I never have “writer’s block,” per se, but I do occasionally find that my brain is a better delegator than me. Like when I can’t come up with a blog post after hours of other demanding work.

I try to: I find the cursor, type a few letters, and my fingers jam right up. It’s as if my brain has wired my hands to a master To Do list, physically precluding me from doing things not of immediate import. Good job, brain. You rule!

Or maybe I’m just getting better at working a number of jobs at one time, including running a business. (Feel free to send me a box of wine in recognition of this potential benchmark.)

But I wanted to write. So I scrapped the pressure of writing some brilliant missive, and I sat down to tell you five of the things that keep me, Workaholic Extraordinaire, from becoming a total recluse maniac. Because no matter how prolific you are, no job, relationship, or task actually benefits from an insane bathrobed micromanager repeatedly butting her head in long past bedtime. To wit:

1. When you’re bored and itching for a task, organize something. My husband think I’m crazy, but I’ll spend an entire day dumping out “junk drawers” and sorting them into meticulous piles. I do this because I falter if I feel I don’t have a purpose, and organization does have a purpose. Everything is easier when you know where your stuff is, from deposit tickets to a stash of chewing gum. This benefited me today and cut my work time in half.
2. Cook your meal. Then sit down and eat it. I’m sort of religious and also quite literal about this one – thanks, Mom and Dad! I sit down for a real dinner every night– really. At a table. With my husband. There are rare exceptions, but roughly 25 days a month, between 6 pm and 10 pm (depending on workload), we sit down and eat a meal that I cooked. (He either does dishes or helps with cooking– I run a tight ship!) This is healthy, this is cost-effective, and a fringe benefit is that this is good for your relationship, too. More importantly, if you’re zany about work like we are, you need to have a block of time where you sit, make eye contact with another human, and talk. Sometimes we talk about work. Mostly, we talk about everything else, which helps us re-focus and refresh ourselves for the work to follow.
3. Schedule “Time Outs,” a.k.a. days off. This is particularly hard for someone like me. I just don’t believe in days off. They seem stupid, like designer jeans: all flash and no substance, and the only gain is a lighter wallet. Honestly, I don’t ever take a full day off unless I am actually on vacation, away from my computer, phone, house, etc. But because I essentially work two jobs right now, and I have a tendency to let both “leak” into time reserved for other things, I am forced to schedule Time Outs. I think of them in advance– a planned dinner out, a night at a bar, a morning at the beach, a particular World Cup match – and that helps me feel less guilty. I either put my phone away or don’t let myself touch it.
4. Don’t sweat small stuff. Instead, just DO it. I’m a procrastinator. I think a lot of creative professionals are, and certainly a lot of writers. I thrill to deadline adrenaline, not menial tasks. So I tend to avoid small tasks that “feel” irrelevant to me; e.g., entering my business expenses in a spreadsheet. EASY, but it’s like pulling my own teeth out. (Yes, I meant for you to gag on that one.) My solution? For about 30 minutes three times a week, I require myself to brainstorm and then swiftly knock out any tasks I am physically able to on that day and at that time. And I mean all kinds of boring time-consuming quotidian crap, from paying bills to picking up prescriptions to actual “work” like answering email not directly related to any of my jobs. Another clever method: here, you can read about my online colleague and fellow writer Melissa Breau’s experience trying the timer theory out – to great success.
5. Do not pull all-nighters. Keep a normal schedule. I’m a real sicko. In keeping with my deadline frenzy, I have spent many, many nights illuminated by nothing but my computer screen, jangling with caffeine and snack food, nerves shot but my brain falsely high on the sight of a finish line. Now, it’s obvious that anyone can avoid the necessity of all-nighters by not procrastinating – but you can’t avoid all-nighters if, like me, you sorta like them. My advice? Snap out of it. You’re an adult. There is nothing attractive about sleeping all day (or sniping because you can’t and really want to). And no, you don’t work well at 4:14 a.m. You think you do because you’re sleep-deprived and half-deranged. (Exceptions to this rule: when you just plain have to, or when you’re part of the next bazillion dollar and/or game-changing website/project/Frankenstein.) Also, there is an entire world of people out there who manage to sleep several hours a night, and they know full well that good time management and social skills (two things all-nighter fans don’t have much of) deliver the same quality of results in daylight.