Sometimes it feels as though there is nothing to write about, almost as though one’s brain has been emptied of all possible ideas. But I sit down anyway and begin to write and sometimes the words and ideas just start to flow. I write best late at night—when the distractions of the day have disappeared. I wonder what it must be like to write for a living, to know that one is wholly dependent upon oneself—upon the whims of creativity and inspiration that appear at the strangest of times and which can disappear at the most inopportune of times. It cannot be easy to be a writer. I don’t know if I consider myself one (yet)—I write poetry and have been doing so for years, but have always been hesitant to call myself a writer or a poet because I did not do it for a living. Writing full-time for a living seems to impart a certain credibility—you are not considered to be just a dabbler. But after many years I realize that I am a writer or at least that I want to spend the rest of my life writing. I am happy when I write now in a way that I cannot be in any other work endeavor. I have been a research scientist for over twenty years but in all likelihood I was also a closet writer. I have enjoyed performing scientific research, gathering data, analyzing data and writing articles. I still enjoy reading, editing and evaluating the work of other scientists as well as mentoring students. But I do not enjoy the politics of academia and I cannot find my niche in the academic ivory tower. A friend of mine recently commented on this—she felt that at heart that I really didn’t want an office in the ivory tower. I think she is right. I don’t want to be shut in away from the reality of the world around me. I don’t really fit in the academic realm no matter how hard I’ve tried and I remain on the outside looking in, which is fine with me now. I understand how to be a researcher but I don’t understand how to be a politician or an administrator, and the latter two will serve you well in the upper realms of academia. Or perhaps this is not quite accurate; it’s taken me too long to learn to understand the requirements of academic politics.
The turmoil of the past year in my work environment has forced me to re-evaluate what I want from the rest of my work life. I know I want more than I have now. I need a new challenge to sink my teeth into. There are other considerations as well— colleagues who are ill or close to retirement, lack of grant support, lack of students, slashed budgets, malaise, poor leadership, lack of organizational strategy and focus (the result of a major merger?), and other issues. But perhaps most importantly, I don’t ‘see’ the new research path that I should follow, I don’t know what is best for me anymore, I am in a quandary and I have never been in a quandary before in the thirty years I’ve worked in science. I should probably apply for new grants and for new students, but I have no idea what to write a grant about or what project I should focus on or how much money I should apply for. I have no five-year plan, I can barely see past this coming December. I know I need to prepare an opposition for a doctoral student who will defend his work in November—I will be the second opponent and I can see myself doing that. But beyond that, I don’t know. It scares me but it also exhilarates me because I see the potential for a real life change.
The creative side of my life outside of work however is in full swing. I will be publishing a collection of my poems written during the past twenty-five years that will be available for purchase on Amazon.com during the early autumn. The collection is entitled ‘Parables and Voices’. I have been posting some of the poems from this collection on my blog at the suggestion of my good friend Brendan who is a writer and a playwright (and a blogger in his own right). It has been a good suggestion because I have gotten some interesting and encouraging feedback from friends who never knew I wrote poetry and who like the poems. They are surprised when I tell them I am the poet. I am surprised sometimes that I am the poet, and am perhaps even more surprised that I am finally ready to share my poems with the world. It has taken more than half of my life to get here—the long way around.
