*Note: The strategy described at the end of this essay didn't work.
It would work for a while, and then I'd gradually find myself using the Internet on my work computer.
I'm trying other strategies now, but I think this time I'll wait till I'm sure they work before writing about them.*
May 2008
Procrastination feeds on distractions.
Most people find it uncomfortable just to sit and do nothing; you avoid work by doing something else.
So one way to beat procrastination is to starve it of distractions.
But that's not as straightforward as it sounds, because there are people working hard to distract you.
Distraction is not a static obstacle that you avoid like you might avoid a rock in the road.
Distraction seeks you out.
Procrastination feeds on distractions, so one way to beat it is to starve it. But that's harder than it sounds, because people are working hard to distract you.
Distraction is not a static obstacle you avoid like a rock in the road. Distraction seeks you out.
Procrastination feeds on distractions, so one way to beat it is to starve it. But that's hard, because distraction isn't a static obstacle you avoid like a rock in the road. Distraction seeks you out.
Chesterfield described dirt as matter out of place.
Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time.
And technology is continually being refined to produce more and more desirable things.
Which means that as we learn to avoid one class of distractions, new ones constantly appear, like drug-resistant bacteria.
Television, for example, has after 50 years of refinement reached the point where it's like visual crack.
I realized when I was 13 that TV was addictive, so I stopped watching it.
A quarter of their life.
Chesterfield called dirt matter out of place; distraction, similarly, is desirable at the wrong time. As technology keeps refining desirable things, new distractions appear like drug-resistant bacteria.
Television, after 50 years of refinement, is like visual crack. I quit at 13 — yet the average American watches four hours a day. A quarter of their life.
Chesterfield called dirt matter out of place; distraction is desirable at the wrong time. As technology refines desirable things, new distractions keep appearing like drug-resistant bacteria — TV being the one that reached visual crack.
TV is in decline now, but only because people have found even more addictive ways of wasting time.
And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.
This is no accident.
An ever larger percentage of office workers sit in front of computers connected to the Internet, and distractions always evolve toward the procrastinators.
I remember when computers were, for me at least, exclusively for work.
I might occasionally dial up a server to get mail or ftp files, but most of the time I was offline.
All I could do was write and program.
Now I feel as if someone snuck a television onto my desk.
Terribly addictive things are just a click away.
Run into an obstacle in what you're working on?
Hmm, I wonder what's new online.
Better check.
TV is declining only because people found even more addictive ways to waste time — many at your computer. As more office workers sit at connected machines, distractions evolve toward the procrastinators.
Computers used to be exclusively for work. Now I feel as if someone snuck a television onto my desk: addictive things a click away. Hit an obstacle? Hmm, I wonder what's new online. Better check.
TV is declining only because people found more addictive ways to waste time, many at your computer. Computers used to be only for work; now I feel as if someone snuck a television onto my desk, addictive things a click away.
After years of carefully avoiding classic time sinks like TV, games, and Usenet, I still managed to fall prey to distraction, because I didn't realize that it evolves.
Something that used to be safe, using the Internet, gradually became more and more dangerous.
Some days I'd wake up, get a cup of tea and check the news, then check email, then check the news again, then answer a few emails, then suddenly notice it was almost lunchtime and I hadn't gotten any real work done.
And this started to happen more and more often.
It took me surprisingly long to realize how distracting the Internet had become, because the problem was intermittent.
I ignored it the way you let yourself ignore a bug that only appears intermittently.
When I was in the middle of a project, distractions weren't really a problem.
It was when I'd finished one project and was deciding what to do next that they always bit me.
Another reason it was hard to notice the danger of this new type of distraction was that social customs hadn't yet caught up with it.
If I'd spent a whole morning sitting on a sofa watching TV, I'd have noticed very quickly.
That's a known danger sign, like drinking alone.
But using the Internet still looked and felt a lot like work.
Eventually, though, it became clear that the Internet had become so much more distracting that I had to start treating it differently.
Basically, I had to add a new application to my list of known time sinks: Firefox.
After years avoiding classic time sinks like TV, games, and Usenet, I fell prey anyway, because I didn't realize distraction evolves. The once-safe Internet gradually became dangerous.
It took me long to notice, because the problem was intermittent — it bit me between projects, deciding what to do next.
