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So this is my thousandth post.[1]
It's the sort of thing that seems like it should be marked--I'm a fan of big round numbers--but I've been having a slight debate with myself about how, exactly. A review? A look back at the past two and half years? A look forward to the next thousand? The amount of hours of my life I must have signed away to this site to keep up a posting rate of roughly once a day doesn't really bear thinking about, but if I have something to say about it all then well, it's not been a waste, right?
But I couldn't really think of anything, until I got home this evening and found a package waiting for me. It was a book, and it comes with a story that's worth telling.
Most people reading this probably know that I did a Biochemistry degree, which I enjoyed right up until the point at which it became clear to me that I am terrible at laboratory work, and would never make it as a practical scientist. Actually, I still enjoyed it even after that--except for the laboratory work itself--but having gone through the first three years under the assumption that I was going to be a scientist, I started to have nagging doubts about what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I liked reading about science, after all, and I enjoyed writing about it--for a science course, it was pretty heavily essay-based, and I was grateful for that. After I graduated I cast around for a bit, and ended up working as a medical writer. I've changed companies once since then, but I'm still doing it, and these days enjoying it more than not.
Medical writing involves a lot of discipline. It requires accuracy, and the ability to write within a brief and within a word limit. (It also requires you to not be too precious about your prose, given how many rounds of review it's likely to go through and the fact that it may not even have your name attached to it at the end of the process.) You might think that writing essays during my degree helped me to develop some relevant skills, and for the most part you'd be right; but occasionally, I got bored and tried something else.
One such occasion came when we were studying immunology, in (if I recall correctly) the autumn and winter of 2000. My tutor at the time was aware that I liked to read sf--heck, in my interview I'd innocently mentioned that I'd read a novel that featured methane-metabolising bacteria (Baxter, of course; Titan), and wondered were such alternative modes of respiration actually possible?--and he'd even been known to quote the odd line from The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy at me. I don't think, however, that he'd quite thought things through when he picked the following essay title: "Give an account of the story of a B-Lymphocyte from the time of its differentiation from a stem cell until it produces an antibody." Specifically, I don't think he expected me to take it literally.
Other than saying 'it seemed like a good idea at the time', and pointing out that the time in question may well have been two-thirty in the morning on the day the essay was due, I couldn't now tell you why I decided to take it quite so literally. But what I produced was a first-person account of the life of a B-lymphocyte (at least in part; in a concession to the spirit of the title I did intersperse my hardest-of-hard-sf speculations with chunks of regular essay material). It was hideously derivative, incredibly cheesy, and probably more fun to write than is strictly legal.
My tutor told me he liked it so much that he'd taken it with him to read on the toilet. My tutorial partner boggled. It got one of my highest marks of the term; probably one of my highest of the year.
Now, for various reasons, over the course of my degree I built up a moderately extensive section of my website devoted to biochemistry, and specifically to the particular biochemistry course I was studying. At some point--it may well have been another early-hours-of-the-morning decision--I decided it would be a nifty idea to put some of my essays online. Obviously, the first-person B-cell essay was one of them. I put it up (yes, it's still there), looked at it proudly, and promptly forgot all about it.
Years pass.
One day in June 2003, a year after I graduated, the following email appeared in my inbox:
Years pass.
Earlier this year--back in March, I think, although this time I've lost the relevant email--she got back in touch, saying that the book had now been published and could she have my address to send me my copy? Still not quite believing it, I sent back my address. A little while later, a note turned up from the Central Publishing Company saying that at the request of the authors they had asked their US co-publisher to send me a copy of Immunology: Essential and Fundamental.
Months pass.
Today, there was a box waiting for me when I got home from work. Guess what was inside it?
( Read more... )
It's possible I did a geeky little dance of joy when I realised what had arrived. I mean, seriously, isn't this cool? Part of an essay I wrote five years ago has been published in an actual immunology textbook that will be used by actual students on the other side of the world. And I have a copy sitting next to me right now.
This is not a story that has involved livejournal in any way, shape or form, but the reason it's appropriate to tell it in my thousandth post is because the reason it's brilliant is the same reason I keep posting here: the internet is cool. Communication is cool. I literally cannot imagine what my life would be like if I hadn't gotten online like this or in some similar way; I'm proud of the commitments it's led me to, and grateful for the friends I've made. Thank you all, and here's to the next thousand posts.
And in the meantime, there it is, on page 155, in all its boxed glory, my first (and in all probability it will remain my only) published work of science fiction: 'The Wars Within - The B Cells,' by Neill Harris.
Wait, what, who?
Oh well.
It's the words that count, right? :)
[1] At least, according to the stats in my userinfo, it was. I have no idea why the header number that appears at the top of the post in some lj styles disagrees.
It's the sort of thing that seems like it should be marked--I'm a fan of big round numbers--but I've been having a slight debate with myself about how, exactly. A review? A look back at the past two and half years? A look forward to the next thousand? The amount of hours of my life I must have signed away to this site to keep up a posting rate of roughly once a day doesn't really bear thinking about, but if I have something to say about it all then well, it's not been a waste, right?
But I couldn't really think of anything, until I got home this evening and found a package waiting for me. It was a book, and it comes with a story that's worth telling.
