I've always liked to write, and producing copious amounts of text has never been a problem for me . . . until I moved here. Now that someone is telling me I have to write, I finally understand what the phrase squeezing blood out of a turnip means. (I am also coming to understand that turnips are entirely way too stubborn for their own good!)
Nonetheless, I still entertain thoughts about how school must have made Einstein feel, along with ideas about all the things I might write if someone weren't insisting that I do so. I derive a secret pleasure from generating potential titles and acknowledgments pages--both layered with lots of barely disguised meaning. I've forgotten the more "scholarly" ones because I haven't bothered to write them down, but here are a few whimsical ones that amused me:
ABD is Good Enough for Me!: Why Our Best & Brightest Are Checking Out Instead of Trading Up
ABD - All But Dissertation or All But Dead?: How Grad Schools Are Smothering Innovation & Killing Creativity
From Pollyanna to Puddleglum: Case Studies of Depression, Dementia, & Distractability in Doctoral Candidates
Bitter? Who me? Naaaah!
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