Dear Productivity: Stay The Hell Away From Reading

Only college students and idiots measure sex by quantity and straw-pedo decent bottles of Bordeaux

Society is obsessed with productivity. How productive are you today? How many articles have you read? How many articles have you written?! This is my 55th today and I haven’t even had breakfast yet. Keep up!

The issue with productivity is that it can only be measured quantitatively. You did 20 press-ups yesterday. Today you did 30. You’re 10 press-ups more productive, or a 50% improvement. Well done you.

Counting as a measure of success is problematic.

Consider your sex life. Do you want to have multiple sex sessions, all very short and functional. Fewer sessions that are more sensual and fun. Do you just want one really good one that blows your mind?

Whenever someone tells me how many books they’ve read this year, I die a little bit inside. The quickest way to increase your book reading rate is to read shorter books.

I could read hundreds of books about a dog called Spot. Does that mean I’m succeeding as a reader? Not really. By quantitive standards, I’m an absolute productivity whiz for bashing through the entire series in less than a day.

Think about what a work of fiction is. The word work is important here. An author has poured their time, energy and love into creating a world.

A world generated in one mind, transferred through marks on a page into the mind of another. Reading is as close as we can get to telepathy. The rules of productivity shouldn’t apply.

Yes, time on this planet is finite. Yes, there is an inexhaustible supply of books. No, you’re not going to be able to read them all. You have to pick and choose.

It breaks my heart as much as it breaks yours.

But books are art, you can’t fast forward art. You listen again. If you’re listening to new songs all the time, you’re not appreciating good music. If you’re listening to new songs on double speed to fulfil a music productivity quota, then you need psychiatric intervention.

Imagine how appalled you’d be if your trip to the ballet, opera or theatre was restricted to forty minutes. As soon as you were in your seat everyone danced and sung at three times the normal pace. Imagine having to sprint from one end of an art gallery to the other, turning your head back and forth, catching glimpses of Monet, Rembrandt and Rothko.

When it comes to art, the time it takes is the time it takes.

My first published play had nine drafts before it was ready. There are millions of words to choose from (and that doesn’t include the tendency of Dahl, Rowling, Seuss, et al making up new ones) Remember there is an infinite number of ways to write a good story.

It takes a long time to whittle down a story from the infinite available possibilities — trust me on that one. A good writer sculpts a story, chipping away at the words until you’re left with a beautiful piece of writing that will exist forever.

Books are the single most powerful thing humankind have ever invented. They have the power to change the world. The Bible, The Origin of the Species, The Diary of Anne Frank, The Communist Manifesto. They have the power to make us think, to make us emote, to make us better people.

If the author has taken the time to craft their work for you, then you, in turn, should take the time to read it

Books are art. Art takes time.

Wine is compressed sunlight turned to sweetness by the benevolence of the vine. Something to consider whilst you have your next glass.

Sex is the culmination of billions of years of evolutionary magic to create something so pleasurable our species can continue. Something NOT to consider whilst you’re next having coitus. Focus instead.

And stories?

Stories are the shape of our collective narrative. An entire imaginary world gifted from the consciousness of one speck of stardust to the rest of itself. So don’t quantify it.

Take your time. Savour the moment. Enjoy it.

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