Being, doing, having

This is part of a series of posts. Come back when I’m finished and I’ll link them together.

(Well, it’s a series of two. And here’s the second one)

But for now

Being, Doing, Having

Being leads to doing leads to having.

Be a writer. Do writing. Do it long enough, and you’ll have a piece of writing as a result. Do it long enough, and you’ll have skilz.

Be. Do. Have.

But doing does not lead to being.

Forcing someone who is not a writer to do writing is a form of abuse. It leads to frustration.

I’ve written about this before..

So what do I do once I’m a writer?

What’s the answer?

Here’s something I’ve learned: If I look carefully at what I’m doing, and intend to find answers, I can find answers.

Right now, I am writing.

And looking.

And intending to find answers.

And what I discover is an illusion.

Illusions

After watching myself write, I start to consider that writing might be an illusion. This should not surprise me. Everything is an illusion. I’ve written about this before:

Waking up and the illusion of the self Simple illusions and multi-layered illusions. They’re all just illusions. The only thing I can be certain of Ideas are illusions — we’re only in trouble when we think they are real Here, there, and everywhere

Why should writing be different?

Here’s a test for illusions I learned from Sam Harris’ book “Waking up.” Look carefully. See what changes. If what you were looking at changes radically—or even disappears—then it was an illusion.

As I write, I look more carefully. Before long, I see through the illusion.

I’m not writing.

I’m not writing this sentence.

Even though I’ve decided that I’m a writer, I don’t write.

I sit. I intend. And writing appears.

How writing appears

I’ve written about this before. A lot, like here and here and here and here

Then, after the writing appears, I read what has appeared. And then I judge its quality.

Quality!

That’s what it is.

Find out why, here.

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Why all productivity systems stop working

Alexey Guzey wrote a post that had some interesting ideas in it: Every productivity thought I’ve ever had, as concisely as possible

This was a particularly thought-provoking idea: Every productivity system stops working eventually, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Do they all stop working eventually?

Why?

Can I do something about it?

Why productivity systems stop working

Because everything stops working. But my productivity systems stop working for reasons that I now understand.

Every system costs and benefits. A system works when the benefits exceed the costs. As the gap between costs and benefits narrows, a system starts to break down. When it goes negative, the system stops working.

Whenever I put a new system in place, hope rises. The system is new, and I like novelty.

So novelty and hope bring benefits at no cost. But those benefits are at risk.

Eventually, novelty is certain to disappear.

In the face of failures, hope will fade. And failure is inevitable.

Those changes might not be enough to break my system, but here’s what reliably destroys my working productivity systems.

In response to failures, I do things intended to make things better, that paradoxically make things worse.

How trying to make it better makes it worse

Failures are inevitable unless the system is perfect—which no system ever is.

In the face of failure, I try to “fix the system.” I want to anticipate and prevent similar failures.

But every change that might forestall a failure carries a cost. I pay that cost in every case—failure or not.

These changes increase the system’s cost but don’t change the benefit—except in the rare case of a prevented failure.

The result is more small failures.

Every failure further erodes my hope and lead me to more preventative changes.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Eventually, all hope for that system is gone.

My only hope is that I’ll find or create a new system.

Novelty rises. Hope reappears.

Lather, rinse, repeat until I have no new ideas.

The solution

First: keep innovating. Keep novelty high—without disrupting the process that produces results. If I’m writing, I might write in different places. On different computers. Whatever is novel and low-cost.

Second: accept the inevitability of failure. If I’m not failing from time to time, my system is probably less efficient than one that allows for more failure.

Third: reduce the cost of failure. Ideally, celebrate failure. Find novel ways to celebrate failure. One stone, two birds: novelty and the cost of failure.

Fourth: resist improving the system to prevent failures. Instead of looking for ways to eliminate failures, look for ways to lower costs or increase benefits.

Maybe look for novel ways to fail!

Will it work?

Time will tell, but this system’s got several things going for it.

First: it’s novel.

Second: I’m hopeful.

Third: it helped me write this. So it’s already got one win.

Score one for the new system.

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Being is easy. And when you're being and not doing, you're nothing.

I am a writer. A writer writes.

A writer who does not write is not a non-writing writer. He’s nothing. Unless it’s a female writer, in which case, she’s nothing. Or Ze’s nothing. Whatever.

Nothing.

When I’m not writing, I am nothing. And I suffer.

I don’t realize what’s wrong. I simply think, “I can’t write,” and then I try to make myself write.

But I can’t.

Because I can’t write when “I can’t write.”

How could I?

And not only can’t I write, but I’m not a writer.

I’ve let myself become nothing.

What to do when I’m nothing

If I’ve become nothing, it’s easy to become something again, because I know This One Simple Trick (TM).

Here’s the trick: being is easy.

The easy way to be something is just decide to be it.

To be a writer, just decide to be one.

You don’t have to do anything—like write—to be a writer. You don’t have to have anything—like skill—to be a writer Those are harder. But being? Piece of cake. It’s one decision away.

To be a writer, all I have to do is decide “I am a writer.”

I decide, therefore I am.

If I truly decide that I am a writer, then writing will happen, because if you are a writer, you write. Can’t help yourself.

Because that’s what writers do.

So after days of being nothing, I decided to be a writer, and I became a writer, and here I am writing.

And here’s the next thing that I wrote.

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