By Dessa Bayrock (The Cascade) – Email
Print Edition: November 28, 2012
Last week I was reading a journal article for a paper, and I was suddenly struck with the depressing thought that the paper I was reading was the paper I was trying to write. The thesis was a cleaner version of my thesis. The argument was a better-developed and more well-grounded version of my argument. No matter what I did, I knew that my paper couldn’t measure up to this paper. This was the paper to end all papers.
I sat there and stared at the article for a while, holding my highlighter like an idiot. That wasn’t helping anything. I got a cup of coffee. I put a cap on my pen. I let things percolate in my head while I tried to come up with a game plan. I hit a low point and seriously reconsidered my academic career. And then I sat down in front of that stupid, perfect paper, and I uncapped my highlighter, and I kept going. I thought of another, better thesis, and I reread my other sources, and then I wrote a paper I’m fairly proud of.
I thought about this perfect paper, and the author of this perfect paper. Here I was trying to write a paper in roughly two weeks, from thesis to research to writing to editing to handing the damn thing in. The paper I held in my hands was probably the work of a grad student, who dedicated at least a year of his time to it and only it, completed several drafts, and had several professors read and edit it for both grammar and content. Hell, he probably visited the grave of the author in question as part of a research trip.
Do I have that kind of time? No. No, I do not.
So I’m going to take my two weeks, and I’m going to Google some stuff, and download some articles and yes, maybe quote some things out of context. Not every paper has to be perfect in order for me to be the best that I can be. I read some books that haven’t been checked out of the UFV library since 2001. Isn’t that an accomplishment in and of itself?
It’s the end of semester, and assignments are piling on top of one another and grappling for attention. I can almost guarantee that you’ll come face to face with your own low point, holding your own highlighter like an idiot and getting upset about how awful your paper is bound to be.
Don’t sweat it, Max. Get yourself a cup of coffee and say, “Listen, journal article author. You’re from 1963 and I am not scared of you. My paper is going to be kickass in its own way, even if I’m still not 100 per cent sure what my thesis is!”
I hope I get at least a B+ on this paper, or this entire parable is going to fall flat.
