Dissertation: defining my being for the next year

Ahhh dissertation. Diss-er-ta-tion. What a word. And you better get used to it my friends, because it will be ringing in your ears for the next 11 months (you may want to disown me now. Right now).

I’m swiftly approaching my final year of Uni and preparations are already underway for this literary beast that will be spawned from the joyous union of my brain and Sparknotes. My dissertation is already proving to be a right royal pain in the ass, and I haven’t even started writing it yet. There was a whole palaver over pin-pointing a specific question, followed by a drama over who my supervisor was going to be. It transpired that, little Miss Luckybags that I am, is getting the most intimidating tutor of the lot, whom my peers often fondly refer to as the ‘demented pixie’ (she looks a tad like Tinkerbell crossed with Hook). She is overwhelmingly intelligent, lacking in social staples such as tact, by her own admission has never complimented anyone’s work in her life, and possesses the power to break your soul in just a look.

Personally I think she just needs a big hug. Not from me though, I’m scared of her. Actual, proper, dry-mouth-sweaty-palms scared of her. To be honest she’s probably not best pleased to have been lumbered with a drip like me, so fair’s fair, but I’ve made peace with the fact we’re going to be stuck with each other until the end of April 2011, and so have decided to take on the challenge of thawing her icy heart. Oh no, an 8,000 word literary study, 1,000 word research proposal, and 10 minute presentation in front of the board is not enough for me. I scoff at the students who only have that to worry about. My secondary dissertation mission (and arguably the one I will be showing most commitment to) is turning Lady Macbeth into Mrs Weasley. Or, yano, Snape would be an improvement too. I’ll take what I can get. I just want us all to be friends and get along like we did in middle school, and bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would be happy…

Anyway, my dissertation study area is Feminism in Gothic novels spanning the Romantic and Victorian period. Sounds like the literary equivalent of Disneyland, doesn’t it just. I have a list of over a dozen texts - novels and sage writing - that I need to read over the summer, preferably making any relevant notes as I go along. As well as the dissertation we’re doing four other modules; basically, it boils down to us writing 18,000 words per semester, assuming we stay on target with our dissertation. This is not including the dissertation presentation (which I’m already getting a bit cacked up about; public speaking not my forte), and somewhere in the region of 4782 novels, plays, poems, and critical essays to read. The chances of me becoming a hermit in the next academic year are very, very high. I urge you to remember my face; make an audio recording of my voice, if you must.

I’m easing myself into my mammoth reading list with 'Northanger Abbey' by lovely lovely Jane. I love Jane Austen, to the point where I’ve not entirely ruled out the possibility that I am her much less talented (but adoring) sister Cassandra reincarnated. Next up is ‘The Mysteries of Udolpho’ by Ann Radcliffe. It’s the size of a common house brick.

So this is just a polite warning that tweets/blogs depicting differing levels of dissertation despair (check out the alliteration on that - still got it) are likely, as is a nervous breakdown which I’ve pencilled in my diary for around January, slotting in nicely just after Christmas and just before my 21st birthday. As you were.