howiwork

Meet Me Halfway

Meetings (in my experience, and for me right now, at least) tend to be about four things.

Solving problems (or perhaps 'making decisions')

Generating ideas

Discovery (i.e. figuring out the shape of a thing -- maybe what your problems are, without trying to solve them yet)

Transferring information

Some of these can be accomplished by means other than a meeting, but often meetings are the best way of doing the thing in question (for the immediate local version of the thing -- all of the above are sometimes better as meetings, and sometimes better other ways). Even transferring information, the poster child for 'this could have been an email', is sometimes genuinely best as a meeting (though I think that requires specific intention about why it's better that way).

Each of these demands slightly different approaches from meeting participants. Obviously, an all-hands is very different from a writers' room, but even two meetings consisting of the same three people should function very differently if they're seeking to transfer information or solve problems.

I think bad meetings, really, come when we conflate these functions. Or worse, don't think about them at all. Fundamentally, if you're setting up a meeting to generate ideas, you want to design it differently than if your goal is to solve problems. Likewise, for me as a participant, I need to be in different headspaces, and do different prep, for each of these things.

Basic example: for problem solving, I might want to bring a strategic frame of mind. It's useful to be able to weigh an approach and find issues with it, be critical, look for tradeoffs. If you bring that same critical lens to idea generation, it can be stifling and counterproductive.

(I do think there is some flex in this -- you can have meetings that mix categories that still work well. But I think that flexibility scales inversely with the number of participants. Three of you can probably manage a meeting that does three of these functions. Six should really just stick to one.)

Here's some ways I think about preparing for meetings of different functions:

Problem Solving: What are our guiding principles for making these decisions? Who are the stakeholders? What criteria are we trying to satisfy? (And then logistical stuff like 'who is responsible for capturing the outcomes and following up on next actions?')

Discovery: What questions should I be asking? What does success look like? What isn't in this picture -- what are we missing? Could I explain this clearly to someone else? What information am I missing to be able to do that?

Information Transfer: If I'm giving out information -- making sure I have my material organised and know what I'm actually trying to communicate. If I'm receiving information -- come prepared to take notes so I can engage with the material.

(If there's nothing at the level of note-taking, then, yes, maybe this could have been an email. But even then -- sometimes there are emotional management components at work as well -- telling people something to their face, and giving them the opportunity to ask questions. Even if 100% of the output is captured in writing anyway and no one actually does want to ask any follow-up questions, the decision to do things that way is sometimes important.)

Idea Generation: I try to prime myself ahead of time, as I would for solo idea generation. Reading some related and random stuff. Looking for sources of creative entropy. Warming up with some exercises. Making sure I have scrap paper at hand to scribble during the thing itself.

More Obsidian things

My love of Obsidian only grows. I was running a Session 0 for a new Monster of the Week campaign last night. I was taking notes on people's characters as they introduced them, all together at the bottom of my session notes doc. "Dang," I then thought. "What I really want is a separate note for each character, so I can link them for each of their histories.

I was expecting a straightforward but mildly annoying copy-paste situation, but...

It turns out that this button just pulls an entire section out into its own note. The fact that I was using headers for each character meant that it pulled through note titles automatically, too. I was: very pleased.

The note-linking feature was really useful here as well -- previously in MOTW character creation, I've drawn a little paper chart of the connections as we went. Too many players for that this time around, but using note links let me set 'outbound' histories between the characters. And the backlinks sidebar lets me see which other characters have history links into that character.

I also unearthed another feature that I was sure would be there, but I couldn't figure out what it would be called. It turned out it was rather simple: embedding. There are a few notes where I want a live-updating preview of content from another note, rather than having to manually replicate that information whenever it changes in one place. Boom. It's there.

I really love Obsidian.

See also Daily Notes, Daily Notes and Possum Ravens, Obsidian sync, and Experimenting with Obsidian PKM

Daily Notes and Possum Ravens

I mentioned last year that I'd started Obsidian's daily notes feature and was finding it really valuable. That continues. I saw an article recently (which I now can't find) about someone else's approach to daily notes. They'd write down interesting things, and then at the end of the day, roll them up into a month-level note, zibaldone style.

For me, daily notes have been most useful for stuff that I want to organise/have in my head in a strictly temporally local context (i.e. really today) and then have expire, rather than worrying about storing and filing lots of daily notes. Usually, that's little snippets of stuff I'll need later but don't want to file long-term, or ephemeral tasks which are useful to turn towards when I have a spare moment, but really don't matter enough to be worth sending to any actual to-do lists.

But there are occasionally things that it would be useful to tuck away somewhere but don't fit neatly within my existing filing system. When they're more involved, I've often renamed the note at the end of the day to be more descriptive of the content. That's not entirely satisfying, though, but makes rediscovery/disposal after the fact easier.

But this zibaldone appraoch appeals, for little snippets of stuff that I like but don't want to extensively file. Here's one I kept from a few days ago:

From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ravens_of_the_Tower_of_London

Another story concerns the two ravens named "James Crow" and "Edgar Sopper". James Crow, who was a much-loved and long-lived raven, had died. After noticing the commotion surrounding the other raven's death, Edgar Sopper decided he could "play dead" in order to bring more attention to himself. His trick was so convincing that the ravenmaster fully believed that Edgar Sopper had died. When the ravenmaster picked up the "corpse", Edgar bit the man's finger and "flapped off croaking huge raven laughs".[45] Likewise, "Merlin" has since been known for eliciting a commotion from visitors by occasionally playing dead.

Birds!

Fractal, Longitudinal Selves

Good quote from Kieron Gillen's newsletter that resonated with me:

But that it’s nonsense doesn’t make it useless. It’s made me think about time, perspective and who I was at each of these points. One of the things that has struck me as I’ve aged is that old people never actually explain what they mean “you’ll see things different when you’re older. You’ll have a different perspective” That only comes across as patronising, because it is patronising… but they’re also not really saying what they mean.

What being older does is provide a variety of perspectives – not just who you met, but from your own moving identity. You have been a different person at different places, and seen the world from where you stood. It’s not about the final perspective being correct – but an awareness that there are multiple perspectives one can inhabitant, and they were (mainly) true and necessary responses to where you were in that moment. Unless they’re being a total shithead (which is entirely possible) what they’re really saying is “you will see things differently when you’re older because you will have seen things differently at different points, and then have a different understanding based on all those people you’ve been.”

