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Are you sure you can't start work on that writing job?

This article isn't about writing for the web. It's about a little productivity issue that can trip us up when working on any writing task.

Come to think about it, it may well apply to a lot of other professions as well. But let's stick to writing.

Here's my own experience of how I sometime sabotage my own attempts to get a task completed.

I'll be briefed on a particular task. It could be a web page that needs writing, a series of emails, or an e-newsletter.

I gather together all the information I need in order to get started.

But sometimes there's some information missing.

Maybe a small part of the brief is missing. Or an emailed question remains unanswered.

The missing element can be quite small, but the effect its absence has on me can be quite large.

Here's what happens. I stall. I come to a halt. The dumb part of my brain says, "Hey, we can't start on that project because we're still missing an important piece of information."

Naturally, I believe the dumb part of my brain.

Then I start to get stressed and slightly annoyed. I had planned to do that job today, and if I have to do it tomorrow it will mess up my schedule for the rest of the week.

So now I'm feeling a little stressed, a little annoyed and a little distracted.

Clearly, this is not a good thing.

And the dumb part of my brain is not correct in telling me I can't get started. I can.

I can do all the research on the job. I can start taking notes. I can add the client/job/date/draft# header information on the Word documents I'll be opening for the copy.

And depending on the nature of the missing information, I can start writing a first draft of various elements on the page or the email.

So what's going on here?

It's probably a stubborn streak in me. Or copywriter's vanity. Or just plain ego.

I LIKE to get all the information in hand before I start on a job. I like to know I am working with people who provide me with everything I need.

But that shouldn't mean that I become inflexible.

And it certainly doesn't mean I should shoot myself in the foot.

What have I learned from this flaw in my professional character?

I have learned to recognize the voice of the dumb part in my brain. Now, when I hear it, I pause. And I ask myself whether I should take any notice of what it says.

Usually, I shouldn't.