The Stories We Tell

The last few years I have scanned all of the old family pictures. The albums were falling apart, the plastic coverings were degraded and starting to affect the photos. I'm necessarily sure why I did this. I am the last in my family, I am not married, I have no children, and there is no one after me who will care. I imagine when I die that the my computer will be wiped, donated, and the images will just disappear.

But the older I get the more I realize how much who I am was shaped by my very earliest years. And the older I get the more I realize that the majority of that time was a fiction. It was a story Mom told, then repeated, until it became THE story, replacing the truth, whatever that may have been. Now with Mom gone, that stories she told, are all that remain except for some artifacts- a jade elephant with a broken trunk, these pictures, and old wooden box.

The story Mom told was that we lived in a commune house outside of Washington D.C, called The Big House.

It was probably, supposedly, exactly what you would think a hippie, commune house was in the early 1970s. It was a group of friends who raised their children together, two born a month apart and inseparable as children. It was cinder block bookcases and plants and friends. It was communal meals and shared ideals.

It was shared work and shared care. It was long nights sitting on the floor, listening to vinyl. It was the smell of pot so prevalent some of the young folks growing up in this house *may* have thought this was incense, since both seemed the same. It was a group, a collective, that carried this sense of family with them. So when a group decided that D.C. was no longer the best place, they decided to migrate to a small set of barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina. It was different but in many ways the same. People talked about being close to nature, taking long walks on the beach, collecting a ridiculous amount of shells and beach glass. It was people living hand to mouth, but focusing more on the quality of life, the love, the comfort, the support, than anything else.

It was an ideal, it was a dream. Later it was watching The Big Chill and not thinking that folks were the ones who gave up but the one who stayed doing what they originally started doing to give back. 

But it was also all a lie. The group stopped talking. One went into beach development and real estate, far removed from, and a total betrayal of the original ideals. Another went onto work for corporations and multi-million dollar companies, although would have denied they had given up on living their true life. Another over dosed, the life an excuse for the drugs that soon became all consuming.

But I was much older before I realized it was all a lie. I believed the story I was told. I believed that people were innately honest. I believed it was our individual job, our duty, to do what was best for the common good. I believed that people should always work together for the common goals of the community. I believed in following my heart, the strength of my convictions, and going where I was needed. It's why I'm a teacher. It's why I'm a writer. It's why I collect beach class, and collect vinyl, and spend hours on the floor listening to vinyl, and burn incense (the actual kind). 

The dissonance between my innate nature, shaped by believing these stories, and the reality of the world, is the source of my greatest disappointment in life. 

I do not do well with institutions. I do not do well with things that are not in the best interests of all. I don't understand people who lie or are duplicitous. I don't understand why everyone cannot work together to accomplish things that best serve our community. I am continually hurt by people who do these things. I am always surprised when people say one thing and do another. I am disappointed in people and structures I have placed my faith in. I am constantly in trouble for saying these things, advocating, standing up. Trust me, if I was capable of sitting there and not saying anything, I would have done it by now. Because me being me, me buying into my Mom's stories, is my greatest strength and foundation, it is the basis for my quiet life, but it is also the greatest source of hurt. People don't like it when you tell them things are bigoted and racist. People do not like when you speak up, speak out, demand more.

My advocacy has both been of varying degrees over my adult life and a constant. The older I get the more I think it is my privilege and responsibility to do all I can with what I have.

So I will stick with my Mom's stories. I will weave my own using her foundation. And every day continue to believe that maybe the story can be true, if people just want it to be. 

My Continual Evolution of Ungrading

The last few years it seems like I completely redesign my courses, the assignments I give, the way I separate learning and grades in my courses.

This year all my classes did grading conferences. My composition students had 3 major writing assignments, and their writing portfolio, each of which counted as 25% of their grade. For each we went over what the assignment should include and based on that checklist they would present their work and tell me what grade they thought it earned and why. In general we talked about a "C" meeting the minimum requirements, an A or B doing more, a D or F doing less. For the most part this worked well. It seemed to strike a good balance with first year/beginning students. I assigned genres but they chose their own topics to write on so there was a lot of choice and freedom.

