Pattern weeks part 5 – it worked

Previously… having cracked getting up at 5am weekdays to write (tomorrow is my 200th time) I determined to better schedule my week. I've replaced my beautiful iMac wallpaper with a very rough and graphically ugly timetable for the week with times for phone calls, development of new pitches, financials and a couple of other things. Most of the week is left blank for the actual work and this is all a pattern for what the week should be, it's never what it actually is. (Read Part 4 here.)

But now, another week along, I think I can call it: the pattern week works.

The bad thing is that it feels like having a job.

I kept the number of sections on the timetable to just a few and yet it's enough that I clock-watch for the first time in my adult working life. I am conscious that the hour for phone calls is coming up. I am very conscious and rather relieved when that hour is done.

The calls may be the biggest success, though. We all have our tough spots, the things we struggle with in business, and for some reason mine is making cold phone calls. I'm a journalist, I've been a journalist, I'm used to the automatic picking up of a phone to call people. If you don't know something and you know who does, ring, ring, hello.

But cold calls pitching for work, I find that hard and one thing I was determined to do this month was make myself do more calls. I decided I would do thirty in January: it's a big number when 1 is hard, but it felt achievable. And since I could obviously only make work calls during the working week, that meant I had to do more than one per day to make the total. I've gone a touch further and scheduled to make calls only four out of five days. It does give me a break on the fifth day but it also means I absolutely have to make several calls each day in order to hit that thirty. So I have to do several and I have to do them at a certain time.

I don't have to.

This is all self-imposed.

But having imposed it on myself, it now feels real. It feels like I have to. I figured that the need to do several and having a starting time to do it means that I will get going and that as I finish one call I will immediately go to the next without thinking.

It's working.

The aim was 30 calls in January and there are 18 days in which to do it. (That's Monday to Thursday, each week.) That means I have to make 1.67 calls per day.

I've made an average of 3.4 instead.

To date. With a week to go.

I've made 48 calls and considering I found 1 so hard, I am hoping that I've also cracked my phone issues. There are definitely moments when it feels like a game and very many moments when yes, I've hung up from one call and been dialling the next in the same breath.

So that's good and the pattern weeks idea has demonstrably helped me in at least this one area.

But what tickles me is that I've learnt in my game, in my various types of writing, phone calls aren't half as effective as emails. I could already do emails: I'm good at emails!

Star Wars – May the Force help you work

I saw the original Star Wars when I was seven years old and it changed my life. We all have faith in something; usually a mixture of some personal beliefs with modern science. I am like that also. Mostly, I just believe in what works. Which, for me, is The Force. I admit it.

James Altucher of 99U advocates following Star Wars for sage advice on how to be more productive.

He's quite serious. And has a lot to say to persuade you.

Odd that leaves out Yoda's “Do or do not – there is no 'try'” though.

There’s no such thing as a Muse

“Writing is the art of applying the ass to the seat.”

Dorothy Parker said that and, as a writer, I can both appreciate that she means get on with it and enjoy that she's just called me an ass. We writers do tend to piddle about doing anything but write and there is an argument that we have to but I prefer the argument that writers never stop writing, that everything we do is connected to this illness of ours. In which case, we've done and we are doing enough writing-while-not-writing so it is time to start hitting the keys. There's no muse, there is no waiting for inspiration, there is the hunt for inspiration and the work toward it.

But the reason to bang on at you about this today is an article on 99U – itself named after the idea that art is one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration – about How to Be Creative Even When You Least Feel Like it.

It's an article linking out to more that you might enjoy too.

I don’t agree, but this way of handling distractions may work for you

Productivity is less a science – way, way less a science – and more us all flailing around trying to figure out what works for us. What works for you may not work for me and we know that, that's why we try every bleedin' idea under the sun. But there are some ideas I hold to be self-evident – and there are people who disagree. Here's one I think is completely wrong yet that could be exactly why it is completely right for you.

When something distracts you like an email, a call, some sudden demand:

Do it now. Then it’s off your mind, and you can fully focus on the next matter.

That's FastCompany quoting Buffer founder Leo Widrich quoting Zen Habits' author Leo Babauta.

The usual thing against this is that fine, sure, maybe you can deal with this thing right away and get it done but you were already dealing with something else and that has been knocked aside. The time you spend switching to see what the distraction is and the time you spend switching back is probably about as damaging as the time in between when you're off doing this new thing.

I very strongly recommend that you finish the thing you're doing now. Do it and then it's done. One way I help myself, one way I stop being distracted by other shiny problems, is to try preventing the distractions getting through to you at all. Switch off emails. Switch off you phone.

I can't do either. I do try. And sometimes I manage it, sometimes I therefore learn that it really does help me. The rest of the time, I elect to ignore the distractions. I'll check email at the top of the hour when I'm busy and if I hear a bleep after then, even if it's only one minute after the hour, I will not look again until the top of the next hour. Invariably, I then look and I find that the email that bleeped is just a trivial ad.

