Two things I’ve had to reckon with as I become a regular writer for Clubroom Conversations are the pace of posting and idea generation. Ideally, I would publish a piece every Sunday at 5am for you, the esteemed Clubroom readership. It is good to motivate oneself to take action with such self-imposed demands. Habit forming and exteriorized demand- in my case your expectation to read my piece on Sunday- holds you more accountable, increases motivation, and imposes costs, even if artificial ones, on failing to meet the goal.
In the interest of allowing myself the liberty to wax poetic a bit more, I’d like to draw a metaphor between a writer’s brain and a farmer’s field. I want to use this metaphor to expand on my experience as a writer for your benefit. The metaphor will serve what I referred to above while reinforcing my next claim: sometimes, it’s alright to depart from your rules if the departure allows you some worthy rest and mental refreshment.
The culture around you demands you to ‘productivity’ yourself to impotence; don’t listen to it. Your brain is a fertile field with the potential for unlimited yield. For writers, it’s the only place you can harvest. How you farm it is of utmost importance.
I have a few insights which are all served by comparing the mind to a farm field. An idea is organic produce that comes from the work of human hands. It is seeded, takes root, is watered, fertilized, and harvested all in the mind. Writing it down is simply serving the idea for consumption, imparting the reader its nutrition. In order to write, you need to let your mind produce ideas. That’s the output of your farm.
What do you do if your field isn’t producing as much as you’d like? I must mention first that reading is the best fertilizer. Reading is putting the nutrients of an idea back into the soil of your mind. My favorite Ben Franklin quote is
“Either do something worth writing or write something worth reading”.
Therein, you can see that reading itself is something worth writing! Some ideas do just fall into your head, growing in the field without effort. But many of them are simply products of inspiration, produce that you can harvest only after it’s fertilized by the work of other writers. If you think your field is barren, fertilize it with some reading.
Nevertheless, every field must be left fallow from time to time. While reading will fertilize, it cannot renew a field like a rotation of fallow rest. That’s why I argue that rest and leisure are your best cover crops.
Good rest prepares the field for the next growing season. Beware the deadliness of deadlines; sometimes, it is better to let a field lie fallow for a season, and not write for a week than to demand produce from worn out land. Take a walk and let your mind wander, sleep, go to a baseball game. Just let the soil recover. Sometimes your mind needs that break to put nutrients back in the soil and produce quality ideas again.
I have experienced this firsthand. Periods where I’m concentrating only on important tasks, spending time in prayer and meditation, engaging in truly recharging leisure, I think better. I end up getting more done. This very article is the product of a week laying fallow. I didn’t publish anything on Sunday, March 24, but in the following three days, I had every piece for the rest of April outlined. The fallow cycle let my mind recover and produce more, which allowed me to plough and toil far less during a busy April.
If you don’t take it from me, take it from some successful businessmen. David Ogilvy, perhaps the most famous advertising man in history, and Brunello Cucinelli, made famous for his ethical business in cashmere sweaters. Both stressed the importance of fallow seasons. I’ll let Ogilvy talk first:
“I have developed techniques for keeping open the telephone line to my unconscious, in case that disorderly repository has anything to tell me. I hear a great deal of music… I take long hot baths. I garden. I go into retreat among the Amish. I watch birds. I go for long walks in the country. And I take frequent vacations, so that my brain can lie fallow — no golf, no cocktail parties, no tennis, no bridge, no concentration; only a bicycle.”
Notice Ogilvy mentions some activities that are surreptitiously not leisurely. Leisure should be active recharging, not vegetation or diversion. He even uses the word fallow. He understood how to grow ideas, and his career record shows it.
Brunello Cucinelli further impresses the importance of silence. He spends time reading, praying, in the quiet. He allows his mind to work. He prioritizes living life with joy and peace, not dialing in his 13-minute morning journal routine or 1%-bettering his productivity margin. Brunello created a business that put his village on the map. He didn’t move to a city or hire a guru to do it. He just read, thought, read, thought, and thereby recognized opportunity and had the capacity to receive it. I think this quote from Brunello sums up his philosophy toward work in addition to life:
“Choose quality over quantity in every aspect of life.”
Cucinelli reminds us that one good idea from a rested mind is worth a dozen from a tired one. Busyness is just avoiding crop rotation. It’s a stress or fear response to feeling you aren’t achieving enough, and therefore need to squeeze ever more produce from the field. This just gets you a creative Dust Bowl. You can sap the fertility of your mind with too much activity, too little sleep, and too great expectations for your ‘productivity’.
The periods (more frequent than I like to admit) when I feel tired, overbooked, and just... BUSY... I don’t think the best. I don’t write very well. I tend to write more but the words aren’t very nutritious. When you let your mind have time to work for you, you reap a big harvest and have a better time doing so. The fruitful ideas you get can be as satisfying as a good article or as enriching as a great business idea. This week, I challenge you to reconsider the pace of your life, your productivity, and your activities. You may find that you’re not farming the field for ideas in the most beneficial way.
PS. If you share my interest in the history of agriculture, check this out...
This is a well-written and interesting piece! I like the metaphor of the writer's mind as a farmer's field. It effectively conveys the importance of rest and rejuvenation for creative output.
The quotes from David Ogilvy and Brunello Cucinelli add weight to your argument, showing that successful people prioritize fallow periods.
Lovely post, Ryan. Fallow periods of active recharging are so important to avoid burnout.