In my upper level classes I tried something new. They had two categories of grades, their writer's notebooks and their unessays. At midterms they showed me 5 pages from their notebook that focused on an idea or theme, and told me what grade and why. For their unessay they submitted a proposal outlining the topic and format of their unessay, again with what grade and why.

Talking with the students they like the unessays, although they say the choice freaks them out.

They hate the writer's notebooks.

I LOVE writer's notebooks/daybooks. I live by mine. I just started #41 and my closet is full of 19 years of them. I think they are wonderful habits and resources and I absolutely cannot get them to work in my classes. I have tried multiple variations- like an interactive notebook with specific guidelines, few guidelines but a general idea. Examples, images, photos. Nothing. They say they feel "babied" being told to keep a notebook, they don't know what it's supposed to do, they don't like it. Yet their images they share, what I see them doing in class is EXACTLY what I want them to be.

So I'm at a loss.

I guess I need to stop trying to make writer's notebooks happen.

So, sadly, when designing my classes for fall, I let the writer's notebooks go. Instead, I focused on designing several key assignments. In part I did this because there were some skill gaps I was noticing across my classes. So, below are the "standard" assignments I've designed, that with small tweaks, I plan on using across my upper level English classes. I also need to, as I build out my classes, build in the skills needed to get them to these major writing assignments. There will be flexibility, some classes, some students may not need all the mini-lessons, the scaffolding, but my classes are always flexible, so that will be fine.

I'm hoping that this introduction, revisiting, will help build these skills while still allowing students to choose their own topics, research interests, and apply them. I've also kept the unessay project since they really like that and frankly I love seeing the results!

Close Reading:  You will choose a text then choose 2-3 lines in that text to analyze You’ll put the lines at the top of your paper Then you’ll write a detailed paragraph that does the “close reading” which goes pretty much word by word and talks about what each word means Then having done all that micro, close work, you step back and write a detailed paragraph on how those lines represent the work as a whole There is no introduction or conclusion, no outside sources. The focus is strictly on your analysis

Unessay Project:  You will choose a topic/format that we’ve seen in our course. You will then replicate/create/comment on that topic/format Formats include: quilts, collages, sculptures, models, recipes, drawings The topic just has to be related to the course If you Google “Unessay” you will see a variety of formats and projects from a wide range of classes In addition to creating your unessay you will turn in a 1 page explanation explaining why the topic/format was important at the time, and why you chose to do this.

Apply What You’ve Learned You will choose a text (short story, essay, film, novel) that you believe you have something to say about as it relates to our course Write a paper that analyzes a specific aspect of that text (scene, apply a literary theory lens, theme, close reading, etc.) It will engage critically with scholarly texts and use them to support your own, unique arguments MLA format, internal citations, Works Cited.

Final Course Reflection: You will write me a letter that explicitly tells me what you learned in this course, providing specific evidence from class readings, activities, and discussions.

This is a tweak. 

But I am making a major change. In the syllabus section on assessment I have the assignments above, but before that I am putting this in:

Learning and Grades

For me what is important is that you learn in my class. I have designed our class to do this in three ways.

• The first is I have designed major assignments that allow you to demonstrate specific skills. 

• I will provide an outline of what the assignment should include 

• You will choose your own topics to write about. I encourage you to use your assignments to explore and fill gaps in what we cover as a class, exploring narratives typically erased in the canon, LGBTQ+, Chican@, Black, Indigenous, People of Color.

• The week the assignments are due you will come see me during office hours so we can talk through the assignment. It is a chance for you to share what you’re most proud of, what you learned, and for me to provide feedback.

• The second is I then backtrack from those major assignments to design our day to day class assignments that are practice for those skills. The idea is that you have time to practice, receive feedback, and learn how to improve so that your work on the major assignment is the best it can be.

• The third type of assessment has to do with grades. At midterms you will meet with me and answer the question “what have you learned?” 