The danger for the old is that because they have had all these multiplicities of experience is that they think their multiplicities are all there are. That is fatal.

245: the juvenilia jamboree

This is the fractal version of something I've held for a long time, which is utterly obvious but for me has explained so much of various people's behaviour over time. Your worldview is not universal. Worldview here being the internal model of/interpretive lens you hold up to the world based on the aggregate of your life experience.

Again, I think this is utterly obvious to a lot of people. But so much that I see in other people's behaviour that I think of as wrong or destructive (in the minor or the major key) comes down to them just not operating as if this is true, and treating their own perspective as a monolith.

(This is not the only thing that leads to those behaviours, of course -- it's perfectly possible to understand this and still do bad things or things badly. But it's a common 'thoughtless' thing, as far as I can see.)

The temporal aspect to this is important, too. I remember hearing some years ago (I think also on the Hidden Brain podcast, as referenced yesterday) about a study where participants were asked for their forward- and backward-looking perspectives on themselves over time. They were asked:

  • How much have you changed vs you a decade ago? (Answers generally boiling down to 'oh wow SO MUCH!')
  • How much do you think you'll change in the next decade? (Answers generally amounting to 'oh, not much, really'.)

Those answer patterns were consistent across all age groups. Generally, we seem to think we're 'finished' at whatever age we happen to be. We underrate how much will continue to grow and change, despite the preponderance of past evidence for the fact that we will. Understanding this has been hugely important to me. I feel in continuity with my past and future selves, but without feeling I am the 'correct' form of George, either.

(And the change talked about doesn't mean a strictly negative reckoning, either. We can have compassion for our past (or even future) selves even if we don't like them, or wish they'd done things differently, or had access to (self-)knowledge or insights that we have in the present.)

Things in their appointed time

No blog yesterday. Things were rather off nominal, and I didn't quite get around to writing something.

At the weekend, I dived into a deep Satisfactory hole. Satisfactory is a logistics game about building, yes, factories on an alien planet. Those logistics style strategy-type games are a big brain trap for me. Sometimes in a nice way -- in that I find them utterly absorbing in a way that soothes and pleases my brain. But also in a negative way, where I find it hard to think about or do anything else.

I think I have a weekend like this once or twice a year where I just... play a game like that. And then the feeling passes, and it's mostly a positive experience. Still, I got to Sunday night feeling a bit... underprepared. Like all the carefully-stacked boxes in my head had all been cleared away. Which, on the one hand, was quite welcome -- it deals with the clutter! But I did have this feeling of absence, like I was missing stuff that I was probably going to need.

My Sunday morning process//ritual is one of the best things I've ever instituted. I have a checklist that I work down to get my head around the week ahead, going through the calendar, planning, making sure I know what's what and making any last-minute adjustments. This also involves filling in the big whiteboard on my wall.

It has an immense practical function, obviously. Spending even 30 minutes or so just delving in to what to expect from the week is really valuable. But what's also valuable is the feeling of control that it gives. I feel like I can relax more over the weekend and not worry about what's coming up, because there is an appointed time to address that.

I think this double-benefit is true of a lot of my little processes and systems: there's the obvious, practical benefit of actually doing the organisational work or whatever -- but there's also the bonus that you don't have to spend attention worrying about that outside of the appointed time for it. Assuming the system is well set up and working as intended, obviously.

Fallow Fielding

I had a free weekend. A wonder. A rarity.

I'm trying to slowly mothball myself into end-of-year mode. I try, where possible, to take a decent amount of time off at the end of the year. It's an important reset point for me, a chance to shed the year, pick over the remains, learn from them, and look at the next one. I try to combine this, where possible, with not travelling too much. The home environment is important.

I'm finding it particularly difficult this year. I can reach a state of almost-relaxation that works a bit like the Uncanny Valley -- a sudden decline in quality, in contrast to the trend of the line, when approaching a particular magnitude. My brain kicks off, trying to hold on to everything, make sure it still works.

This, this is what I'm talking about:

Some weeks, I'll talk to you about schedules and work discipline and showing up and getting the words down and supporting that process. This week, I'm telling you that an essential part of the process is time to dream. Or even just to watch and listen and allow things to flow through your head. Put your notebook away so you don't feel any pressure to make marks in it. It's not about being productive. It's about going fallow-field for a bit. It's the equivalent of sitting on that rock and watching the river run. (Orbital Operations 6-Nov-22)

It doesn't help that my favoured forms of entertainment and relaxation (reading, games) intersect so absolutely with my actual work. The analytical mode ('how does this thing work') or weaponised curiosity ('how can I make use of this?') are extremely useful and have made me good at what I do, but damn they are hard things to turn off. Which can make leisure time fraught.

I see it as a kind of mini extinction burst -- a reactive, increased-intensity exhibiting of a behaviour after some success has been made in dampening it. I find it almost impossible to put away that notebook. This actually make sense when relaxation time feels properly scarce -- I will have to switch back into work mode sooner rather than later -- but it also reduces the value and impact of the actual leisure time. It can be exhausting. (I am exhausted.)

Part of it is a fear -- of having tools that fit so nicely in the hand, that I have spent so much time and energy amassing. The fear of setting down a tool and not being able to find it again, or forgetting how to use it.

I wrote this back in October:

I'm now sitting at my desk trying to brush the cobwebs off my brain. As much as I find it hard to switch into downtime and get my head out of work and routine and process, going back is hard, too (albeit less stressful than the threat of travel). There is comfort and power, for me, in routine and systems, and it eases the transition -- makes it more like picking up a favourite tool, the handle worn just into the right shape. It sits comfortably in the hand, but still feels a little heavier than you remember, and you worry, briefly, that you might have forgotten how to swing it. (You haven't.)

Time to start swinging.

(Well-Worn Tools)

I find this encouraging.

Daily Notes

I've gone more and more on in Obsidian over the course of this year. It's definitely got another boost now that I'm paying for Obsidian sync, albeit that I still mildly resent what feels like a bit of duplication with other services I pay for, but: the tool is fantastic. It's exactly what I need. It's integrated smoothly with the way I work, plus changed it in a few small ways to take advantage of its other features.

One thing I love at the moment is the 'Daily Note' button, which pulls up a scratch note for that day. You can customise the titling format, location, etc.; the point is that it gives me a very transient-feeling note space for stuff that I want to jot down that day but aren't invested in the long-term filing of.

