Writing journal post for Thursday

It's late. I've been working since 8:30 this morning an I am tired. But I know I won't be able to sleep until I write about writing. I want to write about a few things but I'm not sure if they are related. First, we workshopped a section of the first ten pages of my MA project in class today. I am deeply invested in the ideas but know the paper needs a lot of work. These are ideas I want to continue developing in relation to my PhD work but am anxious about the amount of work the paper needs. I know that to revise the paper for this class I will need to go out on the "sea voyage" Peter Elbow writes about. This is exciting but I am afraid I won't know how to get back to the shore. There is too much going on in the paper for it to work. I was going to write "work well" but now I believe that it's too choked to work. Here are some memories I have about writing it:
-I was absolutely panicked. My committee wasn't giving me any feedback about my writing, despite my repeated requests. Everyone kept saying to just keep writing...the ideas are good. We wouldn't let you proceed if we thought you would fail. I wanted someone to tell me (give me permission?) to scale the thing down. I wanted someone to give me some critical feedback about my writing. I received two helpful comments: 1) the theory was too dense and the reader couldn't understand what I was trying to say and 2) if I was going to make a request of a reader I needed to be clear about it. This was helpful.

-People wanted to see the theory attached to something material or personal. I should open with a story about how these ideas were connected to my life. Some members wanted me to historically situate the piece. Some wanted me to address accents and class. I felt overwhelmed and guilty that I could not attend to all these things. So I sutured things together; it felt very forced and outside of my scope of knowledge. I can now identify places in this text where I was writing to meet the specific requests of my committee.

-I called my chair, crying, "I just can't write! I don't know what to say! I don't know how to do this!" Just keep writing. Keep writing. Write. Unrelated to my project I met with JG. Right. For advice about PhD stuff. I mentioned my writing troubles. She said it was probably because the project was out of control and too large. This was the permission I needed and tried to heed. Well, I think I tried to do this but kept receiving advice from my committee. This analysis is missing, that analysis is missing. Situate yourself. Talk about the historical context. Too abstract. What kind of advise do I really want? I'm clearly not asking the right questions.

This piece has voice problems. It's a paper on voice without one. Or with too many. Who was my audience? I asked myself this question when I was writing it and couldn't answer. I thought it was me. Or my committee. I'm still not sure. I need to realize that I do have something to say. I didn't believe that when I was writing it.

My writing style is a mess! I was taught to write by sociologists and philosophers. Now I am in an English program and there is little "life" in my writing. I am present in my writing only by virtue of the "good ideas" present in the text. That was valuable--voice messed up the ideas. But what a screw if you can't actually resonate with the good ideas! No one mentioned that part--that you must actually write so others can understand you. Also, I think if you somehow internalize that you don't have anything to say it's easier to hide behind bad writing.

How was I rewarded for bad writing? I'm still rewarded for bad writing. This feels unfair and stupid. I feel some anger about this. Like I've been duped! Once I took JG's class on Sedgwick I realized this. It scared me so much I almost talked myself out of coming back for the PhD. There were other things going on (mom's gravely ill) but I saw what I needed to do to make a go at this thing and decided, "to hell with writing anyway." Yet, somehow, I'm in this class. I feel like I'm going to be undone by this process. And that's good and necessary.

