I also count the sitting-around-letting-my-mind-germinate time as work time, although sometimes it seems awfully self-indulgent. But actually, the way that the brain functions, you *have* to have down time in order to have the productive time. If you have a productivity spurt & write a lot in a day, it's a pretty safe bet that the next day you won't be able to do much. Studies have shown that cognitive abilities are limited resources & have to be well-managed.
To be continued..
Don't beat yourself up if you aren't terribly efficient. There may be some things you can do to become more efficient, but setting unrealistic productivity goals are not one of them. Efficiency isn't always the best criteria. I use a similar technique - I like it for the very reasons you list - it allows me to edit, re-think & deepen the previous work. I think it makes for a deeper & more comprehensive writing style, even if it does take longer. For me, the issue is discipline - as I tend to make jack-rabbit starts & stops, but not a consistent daily output. I do this in my yoga/meditation practice as well as in school.
Aristotle thought that it is through practice that we attain excellence & happiness...
Gurdjieff said that it is through work that we can observe ourselves & thereby 'work on ourselves' (or establish a practice), and seek to be as aware as possible at all times.
Yes, more and more I have limited success in allowing myself to think of "wasted" time as part of the process. Mostly because I notice that when I have gobs of that kind of time, I get a lot more done and enjoy it more.
So, Mel, what instrument did you play? Sounds like a good quiz: What instrument are you? 
Me, I played the trombone growing up; these days I hack away at the piano...
I think blogging is a form of practice as well. At least I like to think so.
jwb
Once again, Mel, you've given us something valuable to ponder re: academic life and work... I recently read some of Robert Boice (Professors as Writers), which relates to this topic of what counts as work/practice. (I second Jimbo's motion to count blogging in the latter category, btw!) Boice urges academics to make productive use of the slivers of the work day that may normally slip past; e.g., the 20 minutes between classes. While that makes good sense, it also rarely works for me. Instead, I end up using those slivers to have a snack or knock off some administrative tasks. But I do agree with Boice (and other academic friends) on the need for daily work rituals. This means writing or reading at a regular time each day, yes. But it also means that a morning cup of tea, an afternoon walk, and a nighttime habit of clearing the desk can also count as an integral part of my work...or practice. Or so I like to believe.
Oops -- didn't meant to be anonymous above. Forgot the ritual of signing in on this different computer system.
Yes, it's an interesting question. As an out-of-practice yogini, musician, and scholar, this post hit a number of resonant chords for me.
It is one of the ironies of my life that I do best when I have a fairly rigid routine for my days -- rigid not so much in terms of exact minutes allotted, but rigid in that there are certain things I do every day at about the same time, no exceptions -- yet I seem to find maintaining any kind of routine difficult on my own. Practice, indeed!
(cont.)
(resumed)
So I don't really have advice to you, except maybe that ritualizing even ordinary tasks (like remembering to take your vitamins or watering the plants) can elevate them to the level of practice. Perhaps you can use the same kind of pen/cil for taking your notes, or sit in the same chair with the same comfy wrap, or drink a cup of tea every time... to make it a familiar, comforting ritual rather than a chore or a waste of time.
Now if I could only follow my own advice...
Rana
I came here via DitchTheRaft, and wanted to thank you for your words about yoga practice. I am not much of a yogini (I practiced off an on for a year, but never achieved much flexibility, and when my work schedule stopped meshing with the studio class schedule I let it go without too much regret) but what you say resonates for me, and seems applicable to other practices. (Also makes me want to try yoga again, though who knows whether that impulse will survive long enough to become action...!)
I played piano very seriously for many years. In fact, my bachelor's degree was in piano performance. I think that, in the end, things work best for me when process--and all parts of the process, not just production, which is overprivileged, I believe--is the most important thing. When I slow down enough to give myself time to acknowledge and value each and every part of the process--even if it seems like time wasting, or tangential/non-related. I find that I need to understand and respect my own processes . . . the quirks, the cycles, etc. I find that I'm most likely to become disengaged when instead of just being IN the process, I worry about outcomes, or attempt to impose external notions of how my writing process should work onto myself.
Mel, what a great post - thank you, because it gives me another way to think about how I do what I do. (And the comments here are great too.) I have always had a hard time with the process (as my own post suggested), which is funny because I too used to be a musician (can't say that I am any more, but I used to play the flute and I sang. Nice girly things to do!). I loved the process, especially for voice, but it was so physical and seemed to have such noticeable results; I'd never really made the connection between that and my academic work before. (cont'd)
(New Kid cont'd)
I too have had problems with taking notes and transcribing/writing up those notes - it has always felt like it takes FOREVER and like I'm spinnning my wheels. No, not efficient. Yet one of the best things about sitting in the archives doing research is that I spend so much of that time transcribing, and it's then that I get some of the best insights about my work and what I'm trying to do. So I will try to remember that and transcribe my notes (so that, too, they will be in a useful format rather than scattered on post-its!).
I wonder if my impatience with process comes from being extremely externally-focused/motivated - that's where I get my incentive from: from external praise, from other people's comments, from the outside deadlines that requre something written, from the ever-looming tenure requirements. I wonder for how many of us that's the case.
What wonderful comments, everyone. Maybe part of thinking about something as practice has to do with its relation to the body -- rituals generally have a physical component, not just mental or spiritual.
I used to play the piano, and then the cello. Now I don't play either, although I'd love to return to piano someday if my living arrangements would ever have room for it.
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