In fact, I'd go so far as to say I benefit from the implicit assumption that I won't store or access these types of notes long-term. I don't worry especially about information formatting or tagging outside of immediate needs.

I've been using this routinely for a few things:

  • Some tasks or task-adjacent things. This feels odd to my brain, since I have some very developed task management systems. But these represent a different category of thing -- almost 'idle thought' tasks which I'd be happy to get done or follow up on today if I have the time, but can go 'poof' if not. Looking up specific things, chasing down recipes, whatever.
  • Rough drafts of messages that require some crafting before sending, but which I don't like drafting in the relevant interface.
  • Stuff I want to pass to and from my phone quickly
  • Little snippets and links to maybe follow up on but also which aren't important if they get lost
  • The bird omens

(I've also been contemplating Obsidian Publish as an eventual replacement for my current format of the blog. It's not something I want to drop the £ on right now, nor do I have time to explore the setup process, but if and when I transition my site off Squarespace, I'll look into that as a blog platform for these posts, assuming I'm still doing them. Everything so far is linked and tagged in my own Obsidian Vault, so should be nicely portable.

Squarespace is good for getting a decent website quickly, but represents a disproportionate ongoing expense for me these days, given my use case is so limited. I'm effectively paying long-term for features I don't use and an editor I don't use on an ongoing basis.)

Obsidian Sync

I mentioned back in July that I'd started experimenting with Obsidian as a PKM. I'm still using it, and liking it a lot. It's the right balance of lightweight and freeform but with enough features around linking, search, and graphing that I find myself using it more and more in preference to Notepad++.

Notepad++ remains a more powerful editor overall, and there are things that I find myself needing to do quite regularly in there in preference to Obsidian (like editing multiple lines, doing macro edits, applying RegEx-driven changes) -- but this doesn't feel like an issue at all, because I can jump straight out from a note into Obsidian into Notepad++ with just a couple of clicks.

For my day job, I'm still using Notepad++ more. There's less interlinking and need for a 'knowledge base' right now in the things that I work on, and my preference for smaller rolling project work is to use folder structures in Windows/Dropbox that store all the information for a project in one place. If I'm doing something major and long term, I'll generally spin up specific project spaces for it, but for smaller stuff, it's much more expedient and useful just to throw a bunch of web links, text documents, and other media into a sorted folder hierarchy.

I've sprung for a month of Obsidian Sync to try it out. I do find this mildly annoying. I pay for Dropbox and have had zero problems so far syncing Obsidian Vaults between Windows machines using it. I also already use some apps on my phone which just hook into arbitrary Dropbox folders. There may be some technical angle that I'm missing, but I don't see why the Obsidian mobile app can't just hook into my Vault and handle sync via Dropbox.

I don't, in fact, resent paying for software. Obsidian is very good and fits my needs very well. The mobile app is also excellent. That doesn't come free, or even cheap. But there's a mental disconnect for me in paying for a subscription for something that, on paper in terms of what it's meant to offer, I feel duplicates another service that I pay for. The cost for Sync would be ~90% of what I pay for Dropbox, which is a far more generalised service in terms of where it meets my needs.

This is a mental blocker, rather than anything else. In many ways, I'd rather pay a more nebulous generalised service fee than for something that feels unnecessary. But maybe I just need to write it off as not really paying for the Sync service as much as paying to support good software development.

(I was having reasonable success using my existing lightweight text editor on my phone, Byword, which connects to Dropbox folders. I could edit and read my Obsidian notes with only medium friction using this, which was just about fine for my needs. As I've used more of Obsidian's specific features, that's become less desirable though. And for some reason, my Byword seems to have entirely lost its ability to pull in system-level usability features like autocorrect, word suggestion, dynamic key sizing, etc., which has made it considerably less usable.)

The Lion Razor and When to Stop

Skimming over notes about decision razors yesterday, I stumbled back across the 'Lion Razor'. 'If you have the choice, always choose to sprint and then rest' Which broadly describes a lot of how I work. It's not always the case, and not always healthy to do things that way, but I definitely tend to be either 'on' or 'off'. It loops back to a few things I've written on here before:

  • The Four-Hour 'Rule' -- the idea that we only have so many hours of good, effective work in us per day, so using them intentionally and well is better than dripping yourself out over the day.
  • Timeboxing -- including the idea of 'fixed-schedule productivity' and the Parkinson Principle. Curtailing the time in which you plan to work can be far more effective than assigning more time to it and using it all less effectively.
  • Enabling Deep Work and Time Models in general. My deep-work schedules aren't suitable all the time, both due to the specifics of the work and also just where my energy is at on any given day. But it's turned many mediocre works days into excellent ones when deployed effectively.

On that last point, actually -- I do have various tools and systems for getting the work done when I feel like How to Write When You Can't|I just can't. That's part of any job, and certainly part of Being Creative Uphill|doing creativity as a job. It pays (literally) to know how to push yourself through when you're struggling.

But also: it's important to know when that's necessary, and whether it's a good idea or not, even if you can. I definitely feel the effects when I'm working against myself like that. There's a cost, and it comes due. Sometimes, that's the better way of doing things. Sometimes, you have no choice. But other times, it's better just to stop for a while.

(Also Cassandra's latest newsletter, Trust the Process, spoke me to a great deal on this.)

The Four-Hour 'Rule'

Here's a good writeup from a couple of weeks ago but Julian Simpson on time management. This is one of those things I'm always interested to hear other people's processes/thinking on, even when it's very different from my own.

The post references the '4 hour rule/not-rule'. I can't remember where I first came across this, but I think about it a lot. The idea is that most people only really get an average of about four hours high-quality focused work in a day. The exact figure varies up and down, and it's not necessarily about four contiguous hours.

It's also one of those things that may be faintly apocryphal, in that 'fits rather too neatly in a Malcolm Gladwell book' sort of way. But the underlying point feels truthy to me, which is that there is nothing scientific about the eight-hour workday, and you (I) can get a lot more mileage from a shorter number of intense, highly focused hours than a larger number of less-focused ones.

Key to that is 'intense, highly focused'. It's not a case of just putting fewer hours into something. It's a case of using those hours ferociously and not trying to treat all available hours as having equal valence.

In practice, this doesn't work out to me working four hours a day and then stopping. There are several reasons for that:

  1. I worked a salaried job with contracted hours
  2. My personal tolerance for this is generally, in fact, higher than four hours
  3. The 'rule' isn't meant to describe four hours of contiguous time -- it's four hours over the course of a day.
  4. When I've done it in the past, I've found maintaining that level of output for five days a week more exhausting than treating time in a fluffier, less structured way. (And also get about twice as much done.)

