In his latest post, Venkatesh Rao distinguishes between two types of writing: Instrumental and metamorphic. Instrumental writing is informative, instructive, or void-filling. Some examples are research papers, business books, and formulaic fiction. On the other hand, Metamorphic writing is more for the soul than the mind; it is meant to move, inspire, and console. This includes poetry, creative fiction, introspective blog posts, etc.
In thinking through the nature of instrumentality, it struck me that the opposite of an instrumental mode is a metamorphic mode. As in metamorphosis; not to be confused with metaphoric. Instrumental words try to change the world in predictable ways, while acquiring some sort of legible extrinsic reward. Conventionally, esteem and money, but it can be any sort of extrinsic reward. Metamorphic words on the other hand, attempt to change the author in unpredictable ways, which you can think of as an intrinsic reward of sorts. They may also have a metamorphic (think “pilling”) effect on readers, but this is not their defining quality.
I found this distinction very clarifying. My work as a PhD student is heavily instrumental, while my blog is clearly metamorphic. I want my podcast to fall in the middle, with a good balance of both. Right now, it leans slightly towards the metamorphic, so I plan to do more interviews and “factual” episodes in the future.
What kind of creator are you? Does your work need more instrumentalism or metamorphism?
Speaking of Instrumental writing, Asimov Press is one publication that does it extremely well. It’s a biology-focused magazine that covers scientific progress, transformative technologies, and more. In a world that can’t get enough of the AI hype, it’s nice to know that not everyone has jumped ship. Call me biased, but biology really deserves more attention than it gets.
Our emphasis on biology is deliberate, for that is the field where progress seems the most rapid and where the potential to radically improve the world—from longevity to climate and animal welfare—is arguably the greatest.
A century ago, two young researchers extracted insulin from dogs and used the molecule to treat people with diabetes. In the 1950s, the U.S.D.A. bred screwworms, sterilized them with X-rays, and airdropped them over Texas to decimate invasive screwworm populations, which killed hundreds of thousands of cattle each year. The human insulin gene was cloned into bacteria in 1978. Dolly the Sheep was cloned in 1996.
For a long time, such stories were relatively rare. Now they seem to happen every month. Dozens of cell and gene therapies have been FDA-approved. Engineered microbes convert steel factory waste into ethanol. Some vaccines are designed on computers. And 95 percent of livestock in America are fed with genetically modified crops. Our food and medical systems are already reliant upon biotechnology. In a few decades, so too will just about everything else.
My interest in them is also personal. I see Asimov Press as a North Star for my own writing. The storytelling is compelling, the prose elegant, and the design beautiful. They don’t shy away from complex ideas, and they don’t talk down to the reader. Yet, the pieces feel effortless to read. All are virtues I would like to infuse into my writing.
Here are some of my favorite Asimov essays:
I never liked poetry. Poems are vague and pretentious. “What does that even mean?” is what I usually think when I read them. I never understood the appeal. But all this changed when I discovered David Whyte.
David is perhaps the king of metamorphic writing. His words reach deep down into you and permanently rearrange your component parts. You can’t help but be moved. I won’t say more; see for yourself:
PS: Thank you for your attention. If you enjoyed any of these recommendations or have some of your own for me, please let me know; that would make me very happy. Wish you a great week ahead :)
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