Archives for category: working methods

Check emails.

See what your contacts are up to on LinkedIn.

Go to twitter. Click on any interesting links and find something to tweet about.

Facebook – has your opponent made their move in ‘Words with Friends’ yet?

Look up how many views you’ve had on your website.

Google someone from that film you saw last night because you can’t quite remember what you’ve seen them in before.

Have any more emails come in while you’ve been doing all this?

Start again from the top.

That’s two hours gone. You can whittle away an entire day following this same loop – especially when you’re working in communications and have a legitimate reason for getting involved in social networking during business hours.

It’s very easy to get sidetracked like this but it’s nothing compared to working in Photoshop. It can do such wonderful things – make even the flimsiest concept appear bright and dazzling and intricate. You’ll open it up thinking: ‘I’ll just have a play around until I come up with something’ and before you know it, it’s 3am and you’ve spent 14 hours tinkering with a 20 pixel square that’s only visible when viewed at 1600% magnification.

We’ve all done it.

If you don’t want to fall into this trap, it’s vital that you have a clear idea about what you’re going to do before you start. The idea is the main thing – the software you use is just a tool, something to get the job done more effectively. Photoshop is the equivalent of a builder’s lump-hammer or a plumber’s wrench.

At the very start of a job, Sophie and I always sit down and work out exactly what it is we want to say. I sketch layouts on sheets of A4, Sophie has a snazzy little notebook. We both use pens.

Only when our papers are peppered with arrows and crossings-out do we go to our laptops. With the message worked out beforehand, Photoshop isn’t such a time vampire.

This gives us much more time to check our emails, connect on LinkedIn, tweet, use Facebook, look at our website views, write blogs…

Mark

When I’m not doing Zammerchatty things I’m trying to write creative things likes scripts and stories. Recently I’ve been prone to what is known as writer’s block.

Since deciding I have writer’s block, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering why this is, looking into ‘overcoming emotional barriers’ and partaking in numerous advised activities to get me over it.

However, the writing I do for myself isn’t the only creative writing I do. All the copywriting I do is creative, even the dull things. It all needs to be created, mused over and put into the right words.

Writing at work isn’t just limited to copywriters either. Most people have to write to persuade, describe, direct and inform in their everyday lives. So what happens when you get writer’s block at work?

Well, you don’t have two weeks to explore your spiritual barriers or spend hours ploughing through writing and creative thinking activities. You need to get over it quickly. A lot of writer’s block at work tends to be procrastination I find. It stems from something overwhelming or a task we don’t know how to tackle. So in this case writer’s block can simply mean putting off difficult tasks – which we all do.

But there’s more to writer’s block. We don’t just put off the task, we come back again and again and stare at the screen in frustration. We feel helpless in the face of words. We’re not just procrastinating, we’re unable. The more stressful it becomes, the less able we are to tackle it.

So what can you do when this happens at work?

Here is how I tend to cope…

  1. Decide on a time to start writing and stick to it. This can be difficult. In the past I have ended up missing my starting time and then going ‘oh well, I’ll do it another time.’ No excuses. If you don’t start on time you still have to start late. With writing at work you usually have deadlines, use these to motivate you – it HAS to be done.
  2. I trick my brain. Here’s my thought process -  I don’t want to do this or I don’t know where to start – I’ll just write the intro, or I’ll just write down my ideas or I’ll just write down a structure outline. That not so hard, that’s all I’m doing today. Then I write the intro or whatever and hey, it’s not that bad, I’ll just do a little bit more. And then before I know it I’ve written half of it.
  3. Once you’ve tricked yourself into starting to write something, do a quick draft. The hardest part is getting started but once I’ve splurged all my info and ideas on a page and had a quick rearrange of the structure and a quick edit, I’m always surprised by how decent my quick first draft is. Once it’s all down in a semi coherent fashion, going through it slowly and methodically to get it right doesn’t seem so daunting.
  4. Reward yourself. I do this mentally, I get a deep sense of satisfaction by finishing a big piece of work. I allow myself to think I’m great for an afternoon. Some people I know reward themselves in other ways – chocolate bar, big lunch, early finish, 5 mins on YouTube. Whatever it is, make sure it works for you. Knowing you’ll get a reward at the end can be very motivational.

These are the things that work for me but there are many useful and practical tips out there. Take a look at these three (quick) blog posts to help you if you get stuck writing.

Sophie

This is my typewriter. 

Zammerchat TypewriterIt’s a 1931 Remington Portable. I can’t be 100% positive but, after thorough research, I’m reasonably sure that it’s the same model as George Orwell used. I found it in my local junk shop on an occasional table in the middle of all the baskets of jewellery, tea trays stacked with yellowing board games, wigs, cigarette cards and porcelain ornaments. It’s exactly the kind of shop that Orwell described in one of his essays: Just Junk – But Who Could Resist It?

As well as designing for Zammerchat, I’m currently working on a book about Orwell so when I saw this typewriter buried amongst all the clutter, it seemed as though it had been placed there for me to find.

It now sits pride of place in the Zammerchat attic. I like having it around because, aside from the Orwell connection, it’s such a solid piece of machinery – a crafted object, dependable and practical. It’s built to be portable so the return handle doesn’t stick up. Instead the hammers of the keys are lowered by a pull-out slide on the right, the paper feed knob slotting into the spool. It can all be neatly compacted using a solid set of mechanical levers to make it easy to pack away and carry. 

It takes less time to get ready for typing than it takes for my laptop to boot up.

There are some other quirks that I’ve grown to love. On the back it says:

There’s a guarantee on the inside of the carrying case:

It also has keys for fractions – these are the most yellowed, the most untouched by the stamp of fingertips:

The names of some of the previous users are stained on the ribbon: Mary, Elizabeth, Emily. The keys hit home with a satisfying clack. You know you’ve written something when you hear that noise. It still works, 80 years after it was built.

I can’t type on it though, I make too many mistakes, re-write things too many times. I’m lost with out a copy and paste function. I’ve been spoilt by too much technology.

It feels good to have the typewriter around. It serves as a reminder of the fundamental basics of our craft, basics that are often obscured by focusing on the latest technology.

Maybe I’m just being pretentious. Maybe, after all, it’s just junk. But, as Orwell said, who could resist it?

Mark

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