I have now defended by dissertation (successfully) and have filed it with the university’s dissertation office. The ABD journey is at an end. But what comes next?

In terms of the intellectual project that the dissertation represents, this really isn’t the end but the beginning of a new phase. My plan, which is the norm for history PhD’s (although not a universal practice), is to revise the dissertation for publication as an academic book. Since the dissertation is, in some sense, already a book, this may seem redundant. Answering the question of what makes a “book” different from a “dissertation” (and hence answering the implicit “why bother?”) is a tall task, especially since I’m at the very beginning of this process. I have some ideas about how I’d like my book to be different from the dissertation, but it’s going to take some time (and distancing myself from the dissertation) to work out.

In general terms, though. the dissertation and book serve different functions. At its root, my dissertation is a demonstration of my scholarly abilities. My committee has been a kind of VIP audience for this performance. Inevitably, then, the dissertation isn’t optimized for a broader readership.

The opposite should be true for the book. Which is not to say that it will be a NYT best-seller, or that it has to be to be successful. What matters is tailoring the final product in such a way that it maximally impacts the way people in my immediate field (late imperial/modern China) and some configuration of adjacent fields think about history. Rather than showing what I have learned, the emphasis will be more on teaching others. Obviously, those two goals aren’t inherently at cross-purposes—it’s more a matter of emphasis. The dissertation is in some sense already a “teaching” document, and parts from it that I am working to publish as standalone articles (one accepted, another soon to be submitted) are even more in that vein.

Speaking of teaching, though, what is next for me? On this front, there is good news and…no, no bad news, just the future. I have accepted an offer of a two-year postdoctoral teaching fellowship here at the University of Chicago. Next year, I’ll be teaching a couple sections of a class in our core curriculum and two courses of my own design on Chinese history, which I’m naturally very excited about. The teaching responsibilities aren’t especially heavy, so I’ll have a good deal of time to continue my research and writing. Having a source of income for myself and not having to move (which would require my wife to look for a new job) is especially welcome given the current circumstances.

All this is very, very good.

The post-doc route is becoming increasingly common among humanities and social sciences PhD’s. It’s not entirely a bad thing, but it’s also a side-effect of the competitiveness of the academic job market. It’s entirely plausible that after my two-year term is up I’ll need to move into another post-doc or a temporary teaching position in order to continue in a career in academia. I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel disappointed about not having secured permanent employment.

I deleted a ‘yet’ from the end of that last sentence. Because who knows? I’m fortunate that for now I can keep earning a living doing work that I enjoy. Full stop. Yes, the work I do over the next couple of years could help me get a permanent job, but there’s no way to guarantee that.

One effect—hardly the least important—of the pandemic is going to be a (further) cratering of the academic job market as universities cut their budgets, implement hiring freezes, and, in some cases, lay of staff or even close down. Some people have already been affected by this dramatically in the form of rescinded offers. (Not me, although two searches for which I had applied—one where I had a preliminary interview—were canceled/frozen. Frustrating but not devastating.) Many of the jobs that people entering the market planned on applying for in the fall will simply not exist. Not this year, maybe not next year, maybe…who knows?

“Live in the moment” isn’t very helpful long-term advice for a PhD student. Writing a dissertation or a book isn’t a matter of moments but years. Without a permanent job, I can’t guarantee that the dissertation will become a book. But I also can’t not begin that process. I can’t not continue following through on the publication plans already in place. I can’t not keep presenting at conferences. I can’t not dive into a second project. Those things aren’t about “the moment.” They’re steps on a journey that leads…who knows?

There are probably too many ellipses in this post—those…moments, where one thought trails off and where a new one has yet to pick up its slack. It’s poor writing style, I know. It reflects hesitation about what to say next or unwillingness to follow a thought to its logical conclusion. Those are the moments we don’t want to live in.

In the coming months, I’ll spend some time with fingers hovered over keys, trying to work out that next letter after the…reaching for the relief that comes from confirming that the whole thing is going somewhere, that it doesn’t just trail off into oblivion. I feel a compulsion to keep going, to feel my way toward what comes next, and to hope that the first step from A really does take me toward B, whatever it is.

But I’m also going to spend some time on the other side of those ellipses with the thoughts, the tasks, and, yes, the dissertation that are FINISHED. Period. Paragraph break.

Wherever you are in life, I hope that you are able to find satisfaction in something that is done, regardless of how big or small it seems. If nothing else, you have been part of this dissertation journey with me, so its end is yours to find some rest in, too, if you’d like. But if sitting still is not your thing right now, if you’re too anxious to get to the other side…I understand. Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right behind you.