Procrastinating 101: Tick, Tock

Think you "work better under pressure?"  Think again.

Joseph R. Ferrari, Ph.D., whose new book, Still Procrastinating?  The No-Regrets Guide to Getting it Done, is our Procrastinating 101 guide for the next few weeks, says you, and I, and all the rest of us self-proclaimed adrenaline junkies are fooling ourselves. 

Ferrari challenges this premise on several points.

• He cites research asserting that the quality of our efforts and their products are compromised, not enhanced, by last-minute work. 

  Procrastinators make more errors and complete less of a task than nonprocrastinators do when there is a time limit.  Procrastinators under various time-limited conditions make more errors and complete fewer of a task's components than nonprocrastinators do, even though procrastinators believe they perform as well as others.

• He raises the "chicken-and-egg" issue, holding that the adrenaline rush some of us associate with deadline-chasing is, in psychological terms, a consequence of the stress of such an undertaking, rather than an antecedent condition, motivating and heightening performance.  In other words, the pressure isn't helping us to work better; it's a symptom of the adrenaline we're forced to recruit in the process of rushing to get something done.
    
• Since his research has shown that we procrastinators are concerned with what others think about us, and that "procrastinators are great excuse makers," Ferrari suggests that we are using this claim as a socially acceptable excuse for putting off work.
   
• Ferrari says our breathless eleventh-hour feats are unhealthy.  He cites studies showing the health costs of living on the edge of untimeliness, listing headaches, body aches, colds, the flu, tooth decay, stress, strokes, and apparent immune system suppression as among the physical results of procrastinating.  Not to mention the negative effects of putting off exercise, diet improvements, and needed health care. 

I don't really quarrel with much of Ferrari's message, though the retired researcher in me had a quibble or two with some of the methodology.  For example, people's self-reported level of  procrastination measured at various stages in the holiday shopping season seemed likely to be as much a result as a cause of finding themselves shopping as Santa packed his sleigh.  


I have reached the place myself where I no longer take pride in swallowing swords, playing with fire, or pulling an all-nighter to complete a project.  I don't work best under pressure, if I ever did.  Ferrari maintains that, for most of us, the times we point to as evidence of this belief are in the distant past.  The glory days of procrastination, so to speak.

But I'm beginning to suspect that Ferrari doesn't really like us--the chronic procrastinators he takes pains to distinguish himself from at the book's outset--all that much.  The chapter's end hints at a bit of a judgmental stance toward those of us who hold to the "widely held misconception" about the merits of working under pressure.  Ferrari advocates that we substitute the "thrill of finishing early." He admonishes us to stop asking if a stated deadline is a "drop-dead deadline."

Don't insult others by asking when someone really wants something; assume that the person told you the first time.

(Is it just me, or does this smack of "just say no?")  He rues the practice of holding midnight parties at the post office on April 15th, for last-minute filers.  

This is wrong.  Instead, we should have a party for those who file on February 15 or March 15.  Don't reward people for being late!  Give the worm back to the early bird.

And he closes the chapter with this tired adage:

Just because other people wait until the last minute to perform a task (such as holiday preparations) doesn't mean it's the right way to do it.  Remember what your mother used to say?  "If [insert friend's name here] jumped off a bridge, would you jump off, too?"  Listen to your mom.

Okay.  But what if the bridge were on fire?

And Now, For Something Completely Different...

After two days of death and (not) mourning (all that well), a change of pace seems in order. Therefore, I present the following for the amusement of my husband, my sister, my one blog-visiting son and my daughter, my twelve selectively clued-in Facebook friends, and whoever has wandered here from New Jersey, Michigan, Alabama, and parts unknown. It is purloined from Basic Jokes:  Clean Jokes for a Dirty World.


