By now, most of you will have read or read about Professor Zero’s “heretical post” in which she make the claim that “writing is fun and publishing is easy.” I first encountered Prof Z’s ideas in a response post on Moria in Excelsis and, I have to admit, they made me feel very defensive. (Hence the snippy comment I left; sorry Moria!) I am the queen of complaining about my academic writing – as my last post demonstrates – and I was angered by the idea that anyone would say my complaints were merely self-pitying indulgence rather than authentic expressions of pain.
I finally read Prof Z’s original post and found that I mostly agreed with it. And, happily I discovered that she is speaking of a particular category of complainer to which I do not belong. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
Or, rather, Prof Z identifies two categories of complainers: The first is a person that I know all too well, the “woe is me, it’s so hard to think such brilliant thoughts” kind of academic. The “the world hangs in the balance as I develop my insightful arguments” kind. The “academic work is as hard as any other kind of work and if you don’t agree it’s because you aren’t working as hard as I am when I sit down to compose my groundbreaking scholarship” kind.
I hate that guy/gal too. But, this is really a form of faux compliant, isn’t it? The complaint is just the thin layer of chocolate (dark, of course) over the chewy center of self-congratulation and arrogance. S/he doesn’t really believe that his/her life is difficult, s/he just wants an opportunity for self-promotion. (And I hate those endless acknowledgements too!)
What I hate about this faux complainer is that they make real complaints seem equally trivial – a point to which I will return.
The second category of individual that Prof Z seems to want to bring to light isn’t really a complainer at all but more of a self-appointed guardian at the gate of success. This person tells others that they can’t develop original ideas, write well, or get anything published because it’s too difficult. Prof Z is pretty clear about the fact that this person is a patriarchal figure who is essentially saying, “you can’t do it, my little poppet.”
I have to admit I’ve never encountered this person – at least not directly. I’ve never had an authority figure, whether parent, professor, or colleague, tell me that I couldn’t think/write/publish because it was too hard. I think Prof Z is right, though, that there are figures in life and in academia who take it upon themselves to uphold what they claim to be “high standards” but who are really just trying to seize all the power, credit, and importance for themselves.
That guy/gal sucks too. S/he promotes an image of difficulty merely for the sake of preventing others from even trying.
Here’s why I think I don’t fit either of these categories even though I complain all the time, endlessly, tiresomely (even for myself) about my academic writing. And, yes, if you detect a note of defensiveness to this post, I hear it too.
I feel like I am struggling against an entirely different rhetoric around academic work – the belief that:
academic work is its own reward
academic work is worth any necessary sacrifice
academic work makes a substantial contribution to the world
academic work elevates your life and makes you a superior human being
I rail against these ideals and against my own shame at not being able to embrace them. I think they are a different but equally oppressive set of beliefs that get perpetuated in the academy.
Case in point: This week I went back to school after a really terrible spring break. I worked the entire week to finish my book revisions and it was hard, stressful, exhausting work. When I went back to campus on Monday, I was met by various colleagues who perkily asked me how my break was. When I complained about it being hard, stressful, and exhausting, I was greeted by embarrassed glances as if I had said something unseemly. I often feel like I am just not supposed to voice this experience – like I’m letting people down by not constantly celebrating my work or doing my part to uphold the facade of worth that covers the messy reality of the profession.
(Okay, another part of me says: they’re just tired of listening to you complain, you pathetic, insufferable Eeyore.)
But, it feels so dishonest for me at this moment in my life – as the Fucking Book continues to loom over everything that I do, sucking away all my energy and optimism, and generally making me feel like a big fat failure – to say anything else.
So, I do use this blog to complain and I plan to continue to. Because writing and publishing are both very, very hard – for me, anyway.
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March 25, 2009 at 3:41 am
Clio Bluestocking
I’m struggling with some of those beleifs about academia, too, particularly the one about sacrifice. It’s like being in a religion that demands a purity and perfection that you can never attain.
As for writing, sometimes it’s difficult, somtimes it isn’t. Maybe when it comes down to making the words final, it becomes especially difficult (exhaustion doesn’t help any, either). Then, your every word seems so important and permanent that you start to struggle.
