Donis here. A few years ago, a study published in the journal Trends in Genetics postulated that once humans started living in dense agricultural settlements several millennia ago, we lost the evolutionary pressure to be smart. In other words, people are getting stupider*. The study author, Gerald Crabtree of Stanford University, wrote in the article that, "A hunter-gatherer who did not correctly conceive a solution to providing food or shelter probably died, along with his/her progeny, whereas a modern Wall Street executive that made a similar conceptual mistake would receive a substantial bonus and be a more attractive mate. Clearly, extreme selection is a thing of the past."
The ancient Celts disapproved of writing. They believed that it spoiled the memory. An educated person spent a lifetime memorizing lore and stories to word-for-word perfection. A modern person would consider a bard's memory nothing short of miraculous.
Somehow I don't think Crabtree's revelation is a surprise to any of you Dear Readers, given the current intellectual state of our great nation, wherein ostensibly normal people with what we would hope is an equally normal desire for self-preservation would rather die than admit they are wrong about ... well, anything. This anti-intellectualism has been going on for some time. I am reminded of something Earlene Fowler said to me a couple of years ago: "First there was e-mail, then Facebook, then Twitter. Now there's Pinterest for those who can't be bothered to use words at all."
The fact that after a year and a half of semi-isolation has turned my brains to mush has caused me to ponder this stupidity hypothesis. I am trying to get a handle on a new manuscript but thus far it's only an enormous tangle of words that is full of jewels stuck in a big pile of you know what. I've worked so long and hard on it. Why isn't it as fantastic as it ought to be? I know where I want to end up, but I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to get there. Sometimes I feel frightened, and wonder if I still have it in me. Will I find my way out of this maze? Am I getting stupider?
I try to comfort myself with the thought that I get this feeling with every book I write. And I'm not the only one. We’ve all heard many times that writing is rewriting, and anyone who’s ever scribbled a page knows that’s true. At least I’ve never met a literary Mozart, whose first draft is so perfect that it doesn’t need any alteration. In fact, most authors I know, even very well known and accomplished authors, think of their first drafts as something too embarrassing to be seen by anyone. It’s the rewriting that makes the book. If I may repeat something I’ve said here before - and never let it be said that I missed an opportunity to repeat myself - you have to have that block of marble before you can carve out a statue of David. Well, right now I'm sitting on a huge block of marble. I just hope I'm still smart enough to chisel a David out of it.
_____________
*All right, I know the correct phrase is 'more stupid'. But 'stupider' is funnier.
