Weaving and Atarraya: A Diary of Book Making (2/31)

I ran this morning, 7.3 km. I changed the route and headed north from the village. It has a hill! I ran downhill for 2 km, then uphill for 2km. It felt good to be out. I came back, showered, shaved(!) and sat down at the computer.

I edited a prologue section. It will become today’s 789 Serialized. It actually became three or four. I need to decide. Is 789 words the minimum or the maximum. I think it feels too little, this morning.

On the run, I thought about arbitrary rules for writing. I have had many over the years. I realized, yesterday. The point is I set them. They work for me, for a time. The particular don’t matters.

Craig Mod talks about his rules. A portrait on his walks by 10 a.m. A pop-up newsletter post a day. Mad rules. But stick to them.

Mad rules for me, are not for anyone else. What is 789 Serialized but some mad rules for me to write every day for a month? At least 789 words a day. But, maybe more.

On the run, I took notes for my self-evaluation. It was due a month ago, one of those academic chores I resent. I need to get it in. But I wonder if I think of these chores the wrong way. Why not see them as something to share? To publish as a newsletter. Online, publicly. Online, privately. I’m not sure. But think of an audience as more than an overworked administrator who may or may not read it.

For this book writing diary newsletter, my thoughts turn to the problem of coding huge quantities of text—field notes, morning pages, book drafts, articles, essays, old chapters, pieces of text, blog posts, articles. All of this is my archive. My fichero, as I’ve come to think of it. (Fichero from the Colombian for a box of index cards). It is now about 500,000 words coded, and another 3,000,000 words uncoded. How did I write that much? Why did I write that much.

One, is that I’ve accumulated text files of repeated text. Different versions of the same thing. Different drafts. Cruft that has duplicated. How to deal? Cut and don’t make more.

On cutting, six months ago, I wrote a script to delete second and subsequence instances of the same words, sentences, or paragraphs. Dejatext. I use it all the time.

On not making any more duplicated text, the issue is how to stop creating duplicate words. I have another script I use to code text. It takes text I’ve coded, and splits it into new text files, and brings together codes. It works well. I run it, and organize my notes. It’s good. But, one of the mistakes I’ve made over the years is letting repeated text pile up. Drafts and drafts and then I forget which is the most recent.

One issue. A reticence to delete. I leave words in the archive, even as I use them. Why? Why not take the text, code it, move it from the archive, synthesize it, publish it, and move it along.

How should this workflow function? What’s the actual process? Should I edit the original text file, or the coded version? It seems most logical to edit the coded text—then discard the original. That way, I can iterate toward order over time.

The key question is whether structur.py supports that approach. I may need to revise it.

How would this work? An inbox of notebooks and other sources; a to-code folder with raw uncoded text files; a coded folder with text organized by code; a codes.txt file listing possible codes; and a synthesis folder where ideas are developed. This way, I’d not have duplicating text.

Right now, I’m not sure if structur.py can append new material to existing code files. That’s what it needs to do: allow new material to be added to existing coded text. The coded folder should be able to receive more material over time.

Another issue: how does it handle text that’s already been processed? One possibility is that the system always regenerates empty coded files from codes.txt. If a code is moved or deleted, it’s recreated empty—ready to receive new codes text. That might make sense.

In that model, codes.txt acts as the master list. The coded folder always mirrors those codes. Structur recreates empty code files if needed, letting me keep feeding in new material. This would support then an iterative process of coding and synthesis.

A project for after finishing my 789 Serialized post for today.

Update: 8:30 PM: I fixed structur.py, squashed a bunch of bugs, posted it to GitHub. I also added unit testing to dejatext. Structur now works more reliably, and I deleted some duplicates, and pulled out some malformed text. Long day. But, good changes.

Weaving and Atarraya: A Diary of Book Making (1/31)

I need a creative boost. I’ve been talking about finishing a book for, I don’t know, five years. What was supposed to be my second book, a quick and dirty book about writing, has become a third one. It was supposed to be done in 2019. I edited a different one. It’s taken forever. This happens to academics. We get busy in the middle of our careers. We say yes to many things. We get busy. My daughter was born. I got diagnosed with ADHD, recently. The pandemic. Buying a house. Teaching, too much. A sabbatical, with new projects, also unfinished . Recently, a side hustle programming with AI. But, the book. Written and rewritten, and revised and never finished.