What is generalisable from this, though, and what I use with abandon, is not treating working time as some fluffy, amorphous mass where every available hour is equivalent to every other hour. The headlines of this for me are:

  • Time-boxing. Usually 90- or 60-minute windows where I shut off all distractions and just disappear into some large piece of work.
  • Intercut these with 'unclenching' time where the goal is only smaller tasks, or occasionally wandering down to the kitchen to eat a little piece of cheese. (The point is not laziness or procrastination, it's to do as little as necessary to make the next focus-box maximally effective rather than half-assing both and calling it productivity.)
  • Consider the structure of the week. Right now, Wednesdays are usually meetings/sundries days, which is ideal, because the same level of focused intensity isn't possible, and it breaks up the week nicely. Other times, I know I just don't have the same level of focus in me, and don't try to force (and so structure my time differently to get the value out of it that I can).

Which is to say: being intentional with your time and how you work and mostly not kidding yourself too much about what you can and can't do are perennially useful.

Dictionaries of record & writing tools

No blog yesterday. I'm trying not to fall out of the habit, but also not holding myself to it if it's genuinely an impediment/means the expenditure of additional energy/time I don't have. My ideal is to draft these notes first thing in the morning, at the end of my usual spin-up routine, which would be ideal -- my brain is up and running and I've usually got some random things that I'm thinking about, but I'm not too mired in the specifics of the day just yet.

Anyway, dictionaries.

I came across this post, of which point 3 links to https://jsomers.net/blog/dictionary. The thrust of that post is that modern dictionaries tend towards more pre/con-cise and clinical language, which is useful in some ways but is a loss in others. There's mileage for sparking thought/finding the right words, particularly in a context where you're aiming for a richness in your language, in something more ornate.

The post specifically recommends Webster's 1913 dictionary, which you can find online here.

I'm adopting this immediately; I thought I'd also share some of the other tools I use:

  • I keep a copy of Roget's Thesaurus (a 1987 printing of the 1852 edition) on my shelf for similar reasons -- it has an arcanity/datedness to its language and word choices that I find useful for fiction or for naming things slightly obliquely.
  • Fowler's Modern English Usage. I have a hardcopy of the most recent edition (I think). Really useful for answering specific questions/seeing a breakdown of specific oddities of usage.
  • Oxford Dictionary of Etymology. Feels fairly self-explanatory.
  • The Penguin Guide to Punctuation. I don't 100% agree with absolutely everything in there, but when I'm not working to an external style guide, this is what I most often use for consistency.
  • Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. Not a language reference in the same way, but very, very useful.
  • All of these I have in hardcopy. Technically, searching things up is much faster digitally, but a) I like having them on my shelf and the tactility of them, and b) there's an element of serendipity, also, that you can only really get from flipping through a book and spotting adjacent entries.
  • These other things I use digitally. The most common ones I have mapped to quick searches via my browser bar, so I can e.g. type 'def catenary' into my address bar and jump directly to the relevant page).
  • I use Google Definitions (just 'define x' in Google) as a quick-and-dirty lookup. I mostly use this to confirm a definition I already know to make sure I'm using something correctly, or sometimes, to check the spelling of a word that I suspect falls outside my writing program's bailiwick. This is mapped to 'def x', so I often hit the following sequence of keys quite fast:
    • WIN + 2 (switches to Firefox)
    • Ctrl + L (jumps to the address bar -- if my currently open tab is discardable) or Ctrl + T (open a new tab to use)
    • def word
    • Alt+ tab back to previous program (or occasionally alt + shift --> n to minimise the browser so it's not lurking in the background)
  • Power Thesaurus. It's excellent. Mapped to 'syn x'
  • Wiktionary for digging more into the background of a word and related elements. Mapped to 'wikt x'.
  • Now, Webster's 1913 Dictionary. Mapped to 'webst x'.
  • I also have a handy pdf of 'Gary Gygax's Extraordinary Book of Names', which is a surprisingly useful resource for... well, anything that involves naming.

Reset buttons

The blog's been taking a back seat the last couple of weeks. Presumably in a Smart car or a pickup truck or something where the back seat is notably absent. Various reasons that I won't bore you with here, because they're very mundane, but can be boiled down to negative things (fatigue and too much to brain over) and positive reactons (not beating myself up about not doing absolutely everything on my list if it helps with that).

Anyway, I like writing these notes, and am trying to make sure I keep doing it. But sensibly, y'know?

I like Mondays. I'm like the anti-Garfield, in this. I'm lucky enough to enjoy my work, and the start of a week represents a kind of reset point -- a reset of intentions, a fresh-ish start, even if the actual happenings and practices the week will bring might be anything but. It makes it more plausible, for instance, that I can hit the reset button on something like this blog, forgive myself lapses in habits, and crack on regardless.

I like the sprint structure of working for much the same reason -- more strongly, if anything. For the uninitiated, to explain briefly and simplistically: sprints are a system for organising workload, working time, and work assignments, devised for software development. An archetypal sprint would be a two-week period -- everyone involved has a calculable amount of working hours, and each task is estimated. Therefore, you can be assigned an amount of work which -- in theory at least -- matchs what's actually achievable for you. Obviously, there is slippage and drift, unexpected illness or overruns, but fundamentally, it gives you a) a view into your next two-weeks worth of work (with, ideally, no surprises that throw that off), b) an amount of work that should be proportional to your actual time, and c) a sense of priority and importance within that.

Sprints work really well for my brain. I like the short-term predictability, without having an excessively long path laid ahead of me such that it becomes predictable and boring. I can sit down and figure out how best so structure my time over the coming sprint to handle this specific workload. Which feels like a fun little puzzle, sometimes -- knowing which tasks will require what sort of working structure, what sort of headspace. Arranging them to try to manage energy over the course of a sprint (by e.g. trying to avoid stacking all the most intense writing days next to one another).

It also provide an ebb-and-flow cycle between sprints. No matter how well or sub-optimally a sprint is going (or feels like it's going), you know that, eventually, you're going to tie a bow on the whole thing and move on. It's like a mental clearing-out, for me, setting a thing aside and getting somewhat of a fresh start. It also lends itself well to iteration and reflection -- being able to look back on a discrete period of work (collectively as a team but also individually and from the point of view of craft) and use the rhythm of the cycle to operationalise the things you learn.

