I have just submitted my first article for publication. (yay! woo! cue fireworks!)
As I am therefore absolutely useless for doing any real work for the next couple of hours due to the adrenaline rush, I thought I should blog about it.
At some point during your PhD, you should try to publish an article. Ideally, the best time to do this is somwhere around the start of your third year as you presumably know enough to publish on it, but you're not yet in panic-stations-thesis-writing-mode. If you want to continue in academia at all, publishing is one of the most important things you'll do so it's good to develop those skills while someone's willing to read over and correct your work. The problem is getting to the point where you feel confident enough to a) start writing and b) submit.
I have friends who, for one reason or another, didn't publish during their PhD and instead planned to write up articles from their dissertations in the months following. It hasn't happened yet, as far as I know - it seems it takes at least a month to recover from the PhD process and be willing to even glance at your work again. And if you launch into a job straight away then that takes priority. But sometimes you get to the point where you can't worry about anything except your thesis and you just have to concentrate on that, no matter how good a journal publication would look on your résumé.
The trick (and the tricky bit) is to know which of the following pieces of advice to follow:
1. Do what you gotta do to finish your PhD.
2. Get as much experience teaching and publishing as you can because that's what you'll spend most of your time doing if you get a job as an academic.
Both these pieces of advice were given to friends by experienced academics and although somewhat contradictory, are both equally true.
Back to me:
I started writing my article after presenting at 5ICOM (5th International Conference on Multimodality) in December last year. My plan was to finish it by the end of January and I quite enjoyed the initial write, churning out 1000 words a day for a while there. When it reached an immense length, with absolutely everything I could think of on the topic in it, I submitted it to my supervisor for shaping and direction. So it went on the back burner for a while and in the mean time I submitted abstracts for conferences (most of which I've had to withdraw from), as well as the usual cycle of reading literature and doing analysis. The feedback, when it arrived, was to turn it into two articles.
So I did. And I've been sitting on them for a few months for one reason or another: getting feedback from my music supervisor (checking I haven't made any ridiculous musical gaffes); finalising those bits I couldn't quite get right. One of the best moments was when I sent the second article to an external expert. When he gave me good feedback, I started to believe it might be true. I sat on it further as I tried to wrestle it into adherence to the journal style guide and boggled at how to treat music notation: As a picture? Labelled figure or example? What about in a table? What about text and music together in an example from a student text? How do I handle copyright? It was like banging my head against a brick wall at times.
In the end I cut all the music notation out of one article, and limited the other to one music example which should be acceptable for copyright. It kinda sucks to talk about multimodality monomodally, but you do what you gotta do. I'll leave the second article on the backburner a while longer - at least until I have something else I want to procrastinate by working on it. It needs to be wrestled into adherence with the style guide and all my pretty colour-coded analysis needs to be turned monochrome.
What next for the one I did submit? I don't know. Probably a lengthy wait from what I hear. Either which way, I'll let you know.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
In defense (and parody) of PowerPoint
Recently the story on the Swiss political anti-powerpoint party has been brought to my attention by 4 different people via 3 different mediums.
In response, I wish to direct your attention to three parody links:
I am the Orson Welles of PowerPoint
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately PowerPoint decree
Critique of your PowerPoint presentation titled "Sales Forecast Third Quarter"
And lastly, the remedial slides:
In response, I wish to direct your attention to three parody links:
I am the Orson Welles of PowerPoint
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately PowerPoint decree
Critique of your PowerPoint presentation titled "Sales Forecast Third Quarter"
And lastly, the remedial slides:
STEAL THIS PRESENTATION!
View more presentations from @JESSEDEE
May this make your PowerPoint presentations less sucky, your audience less sleepy and your life more fulfilling.
May this make your PowerPoint presentations less sucky, your audience less sleepy and your life more fulfilling.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
20 uses for a giant novelty cheque
Despite the title I'm not going to write about 20 Uses for a Giant Novelty Cheque - partly because I can only think of one: wall decor. Though it does look quite impressive looming over my desk.
This year, once again, I participated in the Three Minute Thesis competition*. For those of you who don't know, the rules are simple, if challenging: one static slide (no transitions, no animation, no music), three minutes and three minutes only to communicate your thesis in language an intelligent but non-specialist audience is able to understand. The prizes: a t-shirt with a PhD comics design on the front for all, $100 book voucher for each of the two representatives from each faculty, $2000 for the winner of the University final as chosen by judges, $1000 for the people's choice winner as selected by the audience at the University final. The prize money is for "professional development" such as travel to a conference.
I won the People's choice! The most exciting part of which is, undoubtedly, the giant novelty cheque.
To tell the truth when I was considering entering the competition again this year I was a little reluctant. It seemed less important than other things I needed to do, and coming to the business end of the degree, I'm starting to drop everything I can ready to focus on the thesis. But the bottom line was that there was money on offer for travelling to a conference and without that money, I wouldn't be going to any of the three overseas conferences I had been accepted to present at, and I had already had to drop one conference in Australia because I couldn't afford to go.
