Over the past few weeks and months, I've been absolutely over the moon to receive messages from people telling me that they've been using the 10 Coin Method, finding it helpful, and passing it on. It brings me an absurd amount of joy to know that people have been able to find satisfaction, confidence and resilience in this small, easily replicable idea. But I'll admit, I've also loved hearing about people's successes because their excitement or kind words have gone some way to quashing my deep-seated fear that people would say "Why would I need suggestions for my practice? I have no difficulty whatsoever with efficiency, time-management, and/or discipline. How strange and (if I may be frank) embarrassing that you do."
But - believe it or not - this hasn't happened! Yet.
The Ten Coin Method was my first step in the direction of 'Just Getting On With It' - a way of idiot proofing my work routine. Or perhaps decision-proofing would be a gentler way of saying it. As a general rule, too much decision making tends to gnaw away at my will power, and makes me falter. And I know I'm not alone in this - the negative impact of decision fatigue has been well-documented. So it's no mystery why pre-planning and setting little targets (and I mean little) make me feel like a champ.
So, in times of peak lethargy or overwhelm (can you ever just be whelmed?) the question was - what could I do to go beyond the noble, but all too easily dismissed to-do list?
This was how I arrived at what I'm currently calling the Six Minute Squares method.
And yes, it is partly because I'm a massive square for coming up with this idea in the first place.
This is what you do:
Decide how long you want to practice for that day.
Scrap it. Make it realistic.
If you make a four hour practice* plan, and end up only doing twenty minutes, you’ll feel disappointed, and that - for me at least - is the true enemy of perseverance through the day, and contented squidgy sleep at the end of it.
*I'm using the word practice here, but I use this system both for music and non-music related work. I find it especially useful for the admin tasks that I've been avoiding so intensely I would have to do a fake double start if I bumped into them in the street.
Finding an amount of time that’s on the right side of realistic and the happy side of ambitious is tricky. So I normally go for two hours. That way, I can feel like I’ve clocked a respectable amount of time, and then if things go well, I can use the page a couple of times and feel UNSTOPPABLE.
Divide your time into mini sections. I like six minutes. I have finally reached the point where I am willing to admit that I have a terrible attention span. Six minutes is a short enough time that I won’t lose focus, and (hopefully) it will leave me wanting more, which feels oddly amazing. I experimented with ten and twenty minute time slots, but they felt too long, five felt pathetically short, and neither 7 nor 8 fit neatly in a 60 minute hour (another kind of hour, maybe). But SIX minutes, for me, is perfect. That’s ten mini sessions in an hour. Which somehow manages to feel simultaneously like something substantial, but effort-wise, a real breeze.
Take a piece of paper… (I feel like the weird talking statue on Art Attack. In so many ways.)
Mark out your mini sections. For two hours, I draw out twenty little squares.
At this point, the pedants among you might observe that my squares are, if I'm being honest with myself, more like rectangles. To the extent that... well, they are clearly rectangles. But let's be real, six minute rectangles is a significantly less catchy name, so what could I do?
Anyway, once I have my little building blocks all laid out, I tend to set aside the first one or two slots for warming up (6-12 minutes, depending on the weather. Warm hands make light work. Cold hands make Katya a dull boy.)
Then fill in each remaining squectangle (I regret that coinage. That sounds awful.) with a thing you want to work on. Here's one of mine:
In case you were wondering, the piece of paper is just a bit smaller than my hand. This is because I often trick myself into thinking that small pieces of paper make things more manageable. (Conversely, I've also been known to use an A3 size drawing pad, for making BIG work plans on days where things need a bit more oomph.)
What I like about this system:
A 'No Ifs Not Buts’ approach works well for someone like me, with a motivation-wilting procrastination habit. In the face of the smallest distraction, my motivation is like spinach in the pan. (Both shrivel to nothing unless carefully tended to.)
It helps to keep things manageable, and the 6-minute timer I use makes everything feel like I’m on Ready Steady Cook. In six minutes, what CAN’T I make with a courgette, two Kinder Eggs and some coriander?
It makes me really aware of how much I can actually achieve in a set amount of time.
I can schedule in snack breaks without feeling like I’m wasting time, because it’s out of the practice time-zone. (What happens Out of The Practice Time-Zone, stays in the Out of The Practice Time-Zone. Or something to that effect.) And there’s nothing better than a snack break - my PracticeSnack (or Übungsimbiss - it sounds like a real thing if you say it in German, right?) of choice at the moment is a cup of tea, some chocolate covered ginger (amount undisclosed) and a couple of Triskets (I had never met these until I came to the US - they’re like salty shredded wheat, and much more delicious than that sounds).