The Procrastinators' Creed

1. I believe that if anything is worth doing, it would have been done already.
2. I shall never move quickly, except to avoid more work or find excuses.
3. I will never rush into a job without a lifetime of consideration.
4. I shall meet all of my deadlines directly in proportion to the amount of bodily injury I could expect to receive from missing them.
5. I firmly believe that tomorrow holds the possibility for new technologies, astounding discoveries, and a reprieve from my obligations.
6. I truly believe that all deadlines are unreasonable regardless of the amount of time given.
7. I shall never forget that the probability of a miracle, though infinitesmally small, is not exactly zero.
8. If at first I don't succeed, there is always next year.
9. I shall always decide not to decide, unless of course I decide to change my mind.
10. I shall always begin, start, initiate, take the first step, and/or write the first word, when I get around to it.
11. I obey the law of inverse excuses which demands that the greater the task to be done, the more insignificant the work that must be done prior to beginning the greater task.
12. I know that the work cycle is not plan-start-finish, but is wait-plan-plan.
13. I will never put off until tomorrow, what I can forget about forever.
14. I will become a member of the ancient Order of Two-Headed Turtles (the Procrastinator's Society) if they ever get it organized.

I have not personally upheld all of these principles, though I have seen most of them in action. Number 11--raising to the level of law the frittering that expands in proportion to the significance of the task we are putting off--is particularly useful. It apparently inspired my ex-husband, who finished his dissertation, to do so only after spending the better part of a month training a squirrel prodigy to approach our front steps and lie spread-eagle on the sidewalk in response to his command. 

Number 8, the "always next year" dodge, has been my personal mantra for as long as I can remember. Number 6, which proclaims the unreasonableness of all deadlines, claims the allegiance of generations of my family, thus being something of a legacy. (We don't even acknowledge the incontrovertibility of Christmas, often mailing gifts months later.) Number 14, however, with the two-headed turtle, I'm not sure I really get. I could try to figure it out, but Number 13 seems to advise otherwise. And besides, adhering to Number 4, I'm not greatly concerned about injuring myself should I fail to decode it. 

I am, of course, supposed to be in the process of putting all this procrastinating, and the religion it celebrates, behind me. It remains to be seen whether I will be able to free myself from this cult, or if kidnapping followed by intensive reprogramming will be necessary.

Day 8 and Counting...

I got up too late today.  On purpose.  The second consecutive night of sketchy sleep, interrupted by internal thermostat issues compounded by obsessive global worrying, has rendered me achy, foggy, and edgy.  In college, I could pull all-nighters with less penalty.  As a "groan-up," I have come to expect this sucked-out feeling to follow sleep struggles, and learned not to expect too much of myself on these days.

That said, yesterday's manifesto-of-a-post hangs over me this morning, and demands perseverance.

The part of me that has internalized failure in my efforts to achieve personal reform waits for me to abandon this new enterprise.  As a talisman, I hold in my mind Mary Engelbreit's iconic image of a magical Santa approaching a chimney under the banner "BELIEVE."  And I try to.

My cynical self asks what difference it makes, to me or to anyone, if I continue to blog about trying to do what I intend to do, including blogging about....  You get the picture.  My rah-rah Nike self answers that "Just Do[ing] It" is of value, in itself.  And urges me to get on with it.  And I note that having posted, and attempted to puncture, my favorite excuses has not yet robbed them of their power, not yet filled in the rut in the bed I've made and furrowed by habitual positions.  (And now my cursed internal editor is complaining about a confusion of metaphors in this last sentence, given the bed reference in the blog name and the giant tree-bed image looming over this page.  To which my poet persona replies that this could be seen as language play, and all good.)  Apparently, sleep deprivation puts one at risk for multiple personality disorder (Dissociate Identity Disorder to the DSM-IV-TR* crowd--interestingly, referred to in acronym form as DID; "split personality" to the soap opera audience).

For today, I am listening most fervently to the better angels in this cacophonous debate.  And so, whatever the merits, I will "Just [Post] It."  And live to post again.

*Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders:  DSM-IV-TR, published by the American Psychiatric Association.  July 2000.