Related to this, one of my most successful habits is my weekly whiteboard. Each Sunday, I run through a checklist of things to review and prep for the week ahead, organise my brain and digital workspace, and writing it all up on a physical whiteboard. The physical thing is strictly duplicative, but it's a nice touchstone throughout the week, and a physical marker of things. Each Friday, as I'm wrapping up, I unwind all that, wipe down the board, and stow things away until it's time to start again. Reset buttons. Burning away the old.

New Year is an important time for me, for much the same reasons. Taking time to reflect on the year that's gone, and setting intentions and preparing, at leisure, for the year ahead, has an outsized impact on my brain. The ability to burn away the old and begin anew, but in continuity with what's gone before. Reset buttons.

Writing tests are bad

I saw a tweet about — well, not writing tests, strictly, but taking tests as part of applications for jobs or contracts. But I choose to make this about writing tests.

I hate them, and remain salty about them.

The logic behind them seems to run thus:

  • We want to hire the right people
  • Evaluating writers is hard
  • We want to know they can write our specific thing
  • So as well as asking for a portfolio, we’ll get candidates to compete some bespoke work assignment so we can gauge their expertise and make sure they can write OUR thing

My problems with this are manifold.

  1. Most competent games writers can write most game forms/styles/genres. Some will be better at some and worse at others, granted, but I feel like you’re not actually solving a problem with these tests most of the time. (Or: if the thing you are trying to test for is 'baseline competence at their craft', this is the wrong way to go about it.)
  2. Most of the time, you’re not going to get better or more information than you get from a portfolio, unless your test is very well put together and carefully thought through.
  3. It generally amounts to the hiring company trying to mitigate risk (of hiring the ‘wrong’ writer) by gathering additional information. Which is not inherently bad! It’s actually sensible! The problem is that a) I’m sceptical about the quality of the information received and b) they do this at the expense of the candidate -- by having them bear increase risk and invest more time and labour instead.

This is not to say that these tests are never useful. I’ve seen some that are, and have, once or twice, enjoyed the experience. But the vast, vast majority I’ve engaged in or seen colleagues engage in have been colossal wastes of everyone’s time.

Here are some things I’ve had, or seen come out of writing tests:

  • Company just ghosts candidate
  • Company goes silent for long period before announcing that, due to strategy changes, they’re not hiring for this position any more
  • Company tells candidate their submission isn’t something they could ship outright (which is an absurd success metric for a cold-read writing assignment meant to get more info about the candidate)
  • Company returns feedback on writing test, parts of which contradict the original brief or treat as essential criteria which were absent from the original brief
  • Company progresses candidate, before later taking issue with quoted rates being ‘too expensive for their budget’, despite their being a known/knowable issue before moving ahead with a writing test

Many of these aren’t about the tests per se — they’re general problems with hiring processes. But their bullshit factor is greatly compounded by the fact that the company has had writers invest hours or weeks of their time speculatively, leading to an absurd amount of wasted effort. There's already a great power asymmetry in these processes; this makes it so much worse.

The instance I am still most personally salty about is a company which told me they were finding too many candidates weren’t ‘at the standard they wanted’ when it came to do writing tests after completing several interview rounds. This was losing them too much time doing interviews, so they moved their writing tests earlier in the process, before interviews. This means they were giving it to dozens of people, almost entirely speculatively. And this was a writing test which demanded, at minimum, several days of work. This is practically a moral hazard issue — how much of people’s time we’re they wasting to ‘solve’ a problem of their own by pushing the cost and risk onto other people?

‘Solve’ in scare quotes because I can’t imagine that this helped them much. Surely they were burning far more time on this than just doing interviews. Going over writing tests is time-consuming!!

And, some additional salt: given their offensively overscoped test and their approach to it, I’m not remotely surprised that they were having that original 'issue' with people not delivering the results they wanted after interview. I suspect that had a lot more to do with the test and what the company was looking for than any strict deficiency in the candidates. I found the whole process so incredibly sour, and it reflected so poorly on the company and its processes that I'd quietly warn away anyone considering working with them.

(This also gave me the thought that bad hiring processes will tend to persist because they tend to select, naturally, for those candidates who can endure at least that level of bullshit without giving up. Assuming a company's hiring processes are reflective of the company more broadly, if you can get hired by them, you've passed through the flaming hoops of process required to get through the door in the first place. Which means your tolerance is at least that high. An idle thought and a sweeping generalisation/rule of thumb, at best, but I think it has nonzero explanatory power for the interia of bad processes.)

Salt aside, how would I fix this? Well, I’m mostly just going to refuse writing tests in future as flat policy, with the specific caveats below. They waste my time, and where I have the luxury of choice, I don’t want to work for anywhere that starts out the relationship by wasting my time. But, that aside, here are some things I'd be looking for:

  • I am paid for my time. This doesn’t strictly make the test better, and it would basically be unheard of to get actual full working rate for a writing test. But it’s a risk mitigation measure — it means my time is less wasted and the company is willing to actually put their money where their perceived need is, which reduces asymmetry.
  • The test seeks to solve some specific problem which is not just ‘can you write?’ (I can) or ‘can you write our specific thing?’ (which this is not a meaningful way to evaluate). Too many companies seem to give writing tests just because they can, or because they feel they’re supposed to. And they’re often the worst ones, because they’re unfocused or overscoped. The test, of course, then has to actually be well designed to support this objective, but this is ‘Step One’.
  • The test should be scoped to be comparable to the amount of time I’d spend on an interview. If I can genuinely do it in a handful of hours, I’ll be less grumpy about it. But that’s hard to get right, because if it’s technically achievable in a few hours – but you’d produce something way better by spending, say, four days on it, then you have to start second-guessing whether other people are going to actually stick to the brief. Put another way: if people feel they can maximise their chances of getting the gig by overworking (even if that contravenes the strict brief), they are going to overwork (which hurts them and, potentially, those who don't overwork by comparison). The hiring company cannot abrogate the responsibility of creating this dynamic.
  • The test should not produce any material the company could use, and explicitly not sign over any rights for them to use anything so produced. Maybe if they’re paying full rate for the test, they can make an argument for this, but then I come back to: are you really doing a writing test or just outright hiring someone for a short engagement? Because those are different things with different parameters, and trying to do everything all at once is to the detriment of all of them.
  • The test should be given to as few candidates as possible. Waste the minimum of aggregate time.

