Fanfic Forensics

I spent the last couple of weeks fine-tuning a grant application. Everything hinges on this one three-page text: one wrong word or fuzzy sentence and bam, the application goes straight in the bin. That means reading and rereading and spell-checking and putting in more jargon ad nauseam, and soon advisors start giving contradictory advice as to what should be in there, the page limit becomes a nightmare, and by the deadline you're quite ready to ritually burn the monster and dump the ashes in the cat box.

There's one thing about grant-writing that always bothers me (apart from its general unpleasantness, which is unavoidable). Every time, without fail, I have to explain in exquisite detail what my research contributes to certain academic fields, what the previous research is, how my theoretical framework and methodology work, and so forth. That's good. But never am I asked to articulate precisely why I deserve a pile of tax money from my government so I can ramble on about fanwork without interruption for four years straight. There's no section where I have to explain what my research is going to contribute to the vast world outside of academia. There should be. I want that section.The broader relevance of my research is one of its most important aspects.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that all humanities research should result in immediate, quantifiable and tangible benefits. I do believe that writing up the ways one's research benefits society at large would be a pretty useful thinking exercise for many humanities scholars. Let's have less whining about those humanities-bashing Philistines, more awareness about Important Issues, and more activist scholarship. That would be nice.