Daniel Tubb

Writer’s Diary 51: In Praise of Mellel

Daniel Tubb

Mellel 6.3 just came out. I bought my first copy of Mellel as a student in 2006 or so; although there have been long periods when I haven’t used it and worked in Word. Every long‑form thesis, dissertation, or book I’ve ever written has been finished in Mellel. Yet, most of my daily writing is done in Markdown in Tinderbox.

Markdown is a text‑to‑HTML conversion tool for web writers. It allows you to write using an easy‑to‑read, easy‑to‑write plain text format, which can then be converted to HTML. Since John Gruber of Daring Fireball designed the spec in 2004, it has taken over the Internet. Perhaps it should be required learning for students?

Tinderbox is a tool for notes—a place to put down ideas, move them around, edit them, and revise them. It’s a personal information toolbox, a piece of software that I find indispensable for my scattered writing process.

But at some point, the messy notes and ideas have to turn into drafts and manuscripts. By the time a draft goes to a reviewer or publisher, it has to be perfect.

For the last half decade, I’ve long been enamoured with the idea of writing in Markdown in Tinderbox and then using tools like Pandoc and CiteProc to take that output and convert Markdown into blog posts, websites, and Word manuscripts. Indeed, I’ve even written a few scripts and a contextual menu in Finder that convert a Markdown file with citations into a DOCX file, and vice versa.

But as an academic writer, there is, of course, a challenge with citations. I’ve long used Bookends as a citation manager. I’ve used Bookends since the early 2000s. It’s a powerful app for keeping track of thousands of articles. It’s fast, unlike Zotero. It plays well with Mellel, but also lets you sync with a BibTeX file, which can be used by CiteProc.

So, I can write in Markdown in Tinderbox using MultiMarkdown formatting for footnotes, and then send it to Pandoc to convert to Word or wherever with citations. It works well. I love it.

Yet, for every truly long form article or project, I find myself turning back to Mellel for the final step because one thing that an academic writer knows is that by the time it goes to peer review, it must be perfect. What you send to the press, the editor, or the peer review will first be reviewed, and if you get the subtle things wrong in the writing or the formatting, you can be prejudged as sloppy.

Writing a book or article is, in part, an exercise in getting it right. Perhaps it’s premature perception. Yet, as I work on finishing a manuscript, I again turn back to Mellel, and it shines as a beautiful word processor designed for print and for writing documents.

There’s a cognitive relief in not writing in an abstraction, even an elegant simple one like Markdown.

Mellel bills itself as:

is a word processor designed from the ground up to be the ultimate writing tool for academics, technical writers, scholars, and students. Mellel is powerful, stable, and reliable; it is the ideal companion for writing documents that are long and complex, short and simple, and anything in between.

It’s all of these things. Worth a look.

I turned back to it, because the recent 6.3 version has a new notes feature that allows you to put notes at the end of a section or page range (that is, at the end of a chapter). This means I can write the way that my corner of anthropology likes to write, with notes at the end of chapters.

This new notes are notes done right.

While a subtle addition would be to have chapter‑end notes arbitrarily situated in a notes chapter at the end of a manuscript, as publishers in the humanities do it.

For now, I want to say that the thing with Mellel that I love is that, as opposed to Markdown, is that there is a much reduced cognitive load in getting it right, and then moving on.

As I move into it once again and get my book set‑up, I feel a relief that once I get it right in Mellel, it stays right. There are no further processing steps where errors can be introduced. It’s done. Tinderbox makes it easy to make radical changes. But, at some point, one has to stop, and get it done.

Rather than write in a markdown, Mellel lets you just work on the final form.

It’s nice.

I write by picking at things, tinkering, changing, and cobbling. At times, an Markdown’s abstraction and portability is best. At the end, Mellel is best.

Scheduling a syllabus

Daniel Tubb

It’s time to design a syllabus again. As each semester comes to an end and a new one begins, I always find myself redesigning and rethinking my syllabi. Why? A course is an opportunity to brush up on material, to think through new ideas, and to return to interests.

However, there is always the challenge of working out what to assign, what works, and what to think about. I often assign too much reading, for example. So, before I dive deep into designing my first-year course on economics and anthropology for this semester, I wanted to put down some thoughts on what I know works.

First, go slower. I look back at my syllabi from my first few years teaching, and they are far too ambitious. I know students don’t always read, but part of the trick is working out the structure and the framing of a course. The reading schedule matters, but because it won’t change, but because its rhythms and speed shape the experience of the semester, for myself and the students. There need to be moments of working hard, but also moments of slowing down and relaxing.

