Chapter 1: The Challenge of Resolutions

Every year, I set New Year's resolutions, driven by an optimistic belief that THIS. YEAR. will be the one where I complete a marathon, finish a book, master a new language, or achieve the physique of a professional athlete. However, the reality is that if I don’t designate a specific time—even if it’s not New Year’s—to reflect on my ambitions, I often neglect them entirely.

I’ve had to cultivate planning skills, as organization doesn’t come naturally to me. I thrive on novelty and change while often avoiding routines. Compounding this, I struggle with an anxiety disorder that runs in my family, which feels ironic since I’m often drawn toward situations that heighten my anxiety. If chaos ensues, I find myself gravitating toward it rather than fleeing. My curiosity often overwhelms my caution.

During a period marked by panic attacks in my twenties, I consulted a therapist who specialized in biofeedback. She suggested that I distance myself from some of my anxiety-inducing situations. I responded, “Which one? The fast-paced life in New York, a journalism career that often ruffles powerful feathers, or the financial instability that comes with significant student loans?” Ultimately, I wasn’t prepared to give up any of those aspects of my life—and I still feel that way.

Nonetheless, I have discovered methods to manage my anxiety and temper some of my less healthy impulses for novelty through planning and organization. (A low dose of Lexapro has also been beneficial.) I’ve delved into numerous productivity books—some insightful, many not—and experimented with every conceivable organizational system. I’ve become adept at list-making, metrics, filing systems, note-taking frameworks, and task organization. I’ve attempted early morning routines, late-night rituals, and even no routines at all.

Some methods have proved more effective than others. Consequently, my New Year's resolutions have evolved into an extension of my daily efforts to maintain some semblance of order. While they’ve yielded results, they haven’t aligned with the idealistic views often associated with self-improvement. I haven’t completed a marathon or finished that book, and my current physique reflects what I refer to as the “third-year pandemic body”—approximately 15 pounds above my usual weight, with knees that are not quite up for long runs due to prolonged periods of inactivity.

However, I have gleaned some valuable insights along the way, and the resolution process has aided my improvement in various areas. Two techniques that have been particularly beneficial are habit tracking and time-blocking. I maintain a 31-day grid to monitor tasks I want or need to accomplish on a daily or semi-daily basis, checking them off as I complete them. This not only serves as a reminder but also provides a sense of accomplishment when I maintain a streak (some tracked activities include strength training for running, flossing, and going to bed before midnight).

Time-blocking is just as it sounds—allocating specific periods for particular tasks. I’ve learned the hard way that I shouldn’t overload my daily to-do list, even if there’s an overwhelming number of tasks. I select three priorities that must be addressed, treating the rest as bonuses. I then schedule those three tasks and approach them as if attending a mandatory meeting. (While this may seem obvious, it’s not intuitive for someone like me who struggles with attention.)

This year, I am adopting a new approach: measuring productivity by effort rather than outcomes, particularly in my writing endeavors. I do not write daily; instead, I tend to binge-write. I envy those who can consistently rise at the same hour and begin writing. I’ve never managed to achieve that level of consistency.

This issue is compounded by the fact that when I know what I want to express, I write rapidly—especially with opinion pieces. By the time I sit down to write, I’ve likely been mulling over the argument for days, which allows my thoughts to flow smoothly. I can draft a 1400-word column in about an hour and a half when inspiration strikes. Conversely, when I’m uncertain about a topic, the process takes significantly longer, and I don’t mind that. However, when I produce content quickly, I tend to become complacent for the rest of the day—sometimes extending into multiple days—because I feel I’ve already been productive.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with taking breaks from productivity for days or even weeks; the challenge lies in the difficulty of restarting afterward. Haruki Murakami wrote an insightful memoir that draws parallels between writing and running, highlighting that the hardest part is often just getting started, while the satisfaction of finishing is profound.

For me, the longer I go without writing or running, the more daunting it becomes to resume. Regular practice makes it easier to begin, so my goal this year is to write frequently enough that starting becomes less intimidating and less fraught with pressure—shifting from binge-writing to shorter, more consistent sessions.

The concept of measuring effort daily stems from one of the countless productivity books I’ve absorbed over the past year—Organize Tomorrow Today, authored by two coaches for professional athletes and businesspeople. The central idea is to prioritize process over outcome.

This may seem like a straightforward notion, but it’s not how we are typically evaluated in a professional context. Work environments often emphasize measurable outcomes, such as key performance indicators, while the process remains largely unassessed. Consequently, we instinctively fixate on results. The focus is rarely on refining your running technique over time; it’s about crossing the marathon finish line. (Naturally, this can lead to disillusionment if you don’t achieve that goal.)

This year, I intend to shift my focus to the process, committing to daily writing without fixating on the final product (except for assigned pieces with deadlines, of course). This approach aims to normalize the writing process itself and establish a daily writing habit.

I don’t usually delve into these topics, but sharing this post is part of my journey. Articulating my plans, whether on paper or in pixels, helps clarify my intentions. Publicly committing to this also adds a layer of accountability.

If you have any suggestions or strategies that have worked well for you, please share them in the comments. I’m always eager to learn new tactics for improving my focus.

Follow me on Twitter at @espiers.

Chapter 2: Understanding Process Notes

To delve deeper into the concept of process notes, it's essential to grasp the fundamentals.

This video titled Process Notes: What You MUST Know provides a comprehensive overview of why process notes are crucial for productivity and organization.

Additionally, it's vital to debunk common misconceptions surrounding process notes, especially in relation to HIPAA compliance.

The video Common Myths About Process Notes & HIPAA addresses prevalent misunderstandings and clarifies what you need to know.