How I Learned to Stop Procrastinating and Do My PhD Corrections

For the record, I didn’t actually submit my corrected thesis with that title but I might has well have!

A little over nine months ago, I successfully defended my PhD thesis with major corrections. And then, just a month ago today, I submitted my corrections.

A total of 15,414 additional words and 70 pages over what I’d love to say was a six month period…but due to procrastination? More like a two month period. Oops.

I will say that the support I received during my corrections period was great – my supervisors were always there to discuss changes, and to provide support if I felt as though a suggestion did not entirely fit with my vision for the thesis (and to tell me when I was getting a bit too carried away as well!). And, similar to my actual viva, my external examiners were extremely gracious with their time and advice – they allowed me to ask for clarification, they heard my justifications for modifying different aspects of the thesis, and they would also give general support for my well-being, suggesting approaches to handling the corrections in a way that wouldn’t stress me out too much.

So then…why did it take me so damn long to do the corrections?

Well…a couple of things: Stress. Fear. The real world (remember the pandemic that’s still kinda happening? stuff like that).

When I first got the official papers with all of the comments from my external examiners (mind you, I also knew the general gist of these comments already as we obviously discussed them at the end of my viva), it felt like someone hit me with a brick. Maybe this is more to do with my general lack of self-confidence, but anytime I get comments on something I’ve made, it’s hard not to take them personally! So seeing the comments written out, single-spaced and taking up about three pages? I felt sick. And so I avoided them, using a form of stress-fuelled procrastination to do literally anything else besides my corrections. Finally, I got a reality check in the form of an email from my supervisors, and soon enough, I was working on my corrections in a guilt-fuelled rush. By that point, I was able to actually reread the comments and fully digest them, and you know what? They weren’t mean, or aggressive, or overtly critical like I somehow managed to believe. In fact, they were written in a kind and supportive tone, emphasising that these comments were meant to add to my already good work, to fully flesh out my ideas in a way that actually showcases my abilities. Realising this helped me maintain a somewhat healthy work ethic, knowing that this was less about some weird form of “repentance” for my academic sin of misspelling the word “cave” on page 230 – this was about that finally push, supported by a team of more senior academics, from “student” to “expert”. Sure, it wasn’t the prettiest of labours, but I’m proud of the result. Not only did I (most likely?) fix my weird misspellings, but I also ended up having several new realisations about my work, further developing my conclusions in a way that I think has elevated my original findings into something better than before. But also, I had a lot of misspellings…what a betrayal from Spellcheck, am I right?

To end this blog post, I want to provide some completely unasked for advice for those of you in the corrections process right now:

  1. You’re Not Alone. I had this ridiculous notion that the corrections period was supposed to be this intense, solidarity process in which I reflected on my faults and tried to fix them for weeks on end. Yeah, that’s not actually how this is supposed to work, surprisingly enough! You’re still “allowed” to discuss with your supervisors as well as, depending on your particular university’s policies, your external examiners as well. In some cases this can even include sending drafted parts to your examiners for feedback (although again, check with both your examiners as well as your university’s policies). Even if your corrections aren’t necessary too extensive, it is probably worth maintaining some form of communication with everyone, especially as you will probably jump into working on publications after the corrections are finished, and often times the corrections themselves can provide better insight into what you might decide to develop further.
  2. This Should Be Collaborative. This is something I said regarding the viva as well, but despite having a reputation for being a particularly combative or frustrating part of the PhD process…it actually shouldn’t be! Obviously this is unfortunately not the case for everyone, but PhDs should be a period of collaboration – not only are you adding to your particular field, but you’re also gaining experience and improving your own skills. No one should be setting you up to fail! With that in mind, the corrections should be similar – it is about improvement. The goal should not be “how do I perfect this thesis” but instead, “how can I improve this in a way that shows off everything I have learned and worked for?” And, following the first point, your supervisors (and potentially examiners as well) should also be working with you under that same mindset.
  3. But Don’t Be Afraid to Disagree! That said, collaboration isn’t just about saying “yes” all the time! One of the most important things I learned was that at this point in my career, I can actually disagree with the comments. Unlike high school (where most disagreements with a grade resulted in being ignored or, at worst, further deductions…yikes), you are now at the point of expertise where your input matters – so use it! Obviously this is not to say that you can ignore all of your corrections and say you know better (I wish!), but you ultimately know your work best at this point. For me, a lot of my disagreements had to do with focus and flow, so I ended up placing new additions in a different section than the one that was suggested. So long as you can justify it, you should be good – but again, talk to your supervisors/examiners as well. You may know your work best, but they may have additional advice to help you truly demonstrate that.
  4. Record. EVERYTHING. No, not in The Room way. But another great piece of advice I got early was to keep track of the actual changes I made by annotating a copy of the comments form. Not only does this showcase how much progress you’ve made (a huge thing for someone like me who needs to have that bit of encouragement!), but it also lets you pinpoint to the examiners where you’ve made changes, and provide justification or clarification if you decide to modify one of their suggestions or ignore it outright.
  5. This Is Not a Punishment. I already touched upon this, but it bears repeating: this is not a punishment! Technically speaking, you’ve passed and – unless you manage to do something drastic to your thesis – you’re likely to end up with a degree after your corrections are done, regardless of whether they’re “minor” or “major”. But academia, being the way it is, loves to foster a toxic atmosphere of competitiveness and aggression (which frankly isn’t helped by the fact there are loads of academics and Reviewer #2’s that perpetuate that sort of toxicity), so it’s understandable why you may feel like you’re being punished or unduly criticised. Ultimately, this is about making you the best you can be – preparing you for not only publication but also for post-postgraduate life. Regardless of the stress, doing the corrections helped me recognise the actual merits of my work – something I had yet to really realise. For me, corrections weren’t about taking an eraser to my mistakes, but providing further supports and structures to the foundation which was my work, and preparing myself to build upwards from there.

