I’ve appreciated Tim Kreider’s writing on work since his instant classic, “The Busy Trap.” His most recent Substack is nominally about art, but I think it applies equally to work—at least for those of us with the inclination to derive meaning from our work, and the privilege to try.
Kreider’s opening definition of an artistic nemesis is, I think, misleading; it’s clear that what he means is closer to a well-crafted Vonnegut reference later in the essay:
In Bokononism, the religion Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. invented for his novel Cat’s Cradle, this kind of person is called a wrang-wrang: “someone who steers a Bokononist away from a line of speculation by reducing that line, with the example of the wrang-wrang‘s own life, to an absurdity.”
Tim Kreider, “Nemesis”
I’m pretty sure I know who my professional nemesis is. They are absolutely more successful than I’m ever likely to be, and their values on every axis are antithetical to mine: Grind over family, authority over empathy, speed over care, prestige over accuracy. I wonder how much of my working style I owe to the wrang-wrang of their example.
… I wrote the above for LinkedIn; in this space it’s also interesting to think about my artistic nemesis. Whereas I think my professional nemesis is in some ways actually a bad person, I don’t feel that way about my artistic nemesis:
David Lynch (who was, improbably, offered to job of directing Return of the Jedi) once said in an interview that he didn’t think directors like Lucas and Spielberg were cynical sellouts; they were making exactly the kind of movies they wanted to make.
Tim Kreider, “Nemesis”
… which about tracks. I think my nemesis is rightfully proud to have created the very successful books they’ve created; but if it were me, I wouldn’t be. Which goes to show that it’s good they did it and not me, and not much else.
Currently listening: THE WESTING GAME, by Ellen Ruskin, read by Cassandra Campbell.