Too many Tabs, Tasks and unfinished Thoughts

My brain has too many tabs open. At this very moment, it’s a swirling browser of half-read articles, half-written stories, unanswered emails, mental grocery lists, birthday party plans, pitch decks, social invites and those beautiful but daunting passion projects that linger at the edges, waiting for the luxury of “one day when there’s time.”

I know I’m not alone. A friend calls it ‘mental RAM overload.’

A mentor once told me his greatest productivity hack is deceptively simple: open every email as soon as it lands, respond immediately, then move on. No mental tabs left dangling. Elegant, efficient… and frankly, unimaginable to me.

Because here’s my problem: I want to give the important things the time and attention they deserve. That draft contract I still haven’t opened? I need a quiet hour for that. The invitation I keep meaning to reply to properly? Maybe tomorrow, when my brain is clearer. Except tomorrow comes with its own avalanche of fresh tabs – school runs, dinner plans, deadlines, the endless churn of being a modern woman running a business, a household, raising two young kids, carving out space for friendships and for the bits of life that light me up beyond the daily grind.

And so the tabs multiply.

Three years ago, I bookmarked an article: ‘Read later.’ I’ve never opened it. At what point does ‘later’ quietly turn into ‘never’? Maybe the real freedom is learning to close some tabs altogether, to accept that some things don’t need finishing… or even starting.

And yet, procrastination isn’t always the villain it’s made out to be. I stumbled recently on the Hemingway Effect – the idea that leaving something unfinished can actually make you more likely to complete it. Hemingway famously stopped writing mid-sentence, mid-idea, mid-story. It kept the work alive in his mind, tugging at him to return. He knew that blank pages are more terrifying than unfinished ones.

It’s a trick I use, even if it’s accidental. I love writing, but hate starting. I hate the messy middle. My favourite Hemingway line says it perfectly: “Writing is bleeding onto a page.” It hurts because it matters. But when I do stop mid-flow – not out of dread, but deliberately – the story continues to grow underground. Like a seed. The words find me in the shower, on the school run, at 3am when the tabs won’t close.

So maybe there’s a balance. Not all tabs need closing immediately. Some deserve to marinate. Like half-told stories or dream projects. Others – the nagging email, the three-year-old bookmark – maybe they just need to be released.

My brain has too many tabs open.

This month, I’m challenging myself to do both: to bleed onto the page, even if just a few lines at a time. To open the email and hit reply. To close a tab (or ten) without guilt. And to remind myself that unfinished doesn’t always mean unproductive. Sometimes, it’s precisely where the best ideas live.

Elzanne McCulloch