At the end of the last semester, it seemed that five four-class (M, W, F, M) modules, with a couple of classes between (W F) offers a way to frame the semester. Things in between might be an in-class exam, an in-class reading reflection, a few films, or an ethnography.

For an upper-level course, we could just read five books. Reading five books is too much for lower-level students. But, we can read, think, talk, and discuss bits of books.

I’m going to try this module framework this coming semester.

iPad Mini + Tailscale + Screens + Better Display = Relibale screen sharing to MacBook

Daniel Tubb

Here’s the problem. I have my MacBook at the office on campus. I want it to be running through some long image processing tasks that are taking days. It requires an external hard drive. I don’t want to disconnect it. However, sometimes, I need to log in to do work, like post grades over the holiday.

What I want is to be able to log into the Mac remotely and use it to do other work if I’m at home. The problem: I don’t have another computer. I tried to get an old one, but I can’t.

I do have an iPad Mini, though.

However, the first time I tried to connect the iPad Mini to the Mac via screen sharing, I couldn’t get a reliable connection, the resolution of the display was off, I couldn’t get that keyboard mapping to work well, and it was just clunky.

I’ve solved it now.

What works?

First, to get a reliable connection between the two devices, I’ve found Tailscale works reliably. It lets me create a virtual network between the iPad and the MacBook, despite the fact one is on a university network and the other is at home. This allows me to connect between both devices as if they were on a local network, despite the fact they’re not.

To actually make the shared screen connection, I use Screens by Edovia. It works well and is a native iPad and Mac app.

For a while, I did have a hard time connecting from an external keyboard connected to the iPad mini because the iPad OS was grabbing the Command keys. If I tried to Command+Tab on the shared Mac, the iPad OS would Command+Tab to another iPad OS app. Perhaps this is logical, but as someone with a lot of muscle memory on the Mac, it was super annoying—almost a show stopper—to be working on the Mac, then suddenly in a different OS.

By inverting the Command and Control in the Keyboard settings on the iPad and then inverting it again in the settings of the Screens app on the iPad, it worked perfectly on the shared Mac display, which is my goal.

Next issue: the display resolution on the Mac did not match the resolution of the iPad Mini.

The solution: Better Display, a $20 Mac app that can create lots of custom resolutions and, crucially, has an option to create a virtual screen the size of the iPad mini. This means the full screen of the iPad mini is shared. This allows me to connect the iPad to a virtual display on the Mac that matches the iPad’s physical dimensions.

So, after an hour: the resolution matches the iPad Mini, the keyboard keys are perfectly mapped, the connection is reliable, and I can log in to the Mac from home with just an iPad.

Not bad. Now to post some grades.

Writing Diary #53: Cleanup Reepeated Text

Daniel Tubb

What makes a book different from an article? What makes a book different from an essay? One thing: it’s long. In my case, what I thought would be one book, seems to be becoming two or maybe three. However, over the years I’ve been working on it, it has grown to almost a million words. This creates just a writing challenge. How to organize, cut, edit, and work with the detritus of various versions, drafts, initial starts, notes on an idea, and it just piles up in a chaotic, Escher-like jumble, that is so overwhelming as it leave me lost. One problem is the order. One is duplication.

Order can be solved by coding. Putting things about the same topic together. This solves the issues that writing different iterations of these books for quite a long time. This means that the ideas have sometimes flourished in different drafts, different versions of the same text, living in different places. I’ve long since lost track of where things are.

Pragmatically, they’re in a big Tinderbox file. But, how to turn that into a book?

When it comes to the final steps of editing, tightening, and turning rough ideas into book form, one step that is both banal and annoying is the general cutting of duplicate text.

There are different ways of doing this.

For a long time I’ve done it by hand. It’s not very efficient when dealing with so much text.

More recently, I have been using a script I wrote called structur.py. With structur.py I code text and send paragraphs and pieces of text to the right place. I put ideas together that are about similar topics. However, once structur.py has worked its magic, there is still a problem: I still have a lot of duplicate text? One way to deal with this is to keep coding until all the similar text is in the same place, then delete it. This is what I did. But it takes a long time just to read 10,000 words. Let alone 30,000 or 100,000, which is my problem. The problem is that I want a copy of a piece of text, and then any good sentences that I might want to put together.

