Rules and Opinions: Masters and Minions

(1) When I entered college, the notion of inserting creativity into each piece of writing was completely foreign to me.  To define my terms, I believe creativity to be creation/discovery outside of the usual boundaries that genres can accommodate.  I was used to the compare/contrast format of essays as well as style analysis, which is generally reliant on a set of rules or a formula.  Following rules in writing has always been a way to attain the highest grade, but not necessarily a stepping-stone to achieving one’s own full writing potential.  In my opinion, potential is reached by trial and error and experimentation outside the confines of rules.  I do believe that rules are important when it comes to research writing, so that the formats among research articles are similar enough that a reader knows how to find what they’re looking for.  That being said, it’s generally when the rules are broken well that a piece of writing becomes intriguing.  An example of breaking the rules well would be the novel House Of Leaves by Mark Danielewski, where the rules of page layout and font color are broken, among many others. 

TL;DR- Coming into college, writing could only be ‘good’ if it earned the highest grades and followed the teacher’s rules. Leaving college I’ve learned that a writer best develops their own gift by experimenting outside of the rules.

(2) The role of personal opinion in writing is conveying an idea that a reader may have also experienced, and instilling a sense of closeness and trust from the reader to the writer.  With this trust, the writer can lead the reader on and do bolder things than before that credibility was bestowed.  Opinion is a very difficult thing to omit because as humans we’re compelled to vocalize and share our thoughts.  Human knowledge advances almost entirely due to differences in opinion that inspire us to find a definite right answer.  Places opinions don’t do well are science articles, research articles, literature reviews, and most academically rigorous types of writing that is used as a tool to gain information.  Opinionated writing does thrive in context of a debate, where the victor is the person who articulates their opinion in the most eloquent manner.  Also, novels are single authors opinions disguised as fictional characters’ opinions, so I have to credit opinionated writing for all of the writing that I actually enjoy reading.  I’m sure there are genres where opinion isn’t allowed, but chances are that in those genres the opinion is just extremely nuanced, enough so that it doesn’t muddle whatever the facts may be.  An example of writing that should be as objective as possible would be religious texts.  We’d hope that we’re just getting the facts, but for each biblical event there were multiple interpretations, and therefore multiple opinions.  I’d say religious texts are the only type of writing I can think of where ALL personal elements should be entirely nonexistent, whereas other genres probably have at least a little wiggle room for opinions, disguised or otherwise.

TL;DR- Opinion in writing is meant to establish a connection with the reader, writing that deals primarily with facts should have little to no opinion, creative works as well as debate thrive on opinion, religious texts should be entirely void of opinion.

(3) I’ve always drawn a line between the creative writers and the academic writers.  Creative writers draw from personal experience and personal opinions, while academic research writers draw from other’s experiences and interpretations while omitting their own biases.  Creative writers are more the day-dreaming-novel-reading type, whereas academic writers are more the seminar attending, textbook reading type.  I associate the creative writers with starving artists and/or rockstars (pretty broad spectrum), and the academic writers with ‘the American dream’ lifestyle.  Creative types are the ones you want to bring to bed; academic types are the ones you want to bring home to your parents. When someone from an older generation asks about my major and I say writing, they tend to scoff and say something along the lines of, “What…are you going to be a novelist?”  This question is always accompanied by a vocal inflection that sounds similar to, “Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” which illustrates the view of creativity as a joke.  Because of this, when I’d rather not engage in a flame war, I say that I’m interested in becoming a grant writer, or a technical writer, and then my future isn’t so dismissible.

TL;DR- Creative writers nourish the soul and starve the stomach through opinion based writing, academic writers silence the soul but nourish the stomach by omitting opinion.           

Wonder Full

Sacks, Leakey, and Lewin all have lessons to teach us in this week’s readings, not to mention nostalgic childhood perspectives to lend us.  Although Sacks’ story doubles as a science lesson as well as a life lesson, the Leakey/Lewin story provides an inside look into the passion that propels excavation and ancient discovery.    From enigmatic unveilers of our ancestry, to eccentric inspirers of chemistry, the common theme is unconditional admiration for the universe in both Origins Reconsidered and Uncle Tungsten.

