How not writing will make you a better writer and improve your Golf swing.

Nick Prinsloo
16 min readNov 22, 2022

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Tips on intentional procrastination that will make your writing more creative.

I’m a gifted procrastinator. Especially when it comes to projects around the house.

My standard answer to requests to fix a broken cupboard or hang a picture or tighten a toilet seat is an exasperated, “Yes, yes! I’ll do it…” and under my breath but loud enough to be heard, I’ll add, “… before Christmas.” That is, unless it’s December. Then I say under my breath, “… sometime next year.”

In my defence, I usually get around to fixing or hanging or tightening long before Christmas or next year.

My wife has got better at nagging me gently, plus she uses certain of her assets to bribe me. Let me tell you, that stuff gets me off my ass fast.

I do confess to being a terrible golfer, so there’s no advice from me there.

I even tried to play golf once. I went to the nearest golf course and rented a bag of golf clubs and a golf cart.

After a few false starts, I figured out how to drive the cart and headed to the first tee. I watched a YouTube video to make sure I was doing everything right and even figured out the weird-finger-twist-thingy golfers use. I pushed the tee into the ground like the video said and placed the golf ball on the tee. The video said to use the driver to tee off; it took a few minutes to ascertain that the driver was one of the clubs and not a chauffeur I’d left at the clubhouse.

I stood precisely the way the YouTube video showed. Of course, I took some practice swings just like the coach on the video – and then stood up to the plate, confident that I was ready. Step aside, Tiger Woods.

My feet were perfectly spread. I did the body shimmy to make sure I was ready. And swung that driver with all my might. My very first swing was a thing of glory. The club whistled through the air and I kept my head down precisely as the coach told me to. The sound of the club hitting the ball was precisely the same ping as the one the YouTube coach produced. Yet, I somehow managed to slice the ball across two adjacent fairways onto someone’s back lawn 🙈

I decided to try again. I was going to make this work. Ever innovative, I tried something different this time. I turned my body and aimed towards the fairway to my left. The geometry was clear. If I were to slice the ball, I’d at least hit it onto the correct fairway.

I did my practice swings.

Stepped up to the tee.

Did the little shimmy thing.

And…,

I swung.

Ping. This one sounded even better than the last.

And…

The.

Ball.

Went.

Perfectly.

Straight.

No seriously. I hit the golf ball high and handsome and perfectly straight onto the wrong green.

That was the moment I gave up golf.

Forever.

Never again have I played a round of golf.

I won’t even play putt-putt.

When it comes to writing, I’m a terrible procrastinator. At least initially. I love writing and I can write about anything and everything. Even when I have writer’s block, I find a way to write something.

You see, I practice the creative art of stream-of-consciousness (s-o-c) writing at least once a week (I should be doing this daily, but alas, life gets in the way) to keep my subconscious muscles toned, and if I’m ever unsure how to start writing about a particular subject, I start with an s-o-c exercise. Using stream-of-consciousness writing helps me to start dumping words onto an empty page. And, the minute there are words on the page I have something to work with.

I may not be a pocrastiwriter (a dinkum word I read in someone else’s article) in the classic sense, but I do take an inordinately long time to get the words just right. Once I’ve done my initial word dump, I’ll spend the rest of the day editing or adjusting my work. Or I won’t find anything to work with and get frustrated.

I do, however, give myself permission to feel frustrated. Feeling frustrated is crucial to my creative process. Also, if I do have something to work with, I’ll write the sentence one way, flip it around, add words, remove words, change words and finally settle on the way I wrote the sentence the first time. That’s enough to make any creative scream.

My usual writing process looks like this:

I get a brief or decide I want to write about some specific topic.

I do some reading and research and a lot of thinking about the topic I’m going to write about. The only writing I do at this point is to take notes. This can take anywhere from an hour to a couple of weeks. This particular article took more than a month of research and thoughtful procrastination. Most of that time was spent procrastinating. I mean, I had to at least practice what I preach.

I don’t listen to music when I’m being creative. It distracts me. Instead, I listen to Binaural Beat frequencies designed to activate creativity. Apple Music has a great one with different frequencies that activate different creative paths (It can seem a bit weird at first and I’m not sure of the science, but I swear that I can almost feel my creativity increase, and I do come up with some great ideas while letting the frequencies run – the tracks become white noise eventually so persevere). You’ll thank me for this. Each track in this playlist is an hour long, so it even helps me keep an eye on how much time I spend reading or writing or thinking.