• You will tell me what grade you think you’ve earned at midterms and why

• A “C” meets the minimum requirements. As and Bs do more. Ds and Fs do less. 

• You’ll provide evidence from class discussions, your notebook, assignments, etc. 

• At finals you’ll do something similar, but in a letter you submit.

If at any point you want to sit down and talk about how you’re doing, what you’re learning, what you need help with, I am happy to do that. I want you to be able to use this class to explore your interests and expand your learning. My role is to be a resource to help you do that.

At my institution I have to post midterm and final grades. I like the idea of having students telling me what they learned and providing evidence to support their statements (although it's not writer's notebook). This approach may not be popular. I can see and anticipate pushback. But for me this is a reflection of what I think is important in a classroom. It is a balance of what I am required to do and what I want students to get out of my class. I hope it empowers my students to be able to determine their own learning, present evidence, make their argument.

I am only doing this with my upper level English courses. My Composition and World Lit classes will still follow the 4 set assignments, but with grade conferences.

Anyway, I'm excited. I hope it works. In the past I've found that explaining why I do things this way goes a long way with students. And our English majors know I listen to them and adjust so I'm sure my students who take next year's classes with me will be grateful and happy to NOT see writer's notebooks on the agenda.

Capture 1.5

Time Lapse of the Outside World

Week ----

Today was the first time I grocery shopped without a panic attack.

Day -- and most of the people in the store had masks on. Almost all were paying attention to the bizarre chutes and ladders one way navigation that is shopping now. Miss something you need in an aisle and you're doubling back.

But at least there's food on the shelves. No toilet paper ever, but food.

It's weird to notice what is and isn't there.

I need hair ties- the elastic in all mine have given up the ghost.

But there aren't any.

But there's Draino, so I'm okay.

I feel like a pro by this point- mask, no gloves, only pick things up once, zip past people who aren't moving in the aisle, in and out.

This feels like just what we do now. 

Still no reusable bags, take everything out, put away, wash hands.

Since the food seems to be here if different I cancel the meal delivery and feel a singular joy in filling my basket with vegetables for my salads.

The Stockboy who told me my first week here he had a dream about my tattoos is there and calls me Baby Girl and hopes I'm okay.

Because I'm only going out once a week it's an odd time lapse movie of what the outside world is doing now. 

It's this constant change, not knowing what the rules are TODAY that makes me anxious, although I'm trying to adapt.

What is time?

Last week there were frozen blueberries but no toilet paper. Never any toilet paper.

Dad says HIS store had 6 packs of Charmin. I've never been jealous of toilet paper before.

It was the first week I wore a mask to shop. The checkout lady was rude, saying she couldn't hear me. I almost cried. I wore gloves, cotton ones I ordered, and felt stupid.

I am grateful I am able to swoop in and out, limiting my time.

The hipsters clogging the aisle while they pick up and put down EVERY. BOX. of fancy Triscuits makes me want to stab them.

There are now signs telling you which way to move. This way, not that. Most people aren't paying any attention to them. Those who are trying to follow the rules versus those who are not make for confused swimming in the aisles, I keep changing direction to avoid people.

I rush, I feel rushed. 

It's not panic, but I feel like I'm doing everything wrong. Am I following the right rules? What are the rules? Which doctors do I listen to?

?

The week before there was tissue paper, not Kleenex, we're deep into the off brand supplies. But paper products give me hope.

The news said a month is what it would take for the supply lines to reset. It's fine. It'll be fine.

Older folks, disabled folks, now wearing masks. 

Shelves are less empty but the shelves look wrong- the colors and packaging I'm used to has been replaced by the same product in different form. It all contributes to the surreal feeling of life now.

Cashiers are now behind plexi, wearing gloves. Stockboys in masks. The manager who looks like Gimli striding confidently down the aisles, maskless, but working that vest.

Do I need to wash every box when I get home? I left my reusable bags at home. A doctor in a video told me everything I was doing was wrong.

The duct tape has been replaced by circles. Very brand-ey.

Why is no one freaked out by the empty shelves? Like, everyone is fine with no toilet paper? Or do they just have a year's stash at home?

