Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

I spent so much time and effort working on this blog that I forgot that consistency mattered over immediate output. I was burnt out because I put a lot of effort writing and making changes on this website that it stopped being fun or interesting. I now understand how to turn things around.

Burnout

This blog post is a departure from my usual content – it’s deeply personal. I want to share the story of creating this website and the unexpected burnout it brought.

As I write this in early March, writing is ingrained in my daily rhythm. Mornings begin with journaling, afternoons for writing and editing essays on this website, and evenings are for crafting fiction. These sessions aren’t long, but they motivate me, inspire me to work harder. They help me structure my day and organize my thoughts.

Except for the last week. My mind has been utterly fried, “knackered” as the Brits would say. The essays you’ve been reading are a compilation of work done over the past two years: some from my work blog, some from an engineering journal, and others shared with friends for feedback. Some essays I took transcripts of my presentations, and reorganized. The “hobbies and how they make my job better” series originated as pep talks I gave at Hack Diversity for interns feeling out of place in the tech world. They worried about not having tech-related hobbies. My 30-minute presentations showcased my diverse hobbies and their impact on my work. My goal was to reframe software from an arcane skillset to a problem-solving tool, putting the new entrants at ease.

All those essays collected over several years have been re-written fresh in the last month. For the past month, I have dedicated 3-4 hours daily to this website, and I’m still only 60% through the initial plan. This relentless work has taken an emotional toll. The past week, the mere thought of opening my laptop and writing, editing, with no clear finish line, has filled me with dread.

Looking back, I see what went wrong. First, I procrastinated on the “hardest” parts, leaving them for when I was already weary. This approach certainly didn’t motivate me to finish. Second, I aimed for a single, monolithic launch – a foolish ambition. I should have started small, launched in stages, and gradually added content. A friend’s suggestion of a “minimally lovable product” (MLP) – a basic website version – was such an interesting approach and made me understand the importance of scope limitation for initial releases. My planning was flawed too, I crammed too much work into a month, hoping unrealistic expectations would drive productivity. They did, but at the cost of burnout. There were two ways to handle this healthily:

1. Acknowledge reaching a respectable output, fulfilling my initial goal of self-tricked productivity.
2. Reset the plan when it became physically demanding.

Neither happened. This was my first major writing project, and it offered important lessons about my capacity and limitations. Moving forward with this website, I’ll keep these lessons close.

There’s a book I cherish, “No Plot? No Problem!” by Chris Baty. It offers excellent advice on sustaining month-long projects like this one, including the reminder to be extra kind to yourself in the latter stages, when burnout and abandonment loom. I failed to connect the dots – the advice for novelists writing a quick novel would be equally applicable for someone revamping their personal website.

Well, the month-long struggle is finally over. I’m publishing all these essays in a few days, relieved to be over the hump. I’m genuinely excited about the upcoming work and writing consistently on this blog again. The plan is to publish an essay every two weeks, but we’ll see how that unfolds. Wish me luck!

Royalty-free stock image above from Pexels.