Important Writing Isn't Important (10/30)
I'm writing 30 essays in 30 days. This is number 10.
Recently, I started working with a gifted client who was worried about the importance of her work. People in her circle were writing about political philosophy, Hegel, and other subjects that often involve fixing the world in a theoretical gaze, summing up vast swathes of the human endeavor. Wasn't that important? More important than writing about, for example, human relationships?
My answer: fuck no.
I do love that world-in-a-snowglobe stuff. I'll happily devour a 30,000 word Slate Star Codex post that attempts to explain the entire state of modern civilization through an intriguing abstract lens. But that kind of philosophy, for me, is kind of like theoretical poetry. It frames and enlivens the mess of life that's ultimately beyond accounting. Mostly it doesn't actually change any of my live options. Speaking of which, Ulysses was incredible. It now serves as attractive interior decoration.
In real terms, the most consequential book of my life, page for page, was I Hear You, an extremely prosaic short self-help book about the importance of affirmation. You know, like, saying "that sounds hard" after someone tells you of their angst. Developing this elementary skill, which I somehow didn't acquire earlier (I will, again, invoke my touch of Asperger's and my malformed social instincts) made my personal relationships a lot better.
Sure, I want takes about GPT-3 and consciousness. But I also want this beautiful chronicle of a small-town pharmacist, which, through examination of a podunk microcosm, reflects the depths of the human soul. Peter Hessler didn't pitch it to his editors because he knew they wouldn't find it important. He just handed them the astonishing final project after doing in-depth reporting for months, because Peter Hessler is insane. And because he knows what actually matters.
A certain kind of bookish person privileges bookish wisdom. The kind of world-modeling that makes you think you see more deeply than the plebs. But I think most of my peer group could get more out of Difficult Conversations than The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. (Such a catchy title.) And if I had to pick between phenomenology and learning more about the practical virtues, I'd choose the latter, in a second. Intimidating German portmanteaus are great. Fun to deploy at a dinner party. But I'd rather learn to love better and build a barn.
Hah! "The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind" I've read it. You're right. Jaynes makes his case, and it's interesting. I could never write something like that.
The Dr. Don piece was great, thanks.
I'm also commenting on your philosophy - write volumes in a huge hurry. Over the past few years I've written between 1 and 2 million words, mostly in a hurry. It is both fun and cathartic. In reviewing my work, I've come to the conclusion that some people have a knack for making sense when they tell a story. I don't.
I'm considering the possibility of writing and then revising like crazy until I learn to make sense. I want to balance that with the possibility that I only need a million more words to learn what makes sense. the only hangup is this. I like writing in a hurry. I think it's fun. Trying to make my work make sense to others has always felt like a drag.
Not sure if you'll read this, but if you do, thanks again! And, I like your work.
Thanks