My Day: Research

Today I am sharing with you an aspect of my work. You've already heard about classes, reading assignments, and comprehensive exams. Today is about research. Several days of my week are devoted to research for various papers. Here is what research looks like for me:

1. Read and take notes on books that everyone who writes anything about my topic reads and praises as an "essential" text.
2. Read the bibliographies included at the back of those books and pick out the books, book chapters, and articles that seem most relevant to my research.
3. Find out that a lot of the texts that I thought might be relevant actually aren't, but because they are still interesting I spend several hours days reading through them. I get stuck here a lot. It's the downside of being hopelessly interested in {almost} everything.
4. Read the bibliographies of those books and articles, find the books, book chapters, and articles that seem most relevant to my research, and repeat steps 2-4.
5. Comb through journals to find what has recently been written on my topic.

These books + not pictured e-books, articles, and books I've already sent back to the library have been my life as I write my MA thesis and start thinking about a possible dissertation proposal. That bottom book is probably my favorite--Machiavelli's major works and letters in Italian. 

Step three is the best and worst one. I can't tell you how many days I spend reading articles that are tangentially barely related to the paper I am writing. They are interesting and reading them makes me feel like I am learning more, but they also don't help me write my paper. Best part: learning what other people have to say about compelling topics. Worst part: feeling like I have nothing other than a few more entries in an annotated bibliography to show for a day of work.

When I feel like I have nothing to show for a day of research, I like to cook. Making something with my hands--like pizza dough--lets me feel like a day was not completely wasted.

While doing this, I am constantly hoping that no one else has already written exactly what I want to write (or worse--what I've already written). Invariably someone has already published something that looks a little too close to my paper. I read it and I panic. But then I realize that I have a different take on the subject, or more persuasive evidence, or even that their idea is absolutely nothing like mine and the panic subsides.

You've all seen this, and this was the topping that Mark put together for the pizza: mozzarella, arugula, lemon (juice and zest), parm, salt, and pepper.

That being said, if no one has come close to touching a question like mine, then that could be either a good or bad sign. It could be good if this is the case because 1) scholars have been preoccupied with something that has kept them from asking it, 2) decades ago someone important said that it doesn't matter so nobody bothered to look at it, or 3) a new piece of evidence of some kind has surfaced and no one has quite gotten around to evaluating it. While one might be tempted to think that her novel thoughts are worth pursuing and publishing, the probability that hundreds (thousands?) of scholars around the world have never addressed something at least a little bit related to one's research question raises some red flags. In my case, it has often meant that I am going to hit a dead end. Other people have probably had similar questions, did some research, and realized that the answer was just plain uninteresting or insignificant. Alternatively, I might sometimes be doing something so out there that people are just going to think that I am crazy--not such a big problem for a well-known tenured prof, but possibly probably a major hurdle for a mere graduate student.

Is there any day that can't be helped by s'mores and wine?

It sounds like a defeating process, doesn't it? Here's the thing, though. Right before the crazy research starts--and sometimes in the midst of it all--there is a moment when a question or idea hits me like a bolt of lightning. It sends electricity running through my veins. My mind goes into overdrive. Everything starts to make sense as disparate pieces of information become connected, and the bones of an argument start to take shape. But it's more than that. It's not just an argument or idea. Hopefully, it is something that allows me to look at a contemporary problem with some new degree of clarity.

After a dreary, grey, rainy week, it looked like this on Saturday. I went to yoga, Mark went for a jog, and then we both headed out toward the lake because it was gorgeous. If you click on this picture, you will be able to see it much better. 

Of course, then I do some more research and find out that it doesn't all fit together exactly like I thought it did, but at least I have somewhere to start. While it can be difficult to maintain my original excitement over any idea, its evolution throughout the research process can sometimes inspire a similar feeling.

The beginnings of Sunday pancakes. Moments of inspiration can also strike while eating a plate of buttermilk pancakes.

The past couple of weeks have been filled with days like this, sprinkled throughout with studying for my American politics comprehensive exam and preparing for my class on interpretive methods. It's been a little rough, but yesterday we had some gorgeous weather and today Mark made our usual Sunday pancakes. This week, most of our meals are inspired by recipes from the blog Homesick Texan, and I'll try to share some pictures of all of that on next week's post!