Project Book: is it time to give up?

It's a Monday and for once I have time aside to do work on the book.

That is if I ignore, looking for a job, looking for freelance work, doing work on one of the creative projects I'm involved in and about 100 other things.

That's one problem.

The other is the utterly paralysing fear, the kind that seizes my chest and genuinely makes it difficult to breathe. It's the same feeling I get night after night when I realise another day has gone by and I haven't worked on it. Or worked on it enough.

And then there are the days I spend looking at it, trying to plan it, trying to make sense of it. And getting nowhere. Nothing has moved in months, not really. And I genuinely wonder if it's time to give up.

For many reasons. First being, I've wasted enough time. Enough time saying I'm working part-time to do the book, that I'm waiting for the book to be done. Yes, I've struggled with first unemployment then horrendous temp work, then looking for a job, then starting it...juggling other ways to pay the bills. I feel like I'm making excuses even though I know I'm not. That stuff is hard, the insecurity is hard, the worry is hard and the juggling shifts and trying to write it hard.

It's also that, during that time many an interesting project large and small has come my way, and it's very difficult to say no to those. Indeed it would be foolish to say no to most of them. I already struggle to get a look in with the theatre world- they dismiss me as an academic, not one of them. So when they offer, I can't say no.

I couldn't say no to a company putting on my play, the re-working of which has been so important and valuable but also has eaten a lot of my time. I couldn't say no to a commissioned piece which the first draft of which ate up a good chunk of last year. I couldn't say no to a musical theatre project which is now taking shape and taking off. All of these are projects I would have dreamed of even 2 years ago, but still, I feel guilty that they've made me not work on the book.


Then there are all the smaller bits- but things that are in fact huge as well. My 'day to day' reviewing but also some pretty big pieces in the last year- The Stage, Slate, American Theatre. None of these I could say no to. Oh and writing another academic book chapter.

And I feel like a failure because many academics churn out far more 'proper' academic work than that- journal articles, book chapters, and monographs. But also, that they have the institutional infrastructure in which to do it.

Because that's the thing. It's fucking hard doing this outside. And I know academics don't want to hear that. Because they like thinking theirs is the hardest job in the world. And yes I know you all struggle with research time, and you work bloody hard if you're teaching. But you have an institutional support mechanism as simple as you have libraries, you have colleagues. You go to conferences. I can't afford conferences. I can't afford academic books. I have zero concepts of what is going on in the field.

And all this makes me question the book itself.

I know I can write an intelligent, dare I say interesting analysis of Angels in America. Specifically, I can analyze the 2017 production until the cows (Angels) come home. And it's good, and I get it, I have things to say, I know that production, I have thoughts on what it means, where it sits...I have things to say.

But they're no good. Because they aren't academic things. They aren't referenced. The second half of this book only has references from reviews and the play itself. And for me, that's enough. But I know it means the book is a failure, it'll never get to print. And I can't do it I just can't do it, I can't make it 'academic'.  With the best will in the world, I'm not part of that world, and I don't have the tools. I also never had the skill.

So what do I do? I've wasted over a year on this. More if you count everything. I've pushed back deadlines so much I don't even know if it'll get published anyway. And honestly, a big part of me wants to give up, before I'm told I've failed.

And it breaks my heart. Not just because I've wasted so long, put so much into it. But because I do know I have things to say. That are valuable. That are in their tiny niche important.


But on a practical level what do I do, these are my key issues:

1. Time. How long I can sustain this, and carving out actual time to do it.
2. Money. Getting a real job. 
3. References- try as I might it will never be academic enough.
4. Proofreading. I nearly failed my PhD because my dyslexia meant I couldn't get it right (on this note the indexing terrifies me because I can't 'see' alphabetical order right and I'll fuck it up)
5. The thought that it's all wrong and not 'academic' enough anyway and it'll get thrown back at me.

So what do I do? give up on this, publish a series of glorified blog posts? do I try something different, finish it and try and find a non-academic publisher instead to take my treatise on why this play matters (then stick it in a drawer for all time when nobody does).

Or do I give up, not waste any more of my life on it?

I love this work dearly, it's what I've put everything into, but I've reached a point of wondering, when is enough enough? when do you admit your failure and move on?