Dad drove an hour to drop off an off brand, 4 pack of toilet paper. And a 5 pack of Kleenex. I've ecstatic. He then turns around and heads home. No touching.

3

There is duct tape on the floor showing people where to stand in the store. No one is paying any attention. 

I am hyper aware of everyone. Too close. Too close. People in line (TOO CLOSE) talking on phones, complaining about the ridiculousness of it all.

An old lady moves slowly down the aisle wearing a mask. Should *I* be wearing a mask? Should I be wearing gloves? Is six feet enough? How will I know?

The people wearing masks are getting looks from the ones NOT wearing masks.

Lots of still empty shelves. Food just NOT there. I only wander out of the house once a week to grab groceries and then go home so the changes seem severe and out of context.

Have the stores been resupplying several times a week and people are STILL emptying the shelves? Or are the shelves staying empty?

I move to meal delivery in plan to stretch time I have between grocery store visits, not take food from people who have no options.

2

Soap gone now.

In fact all the cleaning supplies seem to be gone. My brain wants to fill in the shelves- what sat there? Is there really a desperate need for Endust? I mean, I get the antibacterial soap, the bleach, but you really see a pressing need for the Swiffer?

I am panicked entering the store. I stop right inside the door, then realize I can't block it, move a few feet in and freeze again.

Canned foods mostly gone.

Rice gone.

Meat gone. Man stands at swinging door to back and demands woman in butcher coat to bring something from the back for him.

There is no back. But he now has his hands on his hips.

I get home and toss clothes in washer, get in a shower and scrub with Dr. Bronner's. Am I clean enough? Did I get it?

Dad visits, insists on going on for lunch. The Chinese food place is empty. He hugs me both hello and goodbye and it already feels weird because I know we're not supposed to.

1

I have a full blown panic attack in the store at the number of people and the number of empty shelves. The store is not beach-in-summer-busy but I feel claustophobic. There seem to be people everywhere and the lights are too bright but maybe it's just that there are ALL these empty shelves for the light to bounce off of.

No meat.

No frozen foods.

No toilet paper.

Shockingly, still plenty of soap on the shelf but no Clorox wipes.

The emptiness freaks me out. No one else seems freaked out, leading me to believe I'm overreacting.

I buy Dr. Bronner's so I feel clean.

(Don’t) Look Back: Our Nostalgia for Horror and Slasher Films

Wickham and I received some great proposals, and we're excited about this project. In particular, this is my first edited collection as an editor, and I'm really excited about putting this project together. But one thing Wickham and I agreed on early on was that we wanted representative voices in the collection and we were going to actively work to ensure we had that.

So even though we've received some amazing ideas we're excited about, we also noticed that we have a gap, with no Indigenous or Black scholars represented. So we've revised/tweaked the call for papers and are sending it back out.

I hope that you all will share it, and submit something.

Karrå

Call for Papers: 

(Don’t) Look Back: Our Nostalgia for Horror and Slasher Films

Editors: Karrȧ Shimabukuro and Wickham Clayton

On first consideration it may not seem like “nostalgia” and horror and slasher films have any clear connections. Usually nostalgia is applied to events and experiences that have a pleasant connotation, even if these pleasant feelings are a result of a rose-tinted view of the past. While nostalgia can refer to personal feelings as well as larger communal or cultural memory and pleasure, there is also an implied action to it- that someone is seeking to reclaim, or revisit a specific time period or place for an explicit reason. Applying this understanding to remakes, revisions, reimaginings helps us understand what the purpose of these reworked creations are, the work they’re doing, and how they build on and expand on an already understood and accepted set of narratives, tropes, characters, and beliefs.

Since the national and global trauma of 9/11 we have seen dozens of remakes, reboots, revisions, and reimaginings of horror and slasher films from the 1970s and 80s. Each work seeks to capture some element of the original- the simple understanding of good and evil, the audience reaction to scares, an aesthetic homage, the commercial popularity. If we shift our perspective to view these films through the lens of nostalgia, we can see that many of these narratives are grounded in trauma, the performance of it, the aftermath, how people survive and later work through it. Whether it is a movie, mini-series, television show, or video game, these remakes can be organized according to several subtopics that perform different work within the media and reflect different fears, anxieties, and desires of a specific historical and cultural moment, although the argument could be made that some texts belong in a variety of categories, and there is noticeable overlap.

