Researchers have aerial footage of a penguin colony taken by none other than a caracara (a bird of prey) that thought it was stealing an egg. If you haven't seen this, you have to check it out.
(This is the work of John Downer Productions, one of a series of films made by placing cameras in the midst of a group of animals to record footage of behaviors we don't typically observe.)
Impressive, no?
Footage like this reminds me how much I loved studying animals--of the incredible, unexpected things they sometimes do.
Of course, it also reminds me that in order to get this footage, someone had to spend countless hours sitting in a hide not far from the rookery. Creature comforts tend to be lacking, back muscles spasm, and a game of canasta (or any other activity that involves other people) beckons like the golden light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. But then, for a scientist or photographer out to capture something incredible, that's just part of the daily grind.
Sometimes, something happens to make all the waiting worthwhile.
Showing posts with label perseverance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perseverance. Show all posts
Monday, January 20, 2014
Monday, July 23, 2012
Overcoming the sloth
This sign pretty much says it all:
It describes my current ability to function to a T. It's 105 degrees F (40.5 C) outside, with a heat index somewhere above that, the kids are bored, stuck inside and ready for school to start, and I have articles to write. I couldn't even get this post up by my usual time.
What I really want to do today is this:
But what I AM going to do today is hammer away at my growing list of WIPs, pitch an idea I've been working on to a lovely editor, and put a dent in my to-do list. Then I'm going to escape to the basement with the kids to hide out until the sun goes down.
What do you do in the dog-days of summer? (And why are they called that, anyway?)
 |
| That's me--second from the right (on the sign!) |
It describes my current ability to function to a T. It's 105 degrees F (40.5 C) outside, with a heat index somewhere above that, the kids are bored, stuck inside and ready for school to start, and I have articles to write. I couldn't even get this post up by my usual time.
What I really want to do today is this:
 |
| Isn't he adorable? This is the two-toed sloth we found near our hotel. |
But what I AM going to do today is hammer away at my growing list of WIPs, pitch an idea I've been working on to a lovely editor, and put a dent in my to-do list. Then I'm going to escape to the basement with the kids to hide out until the sun goes down.
What do you do in the dog-days of summer? (And why are they called that, anyway?)
Friday, April 8, 2011
G is for Goals
I think setting goals is helpful to put things into perspective. Sure, you want your novel published RIGHT NOW, but let's be realistic. Publishing is slow. It takes most people years to write and polish their novel before it's ready to go to the presses.
Those years can feel like a never-ending race, yearning to cross the finish line that never appears on the horizon. So how to avoid the inevitable sense of discouragement. That feeling of, "I'll never get there?"
Setting a series of goals can help you measure your progress. Not just the "I want my book published" end goal (if that is your end goal), but a series of goals that will move you along in a stepwise fashion.
This isn't my idea. I got it from Jack M. Bickham, who mentions it in The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes (and How to Avoid Them). He recommends using a five-year plan. Start with where you want to be in five years. To achieve that, where will you be in four years? And in three? In two? At this time next year? And then, what can you do this week, even today, to move you forward?
If you set a series of goals, you can make them small, things you can accomplish in a reasonable period of time. How long will it take you to write the first chapter? Or to do research? To figure out how the story weaves together?
By taking things one step at a time, you will be able to measure your progress, even when you feel you aren't getting anywhere. A series of goals helps keep discouragement at bay. And it gives you lots of reasons to celebrate along the way.
What are your writing goals? Over the next five years? For this year? Today?
 |
| source |
Setting a series of goals can help you measure your progress. Not just the "I want my book published" end goal (if that is your end goal), but a series of goals that will move you along in a stepwise fashion.
This isn't my idea. I got it from Jack M. Bickham, who mentions it in The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes (and How to Avoid Them). He recommends using a five-year plan. Start with where you want to be in five years. To achieve that, where will you be in four years? And in three? In two? At this time next year? And then, what can you do this week, even today, to move you forward?
If you set a series of goals, you can make them small, things you can accomplish in a reasonable period of time. How long will it take you to write the first chapter? Or to do research? To figure out how the story weaves together?
By taking things one step at a time, you will be able to measure your progress, even when you feel you aren't getting anywhere. A series of goals helps keep discouragement at bay. And it gives you lots of reasons to celebrate along the way.
What are your writing goals? Over the next five years? For this year? Today?
