I’m writing this in my room in St Andrews. It’s not the biggest room, but it’s also definitely not the smallest. After a year in Gannochy, there’s certainly no reason to complain. But it’s also the room where, ten minutes ago, I wrote the second paragraph of my IR essay. It’s the room where I woke up, and it’s the room where I get most of my work done because it’s quiet. Or, at least, as quiet as a room with no double glazing can be when it overlooks a pub in a student town. In normal times, I probably wouldn’t have much of an issue getting work done here. But, as we’re all fed up with being reminded, these aren’t normal times.

As was the experience of most of my friends, things started off fairly well. Getting back to the bubble and seeing my friends for the first time after a long summer of essentially nothing seemed like a good reason to work hard. For the most part, that’s what happened – the first tutorials of the semester were a fascinating peak into an entirely new world. Never before had I known the power of rocking up to a tutorial and knowing what I was talking about. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, that didn’t last very long. It turns out there are only so many days you and your friends can sit in different rooms in the same house without getting distracted. It was after our fourth consecutive day of staring at our laptops for ten minutes before leaping at the booze shelf that I realised our situation was getting pretty dire. Something had to change, and below I’ve listed what I have tried to make myself more motivated – and how most of them went terribly, terribly wrong.

The first is simple. Trying to watch lectures at the time they would’ve happened. A great way of keeping on top of lectures while it lasted? Sure. Did it last? Absolutely not. I’d recommend it for anyone with an attention span greater than a four-year-old child, but it turns out that without being physically penned into a corner seat of Buchanan by my friends, I’m far more likely to wander off in search of food. Essay deadlines are also fatal for this strategy, and I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone with lectures earlier than 11 am. No-one needs that sort of stress in their lives if they can help it.

The second is to go outside regularly, which was a novel one for me. Outside is cold and usually doesn’t have blankets, but I’m told it helps with motivation. I no longer trust the people who told me that; it’s freezing out there. I might have finished my essay after getting home from a long walk with a sudden bout of inspiration, but that has nothing to do with going outside. I was simply grateful to be able to feel my ears again. 

My third non-tip is to organise your workspace. This has the dual benefit of allowing you to catch up on that podcast you wanted to finish and giving you a chance to clear your head. This one actually does work, so long as you keep your space clean. By which I mean, it doesn’t work. Now that all my course materially are digitised, and I can no longer justify my clutter on uni work, I’ve just had to accept that I am a serially untidy person. But at least I’m up to date on my podcasts.

In conclusion, I hope you didn’t come to this article about motivation looking to be motivated in any way; perhaps I should’ve been clearer at the start that this was mainly an opportunity for me to have a good whinge. If this article does, through some strange combination of schadenfreude and cautionary tale, help you to get motivated – get in touch! Maybe you can help me emerge from reading week with what shreds of my sanity still remain.