Ah, it’s tax time again.
Well, to be more accurate, it’s tax prep time–time to go through all the receipts and monthly statements from last year. I’ve done a fairly good job of setting things up in Quicken, so it’s not like the old, old days when I would have to sort through a shoebox of random scraps of paper. Still, it’s the end of February and I haven’t started.
That’s a harsh word. It suggests I have no willpower, no gumption my father would say. My shoulder isn’t to the wheel, my nose isn’t to the grindstone…I must be…weak. That’s how I talk to myself sometimes when I’m feeling…weak.
A month ago, I saw an article, “Why we Procrastinate,” by James Surowiecki, originally in The New Yorker, reprinted in The Week. I thought, this will help me overcome my… situation. No, the title wasn’t “stop procrastinating now,” How could I have misread that.
Still, the article was interesting, like Piers Steel’s definition of procrastination: “willingly deferring something even though you expect the delay to make you worse off.” Not “make things worse off,” but “make you worse off.” Steel doesn’t let us down gently.
From the article: In the past two decades, “procrastination has become a significant field in academia.” Not much has been published, though, the scholars keep putting off writing. Ouch. Bad joke. And not true.
One idea that has come out from the research is called “hyperbolic discounting” (a fancy term for “lying to ourselves”). When we assign goals to a future time, we go for the important things–next month, I’ll start writing that novel, or, I’ll watch that classic Ingmar Bergman film. But as the future becomes now, today, we switch to less lofty goals–“I’ll organize my bookshelves instead of writing,” or “Oh, let’s watch Dumb and Dumber instead of the Bergman film.” Or, “Let’s watch anything on TV rather than do taxes.”
We argue with ourselves, promising future rewards if only we do the necessary task now. You know how fast that negotiation can be derailed. Now sometimes it can pay off–in an old Cathy cartoon, Cathy is sitting at her desk, staring off into space, daydreaming. A co-worker drops a pile of papers on her desk and says, “The Blowhard contract needs to be rewritten–right now!” No response from Cathy. In the next panel, another colleague yells, “Collect all the Blowhard correspondence for the last three years.” No response. Next panel, a third person rushes by: “Blowhard changed his mind–cancel all work on that account.” Cathy, smiling, looks out at the reader and thinks “Some days you just get it right.” I’ve had that! I’ll come across an old to do list (I make them constantly–it’s easier to make a list than to actually do something), look at all the undone items, and often think, “Ah, they didn’t need to be done anyway.” A sweet moment. If only we could figure out ahead of time what needs to be done and what doesn’t.
Well, what do we do when we really need to get something done? Often, we employ “the extended will” (thank you, researchers Joseph Heath and Joel Anderson)–“external tools to help the parts of our selves that want to work.” For example: Ulysses, having his men tie him to the mast of the ship so he wouldn’t be tempted by the seductive and deadly singing of the Sirens.
Deadlines also help. We might announce them to friends and family—that way, if we don’t do the work, we look bad. Children are great “supporters” that way. We can also create consequences for not meeting an assigned deadline. We might even want to enlist someone to help enforce those consequences. Victor Hugo would put off writing—he would rather go out and be with friends. So he would have his valet hide his clothes and he would write in the nude. “Wrote two pages, sir? Here are your pants.” Doesn’t this sound just like parents and kids? Our parents! Has nothing changed? Only that we’re now playing both roles.
Pretty much, what it all comes down to is “imposing limits and narrowing options,” either on our own or with outside help. Perhaps Victor Hugo could be our inspiration to help us come up with creative ways to stay on track.
I will get my taxes done by April 15, procrastinate though I will. But along the way, I’ll make it painful on myself for putting off the work, and that’s what I’d like to let go of.
I’d keep on writing here, but you’ll excuse me, I have to find some more tax deductions–my wife Lynette chained me to my desk and took away my pants.
I only talk about writing in the most mechanical fashion: good habits, bad habits, how to know when you’re working right, how to know when you’re working wrong. I almost never like to think about the aim. I assume the aim just comes out of the deepest part of your consciousness, if you’re serious about the job. There are purposes you can state, but it could be misleading to talk about them, because there are other deeper purposes that you can’t state.
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And some say I’m apathetic, but I really don’t care.