Should you Write Every Day?

For the longest time I really bought into the idea that you need to write every day a for a minimum of 30 minutes in order to be a successful academic. This is popular advice, especially amongst academics, because it is true that consistent and steady work produces great output and can help avoid slumps or gaps in your work, and helps prevent falling out of the habit of writing and avoiding hard things.

Writing can be a hard thing, especially when you don’t do it regularly. All of the arguments for writing every day made sense to me: if I committed to writing every day, I would make great incremental progress and I wouldn’t be able to avoid the "hard" tasks in my work, and ultimately I’d be successful, too.

But the truth of the matter is the writing every day is not what works for everyone, and this is OK too. The catch is: when you expect yourself to write every day, and you fail to meet this goal, feelings of guilt, shame, and failure are likely to be present.

When we hear the message over and over again that we need to write every day in order to be successful and we internalize this message, then the days that we don’t write we are setting ourselves up to feel like a failure.

There were days when meetings, class, and office hours kept me so busy, and it would have been great to get a few minutes of writing in before it all started, but this wasn’t always possible. Importantly, failure to write on those days brought about negative self-judgment. When I couldn’t get that writing in, I would feel guilty and anxious because I thought I was doing it wrong.

Personally, I have found that I need periods of rest in order for ideas to germinate. I need to let my brain reset, and sometimes I just need to break from writing. And some days I am focused on the other aspects of my job— teaching and service— and trying to pull my brain back into writing was an internal battle that was costing me my energy.

In the “you must write every day” model these breaks always felt terrible because they felt like I was avoiding the simplest task that I needed to do to be successful. The truth is, I need rest and to have a little space in my brain in order to be successful.

Recognizing that the current mainstream advice about writing wasn’t the best for me was very helpful, because I realized that there is not a one-size-fits-all model for being successful in writing and in academic work. Some people thrive when they write every single day, but this doesn’t make them better people than those who don’t write every day. This idea was a tough one for me to manage at first, because deep down I really believed that “good” academics DID write every day.

It felt like a moral failing to not keep up work habits that I had idealized without considering if those habits were always working for me.

More importantly, I recognized that the negative feelings that came up when I failed to meet these expectations were the thing I needed to avoid in order to find flow in my writing.

I have found that different seasons bring different work habits, and that this is OK! As long as I’m moving my projects forward on a timeline and in the manner that works for me, I am meeting the goals of my job.

It has been exceptionally hard to put down the anxiety and the guilt that came along with not writing every day. These feelings ran even deeper than I initially realized, in part because advice like “you need to write every day” seems so practical and doable, and I subject myself to harsh criticism from my inner narrator when I don’t keep up this work practice. But breaking up with anxiety and guilt about not writing every day has been critical for coming back from being burned out.

In recovering from burnout, I needed a break from research and writing. Even more though, I need to change my practice of feeling anxiety and guilt for not working every day. This was much more difficult to do, because these messages are implicit and are often embedded at the unconscious level, so I was not always immediately aware of their presence, even when taking planned time off.

I’m here to say that it is OK to not write every day, and this does not mean you’re not a good academic. It also does not mean your projects won’t move forward! It may be more helpful to evaluate your personal situation, acknowledge guilt and anxiety and other emotions tied to work, before pressing on so that you don’t end up burning out. You need to rest and clear a little space for your thoughts and ideas, and trust you’ll write when you’re ready.

Writing every day when you’re also suffering from burnout feels like pushing a rock up the hill. You can be tough with yourself and make yourself do it, over and over again, But this is not the only way.

What I recommend doing instead of writing everyday:

One alternative is to track your minutes of focused work each (work)day instead of writing time specifically. This works better for me because I tend to do some sort of focused work every day, but some days this is in the other areas of my job, like teaching and service. This work takes focus and attention and energy too, and I often am hard pressed to keep going once I’ve exhausted myself regardless of whether the focused work was on teaching or research.

I also suggest keeping an eye on what will get you tenure (or a job, or a postdoc), so that you can consciously evaluate where that focused attention is best spent! For me, I needed to make sure that enough of my focused work was on research and was steady so that my research pipeline never ran dry. But allowing myself to focus on other parts of my job without feeling anxiety has been key for remembering how to find balance and how to enjoy the work.

