Posts Tagged ‘pandemic’
My adventures in time-blocking (as a freelance writer)
I don’t know about you but I’ve felt fatigued and disconsolate as the boredom of lockdown, the repetitiveness of things, has dragged down my usually shiny, enduring sense of creative vigour. I just haven’t felt able or motivated to do things. Sleep has sometimes been deeply comforting, yet also fractious.
Wanting to get back on the game, to be once more motivated, I thought I’d try a productivity technique. It’s known as time blocking. I first heard of it, years ago, from the Deep Work and So Good They Can’t Ignore You author, and professional Email hater, Cal Newport. He is a computer science professor and a proponent of this practice.
Time blocking involves making the time to draw up a fairly well sketched out plan or schedule for the following day. And, instead of making a simple list of things you need to do, you set aside parts of the day for certain tasks — that is, you block out time especially for the important tasks that most achieve your long-term goals. This is supposed to help you commit to the focused, concentrated, uninterrupted blocks of time to make progress on these goals — rather than having those sundry, seemingly urgent, but ultimately arbitrary tasks take up all your energy. A diagram will probably explain things better.
On a Sunday, I drew up this flow chart (above), describing what I’d do the next day, with my time carefully allocated. You might notice that there are long breaks but with time-blocking the underlying principle is that you spend the work-blocks focused on what Cal Newport describes as deep work (writing a chapter of a novel, for example, or making real progress on a graphic design commission, say).
It felt comforting knowing that I wouldn’t need to expend unnecessary energy having to think “now what do I need to do?” once certain tasks were completed. I only needed to follow the plan, like a happy automaton. After all, there can be freedom and contentment in following instructions, as anyone who’s played with Lego will know.
Let us cast aside the ridiculous notion that creativity is best kindled in an unstructured burst of spontaneous genius. It just doesn’t work like that, for most people. But discipline, putting the work in, and following certain procedures, rituals, programmes, can be enormously fertile and productive. Freeing.
So Monday started. And, of course, my lovingly crafted schedule was immediately blown apart by a chance connection with some copywriting work coming from China. The connection was simply too rich a possibility to cast aside, so of course I followed up on it. But no matter, I simply adjusted myself. And for the rest of the day, it did feel liberating to just follow the plan. To look down at the plan and know, quickly, certainly, what I needed to be doing next. I was not able to get to all my tasks – something which I did not beat myself over – and I added annotations to each time-block, noting what I did instead, what I had still to do, and what I achieved outside of the confines of the schedule.
Tuesday, and I just carried on with the unfinished tasks from the previous day and I neglected to make a flow chart, to time block. I worried.
Wednesday – I had a phone call with a news assistant based in Shanghai. Then, later on, I had an existential crisis. Again, I failed to make a time-blocked plan. I wondered about the need to constantly work – to be productive. I looked at all the advertisements crowding my social media, the webpages I visit, and re-embraced my deep suspicion of capitalism.
Do I really want those things? Should I work myself to the ground in order to afford these items which are so adamant about me wanting to desire to possess them? But what about my ambitions, my goals? HMMMMM.
Thursday was better. I cannot put my finger on exactly what it was, but it may have to do with the fact I was on a rather celebratory Zoom call, with heartfelt emotion connecting me with a host of humans, and it was a beloved feeling, far from the madding crowd of capitalistic greed. I also went for a jog, listening to Daft Punk (rip), feeling Alive and Discovered.
Friday, I did some work early on, then I cooked Moroccan lamb for my family, with apricots and cumin and the warming colours of North Africa displacing the gloom of British weather.
So, yeah, that was my rather unsuccessful experiment with time blocking. If you want more of my advice, I can send you a postcard.
2020: a timeline
2020 was a bit of a weird year. I might summarise what it felt like sometime. I might not. But here is a concise timeline of the year.
December 30, 2019: London Gatwick to Hong Kong.
Celebrated NYE at a houseparty then went to Central island with Masha and Katya, Wing, and met Laurie. Saw in the new year with drinks on the street.
Woke up late on Jan 1 2020, had Vietnamese lunch with Masha then we joined the crowd for the New Year’s Day demonstration. Watched Knives Out in the evening at the cinema.
