The Chain That Sets You Free
Defeating Academic Procrastination One Day at a Time
I should have written this sooner.
Instead, I procrastinated. I put it off for another day, told myself it wasn’t ready yet, determined that I needed to conduct more research. Procrastination—that persistent academic shadow—has been my longtime companion, a familiar dance partner that appears just when I think I’ve finally gained control of my momentum.
Perhaps you know this feeling intimately.
You meticulously draft a list of research goals, scholarly objectives, and publication targets. Yet, as the day dissolves into evening, very little has been accomplished. You check Instagram, BlueSky, the New York Times Wordle of the day.
Yet, that manuscript sits untouched. That grant proposal remains a skeletal outline. Another day skipping research and writing won’t hurt, right?
You even postpone smaller tasks: deleting unnecessary emails, returning colleague messages, organizing your research files, putting away the clean laundry.
Why does this happen!?
Why do brilliant academics—passionate about their work, committed to intellectual discovery—consistently sabotage their own progress? I am on a mission to understand this peculiar academic phenomenon.
My goal is not just to identify why we procrastinate, but to develop strategies that help us form stronger, more lasting habits to achieve our scholarly ambitions. Because until we stop procrastinating, our creative brilliance will never be unleashed in a time when we need it more than ever.
So, let’s dive in with three important strategies.
1. The Seinfeld Strategy: Don’t Break the Chain
Let me share a transformative insight I discovered early in my career, drawn from an unlikely source: the comedian, Jerry Seinfeld.
Years ago, a young comedian named Brad Isaac asked Seinfeld for advice backstage, hoping to uncover the secret behind his extraordinary success. Seinfeld, after all, was not just a household name but a cultural icon who earned a staggering $267 million in 1998 alone—an almost unimaginable feat in the entertainment industry. His career had become a masterclass in consistency and excellence, and Isaac wanted to know how it was done.
Seinfeld’s response was deceptively simple yet profoundly impactful:
“The key to becoming exceptional is consistent, daily practice.”
Yes, he emphasized, practice. Not the big stage, not the arena—not the game, Allen Iverson—but the unglamorous, behind-the-scenes grind: practice. For comedians, this meant writing jokes every single day. For academics, the lesson is clear: it’s about daily scholarly engagement—reading, researching, and above all, writing.
“After a few days, you’ll have a chain,” Seinfeld explained. “Just keep at it, and the chain will grow longer every day. Your only job is to not break the chain.”
The brilliance of this advice lies in its simplicity. Progress is not measured by perfection in a single day’s work but by the cumulative effort of showing up, day after day.
But what about those moments of doubt that inevitably creep into academic life? What about writer’s block, when the words don’t seem to come? Or the hesitation that arises when waiting for the perfect “aha” moment of research inspiration?
Seinfeld’s wisdom addresses this, too.
He cautions against the trap of fixating on an idealized vision of success—some flawless, shining version of the work we aspire to create. That fixation, he suggests, can become a roadblock, preventing us from even starting. Instead, he argues for showing up consistently, regardless of how inspired we feel in the moment.
The truth is that the most accomplished professionals in any field—whether they’re comedians, academics, or artists—aren’t waiting for lightning to strike. They embrace the power of steady, incremental effort. They understand that brilliance is rarely the product of one extraordinary moment.
It’s built, piece by piece, brick by brick, word by word, through an unwavering commitment to the craft, through choosing to write the next joke or draft the next sentence, or shoot the next shot, day after day.
Does the Seinfeld Strategy Work in Academia?
The key to making Seinfeld’s advice work in academia lies in reframing our understanding of productivity.
Too often, we measure our success by grand accomplishments—finishing a manuscript, publishing in a top journal, or securing a major grant.
While these milestones are important, they can feel daunting, even insurmountable, when viewed from the starting line. Instead, the solution might lie in breaking those larger goals into smaller, daily tasks that are both meaningful and manageable. By focusing on these incremental steps and committing to “not breaking the chain,” we set ourselves up for long-term success, one day at a time.
Think about the mathematics of consistent effort. Writing 500 words a day may not seem like much, but over time, those words accumulate into a journal article, a dissertation chapter, or even a book manuscript.
Similarly, dedicating just ten minutes each day to focused research—reviewing a key text, annotating an article, or analyzing data—can eventually yield comprehensive, well-rounded studies.
The power of this approach lies in its compounding effect. Small, sustainable actions don’t just add up; they multiply, generating momentum and confidence that carry us forward even when the work feels difficult.
This reframing also helps shift the focus from perfection to progress.
Instead of waiting for the perfect block of time or ideal conditions to dive into a project, we learn to embrace the imperfections of the daily grind. Not every writing session will be brilliant, and not every research note will uncover groundbreaking insights. But showing up consistently ensures that we remain engaged with our work, creating opportunities for those flashes of brilliance to emerge over time.
Each small success becomes a building block, reinforcing a sense of accomplishment and propelling us toward larger milestones. By reframing academic productivity as a chain of small, intentional actions, we also cultivate resilience.
When progress is defined by the act of showing up rather than by immediate results, setbacks lose their power to derail us. A tough writing day, an unproductive meeting, or a rejected submission becomes just another link in the chain—a part of the process, not a reason to give up.
Instead, I focus on one overarching professional goal: to discover and pursue opportunities that will help me become a scholar of integrity and value.