Writing journal post for Monday

I'm not happy with the writing I did for Classical Rhetoric today. It is my turn on Wednesday to present a "juxtaposition paper" to the group based on three readings: Sprague's "Gorgias" (fragments), McComiskey's "Gorgias and the Art of Rhetoric," and Ballif's "Seduction and Sacrificial Gestures: Gorgias, Helen, and Nothing." I spent a long time reading these three texts closely. By Monday I had written four pages and wrote two more today. I spent the remaining time (today) editing the paper down to 3 pages. I experienced several waves of excitement while writing. Today I cut my office hours short so I could return to the task early. But I found I had a hard time thinking about things clearly...ideas that had lined up yesterday were cloudy and shallow today. Writing I thought was pretty good yesterday was disgusting today. Elbow says this is common and so I tried not to panic. What frustrated me the most was that what I wanted to say was pretty clear in my mind but eluded clarity on the page. I found myself writing and writing around the "good" points I wanted to make. Every time I stopped to read a draft I felt farther away from the interesting ideas in my head. By the time I turned it in I was convinced I had written a bad and shallow paper.
I reflected on the nagging "bad" feelings about the paper and felt pretty comfortable thinking I could get to that "good" writing in a few more drafts. This gave me comfort and a sense of control. If I worked on this paper every day in the morning for just an hour, after a week or two I think it would say what I wanted it to. Right now it feels unruly and rushed. This is a positive change in my thinking about writing. I usually put an inordinate amount of pressure to "write right the first time." Especially if it's for a short response paper. But the issues in the texts are complicated and it takes time to work things out. I had the feeling that this paper could come together in the future and that I would know how to make that happen. In the past I would retreat to that "out of body" experience feeling and just float through the difficult feelings about a piece of writing. I feel pretty positive about this small change.

My morning route

I am still enchanted by bike commuting. Today was a special commute due to the fall equinox. I was hoping to be on the return trip at 3:40 when the sun was expected to hit the equator, signaling the beginning of fall. Instead I was at home, writing a paper. At least I was out and about in the beautiful morning.

On days when I don't commute I find myself feeling pretty depressed. Otherwise, I feel amazing, light, and happy. It's a very stark contrast that I'm not accustomed to feeling. I want to share my route, mainly because Google enables photos and other interesting interactive features. In this way, I feel that I can share a small piece of my commute with anyone who may be reading!


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Cheers!

Steep learning curves, pt. II

Before I decided to start commuting by bike I read many blogs on the subject. Most people said a fall was inevitable, even something common when one is on the machine as frequently as a commuter.

Well, I'm not yet a commuter nor have I logged many miles on the machine. I'd like to think that my early fall is a sign that I'm ahead of the curve, so to speak, in becoming a "real" cyclist.

Learning curve #2: Never, ever take your eyes off the road to untangle your foot from the toe clips. Even if your foot is really, really tangled.

My right foot got all snaggled in my toe clip and I looked down for two seconds to try and fix it when BAM! My front tire smacks into a 6 inch high curb and I'm over the handlebars before I can say, "holy fucking shit!" I skid on my face for a bit, though my helmet absorbed most of the impact. The worst part was knowing my splayed out-ass was on display for every passing car. Once I collected myself, scattered bits of my taillight and reconnected my left brake cable, I proceeded shakily up Rt. 32 toward campus:
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I'm glad I fell into a parking lot and not back into the road. So far I am extremely happy I made the decision to switch to the bike. I feel amazing--totally empowered and healthy. I'm in a better mood when I get to campus and sleep like a baby at night. I've already lost a pound or two (I can tell) and I feel totally alive and present in the day.

Miles biked: 30

Steep learning curves or, my first bicycle commute

Hello everyone. I am back from my first bicycle commute. I recently bought a Gary Fisher Monona at Wheel&Sprocket in Hales Corners, WI.

I've been wanting to buy a good bike and start commuting for a long time. It wasn't until I started freaking out about peoples' road rage that I actually did it. Drivers are absolutely insane and I can barely tolerate local driving anymore. I'm not sure what changed or when it did because I used to love driving. I find that I have little remaining tolerance for aggressive driving and hostile road behavior. My vehicle was rear-ended about a month ago, my asshole neighbor reported my parked car abandon and they tagged for tow, and there was a bad accident right outside the building the other day in which we thought my parked car was struck. People seem to be right on the edge--gas prices, insurance prices, financial crises, inept political leaders, etc...

So, of course, bicycle commuting is amazing. I feel completely great (a little sore in key places) and very accomplished. Unfortunately, as I already knew, people in cars hate bicyclists. I made the grave mistake of flipping off a redneck in a truck when he almost took out me and another cyclist in the bike lane. He pulled a u-turn and came after us in his truck. Fortunately a news van was right next to us and saw the whole thing. The dude in the truck was absolutely screaming his head off but knew, I think, that the news van was staying close to us. He pulled another u-turn in the middle of the road and took off the other way. The news guy drove next to me as I pedaled and offered to call the cops. He made sure I was okay (the other bicyclist turned down a side street) and I said I was fine. What an ordeal. People are totally on the edge.

