Skip to main content

My PhD Journey - Yashashwani

My PhD Journey - Yashashwani

Yashashwani is a PhD candidate in the School of History

Writing a research proposal

Start with What You Know. Build from There.
 

People often ask me: Where do you even begin when writing a research proposal? 

The truth is — my PhD project came to me almost by accident, during a casual moment in the middle of the pandemic. It wasn’t something I planned meticulously or knew I was going to pursue. Like many people, I assumed my PhD topic would evolve from my Master’s dissertation. But this one just came to me — and stayed. 

It started as a question, followed by a feeling: Why hasn’t this been studied more? I began reading and realised there was almost no academic scholarship on the topic — at least not in English. That absence of literature became my starting point. I identified a gap and decided that I wanted to document it. The subject was deeply personal — a social movement my family has long been involved in — and it quickly became clear that this wasn’t just about documenting something underrepresented, but also bringing insider knowledge and perspective to it. 

I drafted my first proposal using whatever little literature I could find. I wrote honestly about what is out there and what could be explored. When I shared this early draft with a potential supervisor, they didn’t just say yes or no — they offered feedback. They pointed me to readings, asked questions, helped me see what could be stronger. I didn’t end up working with them, but that exchange helped shape my proposal. 

If you’re wondering whether a research proposal is ever “done,” I hate to break it to you — it’s not. After receiving competitive funding and joining my university, the very first thing my supervisors said was: Now let’s rework the proposal. What I’d written was enough to secure admission and funding, but once you’re actually in a PhD programme, the questions change — What’s viable? What resources will you need? Which archives? What training? The proposal evolves with all of this. 

Over time, even how I thought about data changed. I learned about open access, creative commons licensing, and ethical data handling — none of which I knew before. Being an international student, one of the biggest challenges was adapting to UK academic English and the research culture here. It’s rigorous, ethical, and structured in a way I hadn’t experienced before. 

What helped me through? Asking for help. I reached out to people — even those who said they couldn’t supervise me. I’d write back and ask, “Would you mind giving me a few comments on how I could strengthen this proposal?” More often than not, they did. Many universities also have public-facing resources on how they expect proposals to be written — from structure and style to citations and formatting. And the people behind those systems are, in my experience, genuinely happy to help. 

So if you’re just starting — start where the questions begin. Read, write, reach out, and let it grow. 

Contacting supervisors

That One Cold Email That Can Change Everything 

There are thousands of academics across the world, each working on ideas that feel similar but are never quite the same. Projects don’t overlap as much as they run parallel — connected by themes, keywords, regions, or methods. What ties us together, what opens doors and builds connections, is often just one thing: a cold email. 

That one email — introducing yourself, your research, and why you’re reaching out — can change the course of your academic journey. 

When I first started looking for a supervisor, I was hesitant. I wasn’t sure if my project would interest anyone, or if I was wasting their time. But I’ve now written to over a hundred professors globally — at least fifty of them in the UK — and I can say this with confidence: no one ever made me feel small for reaching out. The few disappointments I faced were never personal. Sometimes they were full, tied up with funding constraints, retiring from supervision, or focusing on other commitments. That didn’t mean my project wasn’t worth pursuing — it just meant I had to keep looking. 

So what do you actually write in that email? 

Start by saying who you are — your academic background, your current interests — and then refer to the specific work of theirs that resonated with you. Show them that you’ve read their writing and why it connects to your project. Attach a brief project proposal — two to three pages is ideal — and include your CV so they can get a quick sense of your profile. 

One mistake I made early on was sending the same generic email to everyone. I’ve learned that it’s much better to build a strong base email and then tailor it to each supervisor. Refer to their recent work, reflect their language, and show how your project aligns. And here’s something I wish I’d done more: ask for a quick Zoom or Teams call. You get a much better sense of mutual interest when you actually speak. Even if they’re not available to supervise you, many will offer suggestions — potential co-supervisors, funding routes, or feedback on your proposal. 

So, who is a “good fit”? Honestly, you’ll know. You’re the best judge of that. I began by shortlisting schools and departments across Russell Group universities in the UK. I looked for academics working on South Asia, postcolonial movements, or social and political activism — and eventually, I found someone whose work beautifully aligned with all of it. 

My advice? Don’t shy away from reaching out. Be honest, clear, and thoughtful. That one email might lead to a conversation, a collaboration, or a supervisor who really sees your work — and that can make all the difference.