So where is it at? The book is chaos. It was three books, then four, then one. It’s a pile of notes.

This morning, I decided to do a 31-day, pop-up newsletter, à la Craig Mod. I’m calling it 789 Serialized. Mod has done many pop-up newsletters. He’s also had a long-running book diary on making Things Become Other Things. It’s private. A diary on work for a newsletter. It’s called A Nighthingaleingale. A nightingale in a gale, I think. I’ve not asked Craig. It’s a working diary, a log, of the making of Things Become Other Things. I joined his Special Projects to get access. Why not help someone creative, make things.

For my first book, I did something similar. I called Dinorimo, Dissertation to Monograph Writing Month. Inspired by NaNoWriMo. I started January 2016, with a friend. I wrote for a year. I posted to twitter and Facebook. I felt like I was spamming other people. The book took eighteen months, but it started as a 30-day challenge.

Simple rules. 1,000 words a day. Written or revised. If I failed, $50 to Stephen Harper’s election campaign. It feels like a lifetime ago. I didn’t fail. Harper got no money. I finished the book. I was 33. I used it to get tenure, to become a Professor in a small town. I am now Chair. My work? Giving young people a chance to do other things.

Yet, then as now, I feel shy to be online, even though, I’ve had a website and this domain since the late 1990s.

When the book draft was sent off, I stopped the daily spreadsheet, and I stopped the logging. That was a mistake. I kept writing, but I didn’t finishing.

With this book diary newsletter, I’m going to document the book process. A book takes time. This is a diary. I’ll write it, to mark the end the day writing. I used to sometimes post to my DiMoWriMo at 9 am. It felt good.

Where does Mod start with his NighthingaleInGale It was September 10, 2021. High pandemic. He’s lost. He’s printed it all out. He’s made index cards. He’s trying to find structure. Is it a letter? Is it short, stories? It’s the same dark morass, I’ve been in at time. I’m not sure if he would call it a morass. I would. John McPhee had the same experience on a picnic table.

Mod cut up his popup newsletter draft into drafts. Got off the computer, with print outs and scissors. I’ve done that too, with a big table. I tried to do it all. That was the mistake. Too much.

But, I have been months now I’ve been coding. Organizing. Putting things in boxes. Bringing pieces of text together. Where it goes I don’t know. But, it’s been making sense of lots of unpublished writing. Finding themes. Putting them together.

Here’s my log on that:

Coded Notes

Date coded filed to_code total_words task
2025-05-03 3770 4960 255191 263921 coding
2025-05-03 4279 4588 254962 263829 coding
2025-05-03 4590 4588 254571 263749 coding
2025-05-03 4699 4588 254463 263750 coding
2025-05-03 5609 4588 253472 263750 coding
2025-05-04 6861 4588 252301 263750 coding
2025-05-04 8211 4588 250951 263750 coding
2025-05-09 12253 4588 246788 263629 coding
2025-05-31 13788 0 396922 410710 coding
2025-06-01 123040 0 280708 403748 coding
2025-06-05 136760 0 261858 398618 coding
2025-06-08 206784 0 151596 358380 coding
2025-06-09 314729 0 0 314837 coding
2025-06-10 333403 0 218899 552302 coding
2025-06-11 377253 0 163775 541028 coding
2025-06-26 434884 0 113255 548139 coding
2025-06-27 474447 0 72555 547002 coding
2025-07-03 524497 0 69287 593784 coding
2025-07-04 592109 0 0 592109 coding

The form of the book I have in mind? I’m not sure. It was once many books, now its many bits of books coded into different sections. 900 codes. Too many. The last few days, I added ethnographic field notes, morning pages, and so on.

My notes are in text files. There are too many words to print out. Too many aborted projects. Too many moments I’ve never used. But, also so much good, useful, insightful, things to draw on. Notes from the field. From readings. From diaries. From notebooks. Things written down and never you used. Lots to draw on.

Where to go from here? I’m going to do a newsletter. Daily. For a month. Edits pieces into a draft. Today I wrote a description of that. 789 Serialized.The form I have in mind is in an atarraya. A castnet that is used by fishers in the Colombian Caribbean to fish the shallow wetlands. Fishing in my notes. I’m going to write about the atarraya and the fichero tomorrow for the 789 Serialized.

For now, I’m going to go for a swim.