Reasonably successful

I haven’t written a post in quite a while (although there was a recent post written by Dr. Ester Polaina about her latest paper, you should read it). The reason is that I have been quite busy. There has been some teaching, I have been organizing a new field course to Tanzania and running a field course to Ecuador (hard work, fun teaching!). BUT most of my time has been spent writing. Not blog posts, not too many manuscripts either.

Primarily I have been writing funding applications. So far, one of these, the one in which I was least involved, has been successful (hurrah for Dr. Ricardo Soto Saravia joining the EcCo lab as a postdoc!). A couple proposals are still pending decision, but most have been rejected. I have spent hours, in fact weeks, writing something few people read (a couple of reviewers and maybe 1-2 panel members) and which resulted in “nothing”.

Arguably, unsuccessful applications are not “nothing”. One learns from the experience. Proposals can be edited and resubmitted in some cases, or submitted to other funders. But in my nearly four years as PI, a considerable amount of my funding application writing has resulted in nothing. At some point ideas bore you. You run out of potential funders. You move on.

At this point you may be thinking this post is a bit of a moan, but hold on.

I could fustigate myself about these failures. Dwell on the reasons why my ideas are not that good, why am I not worthy of funding. I could blame the system. Blame my lack of strong networks in this country (it would be nice to be co-applicant here and there…). I could argue the problem is that as a non-English woman I suffer from unconscious (or conscious) bias and discrimination.

Or, I can just take the occasional success and assume I am simply REASONABLY SUCCESSFUL. I am not a science rock star. Maybe if I work harder I could be (for example, I very rarely work on weekends). But to be honest, I don’t think I could. I suspect my ideas are just not that brilliant. And my goal is to be completely sincere when I finish that statement with “but I don’t care”. Repeat with me: I am not that brilliant, and I don’t care.

I get to do science for a living. My job evaluations suggest I am not at risk of losing my permanent position. I can engage in projects that excite me. I work with many people I admire and personally like. So, that’s it. I am reasonably successful and I (am learning) to like it.