Yesterday I submitted my PhD – a practice-led
doctoral thesis in Creative Writing – to Newcastle University. The result of
three and a half years of work, I began the research project formally in September
2015, first plotting it in the winter of 2014.
The
Poets’ Hyem
is an exploration of what it means to generate poetic placemaking in England’s
North-East. A critical exegesis analyses four postwar poets, making a case for
International Regionalism as a hallmark of modern poetry written about the area
since the mid-twentieth century. The second – and majority – component of the
thesis, Errata Slip for a Northern Town,
is the manuscript for my first full-length collection of poetry, which I hope
to have published as a book in the near future.
I’m hopeful that at viva, in the spring,
it will make a sufficiently original contribution to knowledge and not require
major amendments. From my current vantage (which, I admit, may be coloured by
the glow of having handed in), the thesis makes for a robust addition to discourses
surrounding place and poetry, and has the potential to catalyse further work — either by myself, in a post-doc
capacity, or by other researchers interested in regionalism and writing belonging
to Bernicia.
Submitting a PhD comes with a kaleidoscope
of emotions. I feel relieved to have finally handed the thing in, for it to
(temporarily) not be of concern, but I also feel pretty melancholic. This is
probably compounded by the anti-climatic nature of actually submitting the documents:
I took two soft-bound copies and a USB stick to a centralised drop-off point at
the university and was given a receipt. Quite a clinical, formulaic transaction,
really. No bells or whistles, no banners and balloons.
I sat for a while afterwards in the Town
Mouse and had a few pints. Did I feel less burdened or more, having jettisoned
this significant portion of my adult life? I don’t really know yet, to be
honest. I do think that my work is intelligent, nuanced and of doctoral standard.
I have faith in my poems: they read well as a cohesive whole. Insofar as I have
contributed to discourse, I feel that my critical argument – what I am calling
a polyparochial poetics – is in keeping with the zeitgeist. In short, I think
the PhD will set me up well and has value beyond Newcastle University and the
North-East of England.
But I’m also not naïve enough to think there
won’t be rough patches ahead. Notwithstanding the elephant in the room (the ‘B’
word), a PhD is by no means a golden ticket to a career in academia. If being
part of a DTP (Doctoral Training Partnership) has shown me anything, it’s that
there are hundreds, thousands, of highly talented ECRs (Early Career
Researchers) out there, all vying for a limited pool of fellowships,
lectureships and post-doctoral positions.
So, significant groundwork has been laid,
but what gets built on it remains to be seen. I will write again after the
viva, hopefully in late April, but for the time being I’m going to let all of
this compost through my brain and work out where it might take me next.