It forces me to confront the things I would otherwise avoid tackling. Even the things that feel like a tunnel of never-ending doom and inadequacy, where, if I set myself an hour to work on them, within four minutes you could probably find me in the foetal position, having tucked myself into my harp cover.
However, when I know I only have to do it for six minutes, I'm much more willing to give it a go.
Then, when my six minutes are up, and my timer beepedy-beeps (you don’t know, but that was a GREAT impression of my timer) I’ve eased myself in, and I’m actually looking forward to when it comes around again on my schedule. For me, that feeling of anticipation, and the exciting glow of achievement - however infinitesimal - is what it's all about.
The Cameo
My guest this week is Laura Cortese.
You can listen on Soundcloud here.
Laura and I talked about work inspirations and routines, the joys of cycling and cardamom buns, and she shared a piece of advice that I haven't stopped thinking about since. Truly - that's not a clickbait thing, I promise. (If I wanted a viral-sensation headline, I would probably have opted for '10 facts you won't BELIEVE about cardamom buns!' Irresistible or irresistible?)
I know my quavering, sporadic mutterings give off the impression of a seasoned interviewer, but this is my second ever podcast! So thanks for going with me on this funny adventure. I think one of my top moments as a budding podcast host is when Laura's talking about listening to Lucius, and I just echo-mumble the word Lucius - truly just that - almost imperceptibly quietly. It's like I thought I had something great to say about Lucius, and then quickly realised that I absolutely, categorically didn't. Kirsty Young, eat your heart out.
My own little mutterings aside, I'm still chuffed to bits about this one, not only because was Laura an absolute joy to interview, but because I also managed to hoodwink her into playing one of my all-time favourite songs. Hooray!
Check out Laura's website here, for tour information, videos & more!
Along with being "unrivalled in his virtuosity on the banjo" (The Boston Globe) and touring with Bruce Springsteen, Greg Liszt can now add podcast producer to his CV. I'm sure he's more excited about this than he's letting on. (Thanks Greg!)
Some Music
This week's playlist is a collection of my favourite covers, as requested by Anthony Marks. You can listen to it on Spotify here.
Drop me a line if you'd like to request a theme for next week!
A Poem
Differences of Opinion
by Wendy Cope
1. HE TELLS HER
He tells her that the earth is flat -
He knows the facts, and that is that.
In altercations fierce and long
She tries her best to prove him wrong,
But he has learned to argue well.
He calls her arguments unsound
And often asks her not to yell.
She cannot win. He stands his ground.
The planet goes on being round.
Published in Poetry magazine, in 2006.
Links!
I'm going to watch this video in moments of self-doubt. Let George Harrison's focused perseverance in the face of how profoundly unimpressed Ravi Shankar was by his sitar playing be an inspiration to us all.
Transfiguration and Transcendence: The Music of Alice Coltrane
A beautiful tribute, and absorbing account of the jazz icon's strange and fascinating life.
The emotional challenges of IVF, and how one woman found solace in the sea.
I love Alexandra Heminsley's beautifully honest, plangent writing.
As I wrestled and wriggled against the idea that “all I had to do was to relax”, the salt and ice of the seawater began to feel like a safer, softer place to be than any other. You can’t fret about the political implications of not being a mother when you are focused on snatching an inhale between rolling waves.
Jennifer Holliday has now refused to lend her extraordinary talent to the inauguration this weekend. Watch her incandescent rendition of 'And I am Telling You' but be prepared - I was genuinely sapped by the end. (Skip to 2:36 to get straight in there.)
If you like soothing and gorgeous corners of the internet, then might I gently nudge you towards Letterheady? This 'online homage to offline correspondence' is from From Shaun Usher, the genius creator of Letters of Note. I find the website FAR too easy to get lost in (a testament only to how beautifully curated it is) so I'd recommend following @letterheady on Twitter for a regularly uplifting treat.
This was the first time I'd seen Thandie Newton giving an interview, so I had no idea she was such a dynamic, funny, infectiously energetic, and powerfully eloquent speaker. Fantastic.
I love this article by Helena Fitzgerald on why Bruce Springsteen is the ultimate dad, and why this carries so much cultural weight.
...my dad making friends with other radiant dads in their white-and-grey gym sneakers and their T-shirts with their adult kids’ alma maters’ names on them. “Bruce” they all say, giving the word six or seven or twenty-five syllables.
100 Years of Planned Parenthood. This beautiful short film was well worth seven minutes of my time.
President Obama, on what books mean to him.
Look, I don’t worry about the survival of the novel. We’re a storytelling species.
I think that what one of the jobs of political leaders going forward is, is to tell a better story about what binds us together as a people.
And that's it! See you next week!
Love,
Katya
The Katch-Up's header illustration is by the brilliant Tamsin Baker.