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
WIP Wednesday
Last Friday I hid away in a hotel in the foothills of the Alps and finished the first draft of Thunderstruck. I was scheduled for a critique of the first chapter with the fabulous Sara Grant (a commissioning editor at Working Partners and co-founder of Undiscovered Voices) the next morning, and it was my personal goal to have the MS done before I met with her.
It wasn't a smooth ride. Oh no, that would be way too simple. A smooth ride? I wouldn't bother writing about that here. Doesn't make a good story, you know.
I was madly typing away, at the height of the story's climax--exciting things happening to my MC, who was fighting for his life--my fingers flying over the keys, and then--
The screen went black. At first I expected it to flicker and come back up. But the dying sound of the fan and lack of power lights told a different story. Either the computer had decided it simply couldn't take any more excitement for one day, or the gods I'd been writing about really didn't want this story told. (Yes, I seriously considered both options.)
I developed a sudden case of asthma* the air rasping through my throat as it tried to reach my lungs.
You see, I had done something that seemed like a good idea a few hours before. Originally, I had the working document on a memory stick (I had borrowed Beloved Husband's laptop for the weekend). But surely, I thought, the file would be safer on the hard drive. Fewer chances for error when saving. I'd just back up to the memory stick. So I saved it to the hard drive and worked from that. But hadn't backed it up since making the little switcheroo.
Jumping up from the chair, I said a number of rude words. Maybe the power had gone out?** I checked. The lamps worked and the little light on the power cord was on. Only the laptop wasn't working.
*insert f-bomb here*
Okay, stay calm. Turn it on, maybe it will just reboot.
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
Okay, I can handle that. I hit a key.
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
Maybe I hit the wrong key. Try another one this time.
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
I'm starting to notice a pattern. Click.
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
And again...
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
*repeat f-bomb word* *several times* (I don't swear often, but this seemed an appropriate occasion.)
Disk error. What were the chances of my most recent version still being there when (if?) I got the thing running again?
Laughing semi-hysterically, I shut it down. Then I wrote down an outline of everything I could remember from the last six (yes six) chapters. Everything I'd written since I'd relocated my working document. And then, in the wisdom that crisis imparts, I decided that maybe some unseen force wanted me to enjoy the sunshine in the Alps, rather than sit at a desk all day.
So off I went, to wander around in the forest. The trees soothed me. I wandered down a narrow path and happened upon a pond, still covered with ice. It sat at the top of a hill, and I followed a meadow down, down, through marshy, boggy lowland, then up a trail on the far side. A deer heard me coming and leaped away through the trees.
Despite my disaster, all was right with the world. Maybe the computer would be okay when I got back.
After two hours, I returned to the hotel and stared at the laptop. Dare I try to reboot? Could I handle another Disk error message? Would I be able to finish the ms before morning?
I opened the laptop, hesitated, then pushed the power button. Lights flashed, the computer whirred and I waited. I'm not sure I breathed while it booted up, but boot it did. And all I'd lost was the last two pages.
I wrote them better the second time.
*I don't have asthma, but now I know what it feels like.
**I was not thinking rationally; I later realized that even if the power went out, the battery would have kept the laptop going.
Because I was single-mindedly focused on writing, I didn't learn of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan until I had finished the manuscript later that night. And I felt like a fool. My crisis was nothing, absolutely nothing, in the face of what was (and still is) happening there. The people of Japan are in my thoughts and prayers.
So what about you? What's the worst (writing-related) catastrophe you've experienced?
It wasn't a smooth ride. Oh no, that would be way too simple. A smooth ride? I wouldn't bother writing about that here. Doesn't make a good story, you know.
 | ||
| source (this isn't where I was, but I didn't take pictures, and this is lovely, isn't it?) |
The screen went black. At first I expected it to flicker and come back up. But the dying sound of the fan and lack of power lights told a different story. Either the computer had decided it simply couldn't take any more excitement for one day, or the gods I'd been writing about really didn't want this story told. (Yes, I seriously considered both options.)
I developed a sudden case of asthma* the air rasping through my throat as it tried to reach my lungs.
You see, I had done something that seemed like a good idea a few hours before. Originally, I had the working document on a memory stick (I had borrowed Beloved Husband's laptop for the weekend). But surely, I thought, the file would be safer on the hard drive. Fewer chances for error when saving. I'd just back up to the memory stick. So I saved it to the hard drive and worked from that. But hadn't backed it up since making the little switcheroo.
Jumping up from the chair, I said a number of rude words. Maybe the power had gone out?** I checked. The lamps worked and the little light on the power cord was on. Only the laptop wasn't working.
*insert f-bomb here*
Okay, stay calm. Turn it on, maybe it will just reboot.
