writing

Redwork, Bluework, Writework, Youwork

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

There are many parts of writing, but I recently discovered a new way to look at them: Redwork and Bluework.

In his book Leadership is Language, L. David Marquet discusses the role of language, leading, and modern work. The book is worth reading on many levels, but one of his concepts is useful for writers; that there are two kinds of work. They are as follows:

  • Redwork: Redwork is by the clock, solid product, often rote work, getting something done. It despises variability and thrives on efficiency and regularity.
  • Bluework: Bluework is thinking, analyzing, adapting. It is all about variability, analysis, and is outside the clock.

Marquet takes an Agile-like approach in leadership, and much like Agile, he notes there’s a time to think (Blue) and a time to work the clock (Red). You have to take time to go off the clock to think, analyze, and imagine. You have to take time to work, get something done, stick to standards and checklists. Juggling these so they work together is vital to being effective – and avoid making mistakes.

I looked at this division and realized it also applies to writing.

There is a time to dream, imagine, plot out – Bluework. There is a time to write and check grammar and hit your checklists – Redwork. Writing is not all about imagination; it’s about getting creativity to produce a product. Sometimes you dream, sometimes you churn out words.

As I contemplated this, I realized this Red/Blue division is something more writers need, including myself. Writing is not some seamless continuity of creativity but is different kinds of activities coming together. If we do not see these differences, then we miss when we’re ready for Redwork, when we’re ready for Bluework, and when we need to stop one kind and switch to others.

I find this best illustrated from an example in the book; prepare the pause. Similar to an Agile retrospective, the idea is that during Redwork you “bake in” a time to review and evaluate. In Redwork, you don’t want to switch to imagination because it will distract you – but you need to in order to assess results. So you decide you’ll pause and reflect, be it every hour or every week, and so on.

In writing, imagine you set a time to review your work every 5,000 words, and you will set aside time for that. You don’t evaluate productivity by word count during that time, but you have up to two hours to make notes for revision. You stop Redwork and go into Bluework, reading, jotting notes, etc.

Then it’s back to Redwork, and the cycle begins again.

I think many (but not all) good writers do this pause unconsciously, but Marquet’s model gives us a new model to look at it. With new names – Redwork and Bluework – we have a new viewpoint to improve our breaks and evaluations.

I’d go into more detail, but I’ll leave this useful concept here and recommend Marquet’s book. Though it focuses on Leadership, a lone writer is leading themselves, and I’m sure we’d like to be better at guiding our writing. It’s also a reminder that writing is improved by looking at other skills and forms of productivity.

Which of course is a kind of Bluework . . . see what I mean?

Steven Savage

Textured Thoughts In Text

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

Gods I needed to see this article – Late-Stage Pandemic Is Messing With Your Brain. I feel so close to this author I never met, and far less alone.

This article is about what we’re experiencing during the pandemic and why. It’s filled with all-to-familiar descriptions of things we’re all dealing with. Such as:

. . . I feel like I have spent the past year being pushed through a pasta extruder. I wake up groggy and spend every day moving from the couch to the dining-room table to the bed and back. At some point night falls, and at some point after that I close work-related browser windows and open leisure-related ones.

These are words with texture. Though the article lists of science facts and quotes from experts, but these words remind you someone else out there is like you. It’s great to know why but this article also says yes, I am there as well.

We need articles and writing like this.

Earlier I noted I had gone from “please no Pandemic writing” to “let’s write about it.” This article is a grand example why, not just for the facts, but for the feelings. Facts explain, but feelings help us understand. Those personal words, those tar-sticky sentences that attach to our minds, create connection.

This is why even in an area that may be oversaturated – like the inevitable writing about the Pandemic – it is valuable to write and write well. Those deep connections you make with your textured words, those gritty little sentences, help people “get it.” They may “get” a scientific truth or just why you’re complaining, but they “get it” and take something away from the experience of reading.

Writing and writing well will connect you to people, even over things that may seem banal. So keep writing, as we all need that connection. If anything in these lonely times, we’re reminded of how even text from a stranger helps us feel understood and seen and be part of something.

Steven Savage

Actually, Let’s Write About The Pandemic

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

I’ve been dreading that we’ll see an onslaught of “Pandemic tales” in the realm of books. Fictions with familiar plagues, quick books offering useless advice, and so on. I’m obviously and worried we’d see too many people jumping on the plague train.

I’d now like to take that back.

First, I want to take that back in that my assumptions were very negative. There are doubtlessly many people who will write about the Pandemic for good reasons. I focused too much on the negative reasons people might write on it, which was out of line.

My second reason is that I’ve come to realize that we need to look at the Pandemic in fiction, advice books, and memoirs. We need this so we can process the experience.

The Pandemic is overwhelming. Even those of us thinking we’re handling it are not functioning at 100%. Even after the Pandemic, we’ll need to understand our experience and that of others. The written word is a way to do that.

Fiction lets us understand experiences from a safe distance and even a different perspective.

Nonfiction lets us analyze and evaluate data and analysis.

Memoirs let us step into the place of another and see their experience.

Each written work is a gateway into another way to see what we went through.

Writing is a way for us to handle, understand, and share what we’ve gone through. Sure there will be bad work, exploitative work, and so on – but isn’t that happening anyway? I shouldn’t judge the Pandemic by the standards of what goes on anyway.

However, there’s a second reason I realized we should be fine with “Pandemic writing.” Some of us who write may need to write it. We want to get out our feelings, or our inspirations, or record our experiences. We as writers may need to write these books that will come.

Our muse is going to drive us to write these books, so why not? Hell, I’m even considering one at this point (from my unique approach, of course).

So, I take back anything I said about “oh, gods, not an onslaught of Pandemic books.” Writing is how we deal with, learn, understand, and experience things. The Pandemic is appropriate material.

(Besides, we can criticize lousy or opportunistic work no matter how it came to be.)

Steven Savage