There’s a thing I want to say. I heard it coming up when I was sitting in Starbucks yesterday. Watching the sun and the people in the sun and thinking this was as good a place as any for a writer and a teacher to be composing his thoughts. And I was imagining composed thoughts — organized and clear and inspiringly meaningful. And instead I was watching a father and his young son have an argument. The four-year-old boy wanted to climb the back of the booth he was sitting on, and then he wanted to lay down on the seat. And the father wanted him to stop. Whichever he chose, just stop and be motionless. The only solution for the father was for his son to sit still, to sit down in the chair and behave as — well, as he himself was. In all his age and sediment. The argument grew to a boil, with the son never quite getting the sitting in the seat right and the father getting more upset each time. Finally at one point he reached over to grab his son’s knee, force him upright, and threatened to take away his cookie. Which he did. Which he did because the boy didn’t obey. The boy couldn’t find it in his small legs and busy hands to sit still. And away went the cookie. And on came the tears.
Digital writing is emergent writing. It mutinies at the imposition of form, the edicts of the grammars of old. It rails to change the rules. It raises the flag of anarchy. The council of digital writing is one of spontaneity, rambunctiousness, the aloof horror of invention, the frenetic joy of dismantling what came before, and the abdication of the author. It is audacious, demanding that we writers free it from the prison of specific rigor. It emerges. It revolts. Continue reading
Sean Michael Morris is Managing Editor of Hybrid Pedagogy. In this piece, Sean offers a eulogy for the author, and inspects what happens when we enact digital writing.
The Specter of the Author
“I find nothing so singular to life as that everything appears to lose its substance the instant one actually grapples with it.”
–Nathaniel Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables
The author is dead. She is become as a specter. Faceless, genderless, subject not now only to scrutiny within her own text but to exorcism from it. That text never again will be her own, but a relic of her fondest desire, her wish toward something that mattered, something that made her matter. Yet, she becomes no more than a wisp behind the words, a half-embarrassed face in the mirror, bodiless, wordless.
Authors drain all their lives into their words. They die into them sometimes, and then resurrect themselves within the fashion of letters, phrases, and sentences that describe what they know, what they’ve seen, how their bodies have felt, what their ears have heard, and also what they cannot know but pine to know. Anyone who has committed to paper the story that woke him at night understands the plight of author, desperate for vivid, livid language to deposit that dream, that narrative, that true true story into the mind and heart of a reader. Anyone who has stared unblinkingly at the deep, dark line of the cursor for minutes and hours, deliberating and waiting on the next word — which. will. be. the. right. one — would happily share a beer, a shoulder, a cry with any other author. For the writing process, in the end, is always the same. Write what you know, and hope your readers will know what you’ve written. Continue reading
Digital Writing Month has people all over the country are preparing for their challenges. In case you need a little inspiration, here are a few folks who are rarin’ to go!
- Abby Mullen will be working on her Preble’s Boys project;
- Ryan Hunt will be examining social media and its role in society;
- Sione Aeschliman will make use of HubPages and Scivener during her challenge.
A Few Questions about DigiWriMo
1. Do I have to write 50,000 words? Really? Can someone even do that in 30 days?
You do not have to reach 50,000 words. No police officers will show up in the middle of the night, Kafka-style, if you don’t reach the goal. No one will look down at you, or shake a finger your direction, or decide not to share their chocolate milk at lunch. The real goal is to write, to discover writing anew, to invent it in ways you haven’t done before, to allow yourself to set aside your editor, your critic, your perfectionist. Stop asking your writing to behave, and give it permission to go a little crazy. Continue reading
In this post, our fearless leader, Sean Michael Morris, offers up some ideas for getting ready, as well as some insights into what to expect from your first DigiWriMo!
1. Get Creative!
Digital writing isn’t like other writing. Anytime we sit down to the page to express ourselves, tell a story, or make poetry, our first challenge is to determine what we want to say. But with digital writing, the challenge doesn’t end there. Because it’s not just about what you want to say, but how you’re going to say it! Will you write your novel in Twitter, 140 characters at a time? Will you and a friend collaborate in a Google Doc? Will you get your word count up using Tumblr? Or will your words consist of the invisible text of behind-the-scenes code? With digital writing, the medium is half the message! Continue reading