Sub Insert()

Ended up working on the Sony Viao all morning, its poor fan whirring like a twin-prop airplane, so I could execute this macro on the Big Data Set. Going to need a macro solution for the Macbook eventually, which would appear to require 1) figuring out Applescript, 2) trying Keyboard Maestro, or 3) making better use of the Bootcamp partition. For good keeping, today’s macro:

Sub Insert()
'
' Insert Macro
' Macro recorded 7/12/2011 by Derek Mueller
'
' Keyboard Shortcut: Ctrl+w
'
ActiveCell.Offset(-1, 0).Range("A1:M1").Select
Selection.Copy
ActiveCell.Offset(1).EntireRow.Insert
ActiveCell.Offset(1, 0).Range("A1").Select
ActiveSheet.Paste
ActiveCell.Offset(0, 7).Range("A1").Select
Application.CutCopyMode = False
ActiveCell.FormulaR1C1 = "D"
ActiveCell.Offset(0, 3).Range("A1").Select
Application.CutCopyMode = False
ActiveCell.FormulaR1C1 = " "
ActiveCell.Offset(0, 1).Range("A1").Select
Application.CutCopyMode = False
ActiveCell.FormulaR1C1 = "NAME"
ActiveCell.Offset(1, -11).Range("A1").Select
End Sub

Collabaret

This 1978
Joel Sternfeld photo
(via) stands
up nicely-analogous alongside the collaborative writing I’ve been working at
sporadically in recent weeks.

The unfamiliar process taught me a great deal about collaborative drafting
that I didn’t know before. Often it seemed like dabbling on the edges,
often like plunging in–designations that captures the uncertainty I felt
at times, the turn-taking, and the refreshing experience of opening a Google Doc
to find that someone else had poured an hour’s worth of smart work into the
manuscript since the last session. Sure, I’ve read a little bit about
collaboration, talked about it, even asked students to work together, but until
now I can’t honestly say that I’ve undertaken anything quite like this before.

When I first saw the above photograph turn up via TriangleTriangle’s RSS
feed, I was at a point when it cried out: There’s this raging fire to put out.
My colleague was intensely engaged in knocking out the flames while I was, like
the pumpkin shopper standing in the foreground, basically shitting around. So
many pumpkins! I’d flagged the photo for its commentary on collaborative
writing–something I was both doing and also thinking of blogging about–and its
significance shifted. Not an all reversal of studium and punctum
here, but an identity-urgency, an itch: I, too, sought a turn on the ladder.
Turn after turn came later, authorial identifications shifted as if caught in a
turn-style, and the chapter draft took shape, coming more or less solidly
together. This has left me thinking about collaborative writing as worth trying
a few more times for the way I now conceive of the process via something like a
post-dialogic dual occupancy, standing in the foreground (Which pumpkin?) and on
the ladder, happily and at once.

Et Alia

Several days immersed in lines upon lines of works cited entries may
cause you to wonder at some of the lesser noticed codes that rustle around at
the ends of scholarly articles. A paradox of citation is that the works
cited–a roster of references–flattens out the dimension of each
reference and orders the list arbitrarily according to the alphabet while also
downplaying a surprisingly uneven terrain of mismatched details more pocked than the
face of the moon. This contradiction is forcing me into decisions I hadn’t
expected to be so difficult.

The et al. is one example. It allows the keeper of the works to abbreviate,
to shorten a list of authors so that any source with more than three authors can
be listed alphabetically by the last name of the lead author followed by et al.
It is a note of inclusive omission. And I suppose it made greater sense in an era
when works citeds, rife with formulaic peculiarity, were typed on a typewriter.
The et al. conserves characters; it shortens the list of names, leaving off
everyone but the primary author. It is no coincidence that et al. rhymes with economic al. So what is the big deal?

Continue reading →

Close Modeling

Flower and Hayes refer to their studies of talk-aloud protocols as "close
modeling" (53) ("Designing Protocol Studies…", Hayes, Flower, Swarts, 1984).
Close modeling suggests models that are slotted at a certain scale. For
protocol studies, the scale is the solitary writer who is given a specific (if
dull) writing task, who then executes the writing task, and who reports on the
writing process according to a pre-determined processual scheme.

The famous visual model (from the CCC article in 1981) plays only a
minor role in this discussion of close modeling. The visual model is
presented once more in "Designing," reiterated with so little explicit treatment
that its structuring function is more or less obvious and settled.
I mean that it has not changed in the three intervening years. The visual
model is static, inert, a monument.

Continue reading →