Top 10 Productivity Busters
No big-picture vision. If you don't have a vision for what you want and where you're headed in your writing life, it will be impossible to set realistic goals and measure your progress and productivity along the way. (Platform is a great way to focus your energies in a clear direction around which all of your writing work will revolve.)
No short-term goals. You can't hit a target that you can't see. Knowing your daily, weekly, monthly, and annual goals (both practical and aspirational) can help ensure that you keep moving in the right direction—and that you know when you've arrived.
Fear. Risk is the hinge on which productivity turns; if we are not in danger of failing, we are not likely growing. When we let fear prevent us from taking steps that could bring our writing goals and dreams closer, we clamp down on our possibilities and limit our opportunities to succeed.
Doing the wrong task at the wrong time. Understanding your own writing rhythms and honoring them is the key to finding and sustaining a flow that you can count on. For example, I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that I have ants in my pants until about 4 p.m. The popular wisdom is that the early morning is "the time" for a writer. If I had limited myself to writing in this prescribed time that is not a fit with my biorhythm, surely I would have given up by now.
Shabby systems. If you can't find the latest draft of your essay, don't remember what you've pitched and to whom, can't keep track of the great ideas you're having, and have no system for archiving, measuring, repeating, and building on success, this is likely to limit your performance, satisfaction and results.
Lack of creativity and consciousness about time. If you're not aware of how you're spending time, what your time is worth, how you might source more writing hours from the life you're living right now, nor what you intend to accomplish in each chunk of writing time you do have, you are not getting the best value from this most precious resource.
Transition turbulence. Without solid systems and established rhythms for sitting down to the blank page, completing a writing session, or generally navigating the unbounded freedoms of being responsible for our own motivation and performance, we are likely to have bumpy transitions that can limit our productivity and discourage us from even attempting to get started.
Perfectionism. If you wait for your work to be perfect, it (and you) may never leave your desk. If you focus, instead, on professionalism—doing the very best that you can, committing to learn along the way, and understanding that mistakes and failures are the nurse logs that feed every success, you can steadily improve without that albatross of the impossible weighing you down.
Isolation. Writers need other people to learn with and from. We need a context in which to understand and appreciate the work that we are doing. We need role models whose accomplishments we can aspire to, colleagues we can conspire with, and business partners who can collaborate with us to bring our work forward. Without a social, professional, and community context, we are far more likely to get discouraged, lose our way, and miss out on opportunities for greater pleasure, prosperity, and productivity.
Neglecting to celebrate and be grateful. It's easy to focus on the negative in writing and in life; there is certainly plenty of opportunity to do so. But when we, instead, turn our attention to what's working and what we appreciate from moment to moment, something surprising happens—our sails turn into the wind. Let me be clear, I'm talking about the smallest of celebrations: for the blank sheet of paper drinking up the ink under your hand, the sun pointing a finger through the curtain to your desk, the editor who included a personal note in the form rejection letter.
No short-term goals. You can't hit a target that you can't see. Knowing your daily, weekly, monthly, and annual goals (both practical and aspirational) can help ensure that you keep moving in the right direction—and that you know when you've arrived.
Fear. Risk is the hinge on which productivity turns; if we are not in danger of failing, we are not likely growing. When we let fear prevent us from taking steps that could bring our writing goals and dreams closer, we clamp down on our possibilities and limit our opportunities to succeed.
Doing the wrong task at the wrong time. Understanding your own writing rhythms and honoring them is the key to finding and sustaining a flow that you can count on. For example, I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that I have ants in my pants until about 4 p.m. The popular wisdom is that the early morning is "the time" for a writer. If I had limited myself to writing in this prescribed time that is not a fit with my biorhythm, surely I would have given up by now.
Shabby systems. If you can't find the latest draft of your essay, don't remember what you've pitched and to whom, can't keep track of the great ideas you're having, and have no system for archiving, measuring, repeating, and building on success, this is likely to limit your performance, satisfaction and results.
Lack of creativity and consciousness about time. If you're not aware of how you're spending time, what your time is worth, how you might source more writing hours from the life you're living right now, nor what you intend to accomplish in each chunk of writing time you do have, you are not getting the best value from this most precious resource.
Transition turbulence. Without solid systems and established rhythms for sitting down to the blank page, completing a writing session, or generally navigating the unbounded freedoms of being responsible for our own motivation and performance, we are likely to have bumpy transitions that can limit our productivity and discourage us from even attempting to get started.
Perfectionism. If you wait for your work to be perfect, it (and you) may never leave your desk. If you focus, instead, on professionalism—doing the very best that you can, committing to learn along the way, and understanding that mistakes and failures are the nurse logs that feed every success, you can steadily improve without that albatross of the impossible weighing you down.
Isolation. Writers need other people to learn with and from. We need a context in which to understand and appreciate the work that we are doing. We need role models whose accomplishments we can aspire to, colleagues we can conspire with, and business partners who can collaborate with us to bring our work forward. Without a social, professional, and community context, we are far more likely to get discouraged, lose our way, and miss out on opportunities for greater pleasure, prosperity, and productivity.
Neglecting to celebrate and be grateful. It's easy to focus on the negative in writing and in life; there is certainly plenty of opportunity to do so. But when we, instead, turn our attention to what's working and what we appreciate from moment to moment, something surprising happens—our sails turn into the wind. Let me be clear, I'm talking about the smallest of celebrations: for the blank sheet of paper drinking up the ink under your hand, the sun pointing a finger through the curtain to your desk, the editor who included a personal note in the form rejection letter.
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