I read a segment of Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird online today, the part where she discusses shitty first drafts. She is writing mostly about fiction, but it applies to all writing. However, her argument isn't exactly "ground breaking." I figured her basic premise out the first year of graduate school, that sometimes I just have to make myself sit down and write... no matter what comes out... usually it is shit.
But this current beast is a nightmare. It won't end. It's HUGE. I'm all over the place, and it's as depressing as hell. (I wrote "hello" first). Yes, it's that depressing too.
Furthermore, no one cares.
Who cares? I'm wasting my life writing shitty essays that only my 3 advisers will read, and that is, sort of read. What's worse, this paper is consistently spurring my nihilism, which has been growing steadily since late September. I guess the truth is that I don't know how else to waste my life. I guess it doesn't matter. Shitty papers at least are something at the end of the day, until they're recycled, composted, or burned.
2 comments:
I care! And I'm sure that the paper is great--you're just being hard on yourself.
Plus, someone once told me that it doesn't have to be good, just good enough.
Hang in there, Auntie Tammy!
Thanks for the sweet note and your faith in me. It's just a really difficult time right now, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.
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