The June issue of The Atlantic includes a deep profile of the accomplished but not-very-well-known comedian Albert Brooks. Here's a glimpse of his view of writing: I found a few interesting nuggets in that paragraph. His vision of writing as something you don't stop once you've started seems odd at first. The architect metaphor is funny, sure, but I wonder if his view is rare among writers.

Writing is thinking. The writing process is the most neglected part of our job. We spend millions on fancy equipment and uncountable hours on training for using this or that toolkit. Yet we assume the BA-level academic writing course we once followed is sufficient; the rest we’ll just learn on the job and hopefully soon we’ll automate away with LLMs. It is all formulaic anyway.

I was struck by a Mastodon post where classic game developer Ron Gilbert quoted film critic Roger Ebert as follows: And Gilbert commented: In a reply, Gretchen Anderson said her favourite version of this is: I couldn’t find the original source for this, but as I was trying to track it down I ran into this, attributed to Pablo Picasso: When I mentioned these observations to Matt, he sent me a longer-form exposition of the same phenomenon,

It’s not every day that you find out you have climbed the exalted heights of another discipline. My work is pretty interdisciplinary, but it shocked me, too, that I’m apparently holding forth on neoliberalism and the epistemic question in African universities (archive link): This, of course, came at some surprise to me, as I have never written anything on the topic.

Interjections are, in Felix Ameka’s memorable formulation, “the universal yet neglected part of speech” (1992). They are rarely the subject of historical, typological or comparative research in linguistics, and as Aimée Lahaussois has shown (2016), they are notably underrepresented in descriptive grammars. As grammars are the main source of data for typologists, this is of course a perfect example of a self-reinforcing feedback loop.

Will synthetic text generators usher in a new age of creative thinking? The remarkable fluency of large language models may make them interesting tools for rapidly exploring semantic and stylistic spaces, yet the deceptive ease with which they generate output also provides countless new ways of appropriating ideas and erasing authorship.

We don’t generally see PhD dissertations as an exciting genre to read, and that is wholly our loss. As the publishing landscape of academia is fast being homogenised, the thesis is one of the last places where we have a chance to see the unalloyed brilliance of up and coming researchers. Let me show you using three examples of remarkable theses I have come across in the past years.

Pandoc-flavored Markdown makes it really easy to cite and reference things. You can write something like this (assuming you use this references.bib BibTeX file): --- title: "Some title" bibliography: references.bib --- According to @Lovelace:1842, computers can calculate things.

My longstanding workflow for writing, citing, and PDF management When I started my first master’s degree program in 2008, I decided to stop using Word for all my academic writing and instead use plain text Markdown for everything. Markdown itself had been a thing for 4 years, and MultiMarkdown—a pandoc-like extension of Markdown that could handle BibTeX bibliographies—was brand new.

As someone who has been deeply interested by plants as long as I can remember, I have grown to appreciate all the different habitats I come across in Ireland. Each has its own unique set of species, but one that has always particularly caught my attention is our grasslands.