My inclination to write philosophy, so far unrealised in any substantive way, dates back a long way.
For the sake of setting context there are two timeframes perhaps worth mentioning.
Back in about 1995 I had some ideas about architectures for Artificial Intelligence that I wanted to progress in some way.
Writing seemed the right place to start, and since these ideas had roots in certain philosophical distinctions, it seemed
a good idea to write something about the philosophical context in which the architectural ideas could be understood.
Not having any direct contact with philosophers, I did at that time engage in philosophical discussion on the internet through
usenet and mailing list (the one I recall most readily in this context is Rodrigo Vanegas' "analytic").
I discovered something at that time which greatly surprised me, undermined my prospects of writing on the philosophical foundations
for the kind of AI which interested me, and posed for me a very difficult problem which has persisted to this day.
What I discovered was that Quine's "Two Dogmas" had been taken seriously by the philosophers.
So seriously that a philosophical exposition which made use of the analytic/synthetic dichotomy was likely to be dismissed
and ignore simply on that account.
I have since occasionally wondered whether this was phenomena primarily confined to the non-professional philosophers who
predominated in internet philosophy discussions.
However, though it is moot what the real opinions of philosophers are on this matter, there is subtantive evidence in published
philosophy that even professional philosophers who were sympathetic to Logical Positivism were unwilling to defend the analytic/synthetic
distinction except in attenuated forms.
The thesis of logicism, that mathematical truths are necessary and(/or) analtyic, suffered a similar fate.
Professional philosophers dared not to embrace it, even though the stock arguments against it were complaints primarily against
specific logical systems (usually Russell's theory of types) and ignored general arguments of (say) Ayer and Carnap which
made these details largely irrelevant to the status of mathematics.
This is not the place to make this case, for it is not the merits of the case which concern us here, but the impact of the
concensus upon myself.
The salient facts are, firstly, that certain fundamental philophical concepts and principles essential for the writing I wanted
to do were (and still are) regarded as having been definitively discredited to the point of being almost beyond discussion.
Secondly, that the arguments which had this effect on the philosophical consensus were, in my view, of no substance.
Cast for me, not a shadow of doubt on the validity and signficance of the concepts and principles in question.
I therefore believed that any straightforward answer to these arguments (such as had indeed already been delivered) was likely
to be ineffectual (as they had been) in redressing the situation.
The basis for the concensus, it seemed and seems to me, is not rational.