Blogging is not Publishing; Publishing is not Blogging
This has been the debate in my head lately: Do I include a link to this blog in my email signatures or do I not? On one hand, I hope that if nothing else, the ideas that I work through on this blog give the readers I have something to think about. They may not agree with me, or they may think I just don't know what I'm talking about. But this is much better than not having ideas at all, or theorizing stuff but never telling anyone. And if this is what I believe, the increase in readership can only be positive.
Yet, there is that phrase I just used: "ideas that I work through on this blog." Even though the words and tone may mask it, there is a high degree of uncertainty in everything I say on here. This truly is a place for me to roll out ideas that pass through my mind, regardless of how rudimentary, over-generalized, and academically naive they may be. I am the first to admit that blog entries on here are the start of the intellectual investigative process, definitely not the end. I have so much to learn still. Sometimes, I am fearful of my colleagues finding this blog for the sheer reason that what I say here is so debatable (even within myself) that I don't want to be seen as that person "who believes X" (or Y, whatever).
It occurred to me today while talking to Geoff Sirc that in this internal debate in my mind, there is something to be realized or understood about blogging. What I was beginning to understand is that there is a very large rift between how academia views public displays of thought and how the blogosphere understands it. This rift, in a sense, might mark the loose thread that will someday start to unravel some very closely held ideas and assumptions. Additionally, it points to many signs that how we view "drafts" in composition classes is entirely off the mark for the new generation of students filling our classes.
In essence, what I was experiencing in my own head was a small version of a much larger debate that is going on (even if people don't realize it is). At the center of this debate is the word "published." Not "publish," "publishing," or even "publishes," but "published." In the traditional sense of the word, when something was published, it was a complete, polished, finished, final, and public draft.
In composition classes, this has been traditionally seen as a process of drafts. That is, there is a quasi-teleological belief in the advancement of a written document and the end point is something that is suitable for other readers to read. You start with pre-writing, you proceed to a first (sometimes called a rough) draft, and then move on to a second draft (depending on the instructor), and finally hand in a final or polished draft for your grade.
Through this mechanism, ideas are formulated and sharpened, form and structure are strengthened, and grammar and mechanics are corrected. It is like a magician's act. A tiger or lion goes behind a big curtain and then somehow the curtain is removed to display a beautiful woman. We are not allowed to view the magic at work, we are only allowed to view the result or product of this magic. Similarly, in writing classes, it is understood that the only document that is really worth anything is the final product at the end of the line. What goes on before that is seen as grotesque, immature, and is something that should be shameful to placed in the public domain.
In one regard, this makes sense. This is nearly identical to the process in which academic articles are placed into peer reviewed journals. You will see a lot of very well written and well argued texts in the pages of academic journals. What you will never see, however, is how those journals got to this final point. Day in and day out this is the mentality that instructors have to live by, whether they choose to or not, especially if they are not yet tenured. It is a process that is extremely effective and efficient at ensuring that everything that is "published" is of high quality and of sound research and argument.
With the advent of the internet and the dawn of the information age, truth and knowledge are no longer seen as static. The internet does not change weekly, daily, or even every second. The internet and the content on it are constantly changing. In this world, there is no such thing as a "final" product. It is understood and accepted that anything can be changed at anytime. Content is constantly added, removed, and modified.
If it is understood that there is no finality, then the process itself becomes the only thing that matters. This is why blogs are a particularly profound example of this epistemological paradigm shift going on. In a sense, what blogs are showing us is that the emphasis is no longer on the discovery of knowledge or truth but rather the creation or construction of knowledge and truth. And this act of creation is understood to be a never ending, continual process.
This explains why people in academia who are looking at blogs through the traditional lenses of publishing and the nature of knowledge are so repulsed by blog entries. To them, these "published pieces" on the internet closely resemble early drafts in the teleological draft framework. Ideas are often incomplete, form and structure are rarely polished, and it is clearly understood that nothing is considered final. If you were to try to get a blog entry published in an academic journal, you'd probably be able to hear the shrieks of horror (or laughs) from the editors all the way across the nation.
But that is because blogs are not intended to serve as this sort of finalized, polished, and finished display of knowledge. Rather, blogs are employed mostly as a conversation. This could either be an internal conversation (working out the kinks in ideas) or an external one (as most blogs are, a dialogue between a community of like minded bloggers and readers). What was once hidden behind the curtains of individual toil and laboring is now placed on public display. We're not interested in the pretty lady, we're interested in watching what happens behind the curtain and commenting on what it means to us. In short, the finalized product is not what anyone cares about anymore. What people are most interested in is participating in the creation of an ever evolving notion of truth.
Additionally, in a sense this allows for a greater deal of internalization of knowledge. The problem with the finished written product is that once it is finished, it ceases to be yours. It becomes part of the public domain and you cannot go back and change it. This, I think, is the most important concept that composition classes could consider.
Instead of taking graduated steps towards a final product, it seems to make more sense to approach writing as a continual process from day one till whenever time runs out. This means doing away with the concepts of "drafts" and allowing students to continually change what they are working on. Additionally, it also seems to make sense that this is done in a collaborative effort, since the creation and acceptance of knowledge on the internet is not centered around individual authority, but rather communal authority.
Of course, the big question will always be, "but how does this translate into the 'real world'?" The idea being that if knowledge is always in creation, how are students supposed to learn how to write a report that their boss may want or to draft an effective press release.
To this, I have two things to say. In talking with my friends who are already in corporate America, there is already a growing trend towards the less finalized, more 'work-in-progress' notion of communication. The reason? This is where society is moving as a whole.
Further, I don't think this necessarily translates into "shoddy" work. The idea of form and structure as well as grammar and such can be folded into this idea. I mean, honestly, how many of us have not seen a rather blatant error in a posted blog and not hit that edit button? Although I do admit that there are many questions and problems that new and innovative methods will have to be created to handle. But really, that's the whole point right?