Escaping the Birdman Scenario

Diary of a Viva Ninja: Day 13

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Caught with your pants down… Michael Keaton in Birdman, or the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance (2014)

I think a lot of anxiety around the Viva is generated by the prospect of being grilled by one’s examiners and being found ‘lacking’ in some way – like the classic anxiety nightmare of finding oneself in a public space in one’s underwear, in an excruciatingly embarrassing situation. Let’s call it the ‘Birdman scenario’ (after the scene in ’s Oscar-winning film in which the Michael Keaton character gets shut out of the theatre mid-performance, and has to do a ‘walk of shame’ through the middle of a busy New York city in his ‘whities’).  But the Viva candidate’s dread of being caught with their pants down, metaphorically, is pretty groundless – because in the majority of cases, they have done the work, they have done the prep, they are being authentic and thus have nowhere to ‘fall’. They cannot be ‘caught out’, because they are not trying to be anything they’re not. I know I have written my PhD novel, The Knowing – A Fantasy; that I have spent the last 6 years working towards it (informally since 2012, formally since 2014); that I have undertaken extensive research, both in the archives (at major research libraries) and in the field (Scotland; Appalachia). I know I have worked closely with my supervisor and, responding to his feedback, I have written draft after draft of my novel and critical commentary, pushing myself beyond my usual praxis, aiming for excellence. It has been an exhaustive process, and one that could continue indefinitely. Research never stops, only the researcher. Although one can never achieve the ideal – the perfect thesis (if such a thing can exist) – one must nevertheless aspire towards it. With that acknowledged, one offers their very best at the time of submission, defends that, and hopes to continue, if the gatekeepers of academe permit. In some ways undertaking a PhD is rather like writing one’s own job description – one you then spend 4-7 years training for. The Viva is the interview for that ‘job’ – which by that point you should have made yourself the most eligible candidate for, a knowledge specialist with an extremely specialised niche. You have tailor-made your own anorak – let’s hope it doesn’t become a straitjacket. Fortunately, there is a movement in academe now for interdisciplinarity. In my case, although I am definitely a ‘writer of imaginative fiction’ that is such a broad church it covers a multitude of sins. Since finishing The Knowing – A Fantasy I have already written two other novels, each one substantially different from the tone of my ‘big fairy novel’, as I think of it. Freed from the self-reflexive ‘performance of a novel’ that a PhD requires I was able to let rip and really enjoy myself. Whether these other two novels are ‘better’ than the one I have taken around five years of my life to craft, who knows? I don’t have the critical distance at this stage to judge (and the latter two novels haven’t been published yet – and so remain open for further editing and development). One thing I hope from the Viva is, at the very least, a sense of closure. Whether the ‘end’ is just beginning (i.e. due to minor or major revisions) or whether it really is the ‘end’, I hope that I will finally be able to draw a line under the epic project and move on – for I feel in a very different place than when I began this crazy dream 6 years ago, as does the world… Whatever the outcome of the Viva I reassure myself by thinking: I will still be me. One hopes for a dramatic status shift, of course, but pass or fail, I will keep breathing, walking, and writing! Life will go on! The world will not come to an end, though I may have a new title to my name! We tend to catastrophize, and prepare for the worst-case scenarios, rather than the best. Yes, it is wise to prepare, but not to focus entirely on ‘Viva-apocalypse’! If we do not imagine the good ending, then it is even unlikelier to happen.