One of the most oft-bashed time wasters in the productivity world is television. Vapid, pointless, mind-numbing and useless are the kindest terms I’ve seen used to describe it. Get off your ass, they say, and follow your dreams! Or read a book, for once!

The thing they totally neglect to think about is that every TV show is someone’s dream, too. Actually, it’s a lot of someone’s dreams, all bundled up into one thing that they hope will entertain and engage enough people that they get to keep doing it another week, another season. A book is great — I love books, and I own enough of them to make the simplicity crowd cry mercy — but a book is really just one person’s dream.

How many actor hopefuls do you know, or know of? Script writers? Directors? What about FX techs, stage painters, dancers, costumers? If you live down near LA, or up in Vancouver, it’ll be even more. And it takes all of those people to make a TV show and more, the PAs and grips and security guys who help make those dreams come true, or have dreams of their own. (Yes, yes, books require the publishing industry. That’s not the point, because honestly, when was the last time a productivity guru told you not to read?)

I’m not saying there’s not a lot of bad TV out there — Sturgeon’s Law applies to television as well as everywhere else, and it’s compounded by the committee effect. But there’s also nothing wrong with enjoying a good story, a hot actor or actress, or even someone falling on their ass in a dance-off. Like in so many other places, it’s about moderation and choices, and deciding if this week’s episode of CSI is going to supplant something that’s more important to you, give you an excuse not to do that thing you’re afraid of failing at, or if perhaps you just really like CSI.

Make the choices you need to make to realize your dreams — but don’t stomp on other people’s dreams on the way.

It’s just me and my cats here, so I tend to do household chores on a pretty simple “as needed” schedule, with a few things that get done every other day.

Putting this schedule together has taught me a lot about my work habits, and when my brain will get in the way of getting stuff done.

For instance, the cat boxes. Gross chore, right? Stinky, heavy, dusty, ick. But here’s the thing — I had worked it up in my mind that it was also a time-consuming chore, lots of hard work! And so I tended to put it off until the last possible moment, to my cat’s utter disgust. (Bella got revenge by barfing on things. It was not good for either of us. And that was before the kitten!) Then one day, I sat down and sent an IM to a friend — brb, going to do the cat box. I trudged around, cleaned the box, washed my hands, and sat back down to IM — all done, back!

Much to my surprise, less than two full minutes had passed between messages.

I had spent far more effort avoiding this chore than I the effort it took to just get up and do it. So now when it comes in the schedule, I don’t drag my feet and put it off, because I know that it only takes two minutes. And when it’s done both my cats and I are all relieved.

How does this get applied to work? Well, if I get an email from a client asking about something I know will take less than five minutes, I do it right then. And then, instead of them waiting for my reply until it coms around on the to-do list, and me putting it off or forgetting about it in a ton of other emailed requests, we’re both relieved. And my clients think I’m awesome, and are more inclined to forgive when something else takes an extra day or two.

The second chore I tend to put off is dishes, and this one is where I found the really hard lesson.

I am really, really prone to overwhelm.

When I’ve been eating at home from leftovers and pre-prepared foods, then two days is just about right to have a sink full of dishes and use up one good squirt of dishwashing liquid, with most everything fitting in the drainer. I find the process itself kind of Zen, warming and soothing at once, letting my mind wander (well, as long as I don’t drop anything).

But if I’ve been cooking, or had people over, then there’s extra dishes. And that’s when I hit Dish Overwhelm — as soon as there’s more dishes than I can readily wash in one go, I start putting them off, feeling powerless and overwhelmed, and then more dishes pile up and nothing gets done.

See where this is going?

I made beer bread yesterday — it was delicious, btw — and now I have extra bowls and dishes piled up around my sink, overflowing the area and causing both physical and mental clutter. But I don’t want to wash them. Just looking in there makes me all tense and unhappy, driving away that warm, sudsy dishwashing Zen I was talking about earlier. The pile is too big and it feels like I’ve let it go too long (even though it’s dish day by my normal schedule), and so my instinct is to avoid it, let the pile grow even bigger, and blow my schedule completely.

