On Writing: Do More Hours Equal Better Writing?

BartlebyThe Economist’s new column about the workplace, had this to say about the way we equate success and long working hours:

If long hours were the key to success, after all, people who hold down two jobs, or nurses on the night shift in emergency rooms, would be rolling in wealth. Ronald Reagan became president despite quipping that “I’ve heard that hard work never killed anyone, but I say why take the chance?”

As with so many things, there’s a double standard about behavior and class. Work 90 hours a week as a maid? How sad. Work the same hours as a C.E.O.? How badass.

But what about creatives? I work in the advertising-public relations-marketing-industrial-complex, where the hours tend to be, shall we say, long. There’s a kind of status or protection that comes from being the most overworked and therefore the most miserable out of any group of people. Sometimes I’ve been that person. Sometimes I’ve given props to that person. And sometimes I’ve pitied that person and been glad it wasn’t me.

Whenever I’m at the office at some unholy hour, I can assure you it’s never by choice. Sometimes the hours are long because that’s just what it takes to get the job done. I’m not complaining about that. Walk through the door of an ad agency and that’s what you are signing up for. Plus, being forced to push yourself beyond what you think your limits are can be invigorating.

Up to a point.

But when does the work start to suffer? Writing and coming up with ideas is like dancing. You can only do it for so long before it starts to get clumsy and unattractive.

There are writers who say they need a certain amount of time to get into an enchanted space, where they are capable of imagining things more vividly. I don’t doubt this. And it’s true, the longer I am allowed to be in a state of flow, the more the ideas and words flow.

Up to a point.

If I were to spend 90 hours a week typing, I’d go crazy and my clients would fire me, because the words would be gibberish. There’s a point at which sheer volume of output has to be balanced against their quality, not to mention quality of life for the worker. This is where the American way of work, which assumes that sheer effort is both virtuous and the way out of every problem, collides with the reality of skilled labor. The challenge, I suppose, is knowing where to draw the line, in itself a kind of intuitive dance.

How do you strike that balance? Intuition? An app on your phone? A spouse or friend who keeps you balanced?