and maybe some never want to make that kind of investment, but if you are that person, if I am that person that does want the upgrade, when is the time?

Well, if I understand my line manager correctly, now might not be time to buy the Merc, but it is time to start saving and by saving I mean mapping my own path. It’s time to soul search and figure out exactly what I want and then to have the courage to go for it.

I didn’t come to these conclusions right away, in fact, it has taken me a good few weeks to get to where I am and I still have a long way to go in terms of work-life balance and understanding who I am as an academic, but at least it’s a start.

February 2019 Round-Up

Aha! I bet you thought I had forgotten to do my February round-up! How could I miss it after showing such determination in January. February is such a short month and in many ways I feel like I hit a real slump. I had pushed hard in January to complete an article and get moving on other pieces of work, and I really wanted to keep the momentum going, but as soon as February appeared I just felt tired and wanted to do anything else other than sit at my laptop writing. On top of it all, I had a major interview to prepare for, a quick trip to Europe to speak with potential funding partners and my brother returned home after being away for a year. February also happened to be unusually warm, which only encouraged me to go outside and enjoy the spring weather rather than sitting indoors hard at work.

During the first weekend of February I decided to just take time off. Recharge. Spend time with my husband, brother and his fiancée. I convinced myself I needed to do this to avoid burn out and yet I felt extremely guilty and thought of nothing else except the unopened application.

The next week I was off to Leiden, so at the very least I needed to read the application. Despite dedicating time in my diary to reviewing it , I felt like I was distracted by a million other things. Things that I now cannot fully remember, but I am sure I thought they were important at the time. I printed off the application the day before the trip and told myself to read it on the plane (this I actually did!). On the return during I felt inspired and yet the application remained unedited for another weekend. You see, I had the interview the day after my trip and instead of working, I spent the whole weekend fretting about whether I had gotten the job. Emotionally, I was all over the place and couldn’t concentrate on anything. I was overwhelmed by anxiety, guilt, uncertainty and all those lovely feelings that emerge when you know a big part of your life is in the hands of someone else.

Needless to say, Monday came and I got the dreaded news I hadn’t gotten the job. This week was probably the worst. While I was at work I pushed through, but at home I felt drained, irritated and tired. I couldn’t be bothered pushing through anymore and just wanted to rest. I was almost at the point of complete burn out. Instead of ignoring my instincts, I stopped and I listened to my body.

I desperately wanted to do something creative. Something productive. And the weather was so nice. So, over the course of 2 days I transformed my front garden. This may sound counter-productive to battling burn out and many may have recommended a bubble bath or light reading, but that just isn’t me. When I am down in the dumps I need to feel a sense of achievement. That feeling when everything you have planned in your mind finally comes together. Transforming the garden was my way of letting go of all the built up guilt and worry and just accepting that what will be, will be. I created a new fairy garden complete with trellis, laid new bark around the roses, erected a fence and planted an apple tree. (There was also a lot of digging out of turf and stones to achieve this!) Not bad for 2 days work I think.

As soon as this project was over, I had this overwhelming urge to write my application. Moreover, all of the distractions of the previous week had disappeared and I had time to dedicate to pulling it all together. Despite this, I missed my personal deadline to get the application complete by 4 days. With all things considered though, 4 days is nothing and I think I have pulled together a quality application. I can only hope those I have sent it to for review agree.

February may not have been the most productive month in terms of writing projects, but I am not the only one who was feeling drained. I noticed a trend on the academic Facebook groups I am apart of, with several others commenting that they also felt unproductive. No wonder! September-December is the big build to the Winter break. No matter your religious affiliations December is a big month and the ‘holiday’ is more like a marathon of cooking, family visits, and entertainment. And then January is a long, long month, so by the time February comes around, no wonder we are all ready to hibernate. This is the time to be kind. To listen to yourself and just let go for a moment. This is hard. Especially, when everyone else around is battling through. This month I realised I had to stop fighting the waves the seem to get more powerful with each passing day and instead let go. Let myself get swept away for a moment. Let myself build the strength to swim again.

Here we go March! I have 2 talks (1 already written and one to go) and a trip to the States to look forward to, but I also have 2 blog posts to write, no doubt edits to apply to my application, an ethics application to send off and a book proposal to get moving on. Some things have hard deadlines and others soft deadlines and though I may not get it all done, at least I feel energised.