Before we explore strategy two, I want to remind you:
If you’ve ever felt trapped by procrastination, you’re not alone. It’s a common challenge, especially for those navigating the demands of research and the tenure track. The key to overcoming it isn’t about following a perfect plan, but about showing up consistently, trusting the process, and allowing small steps to lead to breakthroughs.
In The Tenure Track, we explore how embracing flexibility in research—letting go of rigid plans and adapting to what emerges—can push boundaries and spark breakthroughs.
Ready to take risks and adapt your way to success? Subscribe for strategies, inspiration, and insights to navigate your academic journey with the resilience and flexibility needed to thrive.
2. The Two-Minute Rule: Just Do It Now
Here’s a practical strategy I’ve found remarkably effective for tackling procrastination: the two-minute rule.
If a task can be completed in two minutes or less, do it immediately.
That’s it. That’s the trick. In an academic context, this might include:
Responding to a colleague’s email.
Reviewing a single paragraph in your manuscript.
Filing an expense report.
Organizing one research folder.
Updating your reference management software.
The brilliance of the two-minute rule lies in its simplicity. These quick wins not only clear small tasks from your plate but also generate momentum. That momentum can be leveraged to tackle bigger goals.
Want to develop a habit of consistent writing? Start by committing to just two minutes each morning.
Want to refine your research methodology? Open your document and make one small edit.
Have 15 minutes before your next meeting? Work on a few 2-minute tasks.
The two-minute rule turns inertia into action, helping you build productivity habits one manageable step at a time.
3. You Need To Transform Your Identity Too
This all sounds too simple, you’re thinking.
Well, the most profound insight I’ve discovered is that lasting change requires more than just adjusting behaviors—it demands a fundamental shift in how we perceive ourselves as scholars, our beliefs.
In academia, goals often revolve around external markers of success: publications, citations, grants, awards. While these metrics are important, true transformation occurs when we shift our focus inward and reconstruct our professional identity.
It’s the difference between saying, “I need to publish more,” and believing, “I am a scholar who writes and publishes consistently.”
This shift doesn’t happen overnight.
Identity transformation requires small, intentional wins that gradually reshape how we see ourselves. For example, if your goal is to become a more prolific researcher, begin by identifying as someone who writes daily. Create a small win by dedicating just ten minutes each day this week to writing.
Over time, these daily actions reinforce the identity you’re cultivating.
The key is to stop fixating on distant outcomes and start aligning your habits with the scholar you aspire to be. By focusing on daily actions that reflect that identity, you build a foundation of consistent effort. Eventually, those habits shape not just your work but also how you perceive yourself—and, ultimately, how others perceive you.
Bonus: Some Deeper Insights and Strategies
The journey of an early-career researcher is much more than a matter of productivity—it’s an emotional and professional odyssey that tests the very foundation of one’s academic identity.
The tenure track, often romanticized as a straightforward path of hard work and rewards, is instead riddled with psychological barriers capable of paralyzing even the most promising scholars.
Limiting beliefs creep in like silent invaders:
I’m not good enough. My research isn’t groundbreaking. They don’t look like me.
These are more than fleeting thoughts—they’re invisible chains that bind potential, sowing seeds of doubt that can derail even our most ambitious pursuits.
The challenges are manifold: juggling research, teaching, and service obligations; navigating the often murky waters of departmental politics; producing work that is both innovative and relevant; constantly meeting publication expectations; and striving for some semblance of work-life balance under the relentless gaze of scrutiny.
Let me be completely honest: I’ve been there.
During one particularly challenging semester early in my tenure-track years, I felt utterly overwhelmed. I avoided my research altogether—manuscript drafts sat untouched, collaborative projects remained undiscussed, and the mounting expectations felt suffocating. Each day I told myself I would get back on track, but the weight of it all made starting feel impossible.
What I came to understand during that time was that procrastination wasn’t about laziness. It was about fear—fear of inadequacy, fear of judgment, fear of falling short of the impossibly high standards we impose on ourselves. And, the fear of success too.
Once I identified this underlying fear, I could begin addressing it head-on, not by erasing it entirely but by learning to act in spite of it.
A Compassionate Approach to Academic Progress
Procrastination isn’t a character flaw. It’s a natural, complex response to the pressures we face. However, by understanding its roots and using thoughtful, strategic interventions, we can reframe it not as a barrier, but as an opportunity for growth.
Your research matters.
Your intellectual contributions have value. The key is to show up consistently, trust the process, and honor the incremental progress that builds over time.
The tenure track isn’t a sprint or a marathon. It’s a winding, non-linear journey that encompasses both intellectual discovery and personal growth. Procrastination isn’t your enemy.
It’s a signal. A signal to pause, to realign, and to reconnect.
Your worth as a scholar is not defined by the number of publications you amass. It lies in your commitment to intellectual curiosity, your resilience in the face of challenges, and your capacity for lifelong learning.
Approach this journey with compassion—for yourself and your work—and you’ll find that success becomes not just a destination, but a reflection of who you’ve become along the way.
Because, as Maya Angelou once said:
“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated.”
Becoming Full,
P.S. As always, thank you for reading this week’s issue of The Tenure Track. If you found this article helpful, I encourage you to share it with a colleague or friend who might benefit from these insights. Together, let’s continue to build a supportive and creative academic community.