Dot Journal Monthly Futures; Or, Do I Fire the Sobering Bastard?

John Carr Walker Sitting In His Little Room No. 134

As I write this, one university I work for has wrapped its last week, and the other university just finished its senior capstone projects day, and my semester’s heavy teaching load is about to get a lot lighter. Weightless, in fact. Come the morning of May 12, I’ll be free from all professional obligation—grades turned in, assessments submitted, graduations attended—with a few months of writing and reading time ahead of me. The last day has been mapped out in my pared-down, all-business-all-the-time Dot Journal for weeks now. I felt it getting nearer every time I crossed another task of the list.

I’ve written about my Dot Journal Method a few times this year. In this John Carr Walker Sitting In His Little Room, I want to think through the system’s perks and faults, and decide, during a stretch of time that I anticipate being relatively free, if continuing my Dot Journal will be a help or a hinderance.

A quick primer on the Dot Journal Method I’ve been using. It has two moving parts. The Ideas Spread covers three months, and captures things I might do, want to do, or dream about doing. The Monthly Spread breaks each month into weekly blocks I use to schedule what I need to do, am going to do, or have done. That’s it. Three months in four spreads, eight pages.

My friend Kristen recently adopted this system in her own work. She described her initial takeaway as “revealing.” Specifically, it revealed her plans and timelines were unrealistic. During our conversation, I suggested the system be named The Sobering Bastard Dot Journal Method, and since that really rolls off the tongue, you know, TRADEMARK. In all seriousness, I found the same thing Kristen found: The Sobering Bastard Dot Journal System is very good at sorting priorities and whittling a project to shape, but far less good at letting a project progress organically, through processes of exploration and discovery. Which brings me back to the real topic at hand: what do I want to do this summer? Do I want to advance a project that’s already underway, or do I want to incubate a new project? Will a Sobering Bastard looking over my shoulder lead to a sense of accomplishment or frustration? Advance a project or squash it?

The really Sobering part of this Bastard is the Monthly Spread. Filling the weeks with tasks to be done, or goals to be met, makes you think hard about how you’re going to finish. For now, because I’ve got a bit of time before I have to commit monthly spreads to paper, I’m going to focus on the Ideas Spread, which is neither sobering nor a bastard. In fact, the Ideas Spread is designed with these sorts of creativity-meets-possibility questions in mind. It makes you think about what you want to do in the time available.

I began by writing down the project that’s at the front of my mind, one I’ve been waiting to work on again till my time opened up, a novel(la) draft that needs another pass. I last worked on this in November and December of 2024. Six months seems about the right amount of time to let the work cool. I’m confident I’ll have fresh enough eyes that I will spot gaps in story and character while being able to focus the prose. I also know, by dint of experience, that I can manage about four-to-eight weeks of work on this project. Shorter would create an unproductive squeeze, forcing me to move too quickly, putting my attention on the deadline instead of the work. Longer and I will get bored, antsy, and unproductive, if not destructive. Finishing a novel(la) draft isn’t worth hating everyone and everything.

Working on the novel(la) draft makes sense from a practical standpoint as well. Of all the “new work” still being drafted, still finding itself, this one is farthest along. It’s next in the queue, so to speak, to becoming a manuscript ready for feedback. And yet, right below its entry on my Ideas Spread, I wrote “new short stories—notebook and fountain pens—coffeeshops.” Which sounds really nice.

Listen, I love my little room, and I’m grateful to have this space to work, and shelve my books, and cocoon myself from an increasingly burning world. I’ve also been working in here, every morning, for about sixteen months. The work has been mostly on computers, whether revising stories, prepping for classes, or writing essays like the one you’re reading now. (Hey, friend, like and subscribe, won’t you?) I’ve not yet indulged the many coffeeshops and cafes in my neighborhood as creative spaces, as little rooms away from the little room, and I can’t remember the last time I wrote something new, longhand, in a bound paper notebook. I think I want to do that, all of that, sooner rather than later. Which means I have no need for the Sobering Bastard. In fact, the Sobering Bastard would only choke the pleasure from the process.

Then again, the Sobering Bastard would be a great help in drafting the novel(la). In fact, the Sobering Bastard was born to help advance a project from one stage to the next. If I’m going to work on the novel(la) at any point this summer, I’ll need the Sobering Bastard.

Basically, I have a pretty good idea what I want to do this summer, but I’m not sure yet how I’m going to do it. It feels strange to picture myself with time on my hands, sort of risky, jinx-able. But that’s the great thing about the Ideas Spread: putting things down without the pressures or confines of a schedule means you start to spot your own desires, hopes, possibilities. From there, you can start to set priorities, but I’m not ready to do that yet. I suppose that’s why I like the Sobering Bastard. When I call he always answers.