Sometimes, after all that reading and research and thoughtful procrastination, I’ll need a nap. My brain and body both scream at me to shut down. It actually hurts to stay awake. Now that I work remotely, I’ve stopped trying to fight the need for a nap. When my brain says nap, I listen. Most of the time, I don’t really sleep. I just lay on the couch or my hammock and close my eyes and slow my breathing and stop thinking for 30 minutes. If I do fall asleep proper, it can be a nap that lasts anywhere from 45 mins to 2 hours and I always catch up that lost time later. Stop laughing at me. I’m serious. This is a crucial part of my creative process, especially if I’m going nowhere or getting frustrated or overtaxing my brain. I live with ADD. One of my docs explained that my neurodivergent brain works harder than normal brains do to perform similar tasks, so there will be more moments I need to rest my brain than the usual adult needs.

After my nap, I pull out a pen and notebook (or my iPad, Apple Pencil and trusty Notability app) and find a quiet spot where I can do some uninterrupted stream-of-consciousness word dump where I just write whatever is on my mind. This works best after a nap because sleeping tends to switch off your conscious mind and let your subconscious rise to the surface. That’s why I do the stream-of-consciousness writing as soon as I wake up (either first thing in the morning – if I have time or straight after a nap). I start with the first word that comes to mind, then the next and the next and the next and essentially dump whatever words I happen to think of onto an empty page. Sometimes the words even relate to the topic I’m writing about. They’re mostly just words flowing from my head through my hand onto the page. What stream-of-consciousness writing does for me, however, is prime my creative brain. It also gives my subconscious the space and energy it needs to come out and play. Some of the phrases I vomit onto the page make no sense, some of the words I scribble are weird, but every so often, some of the phrases and thoughts and ideas that I come up with while using s-o-c writing surprise me. They’re often brilliant and quite poetic. Sometimes the beauty of the prose takes my breath away. I do s-o-c writing for as long as the words flow, which can be anywhere from ten minutes to two hours, depending on how knowledgeable I am about the subject and how much time I have available.

Stepping away from the work can give you new perspective. It’s ok to eat lunch or have coffee.

Then, I step away from my desk, stretch my legs, and have coffee or lunch. Take note that I haven’t gone back over the words of the s-o-c writing yet. The reason is I want my subconscious to carry on percolating, and I don’t want to get distracted by the words just yet. Often during this break, I find even more words and ideas. I note these using the Notes app on my iPhone. My trusty iPhone is always with me.

Find words that work.

After lunch, I read through my word dump and highlight any usable or interesting thoughts, ideas or sentences. And if there’s nothing to work with (which isn’t often), I simply move on to listing ideas for my essay or advert or webpage. You see, my brain is still primed for creative thinking. And you can bet that I’m listening to another binaural beats track.

Stay creative by doing creative things like art or music.

If I still have nothing to work with, I give myself permission to stop working and play one of my musical instruments. I’ve been playing the guitar for almost 30 years now but also play either a soprano or baritone ukulele or my 1937 banjo. I jam a few of my favourite pieces to warm up and start playing whatever strange and interesting chord progressions I can think of. I don’t sing or try to write songs – dear God, nobody wants to hear that. But I am quite an accomplished musician (of fretted instruments), and playing strange chord progressions seems to, firstly, stop my logical brain from trying to overthink my problems and further prime my creative brain for writing. I usually find even more words to work with after a good jam session. I’ve sometimes stopped playing mid-song because I’ve thought of the perfect motif to hold a website together or come up with several possible big ideas for an ad campaign. If you hear me strumming strange chord progressions, please know I’m working. Even my bosses at Ogilvy understood and let me be when I needed to go sit outside and strum a few chords. Sometimes it even felt like I was busking as I could gather quite an audience. All I needed was the hat and I’d be the perfect busker.

Then I go back to my list of usable or interesting thoughts, ideas or sentences and add any new ones. I generally write this list using an old-school analogue method, i.e., pen and paper. I have some sexy calligraphy pens that make this sort of analogue writing fun, and the words and ideas start to look pretty and interesting. If I’m away from my desk and I don’t have my play-pens handy, I type the list using the Notes app on my iPhone. I have yet to find a better note-taking app than the out-of-the-box Notes app on the iPhone. Although for analogue writing. Notability on the iPad is still my favourite.