Corrections can be scary, but they’re there to help you. You just gotta…you know…actually do them. At some point. Eventually.


If you’re financially stable enough, why not donate to help out marginalised archaeologists in need via the Black Trowel Collective Microgrants? You can subscribe to their Patreon to become a monthly donor, or do a one-time donation via PayPal.

My work and independent research is supported almost entirely by the generosity of readers – if you’re interested in contributing a tiny bit, you can find my PayPal here, as well as my Amazon Wishlist for research material.

Surviving a PhD Defence at the End of the World (aka at the End of 2020)

I had originally planned on writing this blog post shortly after my defence (known as a viva here in the UK) back at the start of December, but life got in the way…and by that, I mean my job closed down due to the pandemic and we moved house and then the holidays arrived and I was trying (and failing) to get my visa extension application submitted prior to the end of the year…yeah, sounds like 2020, doesn’t it?

My set-up for my viva: a can of soda to make me feel even more sick than I already did, my sticker-filled notebook with a dozen pages of viva-specific notes, my personal copy of my thesis with so much highlighter/notes/sticky notes weighing it down, and a positive, feel good message of encouragement to myself (“You can do this, bitch!”)

Similar to how I felt when I submitted my PhD thesis at the end of September, I didn’t exactly feel as celebratory as I probably should have felt…I mean, I did celebrate, of course. There was a lot of wine and takeaway and enjoying the start of my post-PhD life, but it didn’t feel like the end of anything. And that’s true in some respects – I still need to do my corrections, of course, which consists of about 10,000 additional words in the next 6 months. But what I always felt would be a huge milestone felt more like a single stepping stone.

And there’s probably a few reasons for that, of course. Yes, 2020 was the Year from Hell but let’s be honest, the only new thing it brought to the table was a global pandemic. That’s not to minimise the effects (which are still ongoing and likely to continue far beyond 2020) of coronavirus, but rather to say that it ultimately intensified things that were already in play: austerity, racism, anti-immigrant sentiment, class warfare…the list goes on. Before I even started my PhD, I knew I was taking a risk – academic archaeology jobs in general are not plentiful, much less so for immigrants. But I wanted to continue my academic journey to the “end”, aka the PhD, and I wanted to remain in the UK for as long as I possibly can alongside the family I’ve created since moving here in 2015. As we leave 2020 behind, I find myself looking at an even more diminishing job market, saddled with student loan debt and the ever present threat of the Home Office still at my side.

It’s difficult, at least from my perspective, to then see my PhD as a jumping off point for bigger and better things when I have no idea what the future holds – not just for me, but for everyone, for the entire world. And that’s not to say that I won’t continue to try, either; alongside my corrections, I will be shopping a postdoc idea around in the hopes of getting funding for it here in the UK (or at least get the funding for a pilot study). I’m gonna fight like hell to continue to do what I love – to research, to explore our past and how it connects to the present and the future, to showcase how much we can learn from the dustiest, tiniest bones hidden away in a museum collection somewhere. But I’m also absolutely terrified at the same time, and I doubt I’m the only PhD student who feels that way right now.

I don’t want this post to be so negative, though! I should emphasise that I absolutely loved doing my viva. My examiners, Dr. Hannah Koon and Dr. James Morris, were so accommodating and nice! They went out of their way to make the viva a productive conversation that made me feel just as smart and professional as they are, they never asked “gotcha!” questions or tried to make me feel unwanted or unworthy of the PhD. To be honest, I don’t think I really felt like an expert until my viva, and it is definitely thanks to the care and kindness they provided during the examination. And this also made for my results – major corrections – to not feel like a major failing! They stressed it was about improving my work, and that made sure I was an active participant in discussing what exactly needed work. It was a fantastic three hours (that honestly flew by!) and I want to reiterate just how thankful I am to the both of them that my viva was such an enjoyable and productive experience.

I also want to thank everyone who reached out to me prior to the viva with advice, and let me pay it forward by providing some of my own tips for surviving the PhD viva below:

  • Yes, reread your thesis! I did not (and still do not) want to ever look at my thesis again, but if you do anything prior to your viva, I would at least suggest reading it once more. Not only is it good to have a refresher (I know people who waited 6+ months to do their viva) of what you actually wrote, but you may already have had enough time away from it to see places where you could improve (and thus prepare ahead of time for when your examiners likely bring it up).
  • Look at your last few drafts. Connected to that last point – it might be worth rereading some of the comments from your last few drafts. Obviously depends on your supervisors, but mine were always quite good at pinpointing potential talking points for my viva, even months and months away from the actual examination. Ultimately you cannot predict what will and won’t be asked at your viva, but the more prep work you’re able to do, the better.
  • Remember: It’s Your Viva. Something I was extremely appreciative of during my viva was the ability to take the first 10 minutes to present the major findings of my work and the key themes of my thesis. I’m aware that not everyone will get that luxury, but I think it does speak to something that you should strive for, if possible: setting the agenda. It’s your viva, ultimately, and although your examiners will be the ones asking the questions, remember that you can lead the conversation where you’d like. And that of course includes everyone’s favourite phrase: “That’s an interesting question, but it is beyond the scope of this research.”

Have a Happy (and Safe) New Year, Everyone!


If you’re financially stable enough, why not donate to help out marginalised archaeologists in need via the Black Trowel Collective Microgrants? You can subscribe to their Patreon to become a monthly donor, or do a one-time donation via PayPal.

My work and independent research is supported almost entirely by the generosity of readers – if you’re interested in contributing a tiny bit, you can find my PayPal here, as well as my Amazon Wishlist for research material.