Spreadsheets: soulless, restrictive, dead-eyed little bastards, aren’t they? The anti-thesis of the creative impulse. All those little boxes, marching in their ordered rows and columns. Following rules, like suckers. I know some writers who won’t even go near one for fear it will steal their creativity like cameras used to steal souls.
Well, confession time: I use one. For writing. Actually, I use several, because each project has its own spreadsheet when it’s in the rewrite phase, but I use an everyday one. For all my writing.
For a creative person, that somehow feels like confessing to downloading Roomba porn.*
But I am very fond of my spreadsheet, and I’m not ashamed. All it does is this: keeps track of projects, due dates, total word count, projected word count, and how much I wrote in a particular day. And organize them in a neat, easy to read format. With colour-coding and stuff.
So why have I crossed over to the dark side** and started using something perfected by accountants? I could go on about organizing and chaos from order and all that, but it really comes down to one thing:
It makes me accountable.
With one glance, I can see how I did this week, this month, this quarter. Did I slack off? Did I knock it out of the park? Did I have a run of bad days that I later made up for? And how are those deadlines working out? Am I making them with time to spare, or is everything a last-minute rush? Can I do better? Can I take on another project without going mad?*** Have I been working, or have I just been going through the motions?
The spreadsheet is a way to cut through the excuses. If I look at it and see a bunch of yellow squares—the code for a missed day of writing—then I know I need to fix something. Maybe I need to work harder, or maybe I need to set that project aside until it’s ready. But something is amiss.
Besides, nothing is more irritating than having to go into that spreadsheet at the end of the day and mark something yellow. I use yellow for the missed day because it’s the colour of cowardice. And making that little click to shift the colour…it’s like admitting defeat. There’s a lot of stuff I’d rather do. Write, for one.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m behind in my word count for the day. And I am not getting a fucking yellow square this week.
*At this point, I just assume that there’s porn of everything on the internet. Rule 34, yo.
**In creativity, I mean. Let’s face it, if the Force was a real thing, I’d end up a Sith. I wouldn’t try it, but it would happen. No little green hermit is going to convince me not to get pissed off.
***Madder. Which is also a paint pigment.