Tools for Thought

If there’s one thing I’ve learned many times over since I resolved to always apply a timer to my writing sessions, it’s this: things usually take less time than expected, sometimes much less. I used to spend half a day “getting around” to writing an article, then surprise myself by completing it in two or three hours.

Most of us have had a similar experience. We resist cleaning the kitchen for fear than it will take all day, only to discover after that the whole exercise was completed in 20 minutes after we got started. Why do we grossly overestimate the amount of time things will take?

• Multitasking. If we execute a task by interspersing it between other activities — talking on the phone, watching the television, checking email — we never get an accurate gauge of how long the intentional task would take uninterrupted
• Lack of data. Without timing a task as a single session, there’s no reference point for putting a frame around the activity. As Arthur Jones, the exercise scientist who founded Nautilus would say, “If you can’t measure it, you don’t understand it.”
• Not starting. In imagination, everything turns out wonderfully. The flip side is that in imagination, everything starts out dismally. Both are usually exaggerations. A finished work is almost always imperfect, but valuable, and beginnings tend to be more encouraging than expected once we break the ice

Implicit in the problems listed above are the solutions:

Stop multitasking. Fortunately, this is becoming increasingly popular advice. There are times when switching between a couple of rote tasks is warranted, but for now, the object is to firewall our attention to get a sense of how long a single task takes from start to finish. Before starting a task, visualize the beginning and end result clearly; then work from start to finish without interruption.

This kind of singular focus can take time to develop. If you don’t think have the discipline to continue toward the finish line for as long as it takes, define a length of time that you’re confident that you can actually spend without getting restless, and spend that amount to time from start to finish without interruption — even if it’s only five minutes. Then gradually increase the length of your focus sessions until you can work for hours without getting anxious.

Use a timer. Musicians who finally start practicing with a metronome usually see their skill increase at a much faster rate than without a metronome. Frame your work sessions with a timer, and you’ll eliminate a lot frustration that comes from letting your output define your momentum. If a certain length of time goes by before you make significant progress, the perceived time you’ve put in seems much longer than it is in reality, increasing anxiety. A timer replaces existential time with absolute time. Your only job becomes spending whatever amount of time you’ve allotted on the task you’ve set for yourself.

Make an exploratory beginning. That’s a fancy way of saying start, designed to emphasize using the first session for getting information. Instead of telling yourself you’re going to spend the day cleaning your house, you spend one hour cleaning the house with the sole intention of finding out how much cleaning you can genuinely accomplish in a typical hour. Once you have that information, you’re in a better position to know if cleaning the house is really an “all day” thing or a four-hour thing.

Last, but not least, forget about finishing. Keep your attention on the very next physical, visible action, and you’ll eventually reach your destination. There really are no endings, only beginnings.