And that is the argument in favour of this deal with it now business: even when I am successful at making myself ignore the email for up to 59 minutes, I bet I spend some of that time wondering about whether it's important. With this alternative method, I'd know.

So read the full article and see what you think, okay?

Countdown of 2013’s worst passwords

There's a new kid on the block with this year's countdown of the worst passwords you could possibly have but do. It's a first-time top ten appearance for “adobe123”.

Also breaking into the top ten with a rise of two places is “iloveyou” where it's amazing five-place jump for our number 8 password, “1234567”.

The unforgettable “111111” is up two to 7 while it's another new entry at 6 with “123456789”.

Then it's the chart's first fall with “abc123” down one to 5.

Replacing that at 4 is the classic “qwerty” which is up one spot.

Into the top three now and still steady at number 3 is “12345678”. Number 2 is a shock drop of one place for the all-time legend that is “password”.

That top ten again:

  1. adobe123
  2. iloveyou
  3. 1234567
  4. 111111
  5. 123456789
  6. abc123
  7. qwerty
  8. 12345678
  9. password

Which means that rising one place since last year, the worst password of 2013 is… “123456”.

There are a few qualifications to make about this chart countdown but the thing to take away is that all ten are equally stupid. And if you use any of them, or any like them, you must change them now if only because it is embarrassing that your best idea is the exact same one that millions of other people had too.

Fixing your passwords is more important than hearing me snark at the data so go, be gone, get yourself over to 1Password. I couldn't endorse that software any more if they paid me.

But now. Snarking.

The definition of worst is debatable, I think. This countdown comes from SplashData, and firm that of course works in password management, and it's really a ranking of the most commonly used passwords. That's not quite the same thing as the worst: “password” is surely still the one you would try first if you were going to break into something. Or “pencil” if you're hacking WOPR, obviously.

Morgan Slain, SplashData CEO:

“[An] interesting aspect of this year's list is that more short numerical passwords showed up even though websites are starting to enforce stronger password policies.”

The definition of most commonly used is also debatable: SplashData says that this year's list is heavily influenced by the troubles Adobe had when a security breach meant quite a few of its users passwords became known.

So many, in fact, that the list has to have been distorted by that group – and you can see it the top twenty which includes such gems as “photoshop” and “adobe123”.

But, seriously, 1Password. On your way.

The myth of nerves being good for you

I have the very best time talking with people, leading a writing session, meeting folk, yapping away. The very best time. But I get nervous beforehand. Seriously nervous.

I've only vomited once but it's been close a fair few times. And every time, every time, every time, I am so nervous that my body chemistry alters. I think my mind chemistry takes a beating too because you probably wouldn't like me as a big event gets closer. It's not that I'm mean suddenly, but you'll quickly conclude that life is too short, whatever you want can wait until I've returned to planet Earth.

That all goes the second I begin talking. The instant I step on stage. The instant. I have this very clear visual image of many, many times when I've looked at the microphone, taken a breath – and boom, I'm off. I truly cannot overempathise how exciting it is to meet people and bring them something I know they'll enjoy. I can say that last bit with huge ease because I'm sure I've stolen everything from cleverer people.

But I'll do confession another time, we're here to talk about nerves. Since I talked at LitFest Birmingham, a literature festival in Birmingham, back in September 2012, I've counted the talks I've done. Talks, workshops, writing sessions, radio interviews, television, anything. I'm not sure why but I note the date, the event and the number of people present. If I had any brains at all I would also jot down what I spoke about so that I don't repeat myself, but I haven't so I don't so I might.

Last night I did my 42nd since then – so that's what, two or three events every month. That's not a fair estimate as it's all trending upwards, but typically I've always got something on the horizon and so I always have nerves.

If you take nothing away from me today, make sure it isn't this: the only way I cope with nerves before a big event is to have a bigger event scheduled before it.

That's not my biggest mistake, though. My big one and the thing I would actually like you to take away or perhaps argue with me about, is that nerves have no connection to the quality of the event or of the work you do.

I came to believe they did. I've always believed that if you're blasé about a talk, you shouldn't be doing it. But I came to find that the opposite was the terribly seductive idea that the more nervous you are, the better you'll be on the night. It's this business of the instant transformation when I reach the stage. That change feels the bigger when you've vomiting in the car park.

But.

I've done 42 talks. Nervous before all 42. I'd say that roughly 20 went brilliantly and I know that means 21 went merely superbly. Because I know that I died on exactly 1.

I deserved to, I was crap. But it wasn't because I was less nervous. It was because I wasn't well enough prepared. (I need to tell you that it wasn't for want of trying. I spent a lot of time on that gig and it was just somehow eluding me, I didn't nail the material until the morning of the event and I was wrong to think I'd manage to master it in time.)