I feel lucky to have the opportunity to go by bike. I've been wanting to do it for a long time and finally made it happen. It's a good day!

Reading your own writing

I am terrified to read anything I wrote for my MA project. I just won't do it. Every time I think about reading it I also think about walking down to the gas station to buy some cigarettes. I grabbed the first ten pages, slapped the text into a new document, renamed it and shut the program down before I could see anything. I still conflate bad writing and bad ideas. The Elbow-man helped soothe some of those worries when he wrote about his own bad writing. Ugh, this is totally uninspired writing. I feel completely uninspired. It's been a long day and I have something to confess: I'm not actually thinking about writing right now. Maybe this is the wrong time to write.

A writing journal entry

I am in the process of reading Peter Elbow's book, Writing with Power. I remember reading Peter Elbow in English 701 (I devoted an entire section of a paper on his work, however, calling him Peter Pillow throughout the entire essay) and liking what he said about the "felt sense" of writing and reading writing. Even now I'm trying to employ some of his suggestions about leaving about not hitting the delete key every time I sense an inaccuracy, unsupported claim, error, or whatnot. I'm not positive that we read pieces of his in which he spoke to "felt senses" in relation reading writing, but I think I remember it so I'll at least note it here. Anyway, I appreciate the bounded space and time [of English 817] to read about writing. I think about writing all the time, but it's usually in a very negative way. I do not, however, make time to read about, experiment with, or try out new writing methods. In fact, I hate writing. Sometimes it's because I hate feeling. Maybe? I actually love feeling things, deeply, but seem to derive the most pleasure from harboring it [the pleasure] deep within. As if it were some precious pleasure I generated and shared only with myself. A thrill, a shiver, a slight inward smile that stays on the inside. Whatever. Pillow was totally right about "giving it up." I only like sharing my writing in a group because I know my poorly conveyed and obtuse ideas make me seem smart. People hate reading my writing. It is all about me--my writing becomes me. Which is interesting because I don't really give a shit about how it sounds coming out; my ideas are me. I'm not concerned with their aesthetic or affective coverings, clearly. And, I don't care whether these ideas give people pleasure or if they repulse people. It's all about me and the pleasure I derive from having good ideas.
I am sick of these good ideas sounding insane and/or terrible. And I'm uncertain whether the pleasure I might derive from "giving it up," so to speak, will suffice. I don't know why I feel that I can't feel pleasure from multiple creative outlets. For example, sometimes I feel like I am betraying my preferred creative medium, music, if I spend too much time on the craft of writing. That's bizarre. I don't mean to get too personal with this journal, but sometimes I fear that I made the wrong choice switching from music to English. This is because I have great and lauded musical talent and receive pleasure from "giving it up" in that way. And, not writing well shields me from feeling--something that I enjoy most in the privacy of my own bounded physical space. Putting writing out there is risky in a way that externalizing music seems to not be risky. I wonder, however, if I actually played the piece I authored if it would be different. Certainly; replication with personal inflection is a less risky venture than splattering something onto a blank sheet of paper.
It will be good to set some boundaries with this writing business. Like individuating me and "the writing." Let's just say individuation is something I'm working on across the board. Why should this be any different?

An entry on writing

I'm taking English 817 with Jane Gallop this semester. This course requires a writing journal component, "Each student will keep a journal, writing down reflections about her experience writing or thinking about writing. The student should write at least a paragraph a week, try to write regularly, even if only once a week. Four times a semester each student will read from his journal in class. Then the student will turn the journal in to be read by the instructor."

Fair enough. I've been thinking a lot about writing since borrowing DG's "Creative non-fiction" book. Crap. Where is it? I don't know the title of the book and can't seem to find it. Anyway, this book argues that there is an artificial and unnecessary distinction between creative and non-fiction writing. I was not terribly interested in this thesis but found the writing exercises interesting. It's really too late in the evening to be doing this, so I'll return to it later. With this blog post I wanted to establish this reflective practice early, which I did. So, good.