Writing about not writing

I have been inspired by so much that I don’t know where to begin. I wanted to write in a committed and intentional way in this blog – I always have these really fantastic aspirational ideas about All The Things I Will Do. Then I never really end up doing them in that way. Emphasis on ‘In That Way’. I *do* end up doing all of the things – just not in the way I intended. Yet my intentions are intentionally set, regardless of my history which tells me I will find alternative ways of reaching the place I had intended to go to - probably with multiple stop-off points and perhaps going off track entirely (I edited and noticed the passive voice at the beginning of this sentence and found it quite ironic, so left it as it was).

So, intentions. We’ve found our way to November. Goodness knows how. Week six of teaching I think. And November is #acwrimo – a month where academics set an intention to write daily (the intention is set to write something – not necessarily something special or ground-breaking. Just something). And yes, you guessed it – I’m not doing it. I am very intentionally not doing it. Not because I don’t love writing – I actually really enjoy writing (that’s why most of these blog posts are kind of wordy and could probably be summarised in one or two paragraphs). It's why I write 40 lecture slides when I only really need 25. Also I'm not not writing because I don’t think I have the time. That’s kind of the point of #acwrimo – November is a really busy time and it’s viewed as important to carve out writing time, even when things are unmanageably busy. Even when you have lectures to write. Even when you have things to read (really, all the things to read). Even when you have teaching to do and clients to see. Even when you have interviews to transcribe. Even when you have ethics applications to review. Even ethics applications of your own to write. PhD…. The list goes on. Because you know, like the superwomen we are, we can do All Of The Things. I mean, really we can. I genuinely think putting #acwrimo in there as a daily commitment is an awesome thing to do. But not for me.

It isn’t too difficult for me to work out why I’ve decided it’s not for me. I’m either embracing one small opportunity where it is actually OK for me to say ‘no, not for me, not right now’ and for that not to be called into question – for me not to be questioned. For the question not to even exist apart from here as I write. For that to be OK. Either that, or I am doing my usual trick which is to immediately shrink away from any kind of institutional practice that I don’t think sits particularly comfortably with how I choose to spend my days and weeks. It might even be both – knowing that I am not being called into question and also being comfortably familiar with my old trick of subtle resistance. The two work very nicely together. But if I think about the question that isn’t there – the one that isn’t being asked, apart from my mentioning of it here, it’s a question of ‘but why?’ – always. And now I’m not just writing about writing, I am writing about everything. All the things that we/I say no to.

No is legitimate. No is ‘not for me’. No is resistance, and no is ‘not right now’. No is no – but it is also much more than no. Yet it is questioned – so many times it is questioned. And questions are loaded with assumptions, pre-written narratives – again, others filling in the blanks about us that maybe we haven’t even had an opportunity to fill in and make sense of ourselves (whether we were asked or not is another matter). But in the same way that no is no and it is also much more, questions are questions – but also so much more too. Questions can open up and enable dialogue, but they can also shut people down. They can enable and disable – include and exclude. Function to create invisible boundaries around particular groups and spaces. Questions are framed from the lens of the speaker. The lens of the speaker is informed by the particular positions from which that speaker experiences the world. Often to call something into question is to be speaking from a particular position of privilege. Or rather, if you call something into question and you’re not speaking from particular position(s) of privilege, the risk of being silenced is greater. That, or as Sara Ahmed writes, you risk actually *becoming* the problem, because you raised a question in relation to the thing you viewed as an issue. And individualising the issue is a tried and tested method of eliminating those that speak out, in favour of those whose status and privilege rely on the silencing of others. So chances are, the questioner is framing their question (the ‘but why?’) from their position in a relational encounter which is rooted in asserting power in and through socio-political power relations. The questioning of my ‘no’ is not just a question – it is much more. And this really is not just about (not) writing.

So, about ‘not writing’… I kind of enjoyed writing this.