Writing is Hard

My writing needs an enema.  Writing is hard and often feels as if, pardonne-moi, my brain was constipated.  No matter the years spent writing, setting words on a page proves daunting almost every time I do it.  I realize that even seasoned writers experience difficulties and knowing that helps.  Even so, when I sit down to do any bit of professional writing, ideas crowd in, begin competing with my better judgment, and I stop. 

Writing is lonesome.  I like talking things out, discussing, even arguing (I am not the quiet type).  I tried arguing with myself, but it didn’t work.  I kept agreeing with myself and admiring the brilliance that came out of my mouth.  Then I wrote it down and deleted it the next day.  Blogging has proven enjoyable, however.  Much more enjoyable, for example, than keeping a journal, which I tried as a teen and got bored of after three entries.  Blogging is public and, as such, I keep certain things private, censor myself from time to time, and edit.  Even if no one read it, I’d still think that someone might come across it and it needed to be presentable.  As my grandma always says, if you’re going out in public, make sure you’re wearing clean underwear. 

Academic writing is public as well, but the process is different and lacks any possibility of immediate gratification.  I sit on an article for a couple of years and then send it out for review fully expecting severe criticism.  After all, the point of academic writing is feedback, criticism, and revision.   Frankly though, not all academic reviewers are nice.  It might even be the case that some do not know how to phrase an opinion, however informed, in a way that does not order you and your ideas to get a different job.  This is strange given that our day jobs involve giving college students positive feedback; perhaps we care about niceties when it comes to our students but not so much when it comes to our colleagues?  Maybe that’s how we get the rage out?  

I recently reviewed a couple of article submissions for the first time.  I spent an inordinate amount of time making sure that everything I communicated was framed and phrased in a kind and productive manner.  Most importantly, I made sure to let the authors know that their brains weren't constipated and that they were, in fact, wearing clean underwear.  I'd like to think I succeeded.