A Premature Rejection of Getting Things Done (GTD)

In 2007, I came across the book Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity by David Allen, about six years after its initial release in 2001.

I bought the book and skimmed through it, reading some sections in detail.

My takeaway? If someone had even a slight inspiration in life or a touch of creativity, then Getting Things Done (GTD) would feel stifling. To me, GTD seemed like a neurotic system designed for robots.

Consequently, I dismissed it.

In 2014, a friend mentioned he’d read a book called Willpower: Rediscovering the Greatest Human Strength by psychologist Roy F. Baumeister and New York Times journalist John Tierney. I delved into the book that very week.

Interestingly, the book has two sections between pages 75 and 87 that discuss GTD (Getting Things Done). Even though the broader concept of willpower has been critiqued as ineffectual¹, I found these sections to be the most insightful introduction to GTD I’ve encountered.

The book directly addressed my concerns about the GTD system being overly neurotic. As stated on page 77, “You might dismiss this all as evidence of dreary anal-retentiveness, but Allen could not be less dour or more relaxed.”

Additionally, there’s a relatable story about comedian Drew Carey feeling overwhelmed, which resonated with me.

And this compelling passage:

I decided to revisit GTD. Instead of starting with the book, I scoured YouTube for every video featuring David Allen or others discussing GTD: online courses, a lecture at Google, training sessions at a bank, numerous interviews with avid YouTubers, a TED talk, and so forth. Over the ensuing months, I meticulously watched, re-watched, and integrated the system’s principles as detailed in these videos.

I’ve come to realize that GTD is grounded and useful. I had completely misunderstood it initially. In fact, it’s particularly beneficial for those in creative fields.

GTD is essentially about cultivating good habits. Once you’ve integrated it into your routine, it feels like pure common sense. In essence, it teaches us to make decisions about information, ideas, and tasks so they don’t constantly occupy our minds like persistent ghosts. Moreover, it emphasizes storing our tasks and projects (our “stuff”) in an external system because our brains aren’t designed to be efficient inventories.

I noticed positive effects within the first two weeks of adopting the system. I recall walking in downtown San Francisco, feeling both relaxed and more observant — a pleasant sensation I hadn’t realized was absent until it returned.

A week following that revelation, while waiting for a talk to begin, I effortlessly worked through a list of tasks (referred to as “next actions” in GTD terminology). There was no need to ponder what to tackle next. This aligns with David Allen’s assertion that those who use GTD know exactly what to do when unexpected disruptions, like power outages, occur. To them, disruptions merely represent shifts in context.²

Now, I regard the habits of GTD as fundamental, just as I would habits like exercising regularly and eating healthily.

A few weeks ago, a perpetually busy friend, to whom I had frequently recommended GTD as a solution, finally embraced the system. These days, she sends me texts like, “Have a great GTD day!"—a sentiment that is a pleasure to hear.