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Bill Brown

A complicated man.

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It’s 12:30 and I’m about two-thirds of the way through my paper. Luckily, I’m on the part where I tie together the ninty-plus articles I found in the territorial-era Phoenix newspapers. It’s pretty smooth sailing, but there’s just so much to cover. I’m tempted to reign in the scope of the paper and finish it up but I won’t.

At this point, it’s at 18 pages and I am still not done with the negative press coverage of the Indians. That leaves the neutral coverage, which should be quick because there’s very little of it, and the positive coverage, which forms the crux of my argument and can’t be rushed through. After that comes the conclusion where I integrate everything written prior. In other words, I’m going to exceed the recommended length of 20 pages handily. Unfortunately, the deadline of today by noon means that my revision of this first draft is unlikely.

That means that my presentation on Tuesday will be analyzed as if it were mostly finished when it is in fact a considerable work in progress. I know that the presentation will involve me having my ass handed to me, but no one ever said that life as a contrarian would be easy.