While there are certainly pros to working at home, I have really struggled with staying engaged on the endless video calls that now make up the majority of my working days. With everything being mediated by a screen I’ve missed the physical nature of workshops, research and even just being in the office.

The one thing that’s really helped recently is taking physical notes.

I’ve been a handwritten notes person for as long as I can remember, but whenever I’m stressed or tired it’s a habit that can slip. Unfortunately, that’s usually when I need my scribbles the most. There’s catharsis and putting your thoughts on a page. There’s also a huge benefit when your memory is shot because of anxiety to being able to go back through those thoughts and not have to hold them in your (scattered) brain.

Unsurprisingly, when lockdown started and everything in my head started to fall to pieces a little bit, my note taking fell away too.

That was until I watched this notebook video from Megan Rhiannon. Megan uses her notebooks far more consistently and in far cleverer ways than I do, as they’re a support tool for her autism. But there was something about how she talked about her notes, and the way she organised them that reminded me of my love for notetaking. 

So, in the manner of all great new endeavours, I bought a new notebook. A new notebook that was exactly like the other notebooks I’ve used. I will probably go to my grave with a Rhodia Webby clutched at my side. 

I bought a new notebook and set it up to be the perfect notebook for me to use exactly how I wanted, no pressure of anyone looking over my shoulder. It’s got margins for titles, dates and to dos. Inspired by Megan, it’s got coloured dots to categorise, because this new notebook isn’t just for work notes. It’s got space to draw and plan, to sketchnote and to take longhand minutes of research sessions. 

It’s got everything I love and it’s been so good for my mental health.

I say it’s been great for my mental health not just because of the memory and emotional support writing things out gives, but also because it gives me something physical to ground me when I can’t breathe for video calls. It reminds me I’m real and this is all real, because it’s tactile. 

I wanted to share some of the things that I think went into this being the notebook set up I think I’ll use for years going forward, because I know how hard it is to find something that works. There’s no substitute for trying things out and seeing what sticks but these are my top tips.

Make it easy

I see people with really fancy journals with collages and calligraphy and they’re gorgeous. I’ll admit I’m envious. But I’ll also admit that I will never ever have one of those journals, because it’s more effort than it’s worth for me. It should be easy to pick up your notebook and get going. I set out my margins in advance. Ruling off sections and only worrying about a title in the margin mean I can get going right away. Feel free to indulge in some new stationery, especially if you can shop small for it, but in my experience you have to play to the tools, strength and time you’ll have to hand in the moment.

Make it something you enjoy

If you’re going to make a habit of notetaking, it’s much easier if you enjoy doing it. I love to add silly little pictures to my notes so I make space for it; I never got on with lined paper because it didn’t. I love the feeling of writing in a ballpoint pen on the specific paper I had; I got frustrated by the notebook where I decided to only work in mechanical pencil because it lacked that. I love adding those little coloured dot stickers, each one feels like a reward. It’s okay to have fun in your notes, even work notes, in fact I encourage it.

Make them quick to review

You should be able to go back through your notes and know what they’re talking about. That sounds obvious. But if I had a page for every time I’ve had important bits on the corner of a page or not been able to quickly flick to a dated note, I’d have a Rhodia as thick as Moby Dick. That doesn’t mean that you have to go by date, or in columns, vertically or horizontally. It means know why you’re using your notes, think about what you’ll need to find or sort later and make it easy to find.

Periodically I get fixated by statistics. I get obsessed with counting things, with measuring. It might be steps, it might be pages read, but it might also be my social media figures.

When my online figures go through the analytical machine and get spat back out at me, I’m almost never happy. These are figures that I don’t have a healthy relationship with. I feel lessened from their perceived lack or not quite satiated by their perceived growth. Either way I’m left feeling empty and not quite good enough. 

I’ve been focusing on them a lot recently, perhaps it’s a sign of idle hands, perhaps it’s an inevitable side effect of all of my doomscrolling, perhaps it’s me trying to find some outside validation while I can’t see other people as much.

To let you see what I see, here are my social media stats as of 18th November (ish) alongside some of the meaning I give them. This ended up being a weirdly cathartic exercise for me where I tried to take two difference perspectives on the numbers.

I’ve steadily seen a decrease in Instagram figures this year and an increase in blog numbers. My pinterest can vary wildly hour to hour, I think there have been points where it’s been in the millions of monthly views and in the tens of thousands. 

Without context, these numbers mean absolutely nothing. With context, I’m not sure they amount to much either.

I’m present enough to understand that social media statistics are not exactly correlated to “creative” success and also that follower counts are used by certain potential clients as a qualification for consideration. I can see that paradox in my mind as well as the personal one that says while a lot of my illustration work comes through personal connection so word of mouth rather than hashtags should be important, the work I share has led to many of those personal connections. I can even grasp that social media statistics are not a signifier of my success and not directly correlated to anything that I want in my life but that I also understand them as a marker of success for others.

