What the newest higher ed report has to do with your writing

Hi everyone,

I have been thinking a lot about the recent King’s College London report on the funding crisis in European universities.

The report looks at something many of us already feel in our everyday academic lives: universities are under pressure. Student numbers are rising in many places, public funding per student is not keeping up, working conditions are getting worse, and academics are expected to do more with less.

So far, so unsurprising.

But I also found part of the framing quite *interesting*.

The report seems to suggest that one of the problems is that many European countries still have a political taboo around tuition fees for domestic students. In other words, universities are supposedly leaving income on the table because they do not charge students more.

And I have to say: THAT is not the problem.

I do not think universities need to become more entrepreneurial. They should not become companies. In fact, I think that logic is part of the problem.

The issue is not that universities have failed to extract enough money from students. The issue is that many states are underfunding higher education and research.

And we can see the consequences everywhere.

Researchers are pulled in so many different directions at once.

They have to teach, apply for funding, do admin and supervise students. They have to be visible. They have to attend meetings, review papers, answer endless emails, support students, build networks, and somehow keep everything going.

And then, on top of all of that, they are also expected to publish.

Which is, of course, kind of important.

Because publications still matter.

They matter for grants. They matter for jobs. They matter for promotion. They matter for building a research profile. You have to stay visible in a system that often rewards output, even when it does not protect the conditions that make that output possible.

And this is where summer becomes such a strange and loaded time in academia.

You might be tempted to think:

“I’ll finally get to write in the summer.”

And I can relate.

During term time, writing is often the first thing that disappears. Teaching is urgent. Emails are urgent. Students are in a hurry. Deadlines are urgent. Admin is urgent.

Writing, especially the kind of deep, slow, careful writing that academic work actually requires, is rarely treated as - well - urgent.

So it gets pushed into the future.

Into the weekend, into the next break, or into summer. 

But when summer arrives, it somehow isn't the clean, open stretch of time you imagined.

You are tired.

You need to recover.

You may still have marking, admin, applications, family responsibilities, travel, conferences, or simply the accumulated exhaustion of the year.

And then the writing plan that sounded so reasonable in May starts to feel impossible in July.

Look: 

Writing needs structure.

It needs boundaries.

And it needs a realistic plan.

And very often, it needs some form of accountability and support, especially when you are trying to write in a system that constantly pulls you away from writing.

This is something I want to work on more intentionally this summer.

I am currently developing a summer writing offer for researchers who want to submit a concrete piece of writing by September.

It is still taking shape behind the scenes, but the basic idea is simple:

I want to help you move from “I really should write this summer” to “I know what I am working on, I know how I am getting there, and I have support to actually follow through.”

I am also planning one or two free summer writing events in late June, so keep an eye on your inbox over the next few weeks.

I will share more details soon.

For now, I would love to leave you with a question:

When you think about writing this summer, what feels like the biggest challenge?

Is it finding time?

Knowing where to start?

Feeling too exhausted?

Staying consistent?

Choosing which project to focus on?

Or something else entirely?

You do not have to solve it today.

But it may be worth naming it.

Because “I’ll write in the summer” is not really a plan.

It is a hope.

And hopes become much more powerful when we turn them into structures that can actually hold us.

Warmly,

Melanie