Here's my slide by itself, for those who don't want to read the whole presentation (it'll only take 3 minutes, I promise!):
This is my presentation turned into a slideshow:
In the end, it really, honestly, truly was an enjoyable experience with a number of unexpected take-away messages, both socially and directly in regards to my research.
1. Research students are research students
It was nice chatting to science students and business students and engineering students and law students and health sciences students. We share more in common than I had unconsciously assumed: the pressure of study, the looming deadline, rationalisation of our research in general and our degree in particular. We just never, ever cross paths, which is a pity. Outside of the university I have friends doing PhDs in Electrical Engineering, Psychology, Art, Developmental Studies, Environmental Engineering and other disciplines I keep forgetting. I just forgot that was the case and don't get to meet these people through university. I figure if the science and health science students don't find the humanities students irrelevant, if the humanities students don't find the engineering and science students boring and tedious, and if nobody hates the law and business students, then we must be one small step closer to world peace.
2. Writing is hard for everyone
I think I've spent so much time trying to explain why writing is particularly hard for music/jazz/performance students that I forgot that all students can relate to the fact that writing can be challenging for everyone in all degrees, particularly those in the majority which do not focus on writing as an object of study. Next time I'm talking to an interdisciplinary audience, I have to remember to put that fact front and centre. I know that I, as a BA graduate with a barely controlled addiction to reading, struggle to write well, to find the best structure and to string together the best words, juggling humility with assertiveness, and the words and opinions of others with my own. I've realised that basically the underlying assumption and message of my research is: write well and people will believe (almost) anything. I don't mean that it's all scheme and spin, but it's easier to adopt someone's ideas when they've written not just clearly but convincingly. And students will be more successful - at university and in the workforce - if they can write well.
3. Our individual research is merely one link in a chain
Listening to health science students talk about the restricted nature of their research - how they are examining one small application within a strictly controlled setting - and hearing them asked about the final public application of their research - which they may not have any part, let alone say, in - reminded me how all our research is one link in a chain. Personally my ultimate aim is to be able to say something useful for future music students about how to write about music. One line in my presentation is, "we need to explore the different ways of writing at university, first analytically, which is what I'm doing, and then pedagogically." Maybe it's not for me to apply my research to a pedagogical setting; afterall I am neither teacher nor musician. But what I do provides resources and information and structure for what other researchers, linguists, musicians, music educators and pedagogues might do later. If that isn't too hubristic to say.
4. Science as legitimation
One thing that this competition has reminded me is that science, in one form or another, is everywhere at university. Before the competition I didn't actually know the names of all the faculties. For the record they are: Sciences; Health Sciences; Engineering Computer and Mathematical Sciences; Humanities and Social Sciences; and Professions. Four out of five have "science" in their name although I won't go into the significance of pluralising. There was mention at one point, most probably unconsciously, of there being no "scientific" jargon allowed in our presentations. I immediately bristled and whispered to my (science faculty) neighbour that that meant linguistic jargon was acceptable - I could've thrown in "heteroglossia" and "nominalisation" and "ergative case" without violating the rules. Nevertheless we realise that while science is everywhere, university research involves more than science, and that is also valid.
I know the people organising the competitions are trying their hardest to encourage more competitors. I know for many grad students it's easy to say "I don't have time" and "it's not important". But at the end of the day I would encourage people to go in the competition. Being able to step back from being nose deep in my topic and remember why my research is relevant to its context and why it is interesting for anybody is good for my perspective, not to mention my self-esteem! And as one competitor pointed out last year, it helps you figure out what to say at a dinner party when someone says "So what do you do?" without making them glaze over at the word "linguistics".
*I will update this story with links as they become available.
This year, once again, I participated in the Three Minute Thesis competition*. For those of you who don't know, the rules are simple, if challenging: one static slide (no transitions, no animation, no music), three minutes and three minutes only to communicate your thesis in language an intelligent but non-specialist audience is able to understand. The prizes: a t-shirt with a PhD comics design on the front for all, $100 book voucher for each of the two representatives from each faculty, $2000 for the winner of the University final as chosen by judges, $1000 for the people's choice winner as selected by the audience at the University final. The prize money is for "professional development" such as travel to a conference.
I won the People's choice! The most exciting part of which is, undoubtedly, the giant novelty cheque.
To tell the truth when I was considering entering the competition again this year I was a little reluctant. It seemed less important than other things I needed to do, and coming to the business end of the degree, I'm starting to drop everything I can ready to focus on the thesis. But the bottom line was that there was money on offer for travelling to a conference and without that money, I wouldn't be going to any of the three overseas conferences I had been accepted to present at, and I had already had to drop one conference in Australia because I couldn't afford to go.
Here's my slide by itself, for those who don't want to read the whole presentation (it'll only take 3 minutes, I promise!):
(click to see larger version)
This is my presentation turned into a slideshow:
View more presentations from Jodie Martin
In the end, it really, honestly, truly was an enjoyable experience with a number of unexpected take-away messages, both socially and directly in regards to my research.