If several of these things were true, I’d consider doing a test, even now. But generally, I think they are a bad investment for all involved unless the company practises great care and attention.

You can, in fact, gauge someone’s writing ability by samples and past work. If you lack that expertise, hey, consult with someone who does have it to help you evaluate candidates. A writing test will give you a little more insight into what someone is like to work with — but is a terrible instrument for that. Figure out, above all what problem you are actually trying to solve and what information you are trying to gather and find some better way, because it’s almost definitely not best solved through a writing test.

Something I didn't get into (because I wrote this in bed at 6am while not sleeping) but that is also salient is: writing tests also affect what candidates you're getting in the first place. This is both in terms of 'busy, well-qualified people don't have three days to spend on your test' and 'many people have personal circumstances that preclude this' e.g. kids, financially strained, chronic health conditions around other commitments, and so on – and that second group disproportionately includes marginalised people. Beyond all the other moral considerations, you'd better be certain your writing test is adding value to your hiring process if you're willing to limit your applicant pool in this way.

Unexpected Listening

A small blog to make up for missing yesterday. I was brain-wiped after spending all day on something, and then had to pick up a couple of small things which claimed what energy was left. I set myself a low bar for coherency/interest for this blog, but there is a point beyond which it's just typing nonsense into a screen.

Here a few albums from my main work playlist ('Softly Dreaming'). I update it intermittently with things of the same ilk, and occasionally rotate stuff out. Generally I like stuff that is nebulously weird-ambient or weird-classical.

Two Sisters by Sarah Davachi (https://sarahdavachi.bandcamp.com/album/two-sisters)
Described by Olivia as sounding like 'distant angry traffic jam crossed with mournful bagpipes', which I take as a strict compliment. I really like it, anyway.

Drone Mass by Jóhann Jóhannsson (https://johannjohannsson.bandcamp.com/album/drone-mass)

The Undivided Five by A Winged Victory for the Sullen (https://awvfts.bandcamp.com/album/the-undivided-five)

Ghosts V: Together by Nine Inch Nails (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghosts_V:_Together)

Enjoy unexpected listening.

Approaches to feedback (Resketch I)

(This is a resketch of yesterday's post.)

Giving feedback is about meeting the other person where they are -- understanding the context of what you're being asked to do and what you're actually meant to be bringing to the table.

Here, I'm talking specifically about explicit feedback cycles on pieces of work, rather than the looser concept of 'feedback' as in Thanks for the Feedback (which is still a very useful way of thinking about it).

There are three main contexts, at least in my current thinking about the topic, where you might be giving feedback on such a piece of work. These encode various assumptions about the relevant considerations and what you, as the feedback giver, are able to offer:

  1. An audience's reaction to a piece of work
  2. Helping to shape a piece of work for release
  3. Offering peer or mentor coaching within your field of expertise

There are probably others, but let's start here. To help me refer to them, I'll give them some short names, based on the role of the feedback-giver:

  1. An audience's reaction to a piece of work: Responder
  2. Helping to shape a piece of work for release: Editor
  3. Offering peer or mentor coaching within your field of expertise: Coach

There are also a bunch of shorthand mechanisms for feedback that I can think of from various places. There are almost certainly some I'm missing here, and I'd love to refine this in a future resketch:

  • Change suggestions ('how about if you tried changing this thing?')
  • Direct editing ('do it like this')
  • Statements of effect ('it made me feel like...')
  • Focus areas ('try this exercise'/'next time, how about you try')
  • Opinions ('I don't like this bit)

Which of these mechanisms are appropriate vary based on the role of the feedback giver (well, technically, based on the circumstances in which the feedback is being given, but I've collapsed the two for now).

As an Editor, it makes sense for me to offer change suggestions or direct edits -- they're often expedient, and the author can push back if they feel strongly or I've missed some information.

Direct editing makes no sense as a Responder, and in places that explore the Responder role in depth, such as Liz Lerman's Critical Response Process, change suggestions are also deliberately excluded. A Responder, who is either someone without domain expertise or someone who is being asked to play that role for the purposes of the feedback, they don't have the context or the information to offer helpful change requests (they often become useful only for 'the note behind the note' -- the underlying statement of effect they point to -- while ignoring the change suggestion; better to just get to the note).

Direct editing from a Coach can be helpful, but often buries what's really important -- lessons for development and focus areas for the future.

This doesn't quite map on to the Appreciation, Evaluation, Coaching model from Thanks for the Feedback, but does have some elements in common. Principally that problems arise when the feedback giver and receiver are expecting different things.

Out of time for today, but I might do more thinking on this. I like the idea of a set of broad feedback 'tools' which can be combined in different ways for different needs. That's my approach to craft in general -- building toolsets, developing diagnostic instincts, and cultivating rules for when to apply them.

