15 Minutes

I’ve written before about Not Breaking the Chain, which is making a daily habit out of any specific task, in my case writing, by marking off each day when completed. String those ‘x’s together and you’ve got a chain. The longer the chain the more satisfying the feeling and the more encouraged— or fanatical— you are are to grow the chain.

This means that I set out with a primary goal (my only daily ‘chain’) to write something, anything, every single day of the year. No matter what. It’s not always easy, but over the years it has become compulsory, imbedded as an instinct or necessity like eating, drinking, and sleeping.

There are many times as I crawl into bed I realize I haven’t honored my oath to the Chain. So as one part of me is craving REM, another part of me is pecking away at the keyboard, fulfilling my need for thoughts to be etched in digital (or real) ink.

This propensity for a late night scribe sesh is due to the mass of responsibilities competing for my precious minutes in the day. Writing competes with day job demands, family duties, the priority stack of other projects, work on ‘Other Tasks’, along an inclination to procrastinate at times. While trying to balance all of these demands (some necessary, some arbitrary), I’m often left with a short ‘Open Time’ window after dinner and before sleep.

On good days — after dinner, kiddo bedtime, and home chores are finished— I dive right into my writing, putting in a solid chuck of work. Other times I forget, prioritize differently, or take a mental break in the evening (i.e. caching up on the endless TV list), leaving me with the last minute need to write before bed.

But that’s the genius behind Don’t Break the Chain, you just have to write. Whatever that definition is to you, it counts. Be it half a day, two hours, or 15 minutes, I wrote that day. Heck sometimes it’s less, but I force myself to write. It’s the only priority over going to sleep. Because even if I’m having a difficult week focusing and I only get 15 minutes done a day, that’s an hour and forty-five minutes more writing than I would have gotten done than if I just decided to bag it most days.

This cumulative effect is the most powerful aspect of creating a chain habit. Short writing sprints alone seem small and insignificant, but together it’s a striking progression of your work.

Words on the page isn’t the only net benefit of chain writing. By making even small progressions everyday, I keep the material fresh in my head, being able to jump right back in where I left off. This allows me to find flow and state of mind quicker, getting relevant words and ideas out of my head and onto the page. As opposed to when you leave writing for days at a time, you have to reacclimate yourself to the material and headspace, taking away time from the actual writing.

All of this is not to say that, even writing everyday, I don’t hit blockers or always find the flow. It’s still a grind. But I’m here showing up, doing the work, creating a flow instead of waiting for one. Whether I’m staring blankly at the screen only producing a few sentences or shifting to a different type of writing, I’m engage my brain in the practice of writing, developing my skill. So even if no words are written or I write in a different medium, progress is being made. My brain is engaged. My skill is developing.

That is the enlightening aspect of writing every single day. I’m engaging my brain and creative process continually— working it, testing it, strengthening it, just like a muscle. It creates discipline for a difficult task that makes me stronger and more resilient to the whims and roadblocks of distraction.

But even though I’ve practiced this habit for going on five plus years now, I’ve yet to hit a full year without a broken chain. That’s okay, because while frustrating and annoying in the moment, I’m eager to prove to myself I can beat my longest streak, be it ten days, one hundred eighty, three sixty-five, or beyond. So I start right back up the next day on the next chain.

Where this can all be seen as simple tricks of the mind, it all comes down to making progress. With so much to do, so many distractions, it is extremely easy to put off the priority of writing (or whatever your chain task is), to skip a day here, two days there. Before you know it, I haven’t written for a week and all I have to show for it is diving down a Wikipedia habit hole or aimless scroll on Instagram.

But taking the time each day gives me the practice, the disciple, and the endurance to grow my craft and advance toward my final draft.

And all it takes is fifteen minutes.