#10: Monk week.

✍️🔥🐽🌊

Jun 07, 2020

Here I am, staring at the black Scrivener screen, seated on the rooftop of a small Dalmatian vacation home. The pleasant fragrance of pine trees, mixed with figs and lavender and other spices make up the smell of Dalmacija. The island of Brač seems so close, I could swim over. The pandemic delayed the start of the tourist season, so it’s still calm and Mediterranean lazy.
This is me behind this desk, trying to improve my writing skills. The writing part doesn’t come hard, it’s the editing and rewriting that’s killing me. I hate revisiting my old essays, and can’t make myself edit the old stuff. Applying a growth mindset, I identified this is a room for improvement. And the best way to force yourself to edit something is to share it with the public. So I decided to try myself at publishing a simple newsletter — and the .lebenslanges Lernen was born. The only goal I set myself was to publish at least ten editions in subsequent weekends.

When I started this newsletter, I decided it’s something that’s meant to be written, not necessarily read. As Zinsser wrote in the On Writing Well: you write for yourself. —This eased up the pressure of publishing a newsletter. It’s a hobby. A craft. Like painting or knitting.

I discovered a few things about myself along the way. The first editions have more links to other people’s stuff; I think I was too ashamed of sharing my writing. But I’m learning and honing my craft. Each subsequent edition had more of my thoughts, but I have yet to reach the level of full confidence.

So how did I end up on this rooftop? —I yearned for some solitary writing time. I needed seclusion, isolation, social distancing from the (new) normal. My parents in law have built this cozy house located in the small heaven with the best beach on the Adriatic Sea. The summer season hasn’t started yet, the house was empty, and I took a vacation to be here by myself.

Enter Monk Week.
This operation has many working titles. Also (un)known as the Writing Week, or the Think Week, I made sure to design mine carefully.
I took a week off from work. I made sure to finish or delay any open projects, delegated tasks, and told my Team and my boss that the only way to reach me is via a phone call or a text message.
I signed out from all the communication services, including Outlook, Teams, OneDrive, WhatsApp, … All the notifications are turned off, and the iPhone will only ring if my wife or kids call.
I’m not browsing the web, not even reading anything online. I brought along a bunch of paper books, some notebooks, and a kindle.

I intend to spend most of the time immersed in reading and writing. And I’d prefer to tip the balance to the creating part this time. Limit all consumption, even of books, use this wonderful social isolation opportunity for writing.

Creating space for immersion requires me to go out of my way. My natural habitat are goals, plans, themes, objectives, calendars, to-do lists, notes, things I can measure. So it wasn’t only about turning off the data connections. I also had to remove my weekly running, walking, sleeping, and intermittent fasting goals. (Yeah, I know I have a problem.)
It took me one day to chameleon into this new flora. —Color me adjusted. Okay, let me confess that I’m cheating a bit — I kept a daily writing goal. I’m typing all day, enjoying the craft, and looking forward to the only notification that’s still on — Scrivener’s chime when I hit the daily word number.

My newsletter introductions are usually filled with links. But why? Isn’t that underestimating the reader as being too lazy to look up their references? Or is it a lack of writer’s confidence in getting the point across? I’m doing many things differently this coming week, so I’ll pretend this will be printed on a paper; there’s nowhere to click. Do your own bloody homework.

Stay Hungry; Stay Foolish.