Forestalling Premature Closure

Wrestling with the Writing for New Media syllabus here. I have assembled all of the front matter--the stuff that precedes the calendar of assignments--which is the actual biscuit of the thing in many ways. The biscuit. Knowing what and when we'll discuss the thing. And: what I expect my students to be working on to create the right time/space/psychological locus.

I have a pretty good sense of what I'd like to cover during the course of the semester, but in concretizing such, I'll likely close the door on the authentic eruptions and sidewindings and purposeful lollygaggings that might could take place if I left the calendar door open--which I am also convinced is the way I want to go, and the way this class could unfold.

This trepidation comes from a deeply rooted hate of egg-on-the-face, which is part and parcel of the expert syndrome. I know. You don't. Therefore, you've assembled before me.



Too easy, of course. Too pat. The stuff of yesteryear. Stuff is swirling around. The new media stuff in particular. Fragments. As is this blog. Fragmentary. To be seen mostly for what it is after the fact. Or, factless and inductive. And gathering. Not gathered.

Deep breath. Om.