Approaches to feedback

  • I'm thinking about feedback this week, and the giving and receiving thereof.
  • Thanks for the Feedback is a great book on the subject that I found useful particularly for framing the issues and offering some useful models/heuristics.
  • In the intro, they talk about how they set out to write a book about giving feedback. But of the people they surveyed, everyone thought they were brilliant at giving feedback and that, coincidentally, everyone else was terrible at giving it.
  • So they focused the book on receiving feedback well. Although, obviously if you understand the dynamics of that, it should make you better at giving it, too.
  • A key thing there is that 'feedback', by their definition, is not solely the explicit stuff. You receive 'feedback' from lots of little things in your personal life.
  • The core model that's stuck with me is that feedback tends to trip us up for three reasons:
  • Truth. We disagree with the substance of the feedback or think that it's based on incorrect information.
  • Relationship. We see the feedback as a proxy statement about our relationship with that person on the whole. So, some small criticism from a partner -- even if fair and kindly delivered -- might trigger a defensive response where we think that it means they don't like us.
  • Identity. 'If this is true, what does it say about me and the stories I tell myself?' If I consider myself a good communicator and someone says something which suggests that, in a particular instance, I have not been that, it shakes one of my pillars of identity, even (especially) if I think it's true.
  • So, we tend to react badly when feedback knocks against those things, often exacerbated by the way the feedback is framed or delivered (often badly). The book provides a bunch of tools for catching yourself when doing that, and turning yourself towards finding something useful even in badly framed feedback (or knowing when you really can ignore it).
  • Separately, I've been thinking about feedback specifically in an artistic context. Hannah Nicklin's book introduced me to Liz Lerman's Critical Response Process, which is a structured conversation designed to help get to good feedback on artistic work.
  • Separately again, I've been thinking a bunch about how these two styles of feedback model differ when it comes to giving professional peer feedback (e.g. giving feedback on writing as a writer) and how that differs further when doing so with broader considerations that craft and artistry -- e.g. the commercial considerations of doing so as part of running a live game.
  • The things learned from Thanks for the Feedback are fairly generalisable -- ways of taking feedback better and considering how to frame your feedback for people while being mindful of those major pitfalls.
  • Another aspect of the book I didn't mention above is that it divides feedback types into three: Appreciation ('This meal is delicious!'), Evaluation ('The sauce is a little salty.'), and coaching ('Try adding a little brown sugar to your sauce to balance the salt.')
  • Problems most often occur when people are looking for one kind of feedback and get a different one -- they want appreciation and encouragement, and they get an honest critique. Neither are 'wrong', they're just situational. (As I mentioned in [What are we really talking about])(https://www.georgelockett.com/shards/2022/4/30/what-are-we-really-talking-about).
  • So, above all, understanding the purpose and nature of the feedback you're giving is key.
  • The Liz Lerman process is about quickly creating a rapport and trusting environment to get feedback on an artistic work in progress, trying to cut to the meat of useful feedback and avoid traps of defensiveness.
  • It does this by offering a specific conversation flow that wards off unsolicited opinions (and opinions on things that are not important at that stage) and focusing on targeted questions and overall effects/impressions, which are more useful.
  • That's not the same as a peer-feedback system.
  • My thoughts on all this are rather tangled and I'm out of time for today, so I may take this forward as an experiment in resketching tomorrow.
  • Or I may not. Let's see.

The best 20%

  • The Pareto Principle, or the 80:20 rule, states that (approximately) 80% of the outputs come from 20% of the inputs.
  • I don't think it technically qualifies as a decision razor, but it's certainly a useful organising/prioritisting/clarifying heuristic to apply in lots of contexts.
  • I've used this in the past when thinking about clients. I read somewhere that applied this as: 80% of your good-value returns probably come from 20% of your clients; 80% of your headaches and problems probably come from 20% of your clients. They may overlap, but they probably don't, sigificantly. So, focus on that 'good' 20% and try to find more clients like them; try to fire, eliminate, or otherwise mitigate the 'bad' 20%.
  • In practice in the sort of work I do, there's not the same commoditisable approach, volume, or breadth to clients BUT it was still illumunating to undertake the exercise of figuring out where those 80% of desirable outputs came from, and what linked those clients together, and turn them into more generalised 'rules' for evaluating new contracts.
  • Other end of the value spectrum, but: I recently did the same thing to the email newsletters I subscribed to. I added a bunch, wasn't reading them as much, etc. etc.
  • Generally: I had an abundance of them and too little time to actually read.
  • So I worked through which ~20% were most valuable/interesting to me, and unsubscribed from basically anything else.
  • Some others stuck around that wouldn't have made that cut, but they usually had some specific, seperate value, or otherwise were so infrequent or irregular to not be worth counting.
  • I now have fewer things to read and enjoy them more.
  • I've now done the same thing with my backlog of side projects.
  • I can actually quantify roughly how much time I'll have to invest in side projects for the rest of the year and hold that up against my rough estimates for all the things I want to pursue that are non-day-job work.
  • The Pareto Principle provided a useful and clear lens to think about what actually mattered most to me in terms of what is exciting to work on and which best supports my goals.
  • There's a trap in thinking you can do it all (you can't! there will always be more new things generated vs your time to actually invest in doing them).
  • (My reading list is a good model for this. I eliminate things from there with abandon when it gets too full. Because it's always going to fill up faster than I read things. I either have to reconcile myself to a long, unusuable reading list, or find another way things get cleared off the list without guilt.)
  • But there's a further trap in thinking you have to fill all the time you have. Cutting everything but that ~20% technically leaves me with a time surplus for the year. BUT obviously the answer isn't to back-fill it with other backlogged projects. Beyond the usual 'things will take longer than I have estimated' angle, it's better instead to leave room for more projects that are like that 20% in terms of what they offer.
  • Just because something matches your desires and goals a bit, that doesn't mean it's inherently worth doing. There's an opportunity cost to pursuing it at the expense of something better or more diverse.
  • The main catch I can see to this approach (which certainly doesn't apply to everything) is the risk of things starting to look the same. If I'm eliminating everything outside of that initial 20% (be that clients, projects, or newsletters) and using that to inform my selection criteria for new things, it risks losing the sense of serendipity and novelty from something that doesn't 'look right'.
  • (c.f. Taleb's 'Look the Part' test. When choosing between two things of seemingly equal appropriateness, choose the one that least looks 'the part'.)
  • But in practice I'm not overly worried by this. Life isn't perfect, not everything has to be optimised, and my standards for excluding things that don't match just aren't that good to exclude all possibility of new things. They're going to leak in, and that's good. The leaks can let the interesting in. (And the annoying. Almost certainly they'll let the annoying in, too.)

Experimenting with Obsidian PKM

I've started experimenting with Obsidian as a Personal Knowledge Management (PKM) system. Fragemented thoughts:

(Lots of this bullet-point format this week, but my brain is fragged from the heat and this helps.)

  • I used to be a heavy Evernote user, but dropped off it years ago, mostly due to portability issues and feeling the app wasn't really developing positively.
  • I've avoided centralising my 'personal knowledge' aka 'notes about stuff' since then. I've been happy with my workflow, which mostly hinges on using .txt files placed maximally locally to where they're being used (e.g. inside the relevant project folder) or in a couple of 'general use' folders, like one that essentially forms a scratch notebook.
  • What these notes represent is generally:
    • Scrappy, project-specific things (when notes turn into output, I generally format-shift to something else, but it's a loose, more easily manipulable starting point, somewhat equivalent to starting in a paper notebook)
    • Lots of regularly accessed but unconnected notes like a journal, reading list, and so forth
    • Scrappy bits of random notes that are useful only temporary
    • Stuff I like and want to store to look back on at some nebulous future date, such as:
      • poems
      • recipes
      • quotes and articles
      • ideas for gifts for me and others
  • .txt files + Dropbox + text editor on phone has been pretty hard to beat as a stripped-back toolset for me.
  • But they've been very siloed off from one another, with a bunch of 'legacy' notes like poems being in, for instance, OneNote where I rarely think to look at them
  • Obsidian provides structure and gets everything in one place, while working with Markdown files which will remain ultimately portable.
  • I am unconvinced I want this structure or will benefit from it enough to justify changing well-established workflows, but I have enough interest to try.
  • Actually, the nudge to organise things benefits me either way, even if I ultimately ditch Obsidian

