Worst Professor Ever

Dr. $hiraz’s crib buzzes with energy lately — and no, it’s not just our feverish plans to wrest Russell Brand from the undeserving  arms of Katy Perry. We’re both writing books, and this means not only the book itself but book prospectuses and book proposals and query letters and (on my part) blog posts. My authorial approach is, well, this; hers, in contrast, is appropriately academic. I play P.T. Barnum to her Dr. Strangelove, and she returns the favor.  Needless to say, stage-managing the voices in our heads has become a full-time job.

One of the funniest things about academia is that it constantly studies persona (translation: “faking a personality”), but it never admits to its own multiple personality disorder. As a professor,  you already exist in two different voices.  When you’re teaching, you need to talk normally to get stuff across to your students, yet in all other arenas you’re expected to speak in some highfalutin’ manner to prove how awesomely academic you are. Add the voices you use in your writing, and suddenly you’ve got enough personalities to put on Hamlet.

The tenure book (which is what Dr. $hiraz is writing) is supposed to hit the highest notes of intellectual pomposity. But a book proposal has to sell that fucker hard.  (See, that’s what I’d call it, but I think you’re supposed to say “illuminate the best qualities of the book” or some such.)

So, here you are, trying to write this terribly sophisticated book, then having to write a prospectus, which is the slightly kickier summary of the book, then having to write the query letter, which is the sexified summary of the summary…it’s ridiculous. And, as Dr. $hiraz noted, sexifying an academic book feels like “channeling your inner Zapp Brannigan.”

The lofty elocution never came naturally to me, and I was often accused of writing “colloquially.” (Heaven forfend.) Well, pass me the honest prose of Lenny Bruce, because I’ve always thought “proper” academic writing saps your creativity and enthusiasm anyway.

This is why we need a Journal of Awesome Studies. See, the problem with fancy research talk is that it presents your topic as “important” rather than, say, interesting or relevant to anyone else. Actual, effective explaining is both colloquial and enthusiastic. Research, as currently presented in journals, is not.

Presumably, people study things they think are cool. I know, for example, famed astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson does, because he said it on Colbert. Following the example of Dr. deGrasse Tyson, I think we should all try to recover the plainspoken enthusiasm we once had.

Why do you care about what you study? Why should I (and the rest of the world) care about what you study?

Your journal submission will answer the above questions by a) telling us why something is AWESOME,  b) convincing us why the hell we should care about it and c) doing this with words real people can understand.

I would say: “Plato is AWESOME because he was always right. You should care about him because he gives good advice.” But the possibilities are endless — someone should really finish these sentences:

Subatomic particles are AWESOME because…

Euclidian geometry is AWESOME because…

Antidisestablishmentarianism is AWESOME because…

I hereby invite proposals for the Journal of Awesome studies. You don’t need fancy-ass credentials. You just have to tell me why something is awesome, using the above model. And for those of you with degrees: you know you want to. And I know you’re reading this blog. Just make up a fake email address (hint: iraphd@wankcentral.edu) and comment already.

Tags: awesome, awesomeness, book, colloquial, highfalutin, Jessica Simpson, journal, Katy Perry, Lenny Bruce, letter, Neil degrasse Tyson, PR, proposal, query, Russell Brand, selling, style, tenure