A close friend of mine recently earned his Ph.D. I was unable to attend his graduation ceremony or his defense of his thesis. However, I did have the opportunity to flip through his 150 page dissertation. He plopped the hefty stack onto the dark wood table of the coffee shop. We both eyed it, impressed with the dimensions of the tome.
“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s amazing.”
I skimmed the paragraphs, read through some of the data, and perused the graphs. I carefully restacked the papers, smiled at him, and remarked, “I’m very proud of you.”
And I am. This dissertation was the manifestation of his diligent efforts in graduate school. He was already working on his project before I met him; he griped to me about the difficulties in data collection and analysis; he took brief breaks to call me to bitterly complain about the drudgery of writing this lengthy paper.
And now he’s a doctor (”but not a real doctor,” he snidely interjects) and will soon be departing for his new life as a post-doc in New York City. He is confident that I shall join him in less than a year. I don’t want to jinx myself.
This sounds weird—and he mocked me for this remark—but the amount of work he put into this degree is astounding, particularly in contrast to the work I put into obtaining a medical degree.
“I’m not saying that I didn’t work hard… but this is your dissertation! You did original research and wrote up this lengthy document for your findings! I never did anything like that—thank goodness.”
I do not mean to trivialize medical training, but since I actually did that, my work seems “easier”. Particularly since I am not enamored with collecting vast amounts of data and crunching numbers for statistics.
“Yeah,” he countered, “but I can’t stand the sight of blood. You can.”
Fair enough.
I’ve been fortunate to receive more offers to interview for fellowships; only one program remains tacit.
Though I am excited—thrilled! tickled!—with the prospect of living in New York in less than a year (God willing), I am also saddened with the accompanying departure from Seattle.
My friends are already telling me that they will miss me. They ask if I shall return. Already they are making plans to visit.
While waiting for the bus today, I looked up into the sky. High in the stratosphere were gigantic puffs of stationary, unblemished clouds. They overlooked a leisurely parade of thin, grey-white wisps that silently travelled below them. My eyes followed the weightless caravan through the trees.
Will New York have clouds like that? I’ve never seen clouds like Seattle clouds anywhere else. Why do I want to leave this visually stunning state? Where else in the world can I drive on a major interstate highway and see the sun reflected off of two, deep blue lakes, two snow-dusted mountain ranges in the distance, a looming volcano, and an architectural oddity (the Space Needle)?
There is a greater sense of urgency now to make the most of my time here. The measured pessimist within me repeatedly asserts that I am not guaranteed passage to New York simply because I have secured many interviews; the potential for unanimous denial is very real (though, truthfully, unanimous rejections are unlikely). However, hoping for the best and expecting the worst is a common practice amongst doctors.
Time passes.
I was inadvertently pulled into a discussion about writing a book. We were polarized: the group tried to mobilize progress; I resisted. They were optimistic; I was not.
We finally settled on the idea of a short story. Fine.
Indeed, getting published “for real” (whatever that even means; I haven’t operationalized that yet) remains on my list of things to do Before I Die. Perhaps the time has arrived for me to try yet again.
Help me: Which posts of mine have been the most compelling for you to read? Any editors out there willing to provide feedback about my writing? Any print resources want to take a risk and run something written by a dreamy psychiatry resident?
16 Aug 2007 |
Hello Dr. Maria,
I’ve read your blog casually for a while now — I wanted to thank you for the restaurant tips you’ve posted here and there. They’ve provided good experiences for me and my significant other!
By the way, have you tried Casa D’Italia north of the University of Washington? It’s somewhere around 25th and 65th.
Maria says: I shall try Casa D’Italia. I’m not a high-class eater, so I’m glad to read that people derive benefit from my pedestrian suggestions. :)
Comment by Philip | 16 Aug 2007 @ 10:53pm
Can’t give you any professional advice, but I think you could write a great fictitious short story about the bliss of dancing and eating cookies in and around many natural and man-made landmarks of Washington state while staying passionate about and successfully managing a career. Get risky. Make it a love story. Not just love of Seattle, but ROMANCE.
Maria clucks: Romance is difficult, you know?
Comment by Carol | 17 Aug 2007 @ 3:03am
I think your story needs to be your call, based on rereading your posts and also reading comments. Interesting comments indicate a topic, a style, a quality of writing that has touched people, and if you’re trying to submit something that seems worth reading (and rereading), you’re primarily thinking about its readership.
If it were me, and I don’t think I have the writing skill for this, I think I would have to write something new, not just a rehash/edit of something old, even though one or more old writings might suggest something to write about.
I do think you have a gift for giving a voice to others — not an easy task.
Maria says: Sound counsel! and generous praise—thank you!
Comment by Greg P | 17 Aug 2007 @ 6:04am
“… I am not enamored with collecting vast amounts of data and crunching numbers for statistics.”
