Today has already included working on the marketing for a local music festival, selling some music gear on eBay, shooting my first test video in the car, and juggling a number of tasks in my day job. I still need to (in 5min) do a school pickup, soccer practice (just watching my son), and a band rehearsal tonight. I’m starting to think one of the useful creative skills isn’t “finding more time” at all. It’s getting better at recognising what kind of creative work fits into the gaps you actually have, and which of the 100 things you're doing are useful for some of the main projects. Ten minutes in the car might be enough to record a thought. Fifteen minutes might be enough to sketch a post. Half an hour might be enough to move a song or project forward. The perfect empty afternoon remains a charming myth!

I know there are a lot of people, like me, who have big plans, lists and deadlines. But life as John Lennon once said, it what happens while you are working on those. Sometimes though, there is still momentum and productivity that can be harnessed, so: What can you still make progress on when you’re stuck in bed / waiting in the car / killing time somewhere?

I am still working on my first video, and have of course achieved a large number of adjacent procrastination tasks while delaying and working on it! I cleaned the room, I bought and built a $20 shoe rack which will serve perfectly as a 3-tier keyboard stand, and I updated my resume. But - I have also I think completed the theme music, found the perfect camera position, worked out how to make sure the audio is in stereo - and I am about to try out the intro and outro slides, with the music and my rough take from yesterday. So - I think I am still on track to release the first video TOMORROW. In other words, the WORKFLOW is good, the work itself needs a little push!

Last night was a good reminder that songs need somewhere to go. My band played “Prisoner of Zegna” live for the first time, just after submitting it for FOOM 2026. That song started as an idea and some lyrics in a room. Then it became a rough recording to help flesh it out. Then a competition entry. Then, finally, something played in front of actual people. That’s the bit I keep coming back to with Room to Record. The room matters, but only because it helps you make things. A song does not have to be perfect before it leaves the room. It just has to leave. Give it a deadline. Give it a gig. Give it a person waiting to hear it. Give it somewhere to go.

I’m starting a short series on Creative Friction: the gap between wanting to make something and actually getting it made. It’s for anyone building a room, a habit, a project, a body of work, or just trying to get one stubborn idea out of their head and into the world. Part 1 is about the thing I keep running into myself: The problem is not always the idea, the gear, the room or the plan. Sometimes the problem is the landing This is a post about overwhelm, procrastination and juggling. I have my awesome home studio setup. It is working really well. I have songs written and half-recorded. I have ideas percolating. I have gear ready to use. I have the room. I have the plan. What I don’t always have, and what always seems elusive, even when I nail it for a while, is the time to actually SIT DOWN AND DO IT. And it comes from a few different places. Some obvious. Some sneaky. My day job: I currently have assignments to mark, grades to finalise for the end of term, and the next term of teaching already creeping over the horizon like a polite academic swamp monster. My side-hustle business: I have 3 client projects on the go. One is well under control, but the other 2 need to get, this week, to the beautiful magical SEND INVOICE stage. My other side hustles: I have this Skool group, plus a small sales business I’m trying to build, because apparently one side-hustle was too emotionally sensible. My bands: I’m in 3 of them, including the one that plays the songs I’m trying to record in the room. So there are rehearsals a couple of times a week, and on the weekend there was a gig where 2 of them played. The dogs are looking at me like: “Why haven’t we been out yet? It’s not raining TODAY.” And then there’s the weird part. The studio is not the problem. The gear is not the problem. The songs are not the problem. The problem is the landing. It is getting from “I want to record” to “I am sitting in the chair, the session is open, the guitar is plugged in, and I am doing one small useful thing.”