Last summer Rachel set me the task of writing a journal article that could theoretically be published somewhere peer-reviewed and respectable. My deadline to send it out was December, so of course it didn't get sent until mid-March. In the eight months that I'd spent working on it I'd done very little research for my critical thesis and no writing, so when I went to see Rachel last week to talk about said thesis I was feeling just a bit despondent, which was only lifted slightly when I gave her the litany of what I've done since I saw her last December: my research is nearly finished, the novel is nearly finished, the extraneous training and engagement tasks the school deems mandatory are nearly finished, and I'm participating in organising a conference. But I hadn't done anything towards my thesis in over six months, and I couldn't see being able to submit until January 2017, at the earliest.
Her response to that was to bring out a copy of the article I'd written and point to all the places I could bolt on sections addressing the rest of my research, essentially making it the stem of my thesis. I asked if that wasn't considered cheating. Apparently, using something one's written for another purpose is not only allowed, but recommended. So I left her office with joy in my heart and a plan for the summer: if all goes well I should be able to submit on the first of October, which is three years and a day from the day I began and the absolute first day that I'm allowed to submit, and then spend the autumn term teaching and going to training sessions in preparation for the day that I've vivad and passed and need to go forth and look for a job.
It's been rocky, but it's been fun. And though I'm already feeling separation anxiety over leaving the womb of the university in my capacity as student, I've got to admit that three years is perfect. If I had to keep this up for seven or more, I might just hurt someone.
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