At the end of the workday, or when I feel like I’ve made a good start, I read through the list one more time, add any new thoughts, and then close my notebook for the day (I like to do this with much drama and fanfare—so it often involves me slamming the notebook shut – makes my poor little Boston Terrier jump every time). I’m not quite so dramatic closing the Note app on my iPhone or Notability on my iPad, but I do physically close the apps. It’s symbolic, I guess.

I then purposefully do something else that’s not writing or thinking. Whatever that something else is must be mindless. If I could play golf (or even want to play golf), this would be the moment I would go to the driving range and practice my swing. Instead, I’ll have a leisurely workout in my home gym or go for a long walk around the neighbourhood. This would also be the perfect time to hang a picture or tighten the toilet seat, but I’m more committed to that kind of procrastinating, so no. I don’t do a crossword puzzles or play word games on my phone. Although I do find that I can play card games like solitaire or hearts and sudoku works wonders as they use the mathematic centre of the brain so my subconscious can still have space to chew on the lists and ideas and problems that I’ve spent the morning building.

Then I do supper for my family or some other suitably domestic thing that doesn’t involve hanging a picture or tightening the toilet seat.

I may watch TV for a bit just to be around my peeps, or I’ll go to bed early and read a book. I find that reading before bed is a critical part of my intentional procrastination. Writing all day seems to use up all my words. I need to read to replenish them. Sometimes I become a drooling caveman and say things like, “Must eat… what’s that word? That stuff you put in your mouth. It tastes yummy. Ag man, what’s it called?” My wife will look at me as if I’m growing a giant zit on my forehead (which I probably am) and say, “You mean supper, right?” When I get like that, she lets me eat… what’s that word called? oh right, supper, and sends me straight to bed with a book to read. It has to be a novel or biography or some interesting non-fiction book. I have tried reading over my daily word lists, but that seems to derail my creative subconscious.

Then I’ll eventually go to sleep, perchance to dream.

I cannot tell you how many times I wake up in the middle of the night with the perfect words or some sort of brilliant idea. I jot the idea down on the Notes app and add the hashtag eureka then go back to sleep. I usually go back to sleep (once I’ve written down my idea or thought down, I can generally go back to sleep) with a smile on my face cause, in the morning, I will have something to work with. If the idea is, like, a huge eureka and I can’t stop thinking about it, I’ll get up and start writing. This mostly happens around 4 am, which is the best time to write anyway. I do most of this early morning writing on my Notes app cause I like to walk up and down while I think. It also means I can do breakfast and other suitable domestic things and continue writing. These HUGE eureka moments happen about twice a week, and I’m loathed to waste them.

My current bosses have learnt that if they want powerful words and ideas, they need to give me time to let my process play out. If they need something super urgent, they usually give it to one of the other writers.

When I’m not procrastinating, I have a chronic, pathological need to win. At everything. Except for golf. I mean, in golf, the loser is the winner. Like duh. But, I’m so competitive that I’m currently in the race for the glorious title of the world's best procrastiwriter. I’m sadly losing this race. Sigh.

Anyway. I have a chronic, pathological need to be the best at everything I do. And my biggest competition is myself. If I bench press 50 kilograms today, I need to lift 51.25 Kilograms tomorrow. It’s just my way.

One of my previous project managers figured this out. And she used it against me. She used my competitive nature to make me write faster.

I met the deadlines and made my project manager smile, which is essential for one’s inner well-being. But my writing was, well, meh. When I worked fast, my writing passed muster, but it was mediocre.

In my project manager’s defence, we were writing high-churn retail copy. Even so, I’m a sensitive creative who likes to win, and as much as I was winning the race against myself, my words would never win any awards.

I’ve since learned that while it is critical to get out of the blocks quickly, it is more important to, at some point, step out of the race entirely. By stepping out of the race, I mean STOP writing and STOP thinking about your writing.

You must stop writing to allow your subconscious time to chew on the problem.

Neil Gaiman has this interesting rule when it comes time to write, he’ll mozy on down to the gazebo at the bottom of his garden, sit at his desk and permit himself to do one of two things: write or do nothing.