A few days ago, I put together a script called DejaText.py that flags files, paragraphs, sentences and even words that are duplicated. This is super useful for identifying where text is being reused in multiple places. The result was somewhat shocking. My drafts were full of duplicates.

This morning, as I was trying to code six files to deal with the most egregious case of duplicated paragraphs and sentences, I realised that I was coding the same text over and over again. Why not write a script that deletes the second and subsequent instance of repeated paragraphs and sentences? It’s dangerous. But, point it at a temporary folder, and it works. I call it [dejatext_cleanup.py]. It’s on GitHub.

This combination of deleting duplicate text, and then coding with structur.py, allowed me to cut 35,000 words down to 13,000 words. The scripts will speed= things up considerably. How to proceed? The way forward is to work at the level of what I’ve already organised. Take a section, say a section on pencils. Delete duplicate text. Code the remainder. Put the codes in order. Then, I’ll have a complete section on pencils. Revise it a couple times, and then I’ll have a draft.

These are power tools. They’re dangerous. But, it iwll speed up turning a folder of notes into a book.

dejatext.py

Daniel Tubb

DejaText is a Python script for identifying duplicate and similar text in a directory of text or markdown files. It scans a directory of .txt' or.md’ files, identifies duplicate and similar text segments, and produces organized reports for easy review. As part of my writing, I find it useful to go through a project and flag repeated words, phrases, or sentences. DejaText helps me with this.

Writer’s Diary #52: Repeated Words

Daniel Tubb

Today was revision. Cutting and tightening a few sections on pencils. A week ago it was 6,000 words. Now, it’s 4,000. The task today was words and phrases that are superfluous. Overused. Bugaboos. It’s not that all repeats are bad. But, the trick is to be deliberate. My drafts are full of words and phrases reused, without deliberation. They can often be cut. The idea for this came to me from John McPhee’s Draft No. 4.

It is toward the end of the second draft, if I’m lucky, when the feeling comes over me that I have something I want to show to other people, something that seems to be working
and is not going to go away. The feeling is more than welcome, but it is hardly euphoria. It’s just a new lease on life, a sense that I’m going to survive until the middle of next month. After reading the second draft aloud, and going through the piece for the third time (removing the tin horns and radio static that I heard while reading), I enclose words and phrases in pencilled boxes for Draft No. 4. If I enjoy anything in this process it is Draft No. 4. I go searching for replacements for the words in the boxes. The final adjustments may be small-scale, but they are large to me, and I love addressing them. You could call this the copy-editing phase if real copy editors were not out there
in the future prepared to examine the piece. The basic thing I do with college students is pretend that I’m their editor and their copy editor. In preparation for conferences
with them, I draw boxes around words or phrases in the pieces they write. I suggest to them that they might do this for themselves.

This is an early step. Cut early, then revise with care.

I use tools: a script that lists repeated words, and Pro Writing Aid, which has a tool to list repeated words and phrases.

NaNoWriMo Update #4: Artisinal Writing

Daniel Tubb

What’s my update today? I was working on a section of cane toads and sapos, and then moved on to spies and anxiety of fieldwork.

I think I’m using it all to get at a discussion of the basic extractive nature of research, which I don’t contest. However, I’m not totally convinced by the normal solutions that people propose—participatory research, do people really want more workshops, solve the issue. But, in any case, I am still committed to the ethnographic endeavours. So, how does one square that circle? I don’t think you can. So, my answer is a. It comes down to the labour of ethnography—both in the field and afterwards.

The conditions of the research and the writing, as it were. It would seem silly to ask my friends from the field to participate in my half-decade-long writing process. But, to see that writing as labour, as embodied, as a practice, is to think of it, perhaps, like artisanal gold mining or subsistence production. Maybe? Is this a point worth pursuing? My writing process, at least as I imagine it to make myself feel better about being a cane toad, sapo, snitch, inquisitorial ethnographer, is artisanal, makeshift, craft work.

Maybe what I’m trying to say is the difference between an open-pit mega mine and a artisanal gold mine. Both are extractive, but the latter does little harm. I of course imagine myself on that latter side of things.

This is what I was trying to articulate today. Didn’t come together, but I’ll try tomorrow.

No finishing Friday today. But, maybe 5000 words are good.

Step by step; bird by bird.