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
Okay, I can handle that. I hit a key.
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
Maybe I hit the wrong key. Try another one this time.
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
I'm starting to notice a pattern. Click.
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
And again...
Disk error. Press any key to restart.
*repeat f-bomb word* *several times* (I don't swear often, but this seemed an appropriate occasion.)
Disk error. What were the chances of my most recent version still being there when (if?) I got the thing running again?
Laughing semi-hysterically, I shut it down. Then I wrote down an outline of everything I could remember from the last six (yes six) chapters. Everything I'd written since I'd relocated my working document. And then, in the wisdom that crisis imparts, I decided that maybe some unseen force wanted me to enjoy the sunshine in the Alps, rather than sit at a desk all day.
So off I went, to wander around in the forest. The trees soothed me. I wandered down a narrow path and happened upon a pond, still covered with ice. It sat at the top of a hill, and I followed a meadow down, down, through marshy, boggy lowland, then up a trail on the far side. A deer heard me coming and leaped away through the trees.
Despite my disaster, all was right with the world. Maybe the computer would be okay when I got back.
After two hours, I returned to the hotel and stared at the laptop. Dare I try to reboot? Could I handle another Disk error message? Would I be able to finish the ms before morning?
I opened the laptop, hesitated, then pushed the power button. Lights flashed, the computer whirred and I waited. I'm not sure I breathed while it booted up, but boot it did. And all I'd lost was the last two pages.
I wrote them better the second time.
*I don't have asthma, but now I know what it feels like.
**I was not thinking rationally; I later realized that even if the power went out, the battery would have kept the laptop going.
Because I was single-mindedly focused on writing, I didn't learn of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan until I had finished the manuscript later that night. And I felt like a fool. My crisis was nothing, absolutely nothing, in the face of what was (and still is) happening there. The people of Japan are in my thoughts and prayers.
So what about you? What's the worst (writing-related) catastrophe you've experienced?
Monday, February 21, 2011
Marketing Monday - Carole Anne Carr
Today I would like to welcome Carole Anne Carr, a children's author who has self published several books for children, including two novels and a picture book. She will also have fantasy based on Norse mythology available soon.
Many of you already know Carole from her blog; she writes historical fiction set near her home in England. Through her books, she is making a tour of Shropshire's historical sites, which must be a wonderful experience for local children.
What has the process of self-publishing been like for you?
Very hard work indeed. I began this process as I started serious writing very late in life and didn't think any publisher would be interested in me at my age.
First I tried to discover whether I was on the right track by completing a part time three year course on creative writing. When I did well, I then decided to go ahead with this project.
Then I had to work out how to be a self-publisher. I didn't want vanity publishing, or a pay on demand printer, so I set about finding a good printer whose work I liked and who would publish one hundred books at a time - a number I thought I could sell to begin with.
I then used Google to discover how to be a publisher, learned how to make print ready files, asked my Grandson how to design a book cover and also make it into a print ready file, and learned about ISBN numbers and how to attach them to the cover. From the printer I learned about types of paper, how my book would be bound, costs,how long the process would take. I visited the printer to see the whole process from start to finish.
Then I wanted to add a picture book to my published work and so purchased a simplified version of photoshop - elements 8 - which was the correct one for my needs and struggled to place my illustrations into the book file.
Of course I edited my own work, a long tedious process, found a friend who would act as accountant and helped me set up as self-employed. I have since found someone to help with the editing, dicovered on LinkedIn, who is also at the beginning stage of his career and as yet does not charge.
How has online social networking helped you market your books?
Not a great deal as yet. It leads people to my website and bookshop, but it is only by my author appearances that I later have people buying from the site. However, I have found many useful connections, people who have kindly helped me along the way, through LinkedIn. Moral support that I receive from Blogger, Facebook, Twitter, is always welcome.
What steps have you taken to market your books in person (with bookstores, schools, libraries, etc.)?
I have sold over 1000 books since I started at the beginning of 2010, not a great number, and this has been due to selling myself to independent bookshops, working in local libraries and schools as visiting author, (placing my books in county libraries), visiting schools, (I taught for 25 years) and reading from my books and teaching creative writing.
I have joined many societies, Women in Rural Business and joined them at large county shows, attended craft fairs, I'm a member of the Society of Authors, Jelly, and the National Association of Writers in Schools and attend their conferences. I keep in touch with Nielsen, and have finally been recognised by Gardners the big book distribution people. I also give talks to women's groups.
