I read. Really, I do. In fact, I read alot. But most of the reading I do, I’ve figured out, is for one of two particular purposes. First, I read to review. The International Feminist Journal of Politics gets about 100 manuscripts a year, and I read about 30 books between the Oxford Series on Gender and IR and the New York University Press series on Gender and Political Violence. I do about 50 reviews per year for other journals and book publishers. I read stuff that my Ph.D. students are working on to make sure they are appropriately situated in the literature. Reading for reviews is largely great – you get to see the cool stuff in the field early, and help think about its development. But its not methodical, or long-sighted. The other reading I do is to write. When there’s something I’d like to write about, I read the relevant literature, looking to learn what I can learn about what others have thought about it from similar and/or relevant perspectives. This serves as a foundation for what I’d like to write. I don’t think, in those terms, I’m that dissimilar from the pattern many of us fall into.
But there was a time, not that long ago, that I really read. I read a good book, then the good stuff in its bibliography, and then the good stuff in those bibliographies. I once read everything in the almost 2000 footnotes in my most recent book, much of it several times. I find myself shortcutting that lately to manage all of the other work – yet find every time I sit down to read something for some reason other than those two purposes inspiring, and completely worthwhile. So, I have a plan(/resolution): to read rather than write for a prolonged period of time.
The plan is below the fold.
Starting July 1, 2013 until January 1, 2014, I won’t write. July 1 is to clear the current writing backlog and keep all promises that I have to people/publishers currently. Every minute I would have used to write, I will read – stuff neither for review or for the purposes of writing, but relevant to the things I think about, research-wise. I will make a list like the list of things to write, set quotas, and make a plan to get the reading done. Other than blog posts, I won’t write about it until the end, or write with it. Suggestions for building the list welcome!
Yep, I couldn’t agree more. 80% of writing is reading.
What a neat idea. I’ve been thinking about this myself. Although my review demands are nothing like yours, I read for the same reasons. So I’ve vowed to read an article a day unrelated to my immediate writing project for the next year. We’ll see how it goes…
I have read some really serious posts on this wesbite. Why is this self indulgent piece of narcissim imposed on the readers? This sounds like a teen diary entry and it would be nice to know why this was even considered worthy of publication? Perhaps the author can consider an online diary for the close friends/followers alone and not bore us with this kind of stuff again. It certainly makes me think lesser of academics!
Why has my message been garbled? It was clearly written when I posted it. It was not abusive at all, merely critical and perhaps that was required. Why does the moderator need to summarise my comment? Is this a new form of censorship? so so disappointed. First you post something like this which reads like a teen diary entry and then you don’t allow a perfectly valid criticism to be expressed.
From the link provided immediately after your disemvowled post:
“Because disemvoweling makes text legible only through significant cognitive effort, it is used by moderators on internet forums, newsgroups and blogs as a way to limit the effectiveness of unwanted postings or comments, such as rudeness or criticism. Disemvoweling maintains some transparency, both of the act and the underlying word, which would not be the case if the entire offending post is deleted.”
It isn’t the content, but the trollishly inflammatory style.
We do, actually, spell this stuff out on our policies page. You may read it here: https://www.whiteoliphaunt.com/duckofminerva/about/policies
I’ve got an idea: if you don’t want to read it, don’t read it. I thought, through personal reflection, it asked valid questions about how we do what we do. Fine if you disagree, though the tone is unnecessary. I think replying took you more time than skipping it …