Buddy, I'll die before I spell 'exegetical' correctly on the first try.
“As he walked up and down thinking out his work, the title of a book would catch his eye ; he would look into it, and there perhaps find an idea that had no bearing whatever on his present subject of meditation, and yet started so excellent a train of thought that he must at least note it down, lest it should escape him for ever. This would lead to another thought, that again must be examined, and thus an hour would pass, he knew not how. The printer’s boy would knock and ask for copy. Copy, oh yes, that was ready, only it must be revised once more, and that was why he had set to work early to-day, but walking across the room had distracted him. The boy was to come again, which he duly did, only to find Lessing started off on another track, and the required copy for the half-printed work not forthcoming. He himself recognized the difficulty of all this, and would determine not to set foot out of his room until the MS. was complete. But the day would wane ; he felt all his senses oppressed by the close air ; he told his brother he must breathe some fresh air, or he could not think at all. So he would start forth, and generally his way led him to a friend’s door. What more natural than to go in! The friend and he would chat on some interesting theme ; they would get hot in discussion ; Lessing made a point of breaking off early, but when he got home the MS. was forgotten. He had to pursue his friend’s train of thought, analyze or adopt it. He went to bed with good resolves for the coming day; he got up feeling dull, and saying he would rather do anything than sit and read through his own writings, which did not please him at all. ’ Brother,’ he would say at last, ’ authorship is the dreariest and most disagreeable of occupations. Take warning by me.’”
Went to ~writer’s group~ at one of the local libraries, where a very elderly gentleman enthused about this new form of short fiction to which the coach had introduced him, the hundred-word drabble--
On further reflection, an addendum to my post immediately previous: the actual problem is that words are terrible at their jobs while ideas are also terrible at their jobs. Words about ideas in flux, the imprint of various states of said ideas being conveyed primarily by contemporaneous words and translated back into contemporary words, are like poking a giant with a toothpick.
That’s enough writing for today.
Alas that all history* is to some extent a history of ideas; alas, further, that I am so miserably poor at writing on the history of ideas.
More helpful feedback from Dr. Redacted. (She’s upset that we keep insisting on calling MDW “the University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna,” you know, its official English name.)
@parmandil said: oh damn, tell us how you really feel!
welp
Such are the stream-of-consciousness comments of Dr. Redacted, the kind of person who sits on her student’s dissertation draft for months while said student is trapped in China on a rapidly expiring visa, finally looks at it two weeks before the defense deadline, then refuses to read past Chapter Three and sets half the department on fire demanding rewrites in the second week of November. BRB while I edit this whole damn thing so that it never takes more than one sentence to express an idea but there is absolutely no repetition and also aren’t any relative clauses? (Those sound “unprofessional,” I’ve been informed). Did I mention that China is blocking our university’s e-mails server right now? I am getting such little sleep.
Other standouts include the part where she picks a fight with a direct quotation from the composer--
--and also UNESCO.
vision of committee chair as recalcitrant cow at an especially unhinged editorial meeting
I appreciate the effort, bro, but I literally just need to say that Teruel is in Aragon without using a preposition.
academic publishing explained
@ofhouseadama
Some days I am Editor; some days I am Papa.
This statement does make sense in context,* but I’m delighted at the idea that most of 1870s Paris was living in A Quiet Place while only a few people made the rash decision to include sound in their events.
*I maintain that bothering to actually state the context would make certain authors look less silly.
The em dash is rich with power. But you’ll lose yourself.
My editor just told me to substitute “in” for “amid” because “they mean the same thing, except ‘amid’ is old-fashioned” >: /
Our NEH grant officer.
My editor just asked me to change “Christ” to “Jesus Christ” in a manuscript that I spent two weeks ruthlessly gutting for word count last fall. This has left me picturing The Reader (you know, the extraordinarily daft one whose needs editors constantly take into consideration) perusing this thing and thinking, “Which ‘Christ’ are they referencing here? Surely not my reviled next-door neighbor, Tommy H. Christ?”
@beyourpet said: Shorten it to “J.C.” 😂
My preference for casual appellation is either “Jeezy Boi” or “An Ocean of Deity,” both of which, alas, equal or exceed the formal in number of syllables.
@minipliny said: It’s like that tiktok with the wife telling her husband she’s leaving him for Jesus and he runs after a hapless neighbour called jesus but in reverse
I am an old man whose frail mental faculties cannot encompass whatever the heck tiktok is. Yet: I sense I must see this. Please refer me to a translation into YouTube, or semaphore code, or smoke signals, or something else we elderly folks have experience with. *shakes cane confusedly*
@elizabolt said: “Jesus Christ, henceforth known as ‘Christ’” - like you just coined it
The “H.” stands for “Hereafterreferredtoas.”
My editor just asked me to change “Christ” to “Jesus Christ” in a manuscript that I spent two weeks ruthlessly gutting for word count last fall. This has left me picturing The Reader (you know, the extraordinarily daft one whose needs editors constantly take into consideration) perusing this thing and thinking, “Which ‘Christ’ are they referencing here? Surely not my reviled next-door neighbor, Tommy H. Christ?”
My editor just asked me to change “Christ” to “Jesus Christ” in a manuscript that I spent two weeks ruthlessly gutting for word count last fall. This has left me picturing The Reader (you know, the extraordinarily daft one whose needs editors constantly take into consideration) perusing this thing and thinking, “Which ‘Christ’ are they referencing here? Surely not my reviled next-door neighbor, Tommy H. Christ?”