Last, if you’re currently feeling burned out, I recommend taking a break from writing and investigating the emotions that arise when you take time off. I suspect that for a lot of academics, taking time off is often not restful or restorative when guilt and anxiety cast a shadow over this time. In addition, shifting towards working with your own patterns of focused work and energy, and agreeing (or saying no) to projects that work on your timeline will also help. This is a longer process to shift, as many current projects, deadlines, and commitments will need to be wrapped up before truly making this shift, but it’s worth the attention and consideration, as this can impact levels of burnout and quality of life in the long run.

Stress Narrows our Field of Vision

Stress and overwhelm make our field of vision narrow and focus our attention on what's right in front of us.

This is an adaptive behavior, because it concentrates our attentional resources on the threat that we are trying to handle. Our brain's main goal is survival, so anything that is seen as a threat becomes the focus so we can attend to it and deal with it so it doesn't take us down.

This matters a lot in our modern context, because our stressors are varied, they are are psychosocial (meaning, they come from our social situations + perceptions), and they often go unresolved. When being attacked by an external threat, we generally mount a stress response that gets us through that situation. When we mount the stress response again and again and again, against all sorts of psychological and social stressors, we never really complete the stress response cycle and it runs on repeat.

How does this affect us?

First, when we are stressed on repeat without resolution, this contributes to wear and tear on our bodies, and is associated with poor mental and physical health.

Second, that narrow field of vision keeps us from seeing situations from multiple perspectives. In turn, we have trouble accessing creative solutions to our problems.

Third, the stress cycle on repeat causes us to be exhausted. Exhaustion ALSO keeps us from finding ways out of stressful patterns or situations.

It's common for people to advise others to "be less stressed" but very infrequently is there concrete advice for how to do this. In my next post I'll share some research-backed suggestions and will explain how and why these work. Understanding what's happening in your body and brain can help reinforce actually doing these behaviors, and can help us process why it makes sense to prioritize these actions.

Sustainable Academic: "Nothing really changes when you get tenure”

I had the realization a while ago, around when my daughter was 9 months old, that the way that I was living and working was not sustainable, at least not for me. I had been back at work full time for a few months after my maternity leave, and if I had been writing a memoir, the title would have been I. Am. So. Tired. All. The. Time.

This feeling made sense when I considered the conditions of my life at that moment: working full time, commuting an hour each way to campus, adjusting to parenthood and caring for my baby, struggling with the feelings of inadequacy that many working parents feel—guilt about being away from the baby and guilt about not working enough. Oh, and did I mention, I was in year 4 of a tenure track job? I went up for tenure in year 6, so year 5 was the big year to get ALL THE THINGS DONE. Although I had gotten positive feedback in my annual reviews and had no big red flags, anyone with a history on the tenure track knows how critical this time is. I had one more year to make my case for tenure. Even writing about it now brings up the very real feelings of anxiety from this time.

I was working and working and pushing harder and harder to get things done, and yet there was a little voice I could not quite ignore telling me: “there has to be a better way.”

I needed to find a sustainable way to the job I love, otherwise I would hardly recognize myself as the years went by. I didn’t want my baby’s days to pass by so quickly, and I wanted to be able to enjoy her at each stage. I wanted to enjoy time with my partner, and our dog, and my family when I was able to see them. I wanted to be able to rest, and to spend time on my hobbies and friendships. All of this was feeling so out of balance, and last spring I reached what might be called a breaking point, but was more like a moment of realization.

I was in my annual review meeting with my department chair and the dean, which happens every spring to review my progress and for me to get feedback. The meeting was going well, which was a big relief—I really thrive on reassurance. And somewhere in the middle of that meeting, the dean commented, “you know, nothing really changes when you get tenure.” [As an aside, this comment in and of itself was weirdly reassuring, as everything changes if you don’t get tenure (!!!) and that wasn’t part of the conversation]. My department chair reiterated this sentiment—I should know that nothing big was really going to change! I would keep doing my work, showing up, teaching, researching, being a good community member. OK! I thought, I can do this!

That phrase really resonated with me.

“Nothing really changes when you get tenure.”

I did not have tenure yet, so I could not attest to the truth in that statement. But I could see where they were coming from: in all, getting tenure and promotion is akin to the prize in the pie eating contest being more pie. [At least this tenure metaphor includes a dessert!].

