I’ve started setting weekly writing goals for myself as a way of breaking out of the pre-tenure mindset of barrelling ahead, saying yes to everything, and unthinkingly working myself to the bone without being happy with any of the output or the long-term trajectory. I’m trying to be more thoughtful about which projects I take on and about becoming both the scholar and writer I want to be. I have always seen my academic path as a way toward being the sort of writer who will be read (as well as the sort of researcher who will be ready by maybe twenty people if she’s lucky); and I finally have the professional security to pursue that goal. It’s scary to be doing this at 36 because it’s old for a writer to be starting out (a silly idea, but one that’s very prevalent) and because I’m pulling myself away from what I know I’m good at doing to work in an arena where I am unproven. I’m not finding the link quickly, but I read an essay by Viet Thanh Nguyen in which he talked about making that exact transition and realizing that he needed to commit to making that change and not hedge; I’m not quite there yet, but that idea and the knowledge that it’s doable has been a touchstone for me.
Setting concrete and quantifiable goals is at least a step in that direction. I find that it keeps me moving forward when it would be easy to put off making progress to the weekend, now that I no longer have a Damoclean sword hanging above my head. I’m having to learn how to balance the projects that I want to take on, both academic and non-academic, rather than just barreling forward, single-minded on the one make-or-break thing.
I didn’t do my scheduled writing this morning because I was behind on preparing for my undergraduate class, so I made myself sit down at the end of the day, after teaching, exercise, dinner, and tidying, to do the work I hadn’t accomplished this morning. Without a certain page count goal for the week, I’m sure I wouldn’t have; I’d have gotten in to bed, unwound, and knit. I worked for about half the time I had planned, stopping when the familiar ache in my shoulders and hips was starting to distract me from the text I was editing. That ache was oddly comforting. It’s a clear, recognizable sign that I’m making measurable progress in my writing; but tenure means I can stop before it turns into pain.