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January 8: Hong Kong to Cebu City, for 3 days. Then Siargao where I was adopted by some locals and learned how to surf.
Published: The National – Growth of Haidilao feature
Read the rest of this entry »Freelance life under lockdown
I am home in the family abode in Sussex and England is under lockdown. It will end in December but, for now, most things are closed, and many are working from home.
When I left Japan, in September, and finally returned home I did not expect that the situation, in Europe and England, would get worse. But it did.
For whatever reasons [widespread mask use; good hygiene; differences in social customs], Japan never really experienced huge spikes in cases of Covid-19, despite being a densely populated archipelago of 126 million.
From March to September, of this year, a hostel in a shopping arcade in Fukuoka, the biggest city on the southern island of Kyushu, was my home. And I made it work. I would shop at my local supermarket, often venturing there late in the evening to snap up bargains. I cooked in the hostel’s kitchen. I worked in the common area. I even entertained guests (Hi Heloisa and Debs!) at my hostel, cooking for them, or just drinking away splendid evenings.
I wrote articles for the BBC in the evening, while hostel guests chatted with me, and I had to politely tell them “yeah, I’ve got to finish this” and the next day I’d wake up and the article would be published for millions to read around the world. I filed stories about China and about Japan, for the likes of Business Insider, BBC, and The National.
Anyway, all that is now in the past. Usually when I go on one of my stints of travel, I am wistful and nostalgic about them afterwards. And although I do miss aspects of living in Fukuoka (mostly these aspects are derived from the fact Fukuoka is a city of many people and I have finally realised I enjoy city life) this time, even though I am under lockdown in parochial England, living a quiet life of rural runs and PlayStation, I do not feel so nostalgic about that time. Mostly because there were periods of stress, pressure, and misery in that hostel, while pandemic lockdowns bloomed around the world.
Over the past weeks, I’ve been busy, falling into a mostly satisfying schedule of pitching, reporting and writing my freelanced articles. Very recently, however, my productivity has plummeted. And I think this is because I’ve been straining against my real inclination. Recently, I’ve wanted to concentrate on working on my own writing. My creative projects: essays, nonfiction, and fiction. That’s the stuff I’m truly passionate about.
Journalism is great and I’m so grateful that I’m still employed and earning, doing a job that is varied, interesting, and full of feedback (even if it is not the most remunerative in the world). But we all have our true obsessions and literature happens to be mine. I just couldn’t get to it as much as I could recently; I couldn’t dedicate my time and attention, my sole focus, to it; and I raged at having to finish the work I had to do, on time, and as close to the lofty standards I set myself. Perhaps it is this friction that can lead to some form of burnout.
Lockdown is boring, of course, but with these restrictions and limitations I don’t feel it’s a limitation on creativity per se. Having a sheltered time to read good books and to think about writing is ideal for me (although obviously I wish I had the option to do other things as well).
For now I can only bide my time and work on the things I care about, write the things that earn the money I need and save up for the travel that will, eventually, be open again. Patience and forbearance have always been virtues. While angst, resentment, and despair have never been very useful emotions however “appropriate” to the current situation they may be.
My writing life
It’s been some time since I last updated this blog. I just haven’t felt the need or energy to do so. I focused on paying gigs and the secret writing I do in my spare time. And the blog inevitably took a backseat.
I’ve been enjoying reading, ripping through Tolkien’s The Children of Hurin (a good yarn), finishing Rachel Cusk’s Outline (deep and precise), and enjoying Tim Marshall’s Prisoners of Geography (clear-eyed and illuminating). I’ve also been gaming a lot, completing The Last of Us Part II and starting Assassin’s Creed Odyssey. And watching a lot of movies and shows. Hashtag lockdown life.