Ultimately, I think it’s paradoxes that have me paralysed when it comes to these statistics. 

I care enough for it to niggle away at me but not enough to make content that just pleases an algorithm. 

If all I wanted to do was increase the numbers I shared I’d start to tag more brands and “influencers” in my work, I’d create illustrations and graphics in formats that were more on trend, I’d focus solely on optimising. Perhaps it’s a false sense of my own abilities, but I think I could do it. I’d never be a power player but I could certainly do a lot better.

But I don’t think that’s what I want to do, because while playing the slot machine-like game that is social media could be fun, it sounds unfulfilling and frankly even more dangerous for my mental health.

So, the logical conclusion, the one I get to every time I have this argument with myself, is don’t care about the numbers, just make whatever you want to make and be done with it. 

While I can follow the logic of “why feel bad about something that you’re not focused on changing?”, I can’t make it stick. It’s not so easy to ignore messaging around certain statistics as a signifier not just of success, but of quality. It’s not easy to detach yourself from platforms that have become the primary way to promote your work. It’s not easy to fight against millions, billions of dollars of social engineering. Especially if you’re not able or willing to turn off every figure.

I still see social media as a big part of sharing my work, but I can’t live trapped in the paradox of whether or not to care about the stats it comes with. So I made myself this decision tree tool to help me make sense of what those numbers mean and what I should do about them. Every option comes with an action, because I’ve found that just sitting with the same information does absolutely nothing for me. 

While the saying is usually a month of Sundays, I’d like to talk about the last week of Sundays. 

I’ve spent a week of Sundays getting used to taking regular time for myself. I certainly haven’t invented taking Sundays off. Sundays are historically a day of rest and time for reflection and family. But personally they haven’t been until the last seven weeks.

Before this challenge I worked every day. I think I’ve worked every day, in some form or another, bar specifically scheduled vacation days, since school. I’ve always spent my weekends working whether that was homework or coursework throughout school and uni, or client work and blog content creation over the last four or so years. I keep busy. I keep out of trouble.

But I don’t always keep well. That was the issue. After getting so much out of long three day weekends to use up annual leave and a real re-assessment of  priorities during pandemic times, I decided I wanted to be someone who had a weekend that was for me.

I have to say I love it.

My Sundays are now about catching up on life admin bits that make my days easier and just doing things I enjoy. Whether that’s running a little bit further than I can in the week, luxuriating a little bit longer in the bath, watching a whole film or taking a moment to pause. I feel like I have time again. 

It’s not been without its struggles though. I say struggles in the mildest sense, as what could truly be hard about taking time off? 

Well, I still have the same amount of work to do as I did when I spread it out over seven days instead of six. That’s meant I’ve had to be more focused and work a little longer on a Saturday to make sure I can rest on a Sunday. I’ve started to set an out of office for Sundays and make sure I let clients know and preschedule things like my newsletter. It’s forced me to be more organised but also more cut throat with myself when it comes to deadlines. If something is set to get done on a weeknight it has to be done in that time box, not linger over. There are pieces I worked on for inktober that I just drew a line under, knowing I could have done more but that I valued my time to myself more. Plus, after so long valuing my days by their productivity I can’t say that I don’t get itchy hands as I find myself with a few spare hours of a Sunday evening.

Putting a hard regular boundary on your time is hard, especially if you’re not used to it. But I’m realising it’s the only way, for me at least, to make sure that you slow down and really enjoy the change in pace. Half hours here and there don’t add up the same and you can’t always magically undo a deficit with a week away, just like you can’t make up for a bad sleep schedule with a long lie in as much as I would love to.

It’s been an adjustment but it’s also been a long time coming. While I try not to write about it here or in my newsletter for want of sounding like a broken, slightly sad, millennial record I’ve been running on embers for longer than I should probably admit. 

I still want to make things. Or at least, I can’t imagine a version of my life where I don’t make things. But I think that this shift to prioritising my own time, like the decision to start drinking the tea I’d been saving in case someone special came to the house (because goddammit I am someone special) is a sign of a bigger shift to come. 

I’m questioning more and more why I’m drawing, why I’m writing, why I’m posting, and I don’t always have a good answer. And if I don’t have a good answer, shouldn’t I be spending my efforts doing something I know the why for like taking a good long afternoon nap?

Naps aside, I think that’s probably one for another day. 

So for now I’ll be enjoying my Sundays without the yolk of productivity and singing its praises to anyone who’ll listen and not think I’m a complete workaholic bore.