You Want to be a Genius

I just want to write something that could get me a job at some proper university.

This is a proper university.

One where Philosophy has a future. Where it isn’t being moved to Organisational Management.

You should just edit a collection on some hot-button topic.  

Too much work. And I don’t have the contacts. The people I could ask.

So organise a conference. Bring the great and good to Newcastle. Get your name known.

Don’t be a fucking careerist, Driss. Anyway, editing collections is murder. Rounding everyone up. Keeping them to a deadline. Improving their English. Rewriting their work …

Just publish your PhD dissertation. Like everyone else.

Fuck that.

All this shit publishers companies will bring out anything from a Russell Group Uni lecturer.

I have, like, some integrity.

So propose a book some decent publisher.

I don’t have anything to say.

Just write something secondary. Something about some philosopher.

And commit to five years of graft. I don’t know.

Basically, you want to be a genius.

Basically, I do.

Basically, you don’t want to actually find out that you’re not a genius by actually trying to write something.

You might be right.

Which means you’re never getting out. You’re in Newcastle forever. With us! You’re stuck with us, Driss!