Bylines, bylines, bylines
I was delighted to debut in my first literary journal, a piece of nonfiction for nature writing journal The Willowherb Review. I wrote about videogames, the nature within videogames, my journey from China to England (and vice versa), and traveling to the Philippines:
I spent two months while I was in Japan interviewing the right people, getting endless feedback from my editor, researching and learning about wind turbine design, the energy situation in Japan, climate change and typhoons to write this 2,000-word piece for BBC Future Planet:
The wind turbines standing up to the world’s worst storms
I also spent an ordinate amount of time researching and interviewing for this in-depth feature for Business Insider, exploring why Japan’s software industry kinda sucks:
I had fun writing about how I got hooked on Call of Duty: Mobile’s mode ‘Attack of the Undead’, while I was living in Japan, for UK publication GAMINGbible:
The Undead of ‘Call of Duty: Mobile’ Got Me Through Lockdown
The wandering writer’s life – part 756
In the late summer of 2012, I was excited and nervous about my upcoming move to Beijing. I had a flight booked for September and I was looking forward to it with trepidation & eagerness. Moving overseas felt like a major threshold, and a threshold that – until it was crossed – remained beyond direct knowledge.
At night, in my parent’s house over that summer, I had vague dreams about how my time in Beijing would unfold. But I had no real insight into the minutiae of this unfolding until I had made the journey into that great beyond.
If these sentences sound vaguely death-like, then moving to Beijing did capture a death of some kind. The passing of an old life and journeying to a new one. New beginnings, and all that. But I never would’ve countenanced that the experience of living in Beijing would be like dying over and over again.
Living in a too-small apartment was like dying. Surviving on too little income was like dying. Feeling lonely and anxious was like dying. Dreaming of succeeding and clutching tight to my ambition was, definitely, like dying. Because once I made it to the other side — moving to a bigger apartment; making more money; gaining a friendship circle; achieving some of my goals — all propelled me to a feeling I had heretofore not known: an utter aliveness.
This journey is so much about migration. How we all migrate: whether it’s from a small village to a big city (from Boscastle to Bristol, let’s say); or from a small town to the capital of China. It is a rite of passage so fundamental that it is wondrous to me that not more people take the opportunity to make such a journey.
Because to remain still, whether metaphorically or literally, is to be in stasis. Moving is the key. And it doesn’t always have to be forwards. Life may seem linear, but there are cul-de-sacs, weird ass wiggly bits, and looping circles. It doesn’t matter.
It’s now been about 18 months since I left Beijing. Since that time I’ve spent eight months at home in England, and about 10 months on the road. Looking ahead, once I’ve finally figured out what the next stage is, I have the feeling that I will come to see this time as a transition period. That this wandering writer’s life I’ve got going on feels like a meandering path, and doesn’t seem in itself like a definite life-stage, is curious. And I won’t draw any conclusions for now.
What is interesting is that I’ve gotten quite good at it. I have now been in Japan since March and I have not only survived but prospered. I’ve done pretty well at landing commissions to do with my host country (and Japan seems like a veritable bounty in terms of story ideas) but I also see how I can improve my freelancing processes. And all this is underpinned by the fact I’ve had to stay put for several months.
Two roads clearly diverged. (Because pandemic.) I was only supposed to stay in Fukuoka for 10 days before flying out to Kuala Lumpur, where I would’ve stayed for a week or two, before flying to Bali. Covid-19 put paid to all that and Japan has been my home since.
And so the meandering path has deposited me here and all I can see are circles ahead and not straightforward roads. But this is how, perhaps, I wanted it to be – secretly, wishfully – all those moons ago.
Five Years As A Full-Time Freelance Journalist
It’s been over five years since I went full-time freelance, with many tales of woe and wonder accrued, and it was in Beijing, that city of crushing concrete and flickering dreams, where I, an ambitious migrant, learned the ways of this marginal life.
I wanted to draw attention to some of my most memorable and notable articles I worked on over that duration. It has been a journey of near financial ruin, some wonderful highs, truly terrible lows, and an endless procession of images that are so dense and numerous that they don’t stand out easily in my mind, something I consider somewhat of a curse.
Freelance journalism is no kind of career and I do not advise you, dear reader, to enter this occupation. It is badly paid, demands much of you, and the glory of it is a bright mirror made of silver ghosts. They will haunt you, those glories, because they are so elusive and whispering. If you want to do something truly fulfilling, be a doctor, a teacher, a nurse, a public servant without vice and ambition.
(I’m serious about this. If you deeply care about social issues get into public policy, activism or just become seriously rich while pledging part of your income to charity. If you really want to make a difference don’t sit on the fence like a journalist — get into politics. If you want to be truly creative, start writing fiction. If you like celebrity, start TikTok-ing.)
