In Which E-mail Overwhelms the Universe

E-mail is a black hole that sucks up all available time. It’s like that piece of malevolent rock in that ‘50s horror movie I watched, filled with terror and growing fear of rocks, in about 1966. Some folks find an innocent-looking piece of shale out in the desert (never go out in the desert! There are aliens who look like Russell Johnson out in the desert!). In a spirit of complete recklessness, they bring it home and leave it in the sink (where else would you put your innocent-looking alien shale?) And it gets wet and then it grows. And grows. And grows! Until it threatens life as we know it! It was only dormant out in the desert where it couldn’t get any water! Don’t you see how it all fits together! But now that innocent-looking piece of shale is going to take over the universe! Just like e-mail!

Plus e-mail embodies an evil paradox.

The Evil Paradox of E-Mail: The more interesting the e-mail is, the more overdue and hence guilt-inducing it is.

This is because e-mail comes in two forms: Dull But Urgent, or Interesting, Long, and Not Urgent. The Dull But Urgent e-mail relates to official topics, and comes from people like administrators, who imply that one’s job is at stake if a reply is not forthcoming; and from students, who want an Answer! Right! Now!

So I use the David Allen two-minute rule, which is that if it takes less than two minutes to answer, do it on the spot. And then the longer urgent e-mail waits until the evening, when the impending sense of doom is enough to squeeze a reply out of me.

And then there’s the Interesting, Long, and Not Urgent e-mail. That’s the good stuff. That’s the e-mail from friends. It’s generally about a screen long, and it’s complex. I don’t know if your friends are like mine, but mine are living lives far more interesting than any life I could be living. They get into wild affairs, sometimes several at once. They have babies in unconventional ways. They have fabulous travel lives involving Fiji. They pop over to Greek islands for book parties. They have secret lives. They have exes who are stark raving bonkers. And sometimes, of course, they have terrible things happen to them. All of these things warrant more than a two-minute e-mail.

So I save up the e-mail from friends until I’m free of the onslaught of administrators and students. Days go by. My in-box is wall-to-wall with demands for official reports, recommendations, and responses. And meanwhile I’m waiting till a space is cleared out so I can give the friends the attention they deserve. Because those are the e-mails I want to answer. They’re the reason I have this job with all its demanding two-minute e-mails! So I can support myself! So I can have friends and a life! But official Dull But Urgent e-mails are getting in my way!

Here are the e-mails I’ve gotten today:

The e-mails I’ve answered:
— from a fellow prof, details of an extra class I’m supposed to teach next week
— from a secretary, a notice that book orders for next term should be submitted
— from a student, request for ten recommendations
— from a student, questions about study-abroad program
— from an administrator, different question about study-abroad program
— from a secretary, forward of mail from a high-school teacher asking for resources in my field
— from someone somewhere, notice that I should renew membership in professional organization
— from a colleague at another school, details of lecture I’m supposed to give
— from a friend, agreement to do a favor for me
— from a friend, pleasantly salacious e-mail

Note, no notices of Nobel Prize, no requests for interviews from the New Yorker or People, no offers of representation from major agents, no urgent importuning from the head of Random House. If it weren't for the favor and the salaciousness, it would hardly worth waking the computer up in the morning.

The e-mails that are still waiting:
— from a friend -- details of a move, a tempestuous ex, and future plans that would set your hair on fire
— from a friend, wise pronouncements on love
— from a friend, details on progress on recovery from serious illness
— from a friend, sadness at two deaths of people close to him
— flirtatious e-mail from someone I haven’t seen since 1975
— from a friend, update on illness and request for amusement during chemo
— from a fellow writer, pages from a work-in-progress

Okay, now it’s worth getting up in the morning -- but soon it won’t be, because the sheer hideous guilt of letting down these legions of friends by not answer their e-mails is too much for me. Let’s say each e-mail took 15 minutes: that’s nearly two hours on “non-essential” e-mail alone. And that’s just one day. And that’s not even counting all the time spent answering the essential e-mail, putting away laundry, pretending to hold down a job responsibly, reading listservs, playing World of Warcraft, and avoiding vacuuming.

So I think the answer is two-fold:

1) Sufficient unto the day is the e-mail thereof. I think all of those Dull But Urgent e-mails have to be answered on the spot. It’s the only way to cope with the onslaught. They get two minutes in your consciousness, and then they’re history.

2) But those friend e-mails -- there has to be a deadline. I propose Sunday evenings. Every Sunday evening should be a round-up and dispatching of all the e-mail that hasn’t been answered yet. This means no friend has to wait more than a week for a reply. And this means that you won’t miss the latest batch of juicy and satisfying gossip. What’s more, you can start the week with a feeling of exceeding virtue.

The other option would be to have fewer friends. (Of course, that could happen naturally, if I put off answering the e-mail long enough.) And, of course, it’s very important to avoid collecting rocks in the desert.