1. Research students are research students
It was nice chatting to science students and business students and engineering students and law students and health sciences students. We share more in common than I had unconsciously assumed: the pressure of study, the looming deadline, rationalisation of our research in general and our degree in particular. We just never, ever cross paths, which is a pity. Outside of the university I have friends doing PhDs in Electrical Engineering, Psychology, Art, Developmental Studies, Environmental Engineering and other disciplines I keep forgetting. I just forgot that was the case and don't get to meet these people through university. I figure if the science and health science students don't find the humanities students irrelevant, if the humanities students don't find the engineering and science students boring and tedious, and if nobody hates the law and business students, then we must be one small step closer to world peace.
2. Writing is hard for everyone
I think I've spent so much time trying to explain why writing is particularly hard for music/jazz/performance students that I forgot that all students can relate to the fact that writing can be challenging for everyone in all degrees, particularly those in the majority which do not focus on writing as an object of study. Next time I'm talking to an interdisciplinary audience, I have to remember to put that fact front and centre. I know that I, as a BA graduate with a barely controlled addiction to reading, struggle to write well, to find the best structure and to string together the best words, juggling humility with assertiveness, and the words and opinions of others with my own. I've realised that basically the underlying assumption and message of my research is: write well and people will believe (almost) anything. I don't mean that it's all scheme and spin, but it's easier to adopt someone's ideas when they've written not just clearly but convincingly. And students will be more successful - at university and in the workforce - if they can write well.
3. Our individual research is merely one link in a chain
Listening to health science students talk about the restricted nature of their research - how they are examining one small application within a strictly controlled setting - and hearing them asked about the final public application of their research - which they may not have any part, let alone say, in - reminded me how all our research is one link in a chain. Personally my ultimate aim is to be able to say something useful for future music students about how to write about music. One line in my presentation is, "we need to explore the different ways of writing at university, first analytically, which is what I'm doing, and then pedagogically." Maybe it's not for me to apply my research to a pedagogical setting; afterall I am neither teacher nor musician. But what I do provides resources and information and structure for what other researchers, linguists, musicians, music educators and pedagogues might do later. If that isn't too hubristic to say.
4. Science as legitimation
One thing that this competition has reminded me is that science, in one form or another, is everywhere at university. Before the competition I didn't actually know the names of all the faculties. For the record they are: Sciences; Health Sciences; Engineering Computer and Mathematical Sciences; Humanities and Social Sciences; and Professions. Four out of five have "science" in their name although I won't go into the significance of pluralising. There was mention at one point, most probably unconsciously, of there being no "scientific" jargon allowed in our presentations. I immediately bristled and whispered to my (science faculty) neighbour that that meant linguistic jargon was acceptable - I could've thrown in "heteroglossia" and "nominalisation" and "ergative case" without violating the rules. Nevertheless we realise that while science is everywhere, university research involves more than science, and that is also valid.
I know the people organising the competitions are trying their hardest to encourage more competitors. I know for many grad students it's easy to say "I don't have time" and "it's not important". But at the end of the day I would encourage people to go in the competition. Being able to step back from being nose deep in my topic and remember why my research is relevant to its context and why it is interesting for anybody is good for my perspective, not to mention my self-esteem! And as one competitor pointed out last year, it helps you figure out what to say at a dinner party when someone says "So what do you do?" without making them glaze over at the word "linguistics".
*I will update this story with links as they become available.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Travel Grant App Slideshow
I prepared this slideshow to support my application for a travel grant
but ended up not being able to use it. I enjoyed it so much though that I
thought I would share. First and last slides are, perhaps, a little
less-than-subtle, but it's very hard to beg for money subtly.
Travel grant app
View more presentations from Jodie Martin
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
How a PhD is like Alice in Wonderland
1. We’re all mad here
You know it's true. You have to be a little mad to delve into one tiny corner of a topic that nobody else has looked at for three to seven years.
2. We’re late! We’re late! For a very important (submission) date!
The biggest date is the final thesis submission and sometimes it seems like the story of the student who submitted on time is an urban myth.
3. Eat me! Drink me! Read me!
We all struggle with our research being too big, too small, with who we are as PhD students being too big, too small. And obeying labels.
It seems every text screams “READ ME!” and we at least print, photocopy, scan, download and/or save, even if we never end up reading it.
4. Curiouser and curiouser (HT to @frindley)
Because it is the nature of the research - the deeper you get the stranger it gets and the stranger you get. Soon enough you find yourself believing several impossible things before breakfast.
You know it's true. You have to be a little mad to delve into one tiny corner of a topic that nobody else has looked at for three to seven years.
2. We’re late! We’re late! For a very important (submission) date!
The biggest date is the final thesis submission and sometimes it seems like the story of the student who submitted on time is an urban myth.
3. Eat me! Drink me! Read me!
We all struggle with our research being too big, too small, with who we are as PhD students being too big, too small. And obeying labels.
It seems every text screams “READ ME!” and we at least print, photocopy, scan, download and/or save, even if we never end up reading it.
4. Curiouser and curiouser (HT to @frindley)
Because it is the nature of the research - the deeper you get the stranger it gets and the stranger you get. Soon enough you find yourself believing several impossible things before breakfast.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
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