I consider myself adept at orchestrating my schedule. My agenda is well maintained, with important deadlines conscientiously logged. I’m good about tracking follow-ups for collaborative tasks. These are, in my view, quintessential organizational competencies.
However, the element of production I’ve found most challenging is getting the timing right. When to schedule a task is just as important as scheduling it in the first place. Take this afternoon for example. I’m refining a book chapter draft. It requires recontextualizing certain sections for our target readers and integrating some overlooked academic works. Ideally, I would tackle this in the early morning hours or evenings, when my writing ability to focus is at its peak. Alas, some more urgent matters demanded my attention this morning. By the time I began editing the chapter it was already the afternoon, and my vigor had begun to wane. My concentration was shot, and I acknowledged that I needed to shift gears. I needed to lower the bar. Sometimes our bar is too high, and that’s okay. So to make progress each day, sometimes we need to recalibrate our expectations and develop more manageable objectives.

How did I lower the bar? It involved selecting one research paper for my chapter, highlighting key points, and deeming that sufficient for the day. Tomorrow’s goal is modest but achievable: reading two more papers. Incremental progress is highly undervalued in our society. We applaud breakthroughs and big leaps, not the little steps we take each day. But, by lowering the bar I anticipate I will have synthesized insights from approximately 4-5 papers by the end of the weekend, ready to be woven into my manuscript. I know my strengths and weaknesses; for me, digesting extensive readings is more taxing than the actual writing.
Today was not the first time my schedule got pushed off track, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. But, this experience has imparted a valuable lesson. Not all time is equal; not all hours wield the same potential. I can allocate “writing time” on my calendar, but if it’s slated for an afternoon my output is likely to be dismal. I’m most energized and focused during morning hours; evenings bring a rejuvenating second wind. There’s something about mornings and evenings that gives me more permission to block out the world. Afternoons, however, usher in a wandering mind, lured into daydreams by the birds and squirrels outside my window. Timing is crucial.
Charles Dickens shared a similar aversion to afternoons, expressing his disdain:
“I detest this mongrel time, neither day nor night.”
Charles Dickens

Recognizing our low-energy periods doesn’t warrant writing off afternoons entirely. The afternoon doesn’t give us permission to slough off or engage in truancy. For me, afternoons are optimal for routine or administrative tasks. Cal Newport (the author of Deep Work) refers to this as “shallow work.” Afternoons present an opportunity to plan for the following evening or the next morning. Afternoons are ideal for taking a break to hit the gym, as this will likely boost my energy and provide mental clarity. By the afternoon, it’s likely my mind is crowded; negative thoughts or tasks are nagging for my attention. This is an opportune moment to break out my journal and declutter my thoughts, or compose a blog post like this one. We learn something daily, and we’re more likely to cement these learnings when we encapsulate and reflect upon them. We can still make afternoons count.
Productivity is a spectrum, and not all tasks are suited for any given moment. You might have a different rhythm than mine. Your thresholds might vary. There was a time when these constraints left me feeling guilty, but over time I’ve come to accept them. I’m honest about what’s feasible for me and what I can realistically accomplish.
So, be consistent, know your limits, and understand that not all time is equal.


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