There is a whole other form of research, which some think is much more difficult, that does not involve crunching numbers; instead of “quantitative,” it is “qualitative.”
Maria remarks: Indeed—the idea of research does not tickle my fancy. I believe my talents are greater in the realm of dispensing information as a teacher, rather than generating it—though I could be wrong. I’ve never done any independent research… just grunt lab work.
Comment by Don | 17 Aug 2007 @ 7:18am
maria, i have faith you will get the coveted fellowship in new york =) and i am not only impressed with your ability to move so (seemingly) easily from state to state, but also with your accompanying enthusiasm (even though you may disagree). and finally, my favourite piece was the very first one i commented on a few years (wow) ago. it was on faith and was heart-wrenchingly honest and beautifully composed. i don’t know if you still have it in the updated archives =(
Maria says: Yaser, you are kind. :) I must dig up this post you keep referring to.
Comment by yaser | 17 Aug 2007 @ 11:39am
For me, your most compelling writing is that which illuminates a relationship between yourself and another. Sometimes that relationship is fleeting, other times more durable, but when you reveal yourself in a poignant moment with another being, I get to see both of you more clearly. And through you, I get to see myself more clearly. In reading these posts, I experience something of the ineffable quality of meaning and connection that is available to all of us when we are truly present with one another. You seem to be someone who consciously values and seeks those moments, and when you share your stories of them, it seems you are writing at your best, at least for me.
Something else occurs to me to offer. I am in the middle of writing my first book, and in doing so I am walking a line between writing to create a desired experience for my reader versus writing to express something most authentically for and from myself. It seems there is a balance, and at the moment I am falling most clumsily from one side to the other, seeking a voice which both speaks from my heart and is effective in delivering insight and learning to my reader. Is it useful to you at all to think of your writing in this way?
Thank you, by the way, for all of your lucid posts in the year I’ve been reading you. And good luck in landing the choicest fellowship among them all.
Maria replies: Thank you much—it’s nice to know that someone finds my writing lucid! ;)
Comment by Joseph Shirley | 17 Aug 2007 @ 12:50pm
The piece about the young schizophrenic man and his father was very moving to me. It was from a few months ago, I think.
Maria tips her hat—er, curtseys?—to LadyGrey.
Comment by LadyGrey | 17 Aug 2007 @ 4:30pm
Right now I am feeling the same way you do about Seattle, except about New Orleans. I know I will be doing my residency elsewhere (either Seattle or Minneapolis/St.Paul), and suddenly I am enamored of the lush tropical landscape, the vibrant musical culture (and wishing I had taken the time to enjoy it more), the food, the people, the architecture etc. I could say the same thing about any place I’ve ever left before. It’s like someone came and gave the city a paint job, because everywhere I look I feel like it’s shining.
New Orleans feels a little bit like a bad relationship. I love it here but it’s not good for me right now and sometimes it hurts me rather badly. But I still just can’t stop thinking maybe I would want to live here forever, maybe we could work things out. But alas, it is time to move on.
Maria sings: Breaking up is hard to do….
Comment by Amanda | 17 Aug 2007 @ 7:46pm
I have danced with the thought of writing since before Medical School. I am saving myself, I have thought. When the time is right, I have rationalized. I’ll write short stories to prepare to become a novel writer. In the meantime I can write opinion pieces, OpEds, travel articles, restaurant reviews…
God, what a fool I am. A writer writes, because that is what she must do. For all the well-meaning opinions out there, I suggest you keep to yourself. Which post moved you the most? Which garnered the most comments? Which was the easiest to write? The last point is important, since we always ignore the things that come easily, as though they had no value. Think of your conversation with your PhD friend.
All I can say is write! I started my blog three weeks ago and am kicking myself for thirty years of waiting for Godot.
By the way, I think PhD’s are the real doctors. That’s why we’re the ones who bear the qualifier ..”of medicine”. Everyone else is merely a scholar.
Comment by Zagreus Ammon, the Physician Executive | 19 Aug 2007 @ 10:26am
I’ve been reading you now for… what is it now… 6 years? Way back before you called yourself intueri. My favorite writings:
- anything describing your relationship with your parents and family. It appeals to me as a fellow 1st generation American (I don’t quite count since I came to the US at the age of 2 but I’m close).
- all of your stories about dancing. Dancing, for you, is sort of the “other guy wearing your skin” sort of thing. I enjoy your perceptions of other dancers, and the way you describe your visceral feelings as you dance, and what those feelings mean to you.
- and then there’s that story with you (I know it’s you, don’t lie to me girl) kissing that Resident in the elevator. Uh huh, you know the one.
Keep writing, “published for real” or no.
Eric
Comment by Eric | 1 Sep 2007 @ 9:11am
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