Dilettantes, Unite!
Are you a dilettante, a dabbler–or, to phrase it otherwise, a generalist, a Renaissance person?
If so, some of my comments in the article below, first published in The Editorial Eye and now revised for the online zine Absolute Write may strike a chord:
What Am I Doing in a Microsoft Excel Class?
The Dilettante Theory in Action
By Paula Tarnapol Whitacre
At the front of the classroom, Jennie Ruby, an animated Excel trainer, is trying to engage the group by asking how many have extracted data to use the Pivot Table Wizard. A few of the more data-savvy in the room raise their hands, but I can only scribble notes for future reference. Pivot wizard? When I think pivot, I think Gucci on a fashion runway, not Bill Gates.
But that’s okay. I am spending the morning in an introductory Excel seminar not because I use the software, but because I am a firm believer in what I call Dilettante Theory: My knowledge base may be a mile wide and an inch deep, but feeding it gives me scraps of knowledge—whether the topic is computers, ballet, or electrocardiograms—that come in handy in serendipitous ways.
In fact, shortly after registering for the session, I took on an assignment to write the text accompanying a series of tables created from data in—you guessed it—Excel. And even though I am not responsible for generating or manipulating the data, even this overview of the software is helping me understand more about what the analysts are working with.
Dilettantes, according to Webster, have a “superficial interest in an art or branch of knowledge.” On first reading, that definition does not exactly sound like a compliment. But my intention is not to become an expert but, in fact, to at least acquaint myself with the many “branches of knowledge” that intrigue me. Some, like the Excel course, are quasi-vocational. Others, like Impressionist art or 19th-century social history, have no overt career application. Taken together, however, indulging my “inner dilettante” improve my writing and editing, because I can approach assignments in new and synergistic ways. For example, in late 2005, I attended a presentation on decision research. At the time, it seemed like interesting, albeit esoteric stuff. Recently, working on course materials on communication skills for project managers, I got a flash of an idea from that presentation.
So I’m recommending the Dilettante Theory as a form of professional, as well as personal, development, recognizing that carving out the time is often a challenge. My own decision about where and how to dabble has to pass a few filters. First, what’s due on my desk right now? In my years working in offices and raising small kids, I obviously could not just decide to disappear into a museum for a few hours whenever I felt like it. Yet, even the occasional evening or lunchtime doing something totally off the usual track fed my creativity and sharpened my sense of professionalism. Now that I am self-employed, I do have more flexibility. But if a deadline looms, so much for my plans to visit the new Apothecary Museum or Great Falls.
What about the cost? I don’t mind paying for knowledge, but I can’t break my budget on a course on Shakespeare or private music lessons without a good deal of thought. Besides the admission fee, I need to consider ancillary costs (transportation and meals), as well as opportunity costs (what am I giving up to do this?). Fortunately, we dilettantes can usually indulge at no or low cost. Just the things that caught my eye in today’s newspaper were essentially free: a poetry reading in Georgetown, a new exhibit at the Building Museum, a lecture/demonstration on landscape planning at a nursery in Falls Church.
Finally, before I invest my time and money, am I really interested? Yes, learning about the physics of space flight or secrets to the stock market would broaden my horizons and, for some people, nothing could be more fascinating. But I’m just not inclined to concentrate on either of these topics (although maybe more stock market savvy would have some bottom-line benefits!). When a topic truly interests me, I am much more apt to carve out slices of time and find an affordable way to learn about it. When it doesn’t, I can find all sorts of excuses.
Julia Cameron, in her book The Artist’s Way, recommends a weekly “artist date”—a protected block of time to see an exhibit, take a walk in the woods, or otherwise fill up on something to engage the creativity. Perhaps in addition to our inner artists, we need to nourish our inner scientist, computer geek, auto mechanic, or whatever comes along that piques our interest and, yes, indulges our dilettantism. It won’t make us experts, but will expand our frames of reference. As publications professionals, that can only be to the good.