Specific points of interest from using it so far:

  • I think what I actually want is something that scans the contents of notes and suggests serendipitous links rather than forcing me to do more work to impose taxonomy. But also, if such a tool existed, I also wouldn't want to use it.
  • Visualisation of connections between notes is actually really interesting for this blog. Here's what that looks like:
  • It's already had me form a few serendipitous connections when drafting posts this week. Also, it's pretty.
  • I find finding this connections/building out a view of where these thoughts connect over time to be a really interesting prospect; cf Generative Entropy (see, there's one now).
  • It'll be more work to get linkages working for my archived blog drafts, since those don't use the same link format as what I post on the blog. Might still be worth it.
  • Small annoyance: .md files break a lot of keyboard/typing support features on my phone's text editor, because it treats it as code, not text.

Thinking by Mail

After a long fallow period, I've been voraciously consuming my backlog of email newsletters over the past few days. They've always been a really useful and important part of my 'process', if it can really be called that, in terms of getting breadth and exposure to a bunch of different ideas, people's work, and cool stuff to fill my brain with. Both directly in what people write but also as a connecting ground to other articles, sites, ideas, etc. I find the curation work that other people do here incredibly valuable.

For reasons that are fairly tedious but that I'm nonetheless going to recount here, I haven't really been reading them of late (despite signing up to a glut more of them a month or so back!). The reasons:

  • They go, perhaps obviously, to my email
  • I've always treated them as part of my email-handling process, trying to read a few each time I do that
  • (This was flawed anyway, I think, but we'll come back to that)
  • I've been progressively narrowing my non-day-job email handling, so now I only actually check it a couple of times a week
  • Making that process leaner has been vary good!
  • But the leaner that process became, the less I got out of the newsletters -- I'd go to read them less often, and because that was also time-boxed, I didn't feel like I had the space to read gainfully -- my brain was in 'solve problems, tick off tasks' mode, not 'receptive to ideas' mode
  • But: dilemma! I try to stay out of my inbox when not checking emails
  • And I can't be arsed to do the work to port a tangled mess of email rules elsewhere

I did say it was tedious. Anyway, it turns out the solution was to stick a shortcut on my phone that just launches directly into the newsletter folder. Another benefit to this is that it puts those newsletters in my reach as a replacement habit for social media. When I'm in low noise state, I find myself reaching for my phone a lot for that nebulous something -- the little dopamine bump to move me onto the next thing that's hard to get without letting in social media. Bite-sized interesting things are a perfect replacement for that.

Here are some of my favourite newsletters right now:

Sentiers via which I get SO MANY interesting things to read
The Whippet which is pretty new to me, but I really, really like
Things That Caught My Attention Dan Hon writes a startling volume of really interesting, smart stuff on technology x society (for want of a better word) and digital change
Orbital Operations which often has thoughts on writing process, tools, and tools/systems more generally
Cartoon Gravity which I enjoy particularly for insight into a different creative process

End-of-Day Shutdown

At the end of each working day, I run a batch file on my computer which loads up a fresh copy of a .txt checklist. I work through this list top to bottom, deleting each line as I complete it. This serves two functions: practically organising things and setting myself up for the next day, and trying to switch my brain and body out of work mode (admittedly to mixed success).

Here's what's on that list right now:

How was today? I update my bullet journal and review each item for today. I try to give myself a gut 'how do I feel about this?' on each -- very negative, pretty negative, neutral, pretty positive, very positive. More than anything, this actually helps me recognise the preponderance of good (or at least 'not really bad') things even if I'm frazzled and grumpy.

What's tomorrow? I review my calendar/task list for tomorrow. Brief, as I usually have a pretty good handle on things.

Review APB -- ensure settled APB is 'Another Project Board', my main task Trello board. I glance over it and organise anything that's out of place. This is mostly a brief attempt to reassure myself that I have a handle on things and don't need to think about them until the next time I'm due work on those tasks.

Capture work Have I worked on anything that I should note down somewhere? This is largely to future-proof against times when I'll need to update my portfolio or give an account of what things I actually did when I worked somewhere. I struggle to do that in any detail retrospectively, so now take notes as I go. It also serves as a nice sense of 'hey, I did these things!' along the way.

Update timesheets This is the step where I update my sprint tickets if I haven't already. For contract work, I use an invoicing platform. When I incur some billable time, I create an invoice at the end of that day, scheduled to send automatically at the end of the month. Then, at the end of each day where I've done more billable work, I edit it immediately to keep it up to date. (I keep my own separate records in case things go squiffy.) This way, I don't have to worry about remembering to invoice on time -- it all just goes out in its turn.

Clear desk I tidy everything away from my desk and reset it for the morning.

Check and respond to message channels (no more than 10') I spend up to ten minutes replying to (usually personal) messages. Less necessary when I'm already in a 'high noise' cycle, but fairly vital when I'm in 'low noise' mode and being much more hands-off with communication.

Close down programs Close down everything except the text document I'm using to check things off. A digital desk tidy.

Change lights My desk lamps are set to a different colour temperature when I'm working. Shifting them out of that mode is a nice visual mode-switch.

You are done with work for the day I literally say this (well, 'I'm done...') to myself three times. I can't remember where I read this -- the person who mentioned it noted that it felt as weird and awkward as it does to me -- but I do find it helpful, as someone who struggles to 'shut down', to make myself go through this ritual.

Set computer shutout timer I set my computer to shut down in 15 minutes. I don't shut down right away because I might think of something I need it for, or otherwise come back to play games, but this is a nice forcing function to step away from it.

Leave the room, read for at least 5 minutes I think of this as a 'firebreak' activity, trying to pivot my brain to a different mode (something which, again, I struggle intensely with). It also means I don't go straight to playing games at my desk after work. I don't strictly limit this firebreak activity to reading -- cooking, walking, or if I have some evening commitment all work just as well. The point is do go and do something that engages me right away and isn't work. The more tired I am, the harder it is to untangle my brain from all the perceived-open loops that are still running.