We’re interested in texts from BIPOC scholars, especially chapters that apply new approaches to well-known films. Poltergeist (1982/2015) falls into the trap of appropriating Indigenous stories and lore, setting these figures and beliefs in the past, erasing them from the present narrative. To date an Indigenous scholar has not examined this. In a similar manner, while the nuclear setting of The Hills Have Eyes (1977/2006) is often considered in analysis, the Southwest setting, origin of colonial seizure of Native lands for nuclear testing, and the use of appropriated land, has not been.

Similarly, “traditional” horror films have often erased their Black characters or used them in exploitative ways. We’d welcome proposals that discuss films that seek to revise or fill the gap these films have. We’d also love to see proposals on traditionally racialized monsters in horror like zombies, and movies that present a new presentation of horror, calling out to but not replicating Anglo structures or tropes.

Proposals of roughly 350 words, with bio, should be submitted by 1 June 2020 to Karrá Shimabukuro khkshimabukuro@gmail.com and Wickham Clayton wickscripts@hotmail.com. 

First drafts (6,000-8,000 words) due 31 December 2020. We welcome questions and expressions of interest at any stage.

The Incomparable Dr. Helen Damico

Dr. Helen Damico died yesterday, 15 April 2020, of COVID-19. She is the first person I've known who has died. The last time I saw Dr. Helen Damico was 21 July 2017. Christine Kozikowski had come stateside to show Dr. Damico the front matter for New Readings on Women and Early Medieval English Literature and Culture: Cross-Disciplinary Studies in Honour of Helen Damico (2019). Dr. Damico was clearly excited to see people, in a general way, but she also clearly did not know who a lot of us were at that point. It was not long after that her family moved her home, and into an Alzheimer's facility where she stayed until she died yesterday.

I first met Dr. Damico in August 2013 in my first semester of coursework for my PhD program at the University of New Mexico. I'm not sure why I, as a first gen, first semester, older PhD student with no grasp for languages signed up for Old Norse as part of my introduction to medieval studies, but I am so happy I did. I originally wanted to look at the folklore of Loki as a proto-devil in English literature and I spent a lot of that first year in her office talking about this and the class. I struggled with the grammar and language without any real past foundation for it, and she was kind and generous every time I sat across from her. She would patiently go over every question I had, and never lost patience with what I know were often ignorant grammar questions.

Dr. Damico was amazing in every way you can be. She was a firecracker. The knowledge her brain contained were immeasurable. She brooked no nonsense. When she was ready to move on with a topic, or more likely have you move on from a topic, she constantly would say "Okay, good, fine." She was tiny, a thing that turned into frailty those last years, dwarfed by the piles in her office which reflected decades of occupancy. At least once a semester she dug out her projector, like old school projector, and would show us slides from her visits to the places we were reading about. 

In class she was amazing to listen to. She easily taught larger classes of folks mostly buried by Old Norse grammar. Later when I took her Viking Women course, she could rattle off details and connections in mind-blowing ways, although in hindsight it is clear that by then she was already suffering from Alzheimers. She could conduct class, and discuss all the Viking Women in the texts we read, but seemed to have a hard time remembering things we'd talked about or conferences.

As someone who started her PhD program at 37 I loved that Dr. Damico had a whole career before earning her PhD from New York University in 1980 at the age of 49. While she may have gotten a late start, her impact on the field of medieval studies cannot be overstated. She introduced me to feminist readings of medieval literature, as well as female centered medieval texts. That first year I frequently ran into her in the copy room as she printed and copied book proofs for what would become Beowulf and the Grendel-kin: Politics and Poetry in Eleventh-Century England. At 82, as an emeritus, she was still working, seemingly non-stop. We can only hope to have that kind of career.