My books relate to historical sites, although children's fiction, and I have made sure they are for sale in museums and bookshops related to those sites. My next book is fantasy, I'm hoping to widen my apppeal. I am constantly working to improve my visibility whilst writing more books. My first two books are shortly to become eBooks so that I can reach a wider market. If you google me, you will find that I appear over many many pages, very hard work indeed.
What advice do you have for other children's authors who might be thinking of self-publishing?
It is possible to be successful, and I think with much persistance you can become reasonably well known as an author. If you have the ability, and you can always take courses as I did to make sure you are on the right track, and you have the drive, then I'd say 'go for it'. However, I must add that it is easier for me, being retired!
If you are a published author and you would like to share your experiences with marketing and promoting your book(s), I'd love to share your story! Please contact me at anpstevens [at] gmail [dot] com.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
WIP Wednesday
Today is the day for the Creativity Challenge offering (see the challenge prompts over there to the right), but since it is also WIP Wednesday, I'll post my scene on Friday (it'll be cold, dark, and wet with just a hint of magic, you'll want to check it out).
WIP. Or WIPs (or should that be WsIP?). Either way, I've got more than one. Here's where they stand.
My middle grade mystery, Trifocal, is over the half-way point. To celebrate (and keep me on task), I've put a counter up to track my progress. Let's hope that blue bar grows on a daily basis. My goal is to finish it by the end of this month. We shall see how that plays out, but I'll be traveling a lot in October and won't get any writing done then. Good motivation, at any rate.
I decided 40,000 words was a reasonable goal for Trifocal, and I was thrilled to discover that it fits well within current publishing word counts. See this great article by Colleen Lindsay on genre and word count. I had been thinking 50,000 words would be better, but that turns out to be a bit long for middle grade.
I sent off a magazine article last week, have another in the envelope waiting to head for the Post Office today, and I'm putting together a query for a third. I've done my research and these all fall under "current needs" at their respective magazines, so let's hope the editors like them.
I wrote a new non-fiction picture book about migrating trees. Yep, they migrate. They're just slow. I'll have that off to my critique group at the start of October.
Revisions for my middle grade fantasy are on hold for the moment, in light of everything else I'm trying to do. Whew! I didn't feel as though I was making any progress, but now I do. =)
How are you projects going?
WIP. Or WIPs (or should that be WsIP?). Either way, I've got more than one. Here's where they stand.
My middle grade mystery, Trifocal, is over the half-way point. To celebrate (and keep me on task), I've put a counter up to track my progress. Let's hope that blue bar grows on a daily basis. My goal is to finish it by the end of this month. We shall see how that plays out, but I'll be traveling a lot in October and won't get any writing done then. Good motivation, at any rate.
I decided 40,000 words was a reasonable goal for Trifocal, and I was thrilled to discover that it fits well within current publishing word counts. See this great article by Colleen Lindsay on genre and word count. I had been thinking 50,000 words would be better, but that turns out to be a bit long for middle grade.
I sent off a magazine article last week, have another in the envelope waiting to head for the Post Office today, and I'm putting together a query for a third. I've done my research and these all fall under "current needs" at their respective magazines, so let's hope the editors like them.
I wrote a new non-fiction picture book about migrating trees. Yep, they migrate. They're just slow. I'll have that off to my critique group at the start of October.
Revisions for my middle grade fantasy are on hold for the moment, in light of everything else I'm trying to do. Whew! I didn't feel as though I was making any progress, but now I do. =)
How are you projects going?
Friday, August 27, 2010
Prodigies and Late Bloomers
I just finished reading What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. Unlike his other books, this one is a compendium of some of his New Yorker pieces.
I was particularly interested in the one about Late Bloomers. Gladwell describes the fascination our culture holds for creative prodigies: the Picassos, Mozarts, and Kieron Williamsons of the world. These are the people who sit down and create a masterpiece in their first attempt. But are we all destined to be creative failures if we don't possess that edge early in life?
Gladwell says no. He discusses Cézanne, whose work improved with time. Cézanne required the steadfast support and encouragement of close friends to reach his creative potential.
The same is true of artists, writers, and creatives of all kinds. Gladwell calls late bloomers "experimental innovators." They are the people who need to experience things, often multiple times, before their ideas become clear. Experimental innovators are the people who spend years rewriting and revising, modifying and altering their work until it shines.
Do you see yourself as an early- or late-bloomer?
