In part this is because my wife's been in Haiti, which means that I've been holding down the fort, domestically speaking: more a matter of extra schlepping (home, work, home) than extra work. I wanted to boast, at the end of the week, that I'd gotten all my work done AND taken care of the kids, but in fact I've been scatter-shot on both fronts. Particularly unimpressed by my cooking, or lack thereof, and by my flat-out forgetting my son's first guitar lesson of the season yesterday. Wasn't on the calendar, so it didn't happen. Ah, well.
I was struck, this morning, by a post at Stupid Motivational Tricks called "Slump." Here's how it begins:
I was in a bit of a slump between about 1998 and 2005 or so. You wouldn't really know it from looking at my cv, though. I continued to write and publish. There are no gaps, periods of more than 2 years without significant publications. From my perspective I was in a slump, because I was writing more than I was publishing and having a hard time putting together a book manuscript. I wasn't having a very good time in my job and suffered from mild to moderate depression. What I did, essentially, is write myself out of it. Now it is clear to me that the work I did during this period wasn't wasted in the least, but I went 15 years without publishing a book.What interests me here is the fact that I went through a similar slump during those years, but handled it differently. Rather than keep writing and publishing, I gave a big push up through the tenure year (2000-2001), then stopped cold: no published essays, no conference papers, even. The gap shows up pretty vividly on my CV--there's activity, including all those NEH seminars, but there's no writing or publishing.
I still bear some ill effects from that period. It took me longer than it should have to become a full professor, and my salary is still far below where it should be in relation to my accomplishments and those of comparable people in my department. I was barely hanging on in terms of living a satisfactory life, but I was still able to write, somehow.
On the other hand, unlike Jonathan (at SMT), I was having a very good time at my job in those years. And not just at my job. At home, in my marriage, as a father, I used that time to go (slowly, slowly) from "barely hanging on in terms of living a satisfactory life" to having a very happy one, not least as I recovered from the sadness of my father's death and the worries involved in some other family medical stuff.
If I bear some ill effects from that period--certainly it's taking me longer than it should to become a full professor!--I also bear some very good effects. More good than bad, on the whole.
This makes me wonder. If it weren't for the money, could I go without writing and publishing entirely now, and just read, give papers, and teach?
Most of me says "yes," to be honest. But the flash of upset I felt in a conversation yesterday--someone said I was a major figure in popular romance studies, and I thought "no I'm not; I haven't published anything yet!"--suggests that maybe there's writing and publishing that I really want to do, now. Internally motivated, not externally, I mean.
And there may be some poetry work I really want to do as well. The poet's I've been reading recently--Lawrence Joseph, Mike Heller, Harvey Shapiro, Stanley Moss--are reaching me emotionally in a way that poetry hasn't for a while. Not sure what that shift will lead me to write about them, but it's interesting to observe.
When I think about those years and these questions, two songs come to mind. I'll put one in another post; with my wife coming home this evening, here's the one for today:
2 comments:
I don't think people give enough credit to the consequences of grief caused by major changes in our lives. I've been going through a divorce since last year and it's been a roller coaster ride through denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance -- the 5 stages of grief. It's not necessarily a serial process where you check each off as you finish it up. I'm through bargaining but still have lots of anger. I've accepted my marriage is unsalvagable, but not accepted the excuses for why it's taken so long. And through it all, my muse (or whatever you want to call it)has been gone. Some days I couldn't write my name coherently much less try to write something romantic. It's difficult to write about HEA when your own is crumbling around you. Some people can push through the grief and for them, writing is therapeutic. For me, it was not possible. I tried. Oh, how I tried, and the words just would not come.
Don't feel bad about the guitar lesson. It something's not on my calendar, I'll forget it too, which is why my calendar looks like it's for five people instead of just me. I put EVERYTHING on it.
Happy homecoming to your wife!
Marilyn
the flash of upset I felt in a conversation yesterday--someone said I was a major figure in popular romance studies, and I thought "no I'm not; I haven't published anything yet!"--suggests that maybe there's writing and publishing that I really want to do, now. Internally motivated, not externally, I mean.
Eric, someone who played a pivotal role in bringing together enough other interested academics that it began to be obvious that there was a "field" of "romance studies" not just isolated one-off studies/articles on romance novels is, clearly, going to be thought of as "a major figure in popular romance studies."
Anyone editing the only journal in the field is going to be a "major figure in popular romance studies."
Someone who's one of the few academics teaching and mentoring students working in this field is going to be a "major figure in popular romance studies."
Someone who's organising conferences, co-editing essay collections and has presented some fascinating papers at conferences? They're going to be considered a "major figure in popular romance studies."
You've done all of those things. Papers are important, but all the other things are really, really important too.
That said, since I haven't been at those conferences, I want you to publish those papers!
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