Don’t follow in my footsteps. Don’t get sucked into this vortex of monetary oblivion. Live a wholesome life with regular hours, great benefits, and free coffee. Build up your days with a succession of normal events and normal milestones, properly celebrated and fondly reminisced. If, however, you do decide to plunge in here’s what you might expect.
The time I went to North Korea as an undercover journalist
Aljazeera, Is North Korea on your tourism bucket list?
Although this happened in 2014, I wanted to highlight it because it remains one of the boldest things I’ve done. I decided I wanted to go to North Korea. In a lane off a small street, in downtown Beijing, there exists the offices of the oldest established North Korea tour operator, founded by a Briton no less. In that building is where I laid out my idea, to their general manager, about what I wanted to do, and where we negotiated how I would proceed. Tourism was a growing phenomenon and I thought I would write about it.
The Kims and I, in Pyongyang.
What better way than to “smuggle” myself onto a tour? The investment was high. The tour cost a lot of money, more than I had ever spent. It was eight days, traveling all around North Korea, all inclusive. But I had told zero editors I was going there. Didn’t know who I would pitch the story to afterwards.
While I was there I took a copious amount of notes, which lie in a Moleskine in a drawer in England, and hundreds of photos and dozens of videos. I used a Canon S120, a digital compact camera, and an Olympus Mju-II, a film camera I’d picked up in Beijing. Those Canon S120 photos would eventually be sold to various publications and helped to recoup the money I’d sunk and more.
In hindsight, I could’ve negotiated for more money for the first feature that came out of that trip. I was young and did not realise how much the story was worth. I should’ve asked for more. But back then, $450 for a feature and $450 for a photo gallery seemed a lot to me. It was worth more than that though. Sigh. But, like I said, I eventually recouped my money, plus more, and magazines such as Marie Claire would pay well for the photos. Also, I went to North Korea. As a journalist. So, I’ll always have that.
The time I told everyone that I got a 2:2 degree in journalism
The Guardian, Feeling depressed about your 2:2 degree? Get over it, employers have
I read multimedia journalism at Bournemouth University, earning a B.A. In the UK, a bachelors usually takes three years and you get a final grade for your degree. A First is the highest award and quite hard to get. Most people get a 2:1 and it’s respectable. What most students do not want to get is a 2:2, known colloquially as a “Desmond” (after Desmond Tutu). But that’s what I got.
I always found it ironic though that I was telling everyone I got a 2:2 in journalism, in The Guardian, a publication most student journalists would kill to get a byline in. C’est la vie.
The time I failed at being a travelling journalist in Burma
Watching the sunrise getting messed up by balloons in Bagan, Burma.
CNN Travel, Myanmar monks feel the pressure of tourism
In the winter of 2015, I attempted an experiment at traveling while also doing journalism. It was a precursor to what I do now, which is basically travel the world writing articles. But I was not good at it then. (I am still not sure if I am good at it now.) And I spent three weeks in Myanmar travelling, and mostly failing at finding stories except this one travel story I wrote. But it remains one of my favourite published pieces.
Retreating into smaller comforts
In the month of February, I spent too much money, and made it worse by not doing any work. I spent a full 30 days in Thailand (I arrived in January) and ate, drank, and indulged. It was enjoyable. But now, in April, I am paying the cost. I’m stuck in Japan, living in a hostel, and as I write this I am in arrears.
So, I’ve drastically reduced spending and have been budgeting hard. I’ve been spending £25 or less per day, including my accommodation costs, which is not bad for Japan. I’ve also enjoyed these quieter days and I have enjoyed working more. Every day I’ve been pitching more and working hard on commissions. I need to earn that cash and the side effect has been a leaning-in to the work, which I’ve embraced, gotten into a routine, and enjoyed the process.
Meanwhile, I’ve also been watching a lot of Netflix and listening to music. I am reading less, but writing more, which is how it should be. Consuming less of other people’s words and creating more of my own. I’ve been working on an essay, a piece of short fiction, a couple of commissioned news features. It’s weird because I am averaging a huge six or seven hours of screentime per day. But it’s because my iPad Mini — one of my best purchases ever — is my entertainment centre as well as a capable computer. In fact, sometimes I prefer working on my iPad (using it with a Logitech Bluetooth keyboard) over my laptop, although for serious writing and editing the laptop still reigns supreme.