I’m allowed to sit at my desk, I’m allowed to stare out at the world, I’m allowed to do anything I like, as long as it isn’t anything. Not allowed to do a crossword, not allowed to read a book, not allowed to phone a friend, not allowed to make a clay model of something. All I’m allowed to do is absolutely nothing, or write.

My process is a little different, but I’ve learned from Neil Gaiman to give myself permission to NOT write, but unlike Gaiman, I do have to do something. But that thing I do has to be something I can do on autopilot or is completely mindless so that my logical brain switches off and allows my subconscious the energy it needs to agitate at the problem.

There is a point, however, when one needs to get back to writing. I find that point is usually related to the #eureka moment. When I wake up, I simply know what I need to write. I’ve literally been sleeping on it.

Does this procrasti-process always work? Mostly it does, for me, though not all in one day, as explained above. Sometimes I need to leave an idea to percolate for a few days, sometimes a whole week. But I tell you the truth when I say that not writing improves my writing. I find better words or phrases that work so well that I do the happy dance. Sometimes the ideas take a week or two to come, but they always rock.

If you need more convincing, here’s a Ted Talk video by Adam Grant, self-proclaimed precrastinator. Who knew that was even possible?

Here’s a summary of my process. Fourteen suggestions loosely based on my creative writing process, which involves a lot of not writing. You obviously have your own process. You’re welcome to try mine, who knows maybe I’m a genius and everything I suggest works universally.

Um…

Whatever your process looks like, find ways to carve not-writing time into your schedule.

What I’m trying to say in this essay, is that the gaps between writing are as important, if not more important, than the actual writing itself. Give your creative mind and subconscious time to turn your okay-but-not-brilliant left-hemisphere ideas and words into right hemisphere or subconscious WOW-did-I-just-write-those-words or DAYUM-that’s-dinkum-a-great-idea eureka moments.

  1. Receive a brief or decide on a topic. Sometimes I write a tentative headline just to give me some direction.
  2. Read first. Research first. Become an expert on your topic.
  3. Find ways to switch on the creative side of your brain.
  4. Take naps.
  5. Dump words on a page using a pen and paper. Start transferring ideas onto the page the analogue way.
  6. Take breaks. Eat properly. Do something else besides writing.
  7. You’ve done a brain dump; now try and decipher it. Make a list the old-school way — use a pen and paper or coloured kokis and pencil crayons. Try Sark your list. Don’t be linear. Make your list pretty and colourful. Artify (that’s a real word 😇) your list. It’s all about looking at your words and ideas in a fresh way.
  8. If you’re still struggling to come up with ideas stop working, and do something else that’s creative.
  9. Keep your notebook or phone with you all the time. When you have a new idea, add it to your list.
  10. Have an end-of-the-day ritual. Especially if you work from home. Tell your mind you’re done for the day. Your subconscious will thank you. When I worked at an office, I had the drive home as a way to signal the end of the day. Find your own end-of-the-day ritual.
  11. Find a way to replenish your words if needed. Read, do word games and crosswords. But don’t be a glutton. Put those things aside and then do something that requires little thought about either your problem or the words on your list. Give yourself permission to step away from your problem. Give yourself permission not to write. Go for a walk, or a drive, lift some weights, play with the kids, do some carpentry, pottery or painting, play the piano or guitar, clean the garden, do the laundry, cook supper. Have a candle-lit bath. Get distracted by your partner's assets. Do things that do not require the language portion of your brain. Remember to take your notepad with you. Cause you will have more ideas, and you’ll want to make sure you don’t forget any of these brain gems.
  12. Go to sleep. Read a novel or story before you go to sleep. Read over your list one last time. I don’t read over my list of ideas; it doesn’t work for me, but it might work for you. Have a quick once-over of your list and go to sleep. Make sure your trusty notebook is next to your bed. Cause when we’re sleeping, we’re handing over the reins of our mind to our subconscious. Tonight you’re gonna have a eureka moment or two or three.
  13. Rinse and repeat the next day.
  14. And the day after.

I think I’m gonna do something mindless now.

What did you just say? Oh Gods no, I am not going to play golf.

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Nick Prinsloo

I’m a story-dweller, storyteller and musician, driven to write stories that encourage, tales that absorb and sentences that sing. Plus, I have a great beard.