writing up and feeling down

In my past life I was an anthropologist, and I very well might be again, one day. A common aspect of writing fiction and anthropology that is very dear to me is the attempt at illuminating humanity, what it means to be human, who we are at our core. I don't see this changing. (It also had a theoretically more practical method of helping people. I'm not so sure about that anymore.)

I have been mulling things over and, though I knew this before, am beginning to realize how much anthropology has the potential to inform my writing. Anthropology and fiction writing have a lot in common, and it's not unusual to see an anthro writing creatively. (Ruth Benedict, for a classic example, Ruth Behar for a more recent one, if we're talking well known anthropologists.) Often there is even the question of whether or not the anthropologist is creating fact, or just an obscured fiction.

And in the end, whether it's fact, or fiction, or if the pendulum is somewhere in the middle, anthropologists, like fiction writers, write. They write a bloody lot. In grad school I wrote at least 100 pages a week, and often read over 1,000. We learned to write about people in the same way fiction writers do -- we read a lot, we wrote a lot, and we critted a lot, both our own work and the work we were reading. It was intense, gratifying, and illuminating. Sometimes I truly miss it.

In any event, because both anthros and fiction writers write a lot, we have some of the same concerns and issues to deal with. This is why I link you to this.

Incidentally, I was recently looking through some old field notebooks for something, and discovered that they were a mash of notes, thoughts, theoretical issues, and creative writings -- poetry, snippets of dialog, ideas, what ifs... I shouldn't have been surprised. Anyway, I found this quote: "Anthropologists are those who write everything down at the end of the day" (or something to that effect). And it's not just true for anthropologists, but for many other writers, especially bloggers.

(Note: Even if you're one of the 1% referenced who don't find the concept of writing deadening, think about how it's still hard work. How you can as if you're killing yourself while writing, trying to make your project work. It's similar. Just think about it.)

when the teepee flaps are rockin'

If one wants to be a writer and is trying to decide what to study in college (because college degrees are good things to have), and one doesn't want to pursue the popular B.A. in English, Anthropology is a fine option. And, believe it or not, there are lots of jobs for a young punk with a B.A. in Anthropology. One just has to be creative and resourceful, just as they would if they had a B.A. in English, perhaps even less so.
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At that point I guess one says, "What goes around comes around."

It's truly a muddled mess, but if nothing else, please go read the Dear Author and Paul Tolme links.

more on deadening and writing

I am one of those people who doesn't find writing deadening in the literal sense. I know people who hate to write, and find it to be incredibly painful. They do all they can to avoid it. I know people who even got their sympathetic advisers to go to bat for them with other profs so they could get out of writing assignments.

But I do find it to be hard work. Blog entries are not hard work, as a general rule. I blab on and on about stuff and click on post, and there we are. However, there are types of writing that is hard work. And there are times when any writing is hard or just seems to naturally flow. And this hard work is deadening, but in another way. And I think this is what I saw that I was unclear about in conveying:
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