My days look like this: getting up around noon, coffee, laptop. Work until around 4pm, eat brunch. Have dinner around 8 or 9pm. Yes, it’s not very healthy. But it has felt good, if sometimes stressful. I’ve been getting by on one or two meals a day. I’ve lost weight. But I feel more focused than I have for some time. It feels like I’m trimming off the fat and regaining focus.
These quieter days, with less busyness, have inspired a quietness within me too. What were we all so busy for anyway? I mean, really. What was it all for? Consumerism encourages you to spend beyond your means, to buy things you don’t need. During these pandemic times, do you really need that Gucci bag, that expensive watch, the latest gadget? The people who have the most have the most to lose. But there is a joy in appreciating the things that cannot be so easily bought. Having a Zoom pub quiz with some of my oldest friends, over three different time zones. Daily calls with K. Enjoying the fact I have writing as my job, passion, and money maker.
We have been spoiled. As an expat in Beijing, I would eat out all the time. Partly out of necessity (I did not cook often and eating out is cheap in China) and partly for enjoyment. Socialising with friends on the weekend and we’d go to restaurants and bars. Our parents would not have dreamed of such luxury, especially on such a frequent basis. What I miss though are not the luxuries. One of the memories I’ve been feasting on is when I was in Chiang Mai, in February, walking alone around a square filled with tables, people, and the conviviality of early evening. I wandered around looking for something to eat and found a stall and ordered off of their limited but specialised menu. It was northern Thai cuisine and I ordered a dish of liver with rice. It arrived after a while, while I checked out everyone, people watching. The liver was tender, the spicing delicious, and the rice gave the soft background the dish needed. It didn’t cost the earth, but my memory lingers over that dish (my mouth is watering as I write this!) — it is not just the food, but the feeling of pure freedom that accrues in retrospect. The freedom was the ultimate luxury. The memory of it a moveable feast.
Lately, I’ve survived on sweet potatoes (nourishing, nutritious, feel-good food) and I have been cooking more. Egg-fried rice, cup noodles, these cheap fairy cakes that offer great calorie-to-yen value. But I also cooked fish. Splashed on pineapple. And lately, I have bought beef. I season the beef well, heat the pan with a generous amount of oil. I whisk a couple of eggs in a bowl. I place the beef into the hot oil, to sizzle the outside on both sides, and then put the beef into the eggs. I make sure the beef is properly drenched in the egg, covered with its yellowy goodness, then finish off the beef in the pan, and put the eggs in with them, and scramble those eggs with the beef. I serve my steak and eggs, and reader, it tastes fantastic. Simple, pleasurable, joyful. Each mouthful a world of savouriness.
The Wandering Freelance Journalist In A Pandemic: Stuck in Japan and Staying Productive
Hi reader,
I write you from a hostel in Fukuoka, Japan. I have been here a few weeks. Same hostel, same city. Fukuoka is in Kyushu, the southernmost island of Japan’s five main islands.
Since I arrived, I have seen borders close and citizens in cities around the world stuck indoors. We are living through a pandemic, which is defined as the worldwide spread of a new disease. Pubs and schools are closed in the United Kingdom, something that seemed unthinkable. Wuhan, the origin point of the virus, a city of 10 million, was placed under strict lockdown. America and Germany saw infections balloon. France, Italy and Spain have borne the brunt of fatalities. Boris Johnson, Prime Minister of the UK, whom I interviewed 10 years ago when he was mayor of London, is in intensive care.
And me? How has it affected my freelance career; my wandering life?
I am fortunate that Japan has a relatively low number of cases. Although a state of emergency has been declared by PM Shinzo Abe, the government here is unable to enforce strict lockdowns due to civil rights abuses during World War Two, and protection of such rights was enshrined in the post-war constitution. Museums, art galleries, schools are closed, but many shops and restaurants remain open here in Fukuoka.
Freelance copywriting work from China has dried up, as many agencies have been affected by clients scaling back their budgets. Many journalism publications, meanwhile, have been under huge pressure to keep up with Coronavirus-related content.