It was hard to spot, too, because social customs hadn't caught up. A morning of TV is a known danger sign, like drinking alone — but the Internet still felt like work. Eventually I added it to my list of time sinks: Firefox.
After years of avoiding TV, games, and Usenet, I fell prey anyway, because distraction evolves: the Internet quietly became dangerous. It was hard to notice — intermittent, and it still looked like work — so I added a new time sink: Firefox.
* * *
The problem is a hard one to solve because most people still need the Internet for some things.
If you drink too much, you can solve that problem by stopping entirely.
But you can't solve the problem of overeating by stopping eating.
I couldn't simply avoid the Internet entirely, as I'd done with previous time sinks.
The problem is hard because most people still need the Internet. You can solve drinking by stopping, but you can't solve overeating by not eating — and I couldn't simply avoid the Internet like other time sinks.
This problem is hard because most people still need the Internet. You can solve drinking by stopping entirely, but you can't solve overeating by not eating — and I couldn't simply avoid the Internet the way I'd avoided previous time sinks.
At first I tried rules.
For example, I'd tell myself I was only going to use the Internet twice a day.
But these schemes never worked for long.
Eventually something would come up that required me to use it more than that.
And then I'd gradually slip back into my old ways.
Addictive things have to be treated as if they were sentient adversaries—as if there were a little man in your head always cooking up the most plausible arguments for doing whatever you're trying to stop doing.
If you leave a path to it, he'll find it.
The key seems to be visibility.
The biggest ingredient in most bad habits is denial.
So you have to make it so that you can't merely slip into doing the thing you're trying to avoid.
It has to set off alarms.
At first I tried rules — only use the Internet twice a day. But these schemes never lasted, and I'd slip back.
Addictive things have to be treated as sentient adversaries — as if a little man in your head were always cooking up plausible arguments for doing whatever you're trying to stop. Leave a path to it and he'll find it.
The key is visibility. The biggest ingredient in bad habits is denial, so you have to make it impossible to merely slip into the thing you're avoiding. It has to set off alarms.
Rules never lasted. Addictive things must be treated as sentient adversaries — a little man in your head finding every path back. The biggest ingredient in bad habits is denial, so the key is visibility: it has to set off alarms.
Maybe in the long term the right answer for dealing with Internet distractions will be software that watches and controls them.
But in the meantime I've found a more drastic solution that definitely works: to set up a separate computer for using the Internet.
I now leave wifi turned off on my main computer except when I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I have a separate laptop on the other side of the room that I use to check mail or browse the web. (Irony of ironies, it's the computer Steve Huffman wrote Reddit on.
When Steve and Alexis auctioned off their old laptops for charity, I bought them for the Y Combinator museum.)
My rule is that I can spend as much time online as I want, as long as I do it on that computer.
And this turns out to be enough.
When I have to sit on the other side of the room to check email or browse the web, I become much more aware of it.
Sufficiently aware, in my case at least, that it's hard to spend more than about an hour a day online.
And my main computer is now freed for work.
If you try this trick, you'll probably be struck by how different it feels when your computer is disconnected from the Internet.
It was alarming to me how foreign it felt to sit in front of a computer that could only be used for work, because that showed how much time I must have been wasting.
Software that watches and controls these distractions may eventually be the answer. Meanwhile I've found a drastic one that works: a separate computer for the Internet.
I leave wifi off on my main computer and keep a laptop across the room for mail and the web. I can spend as long online there as I want — and that's enough, because crossing the room makes me so aware that an hour a day is about my limit.
My main computer is now freed for work. Try it and you'll be struck by how foreign it feels to sit at a computer that can only be used for work — which shows how much time you'd been wasting.
Software that watches distractions may eventually be the answer, but my drastic solution works now: a separate computer for the Internet. Sitting across the room to check email makes me so aware that I rarely spend more than an hour a day online.
*Wow.
All I can do at this computer is work.
Ok, I better work then.*
That's the good part.
Your old bad habits now help you to work.
You're used to sitting in front of that computer for hours at a time.
But you can't browse the web or check email now.
What are you going to do?
You can't just sit there.
So you start working.
Wow. All I can do at this computer is work. Ok, I better work then.
That's the good part: your old bad habits now help you work. You're used to sitting there for hours, but you can't browse or check email. So you start working.
Wow. All I can do at this computer is work. That's the good part: your old bad habits now help you. You're used to sitting there for hours, but you can't browse or check email — so you start working.