The What of Productivity Along With The How

We seek to have empty inboxes and complete everything on our to-do list, we read endless life hacks and suggestions for saving a few minutes here and there, and for wasting less time on playing games on our mobile and getting more done. But are we consistently thinking about what we are doing with the time that we are saving?

Two recent tragedies, of different scales, the devastation of the Nepal earthquake, and the sudden death of David Goldberg, have reminded me that no matter how easy or difficult life is, how good we may be and how successful we may be, life ends, and sometimes abruptly. Or circumstances can change, and what was possible before may no longer be possible. We really can't take our current life, however hard we have worked to order it just so, for granted. We don't know how much time we have, before we either make "the ultimate climb" or simply move to a different ladder or hill or valley.

This realisation is something that I would rather not have, I would rather not think about how things might change. I don't like change, not really. But I recognise the need to prepare for it, and at the very least, to evaluate what I am doing with the time I have now. As someone said, the days are long but the decades are short. Time goes by quite quickly, and all you do remember are the dreams you accomplished and the time you spent with the people you love.

Something that came up over and over in all the obituaries of David Goldberg was how he made people feel, how he took time out to help anyone out who asked for it, and never made them feel like it was an imposition. As someone who looks up to his wife, Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg as a role model, I have always admired how secure Goldberg seemed given all the attention she got. You can sense that he made a lasting impression on the people he knew, and they thanked him with the outpouring of touching remembrances after his passing.

All of this made me think - am I spending my time optimally - redefining optimal for myself as doing things that I will look back on and feel proud that I worked on, and being the kind of person that I have always wanted to be. I started to ask myself, am I spending enough time with the people I cherish most (whether in person or through some other means)? Am I working on my most important goals - not goals that are imposed or will make me look good in some way, but goals that make my heart sing? Am I grateful for what I have at this moment, instead of constantly focusing on what I don't have yet?

This may be trite advice, but it nonetheless true - in our frenzy to save time and get everything done, we really do need to take stock and determine whether we are living our lives true to our larger values. If we are, at least when circumstances change, we won't regret that we didn't take any action on our big dreams, or that we hardly spent any time with our loved ones, or that we spent what little time we do have being stressed out, crabby and unhappy in pursuit of someone else's idea of what we consider an ideal career or enough success. As long as we live our lives in accordance with our own values, we may wish we had more time, but at least we will know we did something good with the time we did have.

Writing Tricks That Work and Other Advice

I love to read and collect writing advice books and articles. Over the years I must have read hundreds of books that give advice on writing. However, its not often that I apply the advice, for various reasons. Mostly because I think the advice doesn't apply to me (usually if it is specific to fiction writing), sometimes because I think my issues with writing are too complex for a simple 'trick' to solve the problem.

One such piece of advice I have read about many times is Ernest Hemingway's technique of leaving a sentence unfinished, so that he would have something to start the next day off. He thought that it would be a lot easier to start a session of writing if he had something easy to start with, so we would stop the day's writing right in the middle of a sentence or thought.

I have read this advice in several books, and many writers recommend it. I never applied it myself. or rather I never deliberately applied it. It did happen sometimes that I inadvertently had to stop in the middle of what I was writing because I was interrupted - and I never somehow could remember what I was planning to say next. That was the main reason I didn't intentional employ this method. Besides, my blocks are usually more complex than not knowing what first sentence to start with.

Or so I thought. The other day, I had started an essay for a book I'm currently writing, but had to stop after one sentence of the second part of the essay. I came across the sentence when feeling blocked and contemplating giving up on writing, at least for a few hours. It was a complete sentence, but the first one of a new point. Somehow it triggered a cascade of ideas, and a few pages just poured out.

I am ashamed to see that 'tricks' do work, and that perhaps not knowing how to begin is truly my problem more often than I realise. I read recently that 'good' inertia sets in - when once you start to move, you keep on moving. So once the words start to flow, however mediocre they may be, they bring more along for the ride, and they usually improve with speed and volume.

My advice: try advice that you hear out for yourself before reserving judgement on its efficacy! [And if you're frequently blocked - try leaving a sentence of a new idea to add to on your next writing session.]

On Cultivating Patience

Lately I have finally been finding a bit more time consistently to write, and been feeling a little frustrated, because for some reason the words aren't flowing and it feels like I'm dragging my boots through treacle. When this happens, I find myself staring at the screen, or trying to think of what I was about to say when the words sort of dry up in my head, or I start to type something and it feels like I have forgotten how to structure sentences.

Julia Cameron, creativity coach, says that this is "chop" - when your work starts to fall apart and it feels like you cannot proceed even one more inch. She says that apparently this period of struggle is necessary, and when you get through the other side, you are somehow better, your work is more polished, different. Its good to know that I'm not alone in feeling like this, that perhaps this is normal. Its tempting to think - oh, at the end of this period I will be a better writer. And be grateful for this upheaval in my writing process.

Except I'm not. To be honest I don't want to be one level better. I want instead to just be back to where I was - so that I can use this rare time I have to race through my work, and get at least a draft done.

And this is where Julia warns us, that artists need to learn patience. That fun as it would be to race through the draft, perhaps what I need to learn is to take it slower - to allow the work to find its own rhythm. This is probably what is hardest for me - when the work is hard, or when I look at my abandoned drafts or the major revisions I have planned - that's when I wish I could click my fingers and I would be at the other side, of the draft, of the piece of writing. I would be at the side that can look at the work and say, yes its really good. I can be assured of the quality of my work, possible assured that I am on the right path, yes this writing stuff really is for me.

And that's why patience is hard. I want results right now, because I am anxious. What if I am not a 'real' writer? What if I could complete this manuscript, and it would do really well, and then I would feel secure in my ability and my writerliness. So impatience really isn't my problem. Its needing approval and validation.

Julia always says - what if everyone were capable of being creative? What if there were no such labels? I don't know if I can contemplate that - but for now, I have my own question. What if I didn't need to prove myself - what could I write then, if I had no fear - of being judged, of failing, of falling short? How much more could I succeed?