I was particularly interested in the one about Late Bloomers. Gladwell describes the fascination our culture holds for creative prodigies: the Picassos, Mozarts, and Kieron Williamsons of the world. These are the people who sit down and create a masterpiece in their first attempt. But are we all destined to be creative failures if we don't possess that edge early in life?
Gladwell says no. He discusses Cézanne, whose work improved with time. Cézanne required the steadfast support and encouragement of close friends to reach his creative potential.
The same is true of artists, writers, and creatives of all kinds. Gladwell calls late bloomers "experimental innovators." They are the people who need to experience things, often multiple times, before their ideas become clear. Experimental innovators are the people who spend years rewriting and revising, modifying and altering their work until it shines.
Do you see yourself as an early- or late-bloomer?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Transitions
I am feeling very out of sorts this week. My world seems to be in flux, and I can't quite catch my balance. I find myself taking deep breaths... apparently I'm forgetting to breathe properly.
Boss Man at his new school, Snuggle Monkey in his new kindergarten group, the end of summer and the start of a new school year (for me) just around the corner. News that one of my closest friends will likely be moving away.
Writing-wise, I have a non-fiction PB manuscript that is finished and ready to submit, and a magazine article that is similarly ready to go. But I feel as though I'm standing on a precipice. I just can't seem to make myself jump from the safety of what was to the unknown of what comes next.
I have every intention of submitting these things before I start teaching next week, but I can't seem to make myself do it. I'm not sure why that is. Perhaps its the security of knowing it can't be rejected if I don't send it. Perhaps it's just too much in a week filled with emotional turmoil.
I know the rejections will come. I know they are a part of the business of writing. And I'm okay with that.
So how do I get through this week of transition? I suppose the best way to start is to take another deep breath, polish up the cover letters, and head over to the post office.
How do you deal with uncertainty?
* * *
(And did you enter my contest? Ends Sept. 1!)
Boss Man at his new school, Snuggle Monkey in his new kindergarten group, the end of summer and the start of a new school year (for me) just around the corner. News that one of my closest friends will likely be moving away.
Writing-wise, I have a non-fiction PB manuscript that is finished and ready to submit, and a magazine article that is similarly ready to go. But I feel as though I'm standing on a precipice. I just can't seem to make myself jump from the safety of what was to the unknown of what comes next.
I have every intention of submitting these things before I start teaching next week, but I can't seem to make myself do it. I'm not sure why that is. Perhaps its the security of knowing it can't be rejected if I don't send it. Perhaps it's just too much in a week filled with emotional turmoil.
I know the rejections will come. I know they are a part of the business of writing. And I'm okay with that.
So how do I get through this week of transition? I suppose the best way to start is to take another deep breath, polish up the cover letters, and head over to the post office.
How do you deal with uncertainty?
* * *
(And did you enter my contest? Ends Sept. 1!)
Monday, August 2, 2010
Perseverance
This is something I've been thinking about for a while, and since Donna Hole is hosting a Milestones blogfest, it seemed appropriate to post it now.
* * *
One of the things I keep seeing from successful writers is the importance of being persistent. Of not giving up. Writing's not easy, at least not writing well, and it's the ability to keep writing, keep revising that separates the professionals from the amateurs.
To be honest, the idea scared me. How could I be a successful writer if I had to be persistent?
I've always given up on things easily, haven't I? I mean, I cycled through after-school activities like a kid in a theme park, staying with each ride just long enough to see how it felt. If it wasn't just right, I moved on.
Did I have it in me to be persistent? Would I give up if it wasn't easy?
I was afraid of my inability to persevere.
But last Monday, I wrote a post about my husband, and writing that post reminded me of the trials I went through to finish my post-graduate work. I realized that I can persevere when I want to.
After all, when you invest two years researching the hormonal control of reproduction of southern hemisphere birds (sounds dry, I know, but it's actually pretty interesting*), only to have an outbreak of avian malaria kill a number of your research subjects (and the ones that live aren't particularly interested in reproducing), it's pretty devastating.
Two years of my life gone. Nothing to show for it. Not one step closer to finishing my degree. It was like looking down a long tunnel and feeling myself get further and further away from the light at the end. It started to look like a pinprick.
To complicate matters, Beloved (soon-to-be) Husband got an offer for a post-doc. We were planning to get married and move together after finishing our degrees. But he had collected notebooks full of data and published at least two chapters of his dissertation, while I had nothing.
I had a long heart-to-heart with my advisor, and we decided that the only way I could salvage things was to use his 30-year record of behavior. I could sit in a little room, analyzing film and video, and do something completely different from what I wanted to do.