Enter work, and the power of the to-do list.

Productivity blogs everywhere will tell you to have a master to-do list, and a daily list. My problem is, as soon as I start looking at that master list I get a big case of overwhelm and I don’t even want to think about how I’m going to get it all done with only five measly slots per day and more things coming in all the time.

So I procrastinate, play Facebook games, and generally let the problem get worse until I run out of dishes — well, okay, until deadlines force me into last-minute rushing. Or they whoosh past and guilt piles on with the overwhelm. That’s always extra fun.

How do I avoid this? By not keeping the master list.

I have deadlines noted down in my calendar, and I keep those in mind when I make my daily to-do list, but that master list is kept out of sight. I just deal with the small pile in front of me, 5 tasks per day (I slack on weekends and only do 3, or count things like “relax” and “hang out with friends” as tasks), and then tomorrow there’ll be another pile. The overwhelm is still there sometimes, looming especially when I sit down to make a daily list, but it’s not as scary as it would be if I had a giant list.

The thing is, a 5-task to-do list is a bunch of items I know I can succeed on today. The giant list of everything I need to do in the next few weeks/months/whatever is just an invitation to think of all the ways it can fail to get any of them done.

One sink full of dishes? I know I can do that. When it overflows onto countertops and starts to really pile up, that’s an invitation to dropped glasses, unwashed corners, and failure.

For next time, perhaps we can manage a pithy commentary on how taking out the trash is like marketing (my two most hated things in life), and how to outsource the stuff you shouldn’t be doing (like, say, vacuuming). Not to mention the bigger chores, like cleaning the bathroom and updating your website.

Until then, I have dishes to wash, cat boxes to clean, and the trash to take out. Wish me luck!

It’s been a strange year for me so far, but I can’t say it’s really bad. Well, except for the stomach flu, that was all bad.

I’m having a slow, frustrating divorce from one of my oldest and best clients — they have less and less money for spending on a designer, and I find myself less and less interested in the things they need from me. Unfortunately, we’re both stuck in a cycle of dependence. I need them to pay my rent. They need me to keep their site updated. But we both, in our own ways, want out.

So, how do you break up with a client and have it end well for everyone?

I’ll start with the caveat that each situation is different. In this case, I don’t think cold turkey would be the way to go for either of us. They don’t have anyone on staff who could do what I do, and when they looked into replacing me they found out that I’m actually very reasonably priced for what they get out of me.

The problem is, it’s just not what either of us wants anymore, so this is what I’ve begun and will continue to do:

• Aggressively explore other avenues of income that are more in line with what I really want to do, rather than the work I’ve fallen into doing — art and Design versus back-end coding and endless forms.
• Take more fine art and illustration commissions, which I’ve already begun to do.
• Really work on getting better at my technique and improve my skill and speed, so that making art is a good value for my time for both myself and my new clients.
• Create some stock vector art and niche websites for passive income streams.
• Find other ways to be creative that I will enjoy and make money off of, like selling small handmade items at Etsy.com.
• Finish that novella and see if I can’t find an e-Pub to sell to.
• Learn as much about Marketing my own work as I can.
• Make an effort to hook into the local art community and surround myself with people who are encouraging, creative, or both.
• Keep supporting the client for as long as they need me, and try to find ways to make the work I have for them less time-consuming and more efficient for both of us.

That last is, in a lot of ways, the most important — I don’t want either of us to build up a lot of resentment. In the end, I know that they don’t want to have to figure out a new designer any more than I want to figure out how to replace the income, but I get (oh how do I get) that money is tight and it’s hard for them to see the benefits of such an abstract investment.

Still, they’ve been a loyal client for so long it’s hard to imagine being freelance without them, so I want to make sure that the relationship ends amicably. When the time comes, I’ll make sure to give them their files, and let them know I’m here if they need me. I won’t be the ex-girlfriend who put your guitar in a blender, but the one who mailed back your childhood ornaments when she found them in with her Christmas stuff.

Or at least, that’s what I’ll try for!