A More Considered Goal

Tim Ferriss, one of my favourite writers and podcasters, has introduced me to a number of vision and goal-setting tools over the last decade or so. A really helpful one springs from the observation that you very rarely need to be a millionaire to be content. Sometimes people set wildly unachievable goals, thinking that will help them to be happy – “If I was a millionaire I could do whatever I want!” – and then fail and are miserable because it’s hard to be a millionaire.

But if you wanted a nice car, a big TV or a holiday you could work out how much you would need – and it would be a lot less than a million pounds. Then perhaps you could start to work towards really getting what you want.

I remember in my PhD that I was banging my head against my desk for a week trying to solve a problem that I needed for a piece of a maths proof – before realising that I didn’t need to answer that problem at all! I was aiming for the greatest version of that result, when what I needed was much simpler. Realising this, I found what I needed in minutes.

(and ten minutes later, realised that applying the simpler result could help show the larger one!)

Sometimes PhD candidates set themselves up for heartache and misery in their viva preparations because they think they have to be exceptional in everything at all times. They must know their bibliography back to front, have memorised their thesis and be almost-precognitive in their ability to anticipate their examiners’ questions.

None of these things are needed. Have you got a thesis? Have you made a contribution? Have you worked hard and been dedicated for the years you’ve worked towards your PhD? Can you take a little time to get ready? Then you’re good.

You don’t need to be a millionaire to be content. You don’t need perfection to pass your viva.

The Wizards

I wasn’t a fan of The Wizard of Oz when I was a child.

At the time it had too many songs for my taste and not enough lightsabers or spaceships, but as I’ve got older I’ve come to appreciate it a lot more. Now I can see the work that must have been done at the time to make the film come together – the vision, the talent, and all at a time when movies were still working out how anything worked at all.

When Dorothy and her friends initially visit the Wizard they are in awe. He is a great floating head, the ground shakes when he speaks, fire roars up whenever he is angry. He is terrifying until it is revealed, by accident, that he is just a man. A clever individual, stood behind a curtain, controlling various machines to produce the effect of someone grand and powerful.

It’s worth remembering that for your viva, there are two Wizards present – at least, they may seem that way in your imaginings.

Either one of your examiners might seem mighty or intimidating. You could read their publications and wonder at how someone could do what they have done. Or you could feel small next to their experience and careers.

Pull back the curtain.

Your examiners are just people. Clever, talented people, but still human. Whatever their achievements they’re humans who know that something like the viva might be uncomfortable for some. They’ll be fair. They’ll treat you and your work with respect.

Of course, there’s a third Wizard in your viva – but you don’t need a curtain to hide behind. You don’t need tricks to magnify yourself.

Your talent is enough. Your knowledge is enough. You have done enough.

Again

The viva’s not the first time you’ve had to respond to questions about your research.

The viva’s not the first time you’ve been asked about your contribution.

The viva’s not the first time you’ve really had to think hard about something.

And it’s unlikely that your viva is the second time you’ve had to do any of these, or the third, or the fourth.

Again and again throughout your PhD, in small and big ways, you grow, you learn and you become better than you were. Again and again you demonstrate that you are a talented, capable and knowledgeable researcher.

In the viva you have to do it again. One more time, but with all of that experience behind you.

You can do it. You’ve done it before, you can do it again.

Good Fortune & Hard Work

In my PhD I can remember times I was lucky. Lucky to be at a particular seminar and see an unsolved problem that I knew I could solve. Lucky to suddenly make a breakthrough and get the result I needed.

Except I wasn’t. I was in the right place at the right time perhaps, but I couldn’t have spotted the first solution without all the results I’d already achieved. I couldn’t make my breakthrough, everything slipping into place, without three weeks of background reading and calculations first.

Words matter.

In all my seminars I remind PhD candidates they’re not lucky to have finished their thesis or to have got results – they’re fortunate. Fortunate is when hard work pays off. There might not have been a certain outcome, but it could only have happened thanks to someone taking the actions that they did.

None of your PhD success is luck. It’s good fortune, when your hard work has paid off.

Remember your good fortune. Remember too the hard work that has got you there.

Mistaken Identity

I’ve observed some PhD candidates think their examiners’ expectations will be set way too high.

Candidates can worry…

  • …whatever someone has produced for their thesis, the examiners will want more.
  • …if you’ve published a paper, they’ll wonder why you don’t have three.
  • …if your future plans don’t include academia they’ll put a question mark around the whole viva.

None of this is true. Examiners are trained. They’re professional. They know what they’re there to do in the viva. They’re not there to be harsh or to set impossible standards (that they couldn’t hit themselves!).

The mistaken identity in the viva process, if it’s there for you, is the identity you believe you need to be in order to pass.

The wonder-brain, the super-achiever, the one-in-a-million.

That’s not who you need to be. That’s the mistake.

Your identity, who you are, is enough.

Questions Are Opportunities

The viva is a conversation driven by the questions your examiners ask. Every question is an opportunity.

  • An opportunity to explore your work.
  • An opportunity to clarify a misunderstanding.
  • An opportunity to add to what is in your thesis.
  • An opportunity to defend your choices.
  • An opportunity to demonstrate your knowledge or ability.

Every question is an opportunity for you to do something good for yourself.

Pause, think and respond as best you can.

Easy Mode

I enjoy playing video games where I can alter the setting to “easy” and feel powerful. I can advance through the story, feel present and connected to the world of the game (as enemies don’t knock me down every two minutes) and I can really have fun.

Unlike a video game, you can’t simply alter the difficulty setting of your viva.

The nature of what you’re there to do, not knowing exactly what questions you might be asked, feeling nervous – all of these can layer to create a challenging environment.

I also enjoy playing video games where you can’t alter the difficulty. There is no easy mode, you have to persevere. You explore the systems and scenario, get a feel for the challenge. Try different tactics and find ways to play to your strengths. The game remains challenging, but also seems easier, due to the practice I’ve had.

This is more analogous to the PhD journey and the challenge of the viva. You can’t alter the difficulty, you have to raise yourself up to meet each challenge. Learn more to do more, do more to know more. Find your strengths, use them well and you make it through.

The final challenge is still a challenge, but it’s not all or nothing: you continue to show what you know and what you can do, and you succeed.

There’s no easy mode for the viva – and you don’t need one anyway.

Zap!

If you could wave a magic wand and improve some aspect of being ready for your viva, what would you do?

  • Perhaps you could memorise your thesis.
  • Would you want to know all of the questions in advance?
  • Maybe it would be good to feel really certain that you’re ready.
  • Or would it help to see your thesis beautifully annotated to help you?

All great, idealised outcomes. But there’s no magic wand. We can’t get perfection.

Instead, you could take small steps towards all of these. You can’t be perfect, but you can make things better.

  • You could read your thesis and break it down into a list of sections.
  • You could practise in a mock or with friends to get comfortable responding to questions.
  • You could do things to reflect on all you’ve achieved on the PhD journey so far.
  • And you could add a careful set of notes to your thesis to help you on the day.

No Zap! No magic. Just lots of small, positive steps to helping you get ready. What will you do?

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