In my final year of my undergraduate degree, I had a 5000 word research paper to write. This was supposed to take about seven months.
Today I'm working on a 4000 word research paper, which is supposed to take about a week and a half. This should give you some clue as to the difference in workload between the two programmes.
Right now I have twenty tabs open on my browser. Only one of them is something other than an academic article (if you're curious, it's a delicious-looking recipe for a rustic sausage and cider stew). Words are blending together in front of my eyes and slowly starting to lose any real meaning. I keep clicking from one journal to the next, as if this were some valuable work in itself and not a pathetic attempt to delay having to do any more reading. I maintained enthusiasm for my research topic right up until I finished my outline, at which point I immediately hated it. Every sentence I complete is the worst sentence I've ever written; a symbol of my utter paucity of talent. I expect to continue to hate everything I write, right up until it's finished. Then, inexplicably, I'll read through it and decide it's actually good.
This is pretty standard essay-writing procedure for me, or at least one part of it. The other parts vary, but usually involve some combination of poor sleeping patterns, junk food, innumerable cups of tea, and listening to the national anthems of former Soviet states in an attempt to rouse my spirits. (I'm not a Stalinist, by the way. They just have the best national anthems. This is not up for debate.)
There is, thankfully, a silver lining to all this: I've noticed how much easier it is now than it was four years ago. The hardest part of these kind of projects is getting started, sticking to a plan, and simply having the self-confidence to know you are capable of reaching the finish line. When I did my final-year research paper at the undergraduate level, I still felt like I had no clue what I was doing. That, in itself, was enough to make me put off the work for far too long, agonising over how to even start rather than actually starting, and left me panicking and rushing in the final weeks. Today, I still have no clue what I'm doing, but I at least believe I can...figure it out somehow. And if I don't, I can at least pretend I know what I'm talking about, present my professors with something that looks a bit like I know what I'm talking about, and who knows, maybe even convince them that I do. I'm pretty sure that's how PhD students do it.
Will update again when the stupid essay is over. Now, back to the Kazakhstan national anthem.
