Popular Fiction and the Renaissance Conference

Newcastle University

This past weekend was a nervous mess as I went to Newcastle to present my old undergraduate thesis on Melville and Shakespeare.  It began by me scrambling to find something to wear, finding I had washed the trousers I had planned to wear the night before and spending 35 minutes ironing them in a mad scramble to get to my train on time.  In my mad rush, I somehow missed deodorant. Usually this isn't a big deal as I don't sweat much here, but my nervousness quickly affected by glands and before long I smelled myself and thought: Lord have mercy, is that me?!

When I finally realized it was me, I was on a tea and coffee break and so worried about smelling I forgot I had to pee. It wasn't until I got up to the podium did this sudden and horrific urge fall upon me, and then I had another moment: Oh no, I think I just might wet my pants from sheer nerves.

Usually I don't have any problems reading or speaking in public, and this audience was ideal: it was a small setting of 15 people with all young researchers like myself.  Everyone had been incredibly warm and open, yet excited to talk about things that academics get excited about. (For this conference we discussed Anonymous and who actually was Shakespeare and what did he write?) Yet as I opened my mouth to speak, I began to shake uncontrollably with my hands and blundered the first three pages as my heart kept leaping into my mouth.  Oddly, I began to sort of rock back and forth to dispel this excess of energy from me, hopefully decrease the sweating, and praying that no one else noticed that I was now smelling palpably.

By page five I had gotten into a swing, and though I butchered my American accent with Englishisms, had found a cadence of steadiness. Now the good stuff was coming out in the paper, and by the end, there was a hush on the audience, and I felt the heaviness of what I had just read: he self-destructs when his desire to perceive hidden things exceeds human limitations... total annihilation is not too large a price to achieve his final goal.

The questions after were mercifully kind, and we ended with wine and the screening of Anonymous, which, after nearly wetting yourself in a room of kind, but complete strangers, is a lovely way to end a conference.

Addendum:
I must have left the fuctioning part of my brain at the conference for on the way home, I heard the words "Edinburgh" and "Newcastle" and jumped on the train. I found it was heading in the opposite direction! Thankfully, it did indeed stop at Durham (imagine if the next stop had been York!) and a very kind security man ("Come in, love", "Sit down, love") informed me that there just happened to be one last train heading to Edinburgh that night (praise the Lord!). I sat in the cold of what my phone told me was 5 degrees C, but what I assure you was at last 1 C until the train arrived, managed to stay in the part of the train that was not splitting off at Newcastle and arrive safely back in Edinburgh with the days work, finally, well behind me.