zen and the art of slacking off substack

7 easy steps to make your summer hiatus as productively lazy as possible

Step One: Start by slacking off slowly.

You can accomplish this by totting up the work you normally do and simply do less of it. For instance, by setting self-imposed deadlines then listening to the soft whistling sound as they sail past, after which sit quietly and notice what happens.

The answer is simple: Nothing.

If you have promised your readers certain regular features on your ‘About’ page — conveniently forget them. Remember not to put reminders in your calendar. Turn off all alerts. If people message to ask where you’ve gone, ignore them, then stop checking messages.

Wasting time is not a religion, it’s a way of life and a practice. True slackers know this instinctively. To break the habit of writing, scroll Instagram or, if you have savings, buy things you don’t need on Etsy or Vinted. These algorithms will help your mind to become slacker, emptier of substance. The idea is to work toward the goal of not having a goal. To free yourself completely from any attachment to thoughts, ideas, productivity and/or focus.

I’m not joking.

If you are lucky to be an inconsistent, disorganised and distractible person (like me) this initial step will be easy. However, if you are in the habit of posting regularly and consistently and engaging with readers and positively amplifying the work of other Substackers in the hope of expanding your network and growing your audience, you will struggle and likely suffer in the short term. Learn to sit in your suffering instead of overreacting to it. Break free of your self imposed shackles of obligation and empty achievement. In this way you will eventually learn the true art of slacking in all its calm wonder.

Step Two: Stick with it.

Here’s a pro slacker’s tip: When you feel that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach and a panicked voice in your head says, Oh god, I really ought to post something this week, instead of cobbling together some half-baked idea and blurting it into the world for an empty dopamine hit, do not feed the beast. Do not check the numbers. Instead, observe your anxiety feeling. Sit with it. Be still. Understand that you are not your thoughts or your feelings and because of this, you do not need to act on or be controlled by them. When in doubt, masturbate.

Step Three: Slack off preparing your audience.

Do not make a big announcement. Don’t complain, explain or apologise. Do not suspend paid subscriptions or write a post about the value of rest and relaxation and connection with friends and family over the holidays or the dangers of burn out. Instead just… go limp.

Here’s what you’ll notice: No one cares!

Yes, you really can just slip out off the platform any time you want, like doing a French goodbye at one a.m. at a publishing party full of blotto self-obsessed writers. And what’s more you can return and most people will have barely noticed you left. Consider the fact that especially in summer, the vast majority of people reading and writing on here at any given time are either too drunk, high on amphetamines, mushrooms and/or or (more likely) the ecstasy of their new found sobriety to notice you’d gone. Plus the host is so busy being rich and innovative he definitely doesn’t care or know who you are if he ever did.

Use the general self-absorption of Substack to your advantage. Repeat after me: I am irrelevant and irrelevance is super relaxing. Remember this and make it your mantra.

Step Four: Deepen your purposelessness.

Now this is really getting to the heart of it of what it means to effectively slack off. Doing nothing means doing nothing except occasionally what you want to do, so long as it’s fun and requires minimal energy.

In my native culture (small town Canadian hick) our term for this historied and sacred summer pursuit is ‘fucking the dog.’ The etymology of this phrase remains a mystery but it’s not impossible my Scott’s Irish ancestors to Quebec (and later Ontario) engaged in it as a literal pass time during those first long black-fly-ridden pioneer summer evenings. Anyway, let’s not think about that.

Now obviously we have barbecues, beer YouTube! We can the dog figuratively in so many ways that don’t involve bestiality. Let the present unfold and be grateful.

Step Five: Slack off with intention.

Being directionless requires surprising amount of purpose. If you absolutely must do something, here are some suggestions: Take a nap. Read a book. Go for a walk. Paint a wall. Play banjo. Learn a card trick. Have sex with a stranger. Get lost in a forest and die of dehydration.

If you are one of the diligent consistent types who found Step One difficult, you could even make some real money doing real work, although technically this is cheating and kind of invalidates the purpose of the slacking. However, because I don’t read your Substack, or care about you, I’ll give you a pass out of sheer lack of empathy and indifference.

Step Six: Stick with it.

If you are a retired management consultant with a Substack devoted to investment tips, you will probably find slackness very difficult to sustain for longer than a normal office holiday period (say two weeks max). But if you want to truly excel in the art of slacking on Substack, persistence is essential. The good news is, if you are a real writer, i.e. a person like me who writes about whatever I feel like, with no real purpose, niche, focus or direction — you will find slacking off surprisingly easy. For me, after the initial withdrawal, slacking feels as natural as breathing. Not writing is part of the writing process.

This is because all true writers are fundamentally lazy. If we weren’t we wouldn’t have chosen to devote our lives to a vocation that requires at best four to five hours of focussed work per day and can be performed at home in sweatpants.

Step Seven: There isn’t one.

It just sounded better than “six” in the headline. If you think of one let me know in the comments.