             The narrator of each story idolizes someone who was inspirational and instrumental in getting them interested (or further along) in their current field of study.  Sacks displays his idolization for his uncle as childlike wonder, never questioning, and more importantly never tiring, since not all young boys would take an interest to their peculiar uncle’s metal ravings.  Uncle Dave is the most ideal mentor a kid could have, someone who is genuinely in awe with their day-to-day work.  All knowledge should be inherently fascinating, because it’s the literal acquisition of something that was previously unknown.  Unfortunately, conveying that knowledge is an art in itself, and all too often is the knowledge lost in delivery.  However, when a special teacher like Uncle Dave comes along, knowledge piles itself into the mind almost without permission, because this isn’t just learning, this is doing.  Consequently, knowledge attained in this manner tends to stick—for life.  And why shouldn’t it?  When we recall pleasurable experiences, it feels more like reliving that moment instead of mere remembrance.  Sacks gets to relive his childhood hands-on knowledge about various metals at any point in his now adult chemist career, instead of looking up his old college chemistry notes.  Far more effective and less time consuming I’m sure, plus with each recollection Sacks gets a little sip of the magic that he first felt when his eyes were opened to the world of chemistry.  The lesson in this story is if you truly love what you’re doing, others are bound to be infected by your own sense of wonder and admiration, and this can set a domino effect of knowledge into motion.

            In Origins Reconsidered, the idolization from the narrator is peer to peer.  However, that doesn’t detract from the feeling of youthful awe that the Sacks piece echoed. Leakey’s co-worker, Kamoya Kimeu, is described as the absolute fossil finding guru.  His talents are described as “legendary” (191) and seem to exceed human ability.  To sharpen that image even further, Kamoya is portrayed (at least in this short excerpt) as a man of few words, with a mind reserved only for treasures in the earth.  As the reader, I’m imagining a very spiritual dude who is literally in touch with the earth, to the point that she’ll whisper her secrets to him and him alone.  Now obviously that’s my imagination’s interpretation, but even so, the makeup of this enigmatic character lends an equal sense of mystery to the story as a whole.  This raises an interesting challenge for me as a writer that I had never considered for science writing.  Perhaps when the story by itself is only awe inspiring for its author, adding in characters (in our case, scientists/researchers/professors) that embody that sense of awe can ultimately contribute to relating awesome elements to the reader.  This story should have already been awesome standalone with just the facts and discoveries, but the fact is that without the human element the story would fall short of entertainment.  The lesson in this story lies outside the text for me, which is that when your work comes across as less than fantastic, take a step back and rediscover why you found it to be fantastic in the first place.  Maybe it’s the place or people surrounding the topic, or a particular way it was introduced to you.  Chances are if you can remind and re-inspire yourself, you can inspire your readers too.   

            

You Believe That?

First I’d like to say that the Science News Brief assignment was much less intimidating than I expected.  As a dominantly creative brained person, there is always a fear of writing something that I would hate to read, but writing it anyway because…well…it’s due pretty soon.  This assignment was a good reminder that creativity and factual elements can be blended together to make an enjoyable read.  It also helps to be an inadvertent subject of your own study, because it makes it easier to give real life metaphors that can speak to more than just the scientist.  And maybe that’s part of the beauty that Heisenberg is talking about, “the proper conformity of the parts to one another and to the whole.”  Scientists conforming to scientists and writers conforming to readers simultaneously.

I can relate to Sagan’s approach in The Demon Haunted World.  This isn’t so much science writing as it is social commentary, which I am guilty of when I don’t understand what the hell I’m supposed to write about.  It’s pretty easy to twist any prompt into a “and this is why the world sucks, because facebook” or “this is why religion sucks, because science.”  But I must admit, I’m a sucker for negativity and one hit KO’s to the hopeful and optimistic.  I’m not saying that Sagan’s essay was a bratty rant like my writing sometimes is, but I do think that he intended to be patronizing to the self indulgent.   I eat that shit up, because I self indulge and like to be put in my place as a reader.

“Every time we test our ideas against the outside world, we are doing science.  When we are self indulgent and uncritical, when we confuse hopes and facts, we slide into pseudoscience and superstition.” (241)  If only Sagan could have been present for one dinner with a particular nutjob stepmother, I might have been sent to my room to study, not repent.  It’s such a simple line, but so critical for separating how we wish the world was, and how it actually is.  This quote fires on a different level too, breaking down the intimidation factor in the word “science.”  Science isn’t strictly lab coat rigor, it’s observing and testing the universe against itself.  It’s a relief to know that if we are thinking people (as opposed to herded sheeple) then we are already in the beginning stages of scientific discovery.

