Tag: #facultywriting

Knowing When to Stop

 

OrangeOwl

Last week I wrote about developing a daily writing practice. I was talking about the many real and perceived barriers that stop professors from sitting down and writing for 15-30 minutes every day. Today I’ll share some thoughts about knowing when to close your laptop, stand-up, and walk away.

Once you finally get into your chair, close your Outlook and Gmail, go through your focusing ritual, and open your document what happens? I often start by reading what I’ve written so far, sometimes making small tweaks as I go. Once I’ve started doing that, I usually end up losing myself in the process. I start writing where I left off or I find a gap that needs to be filled for the about-to-be-written section to make sense. I often lose track of time and can find myself typing away or hyper-focused on something small like how to word a transition. Either way, I’m in my document. I’m still sitting in Jaho, or in my office, or on my couch. But my thoughts and attention are somewhere else. Getting into that state of flow is wonderful, but I’ve found that the line between flow and stubborn self-abuse can be very fine.

You’re finally writing. You can’t stop now. You did almost nothing. Forget about moving your body and taking that sip of water. Keep going. Accomplish something!! This is the self-talk that keeps me tied to my chair for far too long.

My legs ache, my jaw clenches, and I’m writing, deleting, and rewriting the same unimportant sentence again and again. Once stubborn takes hold, standing up and walking away is harder and harder. I can’t count how many times it’s kept me in my office until 11:00 pm on a Friday night.

Michelle Boyd introduced me to the importance of ending well. End well to make starting tomorrow easier. And Rich Furman taught me how to use a timer, to recognize can’t-get-up, body-cramped refusal to stop for what it is. To not confuse self-abuse with my writing process.

He even suggested that I write a note to myself on an index card. “I have no writing goal. I have a writing process. It is not my job to abuse myself with Draconian writing expectations. My job is to have quality writing sessions.” I’ve been carrying that card around for a year.

If I stop when my orange owl egg-timer tells me that 30 minutes are up, I know where and how to start the next time I sit down. And I walk away feeling virtuous for having done my 30 minutes, without giving the negative voice in my head a chance to tell me all I didn’t do. I don’t always remember to start the timer. I didn’t when I sat down to write this, and I probably spent too much time. So here I am, ending well, before frustration kicks in.

August Writing

It’s August, and it’s usually right around this time that I start getting anxious about all the writing I haven’t done yet. Like many academics, I have fallen too many times into the trap of doing everything but my own writing during the school year. I answer too many emails (though I’m always behind). I sit through hours and hours of meetings. I plan for class and read the writing of students and our Public Health Post fellows.

And I make bizarre excuses for not writing that go something like this: Working on my own writing is an indulgence I can’t afford. I need to respond to those 10-20 urgent emails now. They can’t wait 15 or 30 minutes….

Now, I’m one of those people who walks around talking about how important it is to write for at least 15 minutes 5 days a week. But I haven’t been consistently successful at following my own advice. So, the pressure of not having written lingers, eats into my nights and weekends,  and leaves me feeling vaguely unsettled much of the time.

This past year, I vowed to do things differently and to truly develop a daily writing practice. At the end of last summer, I hired Rich Furman, an incredible writing coach, who I met through my friend and colleague, Sophie Godley.

Working with Rich was one of the smartest professional choices I’ve ever made. He quickly shot down my “writing is a selfish indulgence” plaint. He helped me rethink how I spend my work time. And he reminded me of the importance of developing short rituals that help me block out all the other voices, turn off my Outlook pop-ups, and focus for a pre-set period of time.

Here’s my ritual: I start my workday by walking to Jaho café. I order my mocha and read something pleasurable or inspiring for 5 minutes (usually a book about writing or fiction). Then I get out my lavender or rosemary essential oil and open my laptop. I set a timer for 30 minutes (sometimes I’ll go as short as 15 or as long as 45 but rarely longer). I write (or do something related to a writing project) until the timer goes off. Then I stop.

I’ve been a faithful adherent most days. Since last summer, I started and completed the first draft of a book manuscript, and worked on a number of other projects. Most importantly, I’m learning to enjoy writing, to look forward to sitting down each morning.

I’m heading into August 2021 with that usual melancholy regret that the summer is winding down too quickly. But I’m not beating myself up, and that feels like a big achievement.