Besides sewing tote bags and planting tomatoes, I'm trying to write a dissertation. I just finished my prospectus meeting and afterwards my adviser basically said, "You've got two years to write this—ready, set, go!" (My husband said pretty much the same thing, except he said "You've got ONE year." That's my secret hope as well. We'll see.)
It helps to know that no one who has to write a dissertation knows how to write a dissertation. How does one start? I'm starting with a space. Sure, the Writing Room is a state of mind. But it's also a tiny office in the university library almost completely filled by a desk and chair:
My neighbors include the Pencil Sharpener and the Stepstool.
And books. Lots of books.
Oh, and besides writing a dissertation, I still want to participate in the scam known as "creative writing." (Can't let that MFA go to waste.) Traits that will help me towards my goal include: no family responsibilities other than Mr. Flossie, who is low maintenance. Obstacles include: pathetic work habits. For example, what am I doing now? I'm in room 5076 as we speak, but what am I doing? Blogging! I'm going to go work now.
2 comments:
This is related to...nothing. Remember when I told you that the Deep South Solution to your bed moving problem was to just tie your trunk shut with some rope (and that I always had a length of suitable rope in my car)? I called my Dad last night for oil change advice and he said to tell Brother-of-Flossie that he could park his car halfway on the curb (like the left half) and then change his oil in the street. Now that's a Deep South Solution.
Change your own oil?? This "South" you speak of sounds like an interesting place.
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