October 07, 2002
Pulling a Shelley
There are several webloggers I admire not just because of their facility with writing, but also because they stand by what they write. They may debate their words, but they don't retract them, and rarely regret them.
In particular, I've always liked Jonathon Delacour's tenacity when it comes to his writing. His work doesn't always follow the popular path (and I don't always agree with what he writes) but he stands by his writing with humor, elegance, and skill and without becoming belligerant or defensive when it's questioned or even attacked.
(Does anyone remember You and I both know, Dave, that the breathtaking hypocrisy of "Where Men Can Link, But They Can't Touch" isn't going to get "looked at" any time soon, not by the BlogSisters nor by anyone else in the blogging universe?).
When AKMA writes about confidentiality, or Dorothea writes about self perception and ugliness, neither is taking a "popular" view on their subjects, but both are writing from the heart. They stand by their writing.
Loren once used the term "Pullling a Shelley" to denote putting one's foot in one's mouth -- writing something regreted, which is then either pulled or apologized for. And I agree with Loren, that I have been "pulling a Shelley" far too frequently. However, my use of the term is perhaps not in the sense that Loren intended.
Lately I've been writing more and more "from the heart", but then I don't have either the strength or the courage to stand by what I write. And if people I like or respect disagree or question what I write, or I don't get positive feedback and lots of comments, I tend to equivocate, explain, retract, or apologize for my writing.
My last posting is a classic example of "Pulling a Shelley". By putting myself into an apologetic stance within the comments, by 'explaining' what I was trying to write, I didn't stand by my writing. And what I wrote was lessened because of my wanting to 'please' my audience, even though my audience wasn't asking for either a retraction or an explanation -- they wanted a dialogue.
I think if there is one trait I have that can be said to be stereotypically 'feminine', it's fear of alienating people I like, or whom I want to like me. Unfortunately, this fear of losing affection carries over into my writing.
Earlier today, I caught myself in the act of "Pulling a Shelley" in comments attached to one of Jonathon's postings. In the them, Mark Pilgrim wrote:
"Work that is accessible in every sense of the word" is such an incredible weasel phrase. It's like a philosophy freshman who is losing a philosophical argument and falls back to the "dictionary definition" of some technical term in order to make their point.
I'm becoming Stallman. I can just see it.
I wrote in response, You're not in danger of becoming Stallman, Mark. But you are in danger of becoming intolerant in your zeal.
Later in the afternoon, I found myself going back to Jonathon's comments, wanting to attach, if not an apology, at least a softening of my comment. Yet, there's no need for such prevarication -- my statement wasn't a personal attack on Mark and wasn't said to hurt him or antagonize him. It was my honest opinion based on his statement -- why do I feel this need to apologize for it?
There's a difference between writing to antagonize -- to generate buzz or to deliberately create controversy -- and writing from the heart. If one writes from the heart, no matter how difficult the writing is for our audience, then we have an obligation to ourselves and to our readers to stand by what we write -- not in defensiveness, but with openess and honesty.
Time for me to stop "Pulling a Shelley". Perhaps I'll try "Pulling a Loren", instead...
Posted by Bb at October 07, 2002 04:44 PM
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Is that anything like pulling a Monica? Never mind.
I dunno, Shelley. I can't claim to know you all that well, certainly not as much as some of the folk mentioned in your post may; nor am I inclined to spend time badly philosophizing on how I feel towards another's writing (exempting the dichotomies of like/dislike, agree/disagree, etc). However, being the barrel roller that I am...
I see a vast difference between smoothing over words so they end up moving towards equivocation, and trying to chisel and otherwise refine them so there's less chance for a misunderstanding of ones positions or intended goals. Only you might know for sure what you're after when you return to rephrase your case. I, however, occasionally see someone struggling within the limited medium of a written language to get across -- in as clear and detailed a manner as she can discover -- what she's attempting to say. Sometimes in words more eloquent and comprehensive, sometimes in ways which are (hopefully) less likely to cause hurt feelings to those you have respect or care for. This could be called arguing with compassion. For me, 'empathy' will do.
But again, I dunno.
As for foot in mouth disease, I've no respect for a person who never comes down with that particular virus. I've found them to rarely hold an opinion worth the time it takes me to read it. Certainly, there are many who display both slants in character (I could easily be one), but at least try to find solace in this question: how many chances does a person get to have a type of human behavior named after them?
Well, there's that time I heard a co-worker told off for "being a Kaf-hole." So I can sort of see the reluctance to embrace it.
one of the most difficult lessons of writing is realizing (or discovering) that other people will interpret your words in ways that you didn't intend.
sometimes, that means that your work needs revamping, but sometimes it means that you've written something that actually has multiple meanings.
and that's a good thing.
I appreciated your last post on several levels, and appreciated just as much seeing the multitude of reactions.
when I was in a writers' group (something to 'blog about, one of these days), we had a little rule that evolved out of the group's experience:
the author can't explain anything while the piece is being critiqued.
a rule often broken, but worthwhile nonetheless.
then again, I know exactly what you mean...wanting to equivocate, to be liked, to have it both ways in the conversation.
I agree that "honesty" is an absolute necessity in a friendship.
If you have to avoid saying something you believe that might offend a friend , then they aren't really your friend. They're the friend of the imaginary character you've created. Which is not to say that all of us haven't, to one degree or another, invented an imaginary character, the character we present to others.
I'm here because I found your out-and-out honesty refreshing, though I'll admit it took me a couple times to come to terms with your "ourbursts,' Shelley.
I've been tempted to pull my head into my shell a time or two also, Loren, but I'd lose so much by that. Eventually I will probably do something that makes Bb flame me into ash, but in the meantime I'll just value the fire.
BTW, BB, over on CavLec I have not-so-humbly disclaimed the compliment. Which is in no way a reflection on your graciousness in offering it.
No offense taken, and no apology required. You made an excellent point about being careful where I direct my passion, and I've taken it to heart.
Kaf, the only thing I can think to say is, "What?"
Elaine, your writer's group sounds marvelous. And so is your comment.
Loren, much of my temper is based on self-doubt and defensiveness (that temper that isn't based on passionate beliefs). I think the more I write because I love to write, and not because I'm trying to please my audience, the less defensive I'll become. After all, the only creature who will ever love me unconditionally is my cat, and as long as she gets head scritches and nummies in the proper proportion, I can do no wrong. As for the rest of the world -- I genuinely hope they find what I write to be of interest, but I'm not going to lose sleep if they don't. If I can keep this viewpoint, I think my temper will flare less and less (but not my passion...I hope).
Dorothea, thank you for your comment here. I saw your disclaimer, but you don't waffle as much as you think you do. And I would never flame you -- if I wanted to get your goat, I would say something really sweet and surgery about you. Pay you outrageous compliments That'd do the trick.
Mark, thanks. That was a very cool comment.