My Go-to List of Excuses: Part 1

One of the ideas I have encountered in my forays in the self-help realm is that we can facilitate change by becoming more aware of how our thoughts support our dysfunctional habits.  To that end, I have spent some time identifying the reasons I give myself for not wading in to the work I believe I want to do.  These are near the top of the pile:

1. I’ll get to this when I’ve finished my dissertation.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should confess that the deadline for this project passed over ten years ago (See "Today's To Do List")--but that hasn't stopped me from the knee-jerk use of this expired concern.  Emotionally, I guess, it stands in for all the dead wood and other detritus that clogs my mental pathways.  It could be time to retire this one.

2. My kids/husband/dog/friends/paying job/[insert appropriate person or persons or obligation more important to me than me] come[s] first.

Naturally.  But does every aspect of my relationships with these entities need to be addressed before I can proceed?  Must all of their needs and requirements be met to their, or even my satisfaction as a prerequisite for getting down to my own work?  In all honesty, probably not.

3. I will be much better able to focus on my creative work when I’ve cleaned/remodeled/fumigated/replaced my house.

Since energy and finances are pretty limited, my standards rather high, and my housemates (all three human ones and one canine one) male, somewhat destructive, and possessed of a haphazard sense of the aesthetic, I'm pretty much covered here.  I will almost certainly never have what would feel to me like a conducive setting for productive work.  Perhaps I should consider jettisoning this condition.


4. I got too late a start today. Tomorrow will be a better day to work.

This quasi-rational rationale works on any day that I don't get up with the sun, and/or have an early meeting or other commitment, and/or encounter some unanticipated household crisis.  (Read, most days.)  Tomorrow will seldom bring better circumstances.  In really bad patches, I often feel that I've gotten too late a start in this life.  So, if I am not to give up altogether, I just may need to stop "going-to" this justification so frequently.

5. It’s all been said before.

This is arguably true since the Ecclesiastes was penned.  It did not, however, stop Jane Austen, George Eliot, Virginia Woolf, or the uber-prolific Danielle Steel.  And in any case, "it" hasn't been said by me.

6. It’s all been said better before.

No doubt about it.  This scruple is clearly the work of the dreaded internal editor I've read so much about, who would protect me from writing poorly by protecting me from writing--period.  Maybe not such a friendly force after all.

7. My work won’t save the world, or anyone in it.

I have for a long time (since before I read the work in question, even) identified strongly with Anna in Doris Lessing's The Golden Notebook, whose communist sympathies deterred her writing as not useful.   From my current perspective, I'm beginning to question this perhaps over-rigorous criterion.  It could just be that my voice merits using for its own/my own sake.  And who knows what other good its ungagging might do, or for whom?

8. I just need to finish this level of Mahjong Connect.

--Especially if I categorize this exceedingly challenging time-waster as "relaxation," of which I am in need and to which I am clearly entitled.  However, I am starting to feel not-so-relaxed at the end of hours inadvertently sucked up into this computer-age vortex.  Maybe I could find another use for my laptop?

9. I’m not in a creative mood.

This excuse is good for a considerable portion of the time I could steal for my own work.  It is losing a bit of its potency, however, as I gain more and more incontrovertible evidence of my ability to create without "feeling like it."  I may be outgrowing this "old reliable."

10. I’m too upset about my finances/the fight I just had with my husband/my children’s problems/the war in Iraq/[insert appropriate disaster or pending disaster] to concentrate.

Depending on where I set the bar with this one, it could ultimately come to preclude all forward movement.  It is just possible that this would not be in my best interests.

This exercise has helped me listen to the things I say to "get myself off the hook," which hobble my strides.  Unfortunately, I got up too late in this messy house full of upsetting cohabitants and incompleted scholarly papers (and during a recession, no less) to have anything new or worthwhile or earth-shattering to say about it.  And besides, I'm not in the mood.