Most people reading this probably know that I did a Biochemistry degree, which I enjoyed right up until the point at which it became clear to me that I am terrible at laboratory work, and would never make it as a practical scientist. Actually, I still enjoyed it even after that--except for the laboratory work itself--but having gone through the first three years under the assumption that I was going to be a scientist, I started to have nagging doubts about what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I liked reading about science, after all, and I enjoyed writing about it--for a science course, it was pretty heavily essay-based, and I was grateful for that. After I graduated I cast around for a bit, and ended up working as a medical writer. I've changed companies once since then, but I'm still doing it, and these days enjoying it more than not.
Medical writing involves a lot of discipline. It requires accuracy, and the ability to write within a brief and within a word limit. (It also requires you to not be too precious about your prose, given how many rounds of review it's likely to go through and the fact that it may not even have your name attached to it at the end of the process.) You might think that writing essays during my degree helped me to develop some relevant skills, and for the most part you'd be right; but occasionally, I got bored and tried something else.
One such occasion came when we were studying immunology, in (if I recall correctly) the autumn and winter of 2000. My tutor at the time was aware that I liked to read sf--heck, in my interview I'd innocently mentioned that I'd read a novel that featured methane-metabolising bacteria (Baxter, of course; Titan), and wondered were such alternative modes of respiration actually possible?--and he'd even been known to quote the odd line from The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy at me. I don't think, however, that he'd quite thought things through when he picked the following essay title: "Give an account of the story of a B-Lymphocyte from the time of its differentiation from a stem cell until it produces an antibody." Specifically, I don't think he expected me to take it literally.
Other than saying 'it seemed like a good idea at the time', and pointing out that the time in question may well have been two-thirty in the morning on the day the essay was due, I couldn't now tell you why I decided to take it quite so literally. But what I produced was a first-person account of the life of a B-lymphocyte (at least in part; in a concession to the spirit of the title I did intersperse my hardest-of-hard-sf speculations with chunks of regular essay material). It was hideously derivative, incredibly cheesy, and probably more fun to write than is strictly legal.
My tutor told me he liked it so much that he'd taken it with him to read on the toilet. My tutorial partner boggled. It got one of my highest marks of the term; probably one of my highest of the year.
Now, for various reasons, over the course of my degree I built up a moderately extensive section of my website devoted to biochemistry, and specifically to the particular biochemistry course I was studying. At some point--it may well have been another early-hours-of-the-morning decision--I decided it would be a nifty idea to put some of my essays online. Obviously, the first-person B-cell essay was one of them. I put it up (yes, it's still there), looked at it proudly, and promptly forgot all about it.
Years pass.
One day in June 2003, a year after I graduated, the following email appeared in my inbox:
I am a post-doc fellow about to join TIFR, Mumbai, India. I used to teach at the University of Mumbai before I took to research and a Ph.D programme. I have now taken a year off from research to write a book on immunology aimed primarily at the Indian market. A friend and ex-colleague of mine is helping me in this venture. She teaches microbiology and immunology at the Mumbai University. Books by foreign authors are expensive in India, and therefore out of reach of many Indian students. Our book is written with the aim of explaining basic immunological ideas and principles, whilst trying to incorporate the latest on the subject.After I'd basked in the extreme coolness of the request for a few minutes I sent an email back saying, sure, no problem, happy to donate it, just send me a copy of the book when it's published. Thinking, of course, that the odds of it actually getting published were probably fairly low, and that if it did the odds of a copy ever actually reaching me were even lower.
To try and provide some relief from the serious nature of the subject, we have tried to include some interesting insights, quotes, etc. in each chapter. While researching for this book I came across your site. I particularly loved your acount of B cell ontogeny as sci-fi. It is simply wonderful. We would like to quote that entire paragraph (episode? :)) as 'The wars within'. Needless to say, your authorship will be properly acknowledged.
Years pass.
Earlier this year--back in March, I think, although this time I've lost the relevant email--she got back in touch, saying that the book had now been published and could she have my address to send me my copy? Still not quite believing it, I sent back my address. A little while later, a note turned up from the Central Publishing Company saying that at the request of the authors they had asked their US co-publisher to send me a copy of Immunology: Essential and Fundamental.
Months pass.
Today, there was a box waiting for me when I got home from work. Guess what was inside it?
( Read more... )
It's possible I did a geeky little dance of joy when I realised what had arrived. I mean, seriously, isn't this cool? Part of an essay I wrote five years ago has been published in an actual immunology textbook that will be used by actual students on the other side of the world. And I have a copy sitting next to me right now.
This is not a story that has involved livejournal in any way, shape or form, but the reason it's appropriate to tell it in my thousandth post is because the reason it's brilliant is the same reason I keep posting here: the internet is cool. Communication is cool. I literally cannot imagine what my life would be like if I hadn't gotten online like this or in some similar way; I'm proud of the commitments it's led me to, and grateful for the friends I've made. Thank you all, and here's to the next thousand posts.
And in the meantime, there it is, on page 155, in all its boxed glory, my first (and in all probability it will remain my only) published work of science fiction: 'The Wars Within - The B Cells,' by Neill Harris.
Wait, what, who?
Oh well.
It's the words that count, right? :)
[1] At least, according to the stats in my userinfo, it was. I have no idea why the header number that appears at the top of the post in some lj styles disagrees.