To finish this post, I want to comment on an even simpler line than my previous paragraph discussed.  The commandment of science that says, “Mistrust arguments from authority.”  This commandment should be applied to every field, in every situation.  Some days I only come to class in hopes of getting to call bullshit on a professor.  I don’t get the opportunity as much as I’d like these days, probably because the further along in education you go, the more careful instructors are to never claim anything as completely true.  Still, I come into each class knowing that something ridiculous will be said and unquestioned, and it keeps me on the edge of my seat trying to catch that moment.  Similarly, I come into class knowing that there is someone smarter and more patient than myself, and they will call bullshit on me.  In this regard, everyone doubting everyone is not a negative situation.  For me, it brings me to class, makes me listen twice as hard, and reminds me to calculate each word before I open my mouth.  My doubt is my education.     

        

Thinking Myself Out Of Existence

Graves

I was not aware that the accountability of rhetoric as an epistemic tool was ever up for debate since B.C., which made me want to read quickly to get to the “against” arguments.  Before I got that far, I double checked that I still agreed with the “for” side, and Michael C. Leff summed up my feelings exactly, “rhetoric is epistemic since knowledge itself is a rhetorical construct.” (108) That checks out with me, despite the chicken or the egg dilemma it presents.

  Or at least it did check out with me, until Cherwitz reminded me “there is a reality independent of us, a reality that cannot be willed into existence nor wished away.” (108) Unfortunately, I believe this as well, but fortunately I cannot think myself out of existence, but unfortunately if I could my existence would continue to exist whether I tried to think about existing or not.  Through all that fog, it is clear that Graves is about to undertake a seemingly immeasurable concept.  This is fascinating as a reader, and I’m excited to watch Graves basically try and unravel infinity.

 

If rhetoric actually is what it is, then my opinion holds that it is always epistemic.  However, the fact that we are human muddles this opinion.  I suspect that this will be a recurring issue in science, the fact that just because we delineate a sensation with a term, does not mean that there is any validity to it.  If a reality exists whether we do or not, then it really doesn’t matter whether we use rhetoric because it’s all made up and the universe carries on either way.  Be that as it may, the term rhetoric serves its purpose here and now as a foundation for spreading understanding about what we can perceive as humans, even if it doesn’t necessarily create reality.

Fisher

The preface to this article, written by Fisher, sets the reader up nicely to leave a fair amount of baggage at the door before diving into some pretty dense concepts.  Fisher sets his rhetorical situation up nicely, explaining that each subsequent work of his refines the last.  This instills a bit of trust in me as a reader, knowing that this is not merely another article; this is Fisher’s life work.  Furthermore, the admittance that this essay is merely framework and thus not as “compelling” (378) as it has potential to be in the future lends additional credibility to Fisher.  This is a useful way to set tyrannical readers like myself up for consensual acquisition of wisdom, instead of skepticism met with some other fellow’s definition of “truth.”

One of the elements that make this article a little challenging to comprehend is the specificity of its nature.  Before the main issue can be presented, several key points must be defined in order to understand the content.  Even with terms defined, the concepts are not easily digestible for the layman.  That makes this article intended for a very specific audience, which puts its entertainment factor into context.   As for the content of this article, Fisher is thorough in both of his in depth explorations of the narrative and rational paradigms.  He gives suggestions of how we can lay the framework for reconsidering what is reasonable and rational, while reminding us that this is merely a concept that needs far more attention if it’s to mature into being.

Thomas

What better way to captivate an audience than to make your article revolve around wonder?  Thomas’ tone invites the reader to sit down with a drink and daydream about truly awe-inspiring things in the universe, and it’s pretty easy bait to take.  It’s mostly a given that writers love to think and let their thoughts take them away, as it is for readers, so this article serves as a rare example of writing that should not be met with much criticism.  I comment often on what does (or doesn’t) lend an author credibility, but in an easygoing article like this where the premise is clearly an opinion, I’m happy to be along for the ride.

Thomas immediately establishes a grandiose objective by referring to the original Seven Wonders of the world as, “old, out of date” (220) wonders.  This effectively sets the parameters for Thomas’ forthcoming list as massive—massive enough to dwarf the pyramids and the whole lot.  As if this wasn’t enough anticipation, the reader is told that the largest wonder will be mentioned very last.  Hook/Line/Sinker.

This article has a brisk sense of energy and excitement that pulls the reader along all the way to the promised climax without losing momentum, and as the final wonder is revealed, there is a compulsory need for pause and reflection.  When at all possible within science writing, I would like to emulate that sense of lingering wonder in my readers.