Amidst the Bluster, Time for the Tomato

HERE IN TORONTO, we've had what Winnie The Pooh would call a series of blustery days; at the beginning of the week, all the brilliantly colored leaves were still on the trees, and by yesterday afternoon, a giant hand had come down, swirling, and smacked em all off the branches all at once.

And so The Fall marches on.

I tend to think of Spring and Fall as Writer's Seasons. The Summer is too full of distraction, the Winter you spend so much of your time just trying to keep your head out of The Bell Jar.

I don't know how Angelinos do it, with your freaky no-season Sun (occasional earthquake, fire, and helicopter 405 chases not withstanding.) The measure of the seasons, for me, kind of mirrors the circadian rhythm. I sleep better in The Fall, I find.

And there's also the day-to-day reality of production season in Canada. Come October, early November, our 13 episode seasons wrap, and people turn their thoughts to development.

And then things get dicey. Sometimes.

There are people who insist you just have to lash your leg to the chair, but I find that torture. I thought getting an office would solve everything. Of course, it did not.

When you're exploring worlds in your mind, too often you can wander too far afield. You become a kind of balloon boy of the mind, floating off of the pitch you're trying to hone to thoughts of denistry needed, taxes, and what so-and-so looks like naked. Such is life.

In an offhand mention in an blog entry about procrastination earlier this week, I mentioned the Pomodoro Technique, and how it had been really helping me with focus.

And here's where occasionally, this blog does result in a bit of gratification -- I've been hearing all week from people who picked up the technique, astonished at how well it works.

Now, of course, I had nothing to do with developing it. I'm as mystified as anybody about why breaking tasks down into 25 minute chunks seems to work. Even curmudgeonly, bitter writers like old Matt Neffer there (who's also eating crow a bit over The War of Art. In your face, Boy Spotwelder!) are seeing benefit. And all week I've gotten Facebook messages and Tweets and emails from people who have found a sudden kickstart to their work.

And that's grand. It's not a perfect thing, this community -- not by any means. But occasionally the clouds part and the wind blows and the leaves fall and you realize it doesn't have to result in abject panic.

And if you get more done in 3 1/2 hours of focused work, well, there's more time for all the other good stuff.

The basics can all be found on the Pomodoro Technique Website. Some people believe in using a physical timer is the best way to go, but I've been using timers on my computer, and that works just fine for me.

A guide to Pomodoro Timers.

The one that I'm using is called Focus Booster. I like it because you get a little window where the counter actually counts down the 25 minutes. I like that because I get myself into a space where I think, "I bet I can finish this scene before the time runs out," or whatever.

This won't work for all writers, of course. A friend of mine said that would stress him out too much. But I'm the kind of person who'll make plans with somebody for 7:30 pm and get more done between 5 and 7 pm than I did between 9 and 5, left to my own devices. The constant, 25 minute push is great. And it's great to discipline yourself to no internet in that time either. Even if you're slightly compulsive about it like me, you can leave the email alone for 25 minutes.

So, as I look out at the rainy and the bluster, I raise my coffee cup to all of you who struggle against the blank page; and all who try to give cogent, helpful notes; and those who subsume ego to execution. Stumbling blindly through the dark can be a bitch. But it's a lot easier when you can take a five minute break now and then.