Her legacy is assured, at the University of New Mexico and beyond. The Institute of Medieval Studies which she founded continues, in non-pandemic times, to teach and inspire the next generation of scholars, bring visiting global scholars of Viking and medieval Norse studies to campus each year, sponsor student travel to conferences, and host the spring lecture series. Her academic work is foundational to the work many of us do. For many of us her legacy continues in us, with the kindness and encouragement she showed us.


One of the last times I saw her before that summer of 2017 she was in the several year process of clearing out her office, an almost comical tale of the department desperately needing the space and no one wanting to tell her she had to leave. She had copies of her first book Beowulf's Wealhtheow and the Valkyrie Tradition (1984) still shrink wrapped in her office, and when I stopped by to see her and visit, she gave me one and signed it.


All in all my contact and association with Dr. Damico was brief. It certainly pales in comparison with those who worked closely with her over decades. For me though she was a kind and fierce introduction to the field, and grief is personal and incomparable. I will always be grateful for the time I spent learning from her, and will miss her deeply.

A Discovery of a Fraud Medievalist

When I first read The Discovery of Witches trilogy, then saw the first season of the show, I instantly recognized Diana Bishop. She was exactly what I thought a medievalist was and what I wanted to be. The first book came out in 2011, a year after I finished my MA in English literature, the year my mom died, and the year I started thinking about applying to PhD programs. I didn't just want to be THAT kind of medievalist, both in personality and research interest, but the learning and researching experience was what I had never had and always wanted. I wanted old libraries, rooms at the college, to inexplicably bike everywhere. I wanted a life where I taught, and read, and researched and apparently never had to worry about juggling a day job or paying for rent. I wanted colleagues I sat, drank tea with, and talked about big ideas. I wanted collegiality and an intellectual space. I wanted to spend my time poring over old manuscripts about fairies, and demons, and magic, and alchemy.

I wanted a version of education and academia I had never experienced.

The last few years as I worked on then finished my dissertation, my scholarly work has a clear narrative and trajectory. While informed by my medieval and early modern work all of my publications are firmly set in popular culture, examining and analyzing how fairy tales and horror films revise and reimagine folkloric figures. And I have to tell you that the reason this is what my work has been is because I've gotten the feeling for the last ten years that I'm not worthy of working in the medieval and early modern fields. My work is not scholarly enough. My writing is not good enough. My credentials aren't good enough. I thought/think of this quote from A Knight's Tale a LOT.

I can tell you the first time I felt this. It was ten years ago. I had presented a paper at SAMLA on the 1688 illustrations of Paradise Lost that focused on the monstrosity of the devil. I was really proud of it, and it was well received. So I expanded it to an article and submitted it. Literally YEARS later (they lost it despite several check ins about the status) I received an answer from the editor and the reviewer comments which said, and this is not hyperbole, that I clearly knew nothing, should have been ashamed of submitting the work when I clearly knew nothing, and that my article was total garbage. To say I was crushed would be an understatement. And that was the moment I turned more towards the fairy tale, folklore, and popular culture conferences, academics, and publications.

Later as I worked on graduate classes, all the ways I fell short was a reoccurring theme. One medievalist professor, whose class I loved, so much so I audited their Chaucer class, told me that my writing was so lacking and deficient that they suggested I buy the book Revising Prose, because my work was so substandard. The program I went through had professors from name schools, excellent programs, and again and again I was told that while some of my ideas were interesting, my work just did not make the grade. I passed these classes, I earned As and the occasional B on papers, but again and again I was told that I didn't quite fit. Another medievalist who I also admired greatly, and I took multiple classes with totally dismissed me when I tried to talk to them about getting a PhD.

I felt again and again that I was missing key skills, didn't know the names of theorist, and frankly when I DID learn their names thought quite a lot of them were full of shit. But I inexplicably kept going. I applied to PhD programs, I got rejected, I got waitlisted, I got accepted. I did well. But I also went through my program fast. I was older entering my program, and I felt the weight of the loans I had to take out to get through school even with "full" funding. So I finished course work in 3 semesters. I wrote my dissertation in a year. I wrote a different dissertation in another year.