You can't really base any science or true statistics on one person's 42 experiences. But you can try. And concluding that nerves have no connection at all to whether or not one succeeds, if concluding that success is entirely dependent upon your material, that's ultimately better for your stomach, for your audience and for the poor people who had to clean up the car park.

Incidentally, if you dare, I am available to talk about writing, technology and productivity. Just don't ask me to talk about nerves because that would be just far too meta for me.

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/The99Percent/~3/L8x1MY7Fu_8/feeling-anxious-dont-try-to-calm-down-get-excited

But I hate computers

Writers tend to think I am very technical. Every technical person I know thinks I'm an idiot. I'd like to say that the truth is between the two, but that suggests it's in the middle whereas I suspect I'm only a pixel away from the idiot side. But it's a significant pixel to me because whatever I am capable of ever understanding technically, I did also choose to walk away. I chose to leave computing and go into first media, then journalism, then drama. And I wouldn't change that.

But you don't forget any dabbling you do in technology, just as you never really forget anything if you were raised Catholic. And it is certainly true that I spend my days surrounded by this stuff and might even be said to wallow in it all.

Except it's not technology. It's not computing. At least, it isn't to me.

There is a very easy way to say that, for instance, this morning I have been heavily using iTunes Radio, Pages, Numbers, Excel, Word, Mail, OmniFocus, Editorial, Final Cut Pro X, iMessages and possibly more. Reeder. That's another one. Pocket, a bit.

But I had to think about that. If you had asked me what I'd done so far today I'd have told you I cooked breakfasts, drafted a radio proposal, emailed a lot of people about a lot of things, done my regular financial stuff, got up to date with everything I'm supposed to be working on. I put the bins out and emptied the dishwasher. I would never imagine, never conceive of telling you the make and model number of my dishwasher. It's my dishwasher and I cannot remember what type it is, I just know dirty plates in, clean plates out.

When I like technology, it is enabling me to do something more interesting than play with technology. Yet telling you any of this always sounds like a list of software and hardware – usually iPads more than dishwashers, but there you go – and I'm thinking that's a barrier.

Yes, if you use all these tools they will help you stay creative yet become more productive. Guaranteed.

What I can't guarantee is which tools will help you: for something as abstract and technical as software, applications are vividly too personal to make grand recommendations or rules. I know this, you know this, but in the talking about it all and what might help you most with what, I end up sounding like a geek rather than a writer. I'd be okay with that if I thought I were and if I knew it would be of use to you, but I geek out and imagine every real technical person I know stepping away from me.

Use this stuff. Start with whatever you've already got: you're a writer, you write on a computer, there is no question but that it can do more for you than you realise or you let it. And when you've poked around a bit with that, then start looking into other applications and tools to help you more. You will find them, at some point you will become addicted to them, and you will find that they are not just useful, they are transforming.

I'm not kidding.

Now you shouldn’t focus on your goals

Not that we’re winging it here, no. You may have heard that it’s good to focus on how productive/happy/fit/slim/sexy you will be after you do whatever masochistic work you’re putting yourself through. But the site 99U says nah.

By all means visualize your goals to help get yourself started in the first place, but once you’re underway, try to let your long-term mission fade a little into the background. Revel in the process and you’re more likely to make it to the finishing line.

I don’t really have a problem with that: the journey is the reward (as Lifehacker, which pointed me at this article, mentioned too) and that’s fine. That’s drama, really. Plus the rest of that 99U piece has some rather interesting points about how subtly people can be affected by the smallest things.

XXX and ZZZ: lovely writers and their sleeping

I’ve said this before: I now cannot imagine staying in bed later than 5am – but I can’t half dream about it. It turns out that 5am is my best writing time and I hate it. But I do it. And I’ve had countless discussions with people who tend to claim that the best writers get up early (if they like me) or that the best writers work overnight (if they don’t). But now there are facts.

Sort of.

Brain Pickings did a gorgeous thing of trying to work out the unworkable-outable and somehow calculate/divine/guess (*delete as applicable) how early or late the best writers did their thing. They’re open about how you can’t really compare writers and they are frank about how you can’t trust writers anyway, they could all be lying. But as a point of comparison, it’s interesting. And moreover, it’s resulted in some rather beautiful graphics:

The end result — a labor of love months in the making — is this magnificent visualization of the correlation between writers’ wake-up times, displayed in clock-like fashion around each portrait, and their literary productivity, depicted as different-colored “auras” for each of the major awards and stack-bars for number of works published, color-coded for genre. The writers are ordered according to a “timeline” of earliest to latest wake-up times, beginning with Balzac’s insomniac 1 A.M. and ending with Bukowski’s bohemian noon.

Read Maria Popova’s Famous Writers’ Sleep Habits vs. Literary Productivity, Visualized on Brain Pickings.