And by “you” I mean “me when I’ve been in that position.”
Some of the people whom I’ve known who have gone on ad nauseum about the difficulty of writing usually didn’t respect the work of writing. Whether or not writing was, in fact, difficult for them was beside the point. Other people — people not in academia, people who thought that academics were wimps or unmasculine or lazy — did not think that writing counted as “real work.” These guys had to put on a show that writing was difficult in order to prove to those other people that they were “really working,” and that the work was legitimate and masculine because it was so difficult. Usually, they weren’t actually writing at all.
Bitching about writing, while you are actually doing it, is just blowing off steam to get you through the efforts. It’s not the posturing of the people I’m describing nor is it prohibition (or giving in to the prohibition) that Prof. Zero is talking about. You’re pulling something huge out of your brain! That can ache.
March 25, 2009 at 5:24 am
profacero
I agree with this post and not with those who read mine as a complaint about a “culture of complaint.” The post was an incantation against the depression of the idea that “this is so hard” … I feel much better saying “this is complicated and interesting” because otherwise I become afraid I won’t be able to do it or if I am, it won’t be worth it … because I also am not an ethereal being who thinks one should happily sacrifice all for academia.
March 25, 2009 at 4:00 pm
Flavia
I think Clio’s distillation of this post (and the experience it describes) is perfect: “You’re pulling something huge out of your brain! That can ache.”
Right there with both of you.
March 25, 2009 at 7:06 pm
squadratomagico
I must confess I’ve been a little surprised by how much fascination this post has generated. Isn’t the process publishing and writing a different experience for each author? And indeed, doesn’t each author have different relationships to his or her writing at different times, and for different projects? Sometimes it’s drudgery; sometimes it’s stimulating, engaging labor; sometimes it flows; sometimes it spurts; sometimes it stalls. I just don’t understand the compulsion to make some sort of definitive, simplistic statement about the nature of writing and publishing, that should hold true for all people in all times and places and situations. Seriously, what’s the point?
March 26, 2009 at 9:26 pm
profacero
Thanks, Squadromatico. I wrote the post for me as an antidote to certain pronouncements made at me for too long, and to a negative effect. It’s intended as an antidote to intimidation, and emotionally it was the hardest piece of writing I ever did.
Also hard was having people read it as a post against a “culture of complaint” and as a pronouncement that things were a walk in the park. It fascinated me that people were so anxious to recuperate it back into the usual homilies, writing is suffering, one might not be able to publish, and one shouldn’t complain — homilies I abhor because I find them so disabling.
I do *not* endorse these readings in any way and because it was widely read in this way I consider that post to have failed. But I guess it touched a nerve. It certainly came from *my* nerve.
March 26, 2009 at 9:34 pm
profacero
These are precisely the other cluster of ideas I also struggle with, in the same ways as bittersweet:
“I feel like I am struggling against an entirely different rhetoric around academic work – the belief that:
academic work is its own reward
academic work is worth any necessary sacrifice
academic work makes a substantial contribution to the world
academic work elevates your life and makes you a superior human being
I rail against these ideals and against my own shame at not being able to embrace them. I think they are a different but equally oppressive set of beliefs that get perpetuated in the academy.”
YES. I’d be more “successful” if I would believe those things and yet I have not been able to believe them and I am sort of embarrassed about not really wanting to try to believe them. By trying to believe them I have made some poor decisions in the past … putting up with things nobody should, for instance. In my case they don’t cut at me as deeply as the set of ideas I was trying to detox from by writing that post, but they, too, are really oppressive … some sort of hegemonic ideology that keeps people running in place (which is I suppose their purpose).
March 27, 2009 at 5:24 pm
bsgirl
Profacero, I found your original post very thought-provoking and meaningful. I haven’t really tracked the “culture of complaint” responses — although from your comments here I can see why you don’t endorse them.
I’m glad that my own “take” on your post seems more in line with your thinking — and I appreciate you continuing to work to sort through this morass of discourse, some of it really distructive.