And still continued to feel like I didn't fit. Because I went in knowing that I wanted to study folkloric figures through the medieval and early modern period, and then in popular culture, I was in the British and Irish Literary Studies program, not the Medieval program. While I took classes with the medieval professors, and used Old English as my language requirement, and knew all the medieval students, I was not one of them. We did not commiserate over Latin, paleography, or medieval history classes. I also found myself leap frogging over the cohort I came in with, graduating before my mentors even. It wasn't anything that bothered me per se, but it certainly reinforced to me the feeling I had carried with me that my research interests and me myself were not a fit. I published a lot in graduate school but I never heard from any of my professors that it was good, or they read it, or really anything.

I never once, out of three institutions and three VERY different experiences did I feel like there was a place for me, as a person or as a scholar. I never felt like my academic or scholarly experience was what it was supposed to be. I never felt like my work was what people expected.

I have been lucky that the counter to this has been all the lovely scholars I have met through social media who have been so nice and supportive of my work, and have shown me their own work which often counters the narrow definition I was told was medieval studies.

I was also lucky that my tenure track job is a generalist position, where I teach the early British survey, Shakespeare, and composition. I get to teach the range of my interests. But all of these feelings of not fitting came back this year as I looked at our tenure requirements which initially said that you needed a book or three articles (it has since been changed to say three peer reviewed pieces). I had two chapters in edited collections, one out this year, one that should be out later this year, but both on popular culture. I started to stress about submitting articles, ones I felt needed to be in the medieval and early modern fields to balance and show the range of the job I was hired for. And suddenly I felt frozen thinking I was going to do all this work on these articles and again be told I was not good enough, and then run out of time to submit something else, and ruin my tenure changes, and round and round.

And at the end of my first year as a professor and one thing I continue to struggle with is how I describe myself. Am I an English professor? A medievalist? An early modernist? A fringe folklorist? Am I still Dr. Devil? Who am I and what work do I do?

I worked really hard on an article on Guthlac, which took a lot because it read the tale through an Indigenous lens AND had a lot of translation as the foundation, so it was like being dumped over a waterfall and then as soon as you caught your breath went over another one. I was nervous about both the material and the translation work. But I was ultimately really proud of the work, and while I am still waiting to hear on rejection/acceptance, I think it's good work and hope the newer journal I submitted to takes it. 

I have a couple of other ideas too that I have sketched out but need to write up. One looks at medieval and early modern Merlin texts as conversion narratives. Another looks at the Katherine hagiography by applying tattoo sociology, the idea of narratives written on the body. Both clearly medieval and early modern texts, but with non-traditional twists. And in general, that's what my work does, looks at older texts through newer lenses. But I don't know if it's stuff that would be accepted at more traditional journals, and with the time between submission, review, rejection/acceptance, there is a time factor.

I want to do more medieval work. I REALLY want to do some work with manuscripts, John Dee, more traditional medieval and early modern topics. But I worry that even though I am a "real" professor with a "real" job, I am not a "real" medievalist.

With full tattoos, and lack of professional attire, I certainly don't look like a "real" medievalist.

Certainly my years of high school teaching and first generation status means I don't have the pedigree of a "real" medievalist.

With the job I have the likelihood that I will travel abroad, or work in these libraries, or ever touch or even be in the same room as these manuscripts, is slim to none. So rewatching Diana Bishop library scenes is probably as close as I'm going to get. Which is weird and funny, because one of the articles I'm most proud of came out of archive work on a New Mexican folk hero.

Maybe though I need to look at my inspirations- Hildegard of Bingen, Héloïse, the incomparable Deborah Harkness herself, for the type of medievalist I want to be. 

Manuscripts are available online in digital editions. 

I am a doctor with a job, and no one telling me what I can and cannot write on.

So maybe I write what I write and I submit it and just keep submitting until I find a fit. 

Maybe I need to let go of those ten year old voices in my head telling me I don't belong here.