I recently began reading Rebecca Solnit’s The Encyclopedia of Trouble and Spaciousness. I love her description of the book:
I imagine my book to have a similar breadth. What types of writing do I want to incorporate? Syllabi, lecture notes, marginalia, class rules? Journal entries? Tweets? Excerpts from my blog?
Since my last processing post on November 17th, I’ve been continuing to work on my new book project. I didn’t post here because I was stuck, trying to work through some anger I had with two online articles I was reading about professors and academic values. I filled up about 14 pages in my green notebook with my notes, but I devoted (wasted?) all of my energy on crafting a blog post for my Trouble blog, which I finally managed to complete yesterday: Beside/s: What’s the Point of a Professor?
Here’s one of my pages from the notebook. It includes my dissecting of a passage from one of the online articles, Keith M. Parsons’ Message to my Freshman Students:
I’m not done working with some of the questions that this article, and the others that I blogged about, raised for me and this writing project. Hopefully, my future processing/writing won’t get me as stuck as I was this past week.
Right before I got stuck thinking about what a professor is and attempting to move beyond the answer that I feared was the only one, an arrogant asshole, I found a book that I’m really excited to analyze for this project: Imaginary Syllabi.
As I began to skim through the book I got excited, especially after reading Jane Sprague’s description of the book’s purpose:
A book-length project of contributions by multiple authors that aims to collect writings which investigate, uncover, examine, complicate, question, provoke, and otherwise (essentially) challenge pedagogical strategies pursuant to the work of teaching writing and other disciplines. This book includes writings which dream up, concoct and explore utopian, fabulist, fantasy syllabi for potential imagined or real classroom endeavors. Educational projects undertaken and employed (deployed) in and outside of official as well as mongrel “schools.” Official spaces might harbor (or cultivate) the mongrel and vice versa (8).
Jane Sprague, ed.
Cool! Maybe I want to create some of my own un/imagined courses? Dream classes that I wouldn’t be able to teach within traditional academic spaces?
In addition to looking through Imaginary Syllabi, I also started reading Rebecca Solnit’s Encyclopedia of Trouble and Spaciousness. The varied (spacious) hodge-podge of non-fiction writing forms included in this book inspires me. I’m looking forward to reading/analyzing what Solnit has included and how/why.
After reading Lynda Barry’s Syllabus, I was inspired to be more creative in my writing notes. Here are two recent pages:
I’m working on a new book in which I attempt to take some of my academic research (on feminist/queer ethics) beyond the academy to a space beside and besides it. What does that look like? Not sure. I’m using my story blog to engage in the process of figuring out what to do and how to do it.
One thing that is haunting* (mostly productively) my process is how to resist the urge to make this book—which is loosely about character, virtue ethics, and troublemaking—a book of advice or a how-to manual, based on my research, writing and teaching. I’d like this book to be a helpful resource for others on “how to be,” but I’m trying to find a way to do that that isn’t about giving specific advice or prescriptions. I don’t want to tell anyone, especially my kids who are one of my primary audiences for this book, “This is how you should live.” I want to provide an example of one way that (mostly) works for me, and invite them to engage in the process of figuring out their own way. My constant refrain: “This is not a how-to manual, but an invitation to engage.” But, even as I deeply embrace this refrain, I wonder, is an invitation enough? If I’m not giving any advice, what am I offering?
*I use the word haunting deliberately here. My resistance to advice runs deep and requires more attention then I have time/space for in this post. I need to put digging deep into this resistance on my to-do list for this project. I know it relates to a stubborn refusal to be an expert and a reluctance to tell others, even my kids, what to do. I don’t see my resistance/refusal/reluctance as bad or wrong, just (sometimes) dangerous.
Here’s one offering, a tentative draft of words that my best self (or selves?) lives by. These are ideals that I’ve created for myself and that I aim for, but never quite achieve.
I’ll have more to say about these ideals soon.
[on drawing cartoon characters] I don’t have to do very much except draw them again and try not to push things in any particular directions for as long as I can stand to stay out of things, but eventually that open way changes and I start wanting from them. I want them to be really good right away and this stops the natural pace of discovery and replaces it with an objective. This can’t be helped.
Lynda Barry
When is it time to stop the open way? When should you start having an objective? What happens to the discovery process? How does this work for me?