It is not writing that is the problem, per se, but the writing of anything that could be considered scholarly or 'publishable'. It is as if the possibility of being judged not good/smart/academic enough is keeping me from putting anything down on paper. Maybe.
Reflective, I can do. Critical, I can do. Scholarly, not so much.
When I was an undergrad I wrote an article that was really excellent, and original. My lecturer said that I should submit it to the undergraduate research journal. I didn't. What on earth would make me NOT submit something like that?
Joy Higgs lists writing retreats (time set away from distractions and regular work) as a way to engage in intense writing. But how does a full-time professional working person set the time aside so completely? How do I switch off the demands of finances, family, work, and friends to commit to this? Which is funny, because I'm writing this post during a Shut up and Write Tuesday #suwtues session.
There are presentations, informal articles, and blog posts galore, but I still have not written a single, peer-reviewed journal article. My extensive list of abandoned co-writers grows, and not a single article is submitted. What is going on? I'm not lazy, incompetent, or mean (as far as I know).
Frustration with myself is becoming a constant.
The idea of being an author, a researcher, or writing a scholarly work, is so unfamiliar. The transition from student to researcher (or researcher-practitioner) is not one that is guided by clear directions, or by a single mentor, but by a gradual and unconfortable 'becoming'.
Developing independence and autonomy is not easy, or fun. Nor does it give me a sense of freedom. It leaves me exposed, naked and vulnerable. 'Inadequacy' and 'rawness' are the words that spring to mind.
Even this act of writing about myself is uncomfortable. It brings a narcissistic, selfish, and petty individual to life. It is the actualisation of my shameful thoughts and assumptions about others. I'm reminded of the scene from Ferngully the Last Rainforest, when Hexus starts to feed on pollution, and, as he feeds, turns from a tiny dark droplet of grease into a full blown anthropomorphised creature of evil. That is my ego, see?
I don't want to let myself down. I don't want to let my supervisors down. I don't want to let my colleagues, friends, or family down. Mostly, I don't want to fail. Failure is bettter than not trying. Failure is better than not trying. Failure is better than not trying. Im trying to convince myself... Can you tell?