And here’s the thing: I only want to eat more pie if I’m still enjoying the pie. I want to enjoy the pie now. I want my enjoyment of the pie to make winning the pie eating contest feel satisfying and amazing.

And here’s the other thing: if nothing really changes when you get tenure, I needed to change now. I needed to experiment with how I approached my job, the boundaries I placed around my job, how I showed up energetically for my job, NOW. I needed to establish patterns that work for me in shifting towards a healthy, sustainable way of doing this job, so that A) going up for tenure would not burn me out, B) having tenure would feel like something I want (i.e., I want to continue to do this job!), and C) I enjoy the crap out of my life as I’m in it. 

This is no small feat. And it’s not something that is happening overnight. But there are a number of small and critical changes I’ve made, and shifts in perspective I’ve learned to sustain that have created a much healthier work/life balance for me. And it’s noteworthy that I didn't wait until tenure to do it. The reality is, I don’t think I could wait. I had a very rough postpartum period and adjustment after having my baby, and taking care of myself wasn’t something that could be put on the backburner. The first shift I made was that I decided to prioritize myself, and taking genuine care of myself, so I could show up for everything else in my life. The somewhat unexpected side effect of this is that I ended up developing a whole set of skills and tools to help me in sustaining this change.

How to Change Your Work/life 

So, this is what sustainable academic is about. Subtle shifts, a change in perspective, and showing up for work (and life) in a way that works with your energy instead of against it. It’s finding joy in the work, even the most mundane tasks. And it’s about recognizing that it takes some intentionality to keep going with this shift in perspective, because the default mode is to be right back to feeling stretched too thin, feeling overwhelmed, being reactive, and feeling totally exhausted. And I still find myself there, especially at busy times of the semester, when the emails and requests and students and classes and research is piling up. But now I have a roadmap to find my way out, and it’s a much shorter path to get back to feeling good.

As I prepared to go up for tenure the following year, my main focus was twofold: be as productive as possible, while resting when I need to. At first glance, these may seem like opposites. However, when I’m feeling calm and collected, I remember that productivity and rest go hand in hand. So my challenge in the year preceding my tenure decisions was: rest when I need it. For as long as I need to.*

(*If you’re an academic reading this, I know you might be thinking right now: but—but—what about committee meetings/classes/students emails/collaborators/paper reviews/grant deadlines…. The list can (and does) go on and on.) And I’ll say this: I honor all of my commitments to the best of my ability. I never miss class unless I’m ill, and even then I will make it an online class so we don’t fall behind! [true story—I went to campus the day I was supposed to have my annual review in year 3 even though I didn’t feel so great because it was so important to be there. About 2 hours before my meeting, in a brownbag attended by a large number of faculty in my college as well as the deans, it became apparent that I had the stomach flu. I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up. It was harrowing. And I had an hour drive home, while trying not to vomit. And I felt terrible telling the dean I needed to reschedule. But it was fine! Life went on. And I realized that if I’m not feeling great, I should stay home—even if I have to cancel an important meeting.]

I prioritize all of these things as needed, and I put the most important things first. I work well ahead of deadlines whenever possible to build in flexibility in case I’m feeling run down. I feel run down every week, and try to adjust my schedule to allow for this. I have started selectively saying no to things. I’ve started to keep track of how long things really take. And this includes the energy and time I spend thinking about them, not just the hours doing the actual work. I am very efficient when I am working, and I am deliberate in focusing fully on the task at hand. If I find I’m too tired to focus, it’s a sign that I’m not being efficient and I stop. To be fair, these guidelines apply to the writing and researching work I do on my own. When I’m in a meeting, or meeting with an RA, or I’m in class, I push through even when it feels like I can’t remember half the words in a sentence.

I’ve stopped caring so much about things that don’t concern me, or that I don’t want to give my energy to. That is another practice that takes some work, but it is wholly worth it.

The unofficial results are: I’m still tired a lot, but I don’t feel guilty about it, or about resting. It’s a glorious thing to just take a nap when you need it. I am getting much better about working ahead and watching for deadlines approaching or stacking up. I am unofficially much more productive this year, while also happier and better rested. And now that I’ve received my tenure decision, and I can confirm that “nothing changes,” I feel quite alright about it.