I was supposed to have left Japan, flying from Fukuoka’s airport, on March 23 but my flight was cancelled (still waiting on that refund, Air Asia!). I am glad it was cancelled anyway as my next destination was Kuala Lumpur but the Malay government is not accepting foreign entrants at this time.
I have friends who are currently stuck in Tokyo. After being forced to delay their return to Beijing, where they live, they took refuge in Singapore but had to leave due to finishing visas, but as soon as they left the Singaporean government closed their borders. Now they’re in limbo, with their stuff scattered across two countries. My family in England meanwhile are all at home: with shops and schools closed.
A novelist friend of mine has had her book marketing tour cancelled. Many of my acquaintances and journalist colleagues describe hellish working conditions, as they bury themselves in a deluge of coronavirus reports, or their commissions have all but dried up. A fellow wandering journalist, who had lined up reporting assignments all over India got stuck in Goa, India, but took a hail-mary flight back to London via Rome. Travel journalists, meanwhile, seem the most severely affected. Thankfully no one I know has been terribly affected by the virus, health-wise (touch wood).
Japan
So this is my first time in Japan. I lived in Beijing for six years, but funnily enough I never made it to the Land of the Rising Sun. I always thought it was too expensive, and my suspicions have been confirmed. Truthfully though, Fukuoka at least is not awful in terms of costs. Accommodation and food prices are not as cheap as I’d like but it’s certainly not as costly as, say, the UK.
Everything here is neat, tidy, extremely safe and well organised. But honestly I am not one of these people who are obsessed with Japan, some of whom I have met in my hostel. I’ve never been a Japanophile although it’s always interesting to visit a new country and I was genuinely curious about what this east Asian country would be like. I always find it interesting to compare/contrast China with its historical rivals.
An island in Japan. (All photos copyright: LHL 2020)
But Japan doesn’t reach into my soul like places in other parts of Asia do. The symbols and motifs of Nepal; the distinctive light of Burma; the colours of Thailand; and the sultry food of Malaysia and Singapore all sing to me. The “exotic” aspects of southeast Asia speak to my heart.
However, highlights so far have been going to a random restaurant and having my opinion of tempura completely changed. Consuming a superlative bowl of ramen (which cost £7). Visiting an island and meeting an interesting Australian guy and his wife. Seeing the Sakura bloom — I really didn’t expect them to be as splendid as they are.
I know I should visit Kyoto and Nara, and I will at some point, but I think I prefer to save my money for future travels. Tokyo is also on my wish-list but the museums and art galleries there are closed. Getting around Japan is expensive.
My writing life
While I have been in Fukuoka, I have filed one article, a feature for BBC Worklife. I finished it during an evening in my hostel, while an Australian guy chatted to me about heeding his government’s call for Aussies to return home, and the next day it was published. That article, I’ve been told, has received over 300,000 clicks.
Recent bylines:
How Viruses Spread in Offices – BBC Worklife
How Covid-19 led to a nationwide work-from-home experiment – BBC Worklife
I’ve started work on an essay for which I was contractually commissioned by a literary journal. It has a very long lead-in time (deadline is months away) so I am enjoying this, and I
am excited to write this essay as it marks a first for me.
This week I will work hard on pitching. I worked out I am living on around £25 per day, so I need to file a certain amount of articles per month to keep this show on the road. And I hope the roads will open up soon.
I have seen many writers and freelancers complain of being unable to work and be productive while this pandemic is in swing, but I have found it a clarifying force. I cannot control borders and government ministers and the movement of viruses so I don’t think about them. But I can control my routine. I can control my schedule. I am lucky that I am still able to go outside and wander the parks so I make the most of that. I have a friend here in Fukuoka so we hang out.
Still, I waste a lot of time watching Netflix and bouncing around the various social media. But one doesn’t need to be too hard on oneself. A few days I just spent lounging: reading and Netflix-ing. Watching Snowpiercer and re-watching The Godfather; Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Finishing a novel, All That Man Is by David Szalay. Downloading a game, Forgotton Anne (that’s not a typo), on to my iPad. Sometimes you just gotta settle into a simpler rhythm and enjoy the things you have.
Lu-Hai Liang 