Century post meta extravaganza!

Writing about ideas is hard. Often it goes that at first I am full of ideas about a topic in which I am not an expert, such as with politics or economics. I take these ideas and with my enthusiasm begin to write, and in doing so, I begin to think more deeply about the matter. Often I soon find many of my original ideas to be riddled with holes: my certainties become uncertainties; my answers become questions; and my arguments soon fail to convince even myself. Sometimes I then give up the endeavor altogether and turn to a different topic; other times I limp forward anyway and end up with a stream of prose that meets my self-imposed deadline of publishing twice a week but does little else.

In too many cases, to write, I must decide to be ignorant until the job is done. I'm reminded of a bit by the English philosopher Herbert Spencer about this very thing.

There is a story of a Frenchman who, having been three weeks here, proposed to write a book on England; who, after three months, found that he was not quite ready; and who, after three years, concluded that he knew nothing about it.

Some people may look at the situation and say that more humility is needed, that one should write well and only about things he knows. I say that's nonsense. I say that I'm liberated.

* * *

Edward: Jack, do you suppose it's possible for two characters in a dialog to choose what they say?

Jack: You mean how, for example, if a character were to exclaim, “Fliggle phlasm phooey flooey!” with no prior context for doing so then would he be exhibiting free choice?

Edward: Well, not exactly but—

Jack: —Because even then I think the answer is a fat no. How would it be anyone but the author choosing the words a character says?

Edward: Well, sure, yes, but consider the difference between a new character with no history and a preexisting character with an established history?

Jack: Okay. [Jack furrows his brow for a few silent moments.] What exactly am I considering?

Edward: That a character without a history is free to say anything he wishes because the reader would have no expectations for what he says whereas a character with a history would be more constrained within the limits of the expectations of the readers.

Jack: I think I see what you mean. So you're saying, for example, that if you were a character within a dialog and readers thought of you as a intelligent, well spoken fellow and without warning you laid down a long, incomplete sentence then you wouldn't so much be expressing the free choice of your words as much as the author would be inadequately hiding his laziness for maintaining the consistency of his character, but then a new character with no established history could break all the rules in grammar just fine and would be all the freer for doing so. Is that what you mean?

Edward: Well, not exactly but—

Jack: —Because I think I see that now. I think I should like to meet such a character one day.

Edward: Fliggle phlasm phooey flooey!