NaNoWriMo Update #3: Zonked by Words

Daniel Tubb

It’s 2 p.m. I’m driving home from the office without my computer. I got to campus at 8:30, went to a coffee shop, and wrote intensely until about 11:00. Then I went to my office, did some more, had lunch, worked a little bit with a student on a grant, then did some more writing on the book. I’m done for the day, and it’s only 2:30, which is good because I’m zonked. I’ll go home for a hike. It feels like cheating, stopping early. But, it’s already been a six-hour day of editing, cutting, quoting, polishing, revising, and rewriting. More manual than intellectual, really. The book’s argument is that writing can be a form of more manual labor, after all. The section, I picked at for years. Maybe five years? It’s an about fieldwork and feelings of anxiety, of being a spy, an outsider, out of place, doing something where they don’t belong. It’s a common feeling, I suspect, for anthropologists. It’s also about cane toads, gossips, tattletales, snitches, and spies. Its now 800 words or so. That doesn’t seem like a lot, but because it’s tight, it’s dense.

At the end of the day, before checking out, I did some rough notes for tomorrow using voice dictation. It’s about thinking about ethnography as both an extractive and an artisanal endeavor. Tomorrow I’ll tighten up the rest of what I’ve already written and then do a first pass on the notes. Friday I’ll finish the whole chapter. It will be about 7,000 words.

I have no idea how that will count for NaNoWriMo records. I’ve been doing a lot in the last few weeks, but haven’t updated or tracked word counts. The election derailed me a lot. Then, I did a bit of programming. Today and Friday, were pretty good writing days.

NaNoWriMo Update #2

Daniel Tubb

Today’s brief update: I went into my Cane Toad section and reviewed it. I worked on structure and coded my really rough notes into a draft outline. This meant putting pieces about the same thing together. I structur. Tomorrow, I’ll tighten each section down to remove all repetition, get the tense correct, make it short as possible. Wednesday, I’ll step back and look at the whole.

While I was at it, I put into order the section on places where I did fieldwork, and describe the work of writing in the field.

In total, I have 6,000 words that are in a tentative order. Is it a perfect? Good? No. Will it change, yes. But, it gives me something to work on tomorrow. I will take each small section of maybe 150 or 200 words and edit them individually.

Once I’ve done that, I can review the whole and see what I have on Thursday.

So far, 6,200 words. A win. I’d say. It’ll give me 2,500 words a day, give or take. On track for NaNoWriMo, I hope. But, word counts are somewhat silly if I think too hard about them. But, since my goal is not a word count, but a draft in a few weeks, it feels okay.

NaNoWriMo Update #1

Daniel Tubb

Update on Today’s Writing.

I was at my mum’s and started flipping through Kyo Maclear’s book Unearthing, about plants, gardens, and tangled roots. On the third page, there’s a line that left me wondering. In it, Maclear reflects on how her own failure to grow plants transferred in 2019. She describes the crucial change:

“When I stopped attributing every little event to my own doing and realized I did not have control (the opposite of a storyteller’s mindset), the plants began to grow” (p. 3).

I know the feeling, but I feel it with words.

I know the art of writing involves an attempt at control. Part of why words can be so torturous is because we’re trying to make them perfect. But in this book, I’m increasingly convinced that the trick is to give up control—to let things come, to recognize that there is agency in the words, in the fingers, and in the process that isn’t merely a reflection of the mind’s control. The result of all this hard work reads like something that comes out of control, but the output has little resemblance to the process.

I wrote a section on this. It’s a bit like Peter Elbow’s metaphor of “growing and cooking.” One grows a garden, where things are messy and uncontrolled. Later, one cooks a meal. But even in cooking, there’s a lot that is out of control. Or, maybe, much of cooking is based on practical knowledge. Certainly, this is De Certeau’s point. Writing is both embodied and practical, of course. The point, it’s not fully controlled.

With all that written in shitty first draft rough sketch, I then turned to a section on cane toads. I’d written five versions of a cane toad hopping into the room I slept in. I worked to cut and revise them into one canonical section.

My point?

Cane toads in Colombia are also known as sapos. Sapo is a colloquial term for snitch and spy, often spoken with venom. Sapos often die young in a country at war. Is writing ethnography an exercise in getting into places one does not belong? Are we not professional strangers, but spies, tattletales, snitches? Anthropologists are often mistaken for spies. But, I don’t think that feels fair. Yet, it does reflex a lot of our professional anxieties.

All in all, with about an hour’s work, little abstract thought, and certainly not much planning, I wrote 800 new words on writing as gardening without control. I also revised and condensed several drafts I’d written over the years bout a cane toad into a tighter scene of about 3,000 words. So, let’s say, Day Three of NaNoWriMo, I got about 4,000 words done. Makes up for not really doing much yesterday.