PhD blog: 35
Graham Foster
- June 2009.
The story so far… Graham is well into his so-far unfunded part-time PhD at Manchester Metropolitan University. His original aim was to investigate American literature post-9/11.
Funding: The Verdict
Since Christmas I have, as you probably know if you have been regularly reading my postgraduate outpourings, working on draft after draft of my funding application. I applied for funding at my current university Manchester Metropolitan, Manchester University and the University of Warwick. All of these applications were submitted with days to spare and with great worry.
Out of all of these places, it was Warwick that got back to me first. A member of staff in the English department requested to see some of my work, and then suggested a meeting. So I went down to see him and to see the university (see a few posts ago). I had mixed feelings after the meeting, and wasn’t really sure if Warwick was the place for me. The member of staff I was meeting was to be my proposed supervisor and some of his views about my work didn’t gel with my own. I returned to Manchester in a conflicted state of mind - if they offered me funding it would solve one of my problems, but having a supervisor that wasn’t on the same wavelength might create more. I decided that if money were to be offered, I would have to take it. Better to be able to carry on studying, than having to give up for purely financial reasons. Well, the matter was taken out of my hands with a full-on rejection (although they did say they would consider me for a place at the university if I funded myself).
By this stage, I had been shortlisted for funding at Manchester Metropolitan University. This was the big one. I really wanted to stay at MMU, purely because of my excellent supervisory team and the fact that I have had two years of study to really get into the swing of things. The date for the interview was a full month after I received the letter. Cue much worrying, a desperate lack of sleep and my ill thought-out strategy of cramming as much information (critical theory/narrative theory/cultural theory etc) as I could into my brain. So much, in fact, that it spewed out at odd moments. Nights out with friends devolved into me being told that no, I wasn’t being interesting in talking about Gerard Genette’s theory of Paratexts or how it applies to the fiction of David Foster Wallace.
The week of the interview was horrible. I was plagued with tension headaches that filtered down to my shoulders and back, I had little sleep and I couldn’t carry on a regular conversation because I was so preoccupied. When it came to the interview I was first, and I entered the room, clasping a bottle of water to combat nervous dry-mouth. I saw the panel of people, all of whom I had met before and… my memory goes blank there. I can’t remember a thing about the interview. All the nerves, the tension and the panic have blocked any memory of the interview. That afternoon, I left university without any inkling of how I had performed. I went to Urbis’ exhibition on video games (recommended) and then to the opening night of the Stockport beer festival.
The next morning, I received a phone call. I did well. I am now a funded student. After two years of struggle, I will now be able to really get going on my research and I couldn’t be happier.
That night I returned to the Stockport beer festival for a more relaxed drink…
Read my previous PhD blogs
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