Different types of work demand different sorts of fuel.
You might be primed and ready to write an essay, but completely incapable of cleaning your bedroom. You may be all set to orchestrate a complex social event, but slog through an errand that under other circumstances would have taken all of 15 minutes.
I try to keep tabs on what sort of labor I’m currently (mentally and physically) optimized for, as while I’m capable of applying myself to non-aligned stuff, if I can do the work my brain and body are ready for, said work will tend to be less arduous and exhausting, while also turning out better than whatever I might produce via sheer force of will.
Work categorization isn’t a perfect science, as we all do different things in different ways, but I currently sort my undertakings into two broad categories: concrete work and nebulous work.
Concrete work is familiar and predictable. It’s still effortful, but it’s not as intangible or blurry as the nebulous variety.
I’ve been producing the Let’s Know Things and Brain Lenses podcasts for years, so while each episode is different, I still have a pretty good sense of how much time I’ll need to invest in research, understanding, explication, and production each week. I know about how long it will take to finish an episode and can plan around that estimation, and I have a solid understanding of what said production will cost me in terms of energy and effort, as well.
Nebulous work is the opposite: it’s labor defined by unclear responsibilities, scales, and outcomes.
When I first started Let’s Know Things back in 2016, each episode took ages to produce because I didn’t know what I was doing. That uncertainty meant I had to set aside more time and energy because I could be looking at one day or one week of effort; I had no idea what to expect, and each episode consequently had a potentially infinite psychological mass.
Mapping out a new book or dreaming up an event you want to host can be big and unwieldy and (initially, at least) overwhelmingly opaque, but with time, elements of these efforts become concrete, and that brings them into the realm of the practical, rather than just the theoretical. They gain heft, they can be measured.
Until that tangibility is accomplished, such projects have the consistency of vapor. Which is perfect if you’re looking to play around with cloud-like swirls and eddies, but if you find yourself keen to just hunker down and get something done, you might be better served by sticking with the concrete.
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