Over the course of the last week, putting the finishing touches to a proposal for this research which I hope to carry out, one significant point remains. The construction and realisation of my ideas is an intensely intimate process. I mean this in two ways. When all of the reading is done and the inspiration for doing all of this in the first place peters out, I am still left with a large pile of books and articles and a blinking cursor. There is no use checking the news for the fourth time that hour or doing the washing up because the cursor keeps on blinking. It is just me and my ideas and the computer is not the person who got me into this mess in the first place. I chose to get excited over a pint with friends about these ideas and I chose to commit myself to a date.
In the second sense though, writing this proposal has shown to me that the 6,000 words I have crafted over the last month or so are only for my eyes and those of The Supervisor. While I did show my partner the contents of last week’s draft, in the end this is a text that is between me and The Supervisor only. I had the sense that I might make this document available online later on this month but advice received is well heard: some graduate student on the other side of the world would be writing about scale and secularisation and I bust the idea right open. This proposal document is in effect a secret document.