But it would let me finish my degree.
The next morning, I was at our field site, videotaping birds when an unfamiliar car drove up. There was only one access rode to our aviaries (yep, that's where the idea for my challenge offering came from), so they had to be there intentionally.
A good friend hopped out of the passenger side and headed for the observation blind where I was working. I climbed down the steps to see her face pinched with worry.
"Sunshine," she said. "Frank's dead."
For a moment, the world ceased to spin. My advisor, who I had met with justthe day before, died of a heart attack only three hours after I left his office. He got in his car and his heart gave out.
So there I was, no advisor, only his collection of film and video to get me through a Ph.D. project (something that should take three years to complete), and I had one year in which to grieve, pull myself together, and make something out of nothing.
But I did.
I spent god-knows how many hours sitting in that room analyzing video. It got old, it was tiresome, but something in me drove me to finish it.
At my dissertation defense, I expected to pass--after all, how can you fail the student who's had absolutely everything go wrong? But I also expected my committee to feel that I had scraped by.
Imagine my surprise when they were excited about my findings, when they thought that what I had done contributed valuable information to the field.
It made my success so much more meaningful.
What helps you to persevere?
* * *
One of the things I keep seeing from successful writers is the importance of being persistent. Of not giving up. Writing's not easy, at least not writing well, and it's the ability to keep writing, keep revising that separates the professionals from the amateurs.
To be honest, the idea scared me. How could I be a successful writer if I had to be persistent?
I've always given up on things easily, haven't I? I mean, I cycled through after-school activities like a kid in a theme park, staying with each ride just long enough to see how it felt. If it wasn't just right, I moved on.
Did I have it in me to be persistent? Would I give up if it wasn't easy?
I was afraid of my inability to persevere.
But last Monday, I wrote a post about my husband, and writing that post reminded me of the trials I went through to finish my post-graduate work. I realized that I can persevere when I want to.
After all, when you invest two years researching the hormonal control of reproduction of southern hemisphere birds (sounds dry, I know, but it's actually pretty interesting*), only to have an outbreak of avian malaria kill a number of your research subjects (and the ones that live aren't particularly interested in reproducing), it's pretty devastating.
Two years of my life gone. Nothing to show for it. Not one step closer to finishing my degree. It was like looking down a long tunnel and feeling myself get further and further away from the light at the end. It started to look like a pinprick.
To complicate matters, Beloved (soon-to-be) Husband got an offer for a post-doc. We were planning to get married and move together after finishing our degrees. But he had collected notebooks full of data and published at least two chapters of his dissertation, while I had nothing.
I had a long heart-to-heart with my advisor, and we decided that the only way I could salvage things was to use his 30-year record of behavior. I could sit in a little room, analyzing film and video, and do something completely different from what I wanted to do.
But it would let me finish my degree.
The next morning, I was at our field site, videotaping birds when an unfamiliar car drove up. There was only one access rode to our aviaries (yep, that's where the idea for my challenge offering came from), so they had to be there intentionally.
A good friend hopped out of the passenger side and headed for the observation blind where I was working. I climbed down the steps to see her face pinched with worry.
"Sunshine," she said. "Frank's dead."
For a moment, the world ceased to spin. My advisor, who I had met with justthe day before, died of a heart attack only three hours after I left his office. He got in his car and his heart gave out.
So there I was, no advisor, only his collection of film and video to get me through a Ph.D. project (something that should take three years to complete), and I had one year in which to grieve, pull myself together, and make something out of nothing.
But I did.
I spent god-knows how many hours sitting in that room analyzing video. It got old, it was tiresome, but something in me drove me to finish it.
At my dissertation defense, I expected to pass--after all, how can you fail the student who's had absolutely everything go wrong? But I also expected my committee to feel that I had scraped by.
Imagine my surprise when they were excited about my findings, when they thought that what I had done contributed valuable information to the field.
It made my success so much more meaningful.
* In case you are interested: In the northern hemisphere, most birds migrate for the winter. To make long-distance flight easier, their gonads (testes and ovaries) shrink to almost nothing. In spring, when the days start getting longer, they increase in size in preparation for breeding.
In the southern hemisphere, animals may be nomadic, but they generally don't migrate. No need to, since it doesn't get cold enough to lock up food and water under a blanket of snow. Birds in the southern hemisphere can breed year-round, and I was interested in the hormonal control of their breeding cycles and parental care (some fathers care for the young, others don't, and I wanted to know if hormones influenced the difference).
What helps you to persevere?
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