Stickking to Stuckk
The name Stuckk comes from Stickk, a site that helps people sign self-binding contracts. It’s basically a formalized version of telling your friend, “Here’s $20. Only give it back if I lose 10 pounds this month.” Except with Stickk, you hand over your credit card information, and it charges you if your “referee” says you failed to keep your commitment (giving the money to your charity, hated organization, or friend of your choice).
When Andrew and I were considering starting a blog, we thought Stickk would be a good way to make sure we consistently write so we contracted to write 750 words a week. The penalty for breach was $250. The contract ended September 20th, and I haven’t written a word since. Though I’m planning to begin writing again, I have decided not to contractually commit this time. Still, I wanted to write a little on my experience Stuckk.
Stickk works. This summer I worked a pretty demanding job and didn’t have internet where I lived (something I wish I had known when thinking about the contract terms last spring). Nor did any of my neighbors feel altruistic or naive enough to not password protect their own internet. Our contract weeks ended 6am on Monday, so my Sundays were frantic. Often, I grabbed magazines in Grand Central before taking the train back home, flipping through them desperate to find something to write about. Then, starting around midnight Monday morning, I would slink around my neighborhood laptop open and my hands raised high, hoping to find some signal strong enough to post (did I mention my computer’s wireless connection was also broken?).
After writing/internet-stealing until 3 or 4 in the morning, I went to work most Mondays exhausted. The marginal cost of failing to post was just so high, that - despite the annoyance and sleep deprivation - I always posted. That I squeezed out 750 words each week doesn’t mean they were good. They mostly weren’t. Andrew and I structured the contract with a lot of hope in the parable of the pottery class. If we were successful and there were a few good pieces among the masses of broken pots, the idea that I was producing much more quantity than quality did bother me some those Sunday nights.
The other thing that worried me about Stickking to writing is that it eroded the importance of each individual choice to write. There was something weighty in signing the original contract, but every post that followed was colored by the notion that I was writing instrumentally - to fulfill the contract. This doesn’t matter if you plan to use Stickk to lose weight or floss everyday because then only the result matters. But if the process - the personal ritual of choosing at every step to devote some of your time to a project - is important, then Stickking can kill some of the meaning or weight of your commitment.
I’m not swearing off Stickk. I have an informal self-contract set up with Andrew to get me to try vegetarianism for a month, and I’m setting up a contract to get me waking up earlier. But, because committing to writing is important to me, I won’t be self-contracting to post again anytime soon.
