Academic writing strives to remove personality from your work. It can be soul-crushing. I remember well when my daughter—a talented writer—came home in sixth grade with a note from her teacher. An otherwise ideal student, she was writing her science projects with *gasp* her own voice! Mr. Hydrogen and how he joins Mr. Oxygen—that sort of thing. Granted, it would never be published in a scientific journal, but it was a personalized expression that demonstrated an understanding of the concepts. Having been the recipient of an old school education, I also learned that academic writing should lack personality. Those who’ve bothered to read my academic papers, however, may have noted that I don’t always obey the rules. Subtle bits (very small, I’ll allow) crept in amid the erudition. And now I find myself wishing I’d persisted a bit more.
Pure objectivity, anyone living in a post-modern world knows, is a chimera. It doesn’t really exist. We all have points of view, whether they eschew adjectives or not. I still write fiction, but since my publication history has been “academic” I indulge in it while trying to break through where someone’s voice isn’t a detriment. I’ve been reading non-fiction by younger women writers and one of the things I’m finally catching onto is that your own voice shouldn’t be the enemy. It may be so for most publishing houses, but I’m wondering at what cost. So many ideas, just as valid as any staid publication, never see the light of day beyond some editor’s desk. That’s not to suggest that anyone can write—I’ve read far too many student papers to believe that—but that those who can ought not be shackled by convention. If only I could get an agent who believes that!
Holy Horror isn’t exactly flying off the press, but it does represent a kind of hybrid. It’s transitioning to a kind of writing that allows some personality onto the page (yes, I’m old enough to still believe in pages). A now departed family friend—he’d known my grandfather—was determined to read Weathering the Psalms. He didn’t make it through. It was an academic publication. In the humanities, it seems to me, we need to allow authors to be human. It’s in our title, after all. Please don’t take this as professional advice; careers are still broken on the wheel of tradition. Writing, however, shouldn’t be a caged bird. But then again, the clock says it’s now time to get to work.