I Tried “Monk Mode.” Here’s What Actually Happened

You know what? I used to eye-roll at the term. Monk Mode sounded loud and a bit dramatic.
If you’re fuzzy on the basics, this short hands-on breakdown of the meaning of Monk Mode mirrors exactly what first made it click for me.

But I kept seeing it on TikTok and in podcasts. People said it helped them work, write, rest, and even save money. I was stuck on a book draft and I’d signed up for a half marathon I didn’t feel ready for. So I tried it. Not forever—just a clear stretch. Six weeks.

This is my honest take. The good, the awkward, and the stuff I’d change.

The Quick Take

Monk Mode is a season of focus. You set a goal, pick a few simple rules, and cut noise. That’s it. It’s not a cult. It’s just structure with teeth.
Productivity experts note that carving out these intense, distraction-free blocks often translates into higher-quality work delivered in less time, a claim explored in this Forbes piece on going into Monk Mode.

Did it work for me? Yes—mostly.
For a broader look at whether the approach actually delivers, check out this candid “does Monk Mode work?” field review.

I wrote more, slept better, and I’m not scared of 10-mile runs now. But I also got bored, slipped up, and had to fix the rules to fit real life.

What Is Monk Mode (To Me)

Plain terms:

  • Pick one big goal.
  • Set 3–5 rules that remove friction.
  • Choose a time frame, like 14, 30, or 60 days.
  • Tell one person. Track one metric. Keep it simple.

It’s like hitting Do Not Disturb on your whole day. Not forever—just for a season.
For a balanced list of upsides—like sharper concentration—and pitfalls—such as possible burnout—this overview of Monk Mode's benefits and challenges breaks it down.

Wondering if the payoff justifies the hassle? This writer’s 30-day scorecard spells out whether Monk Mode is worth it.

Why I Tried It

Two reasons:

  1. My book draft sat at 11,300 words for months. Scrivener glared at me.
  2. My half marathon plan got sloppy. I ran when I “felt like it,” which meant… I didn’t.

I needed a clean reset. Not fancy. Just clear.

My Rules (Week 1 to Week 6)

I wrote mine on a sticky note and taped it to my laptop:

  • Two 90-minute deep work blocks, weekdays, before noon.
  • Phone on Do Not Disturb till 12 p.m. No social feeds.
  • Run or lift 5 days a week. Sunday is a full rest day.
  • No booze. Not even one glass “to be social.”
  • In bed by 10:30. Screens off by 10.

Tools I used: iPhone Focus modes, Cold Turkey Blocker on my Mac, Forest app for focus, a $5 kitchen timer, and Sony WH-1000XM5 headphones. I tracked runs in Strava and my words in Scrivener. Curious just how slippery certain online rabbit holes can be? Adult cam-roulette platforms are near the top of the list; this candid in-depth Slut Roulette review dissects the site’s most addictive hooks so you can see exactly why placing a hard block on such distractions is crucial during a Monk Mode sprint.

Another category that can torpedo focus just as quickly is local hookup or classified boards—scrolling through the seemingly endless Backpage Perris personal ads shows how a “just looking” minute can balloon into a lost hour; scanning the page makes it crystal-clear why locking down that temptation with an app blocker will protect your productivity streak.

I kept a tiny habit list in Notion. Nothing wild.

Real Moments That Hit Hard

  • Day 3, dentist office: I grabbed my phone to “just check” Instagram. Reflex. My thumb hovered. I had blocked the app. The icon was gray. I stared, laughed, and opened my Notes app instead. I listed five lines for my book scene. That list saved me later.

  • Friday night, friend’s birthday: My no-alcohol rule got tested. I wanted a gin and tonic so bad. I ordered a seltzer with lime and told my friends I was on a focus kick. They teased me for a minute. Then one of them said, “I should try that.” Social crisis over.

  • A messy win: On Day 9, I crushed five Pomodoros in a row. Wrote 2,100 words. Felt like a machine. Then I “took a break” that became me cleaning my closet. For two hours. False productivity looks helpful. It’s not. I set a kitchen timer after that to cap breaks.

  • The run I didn’t want: Cold, windy, and my hamstrings felt tight. I told myself “Just 10 minutes.” The first mile stunk. Mile two felt okay. I finished 6 miles. The crunch of gravel, that warm face feeling after cold air—worth it.

  • The low point: Day 16, 3 p.m. headache. I stared at my screen and felt a little mean. Too strict is a trap. I took a slow walk with no podcast. Just birds and the hum of passing cars. I came back calmer and wrote a clean paragraph. Still counts.

Stories like mine pop up everywhere; here’s another “I tried it so you don’t have to” first-person recap that I nodded along with.

What Actually Worked

  • Deep work before noon: My brain is fresher in the morning. If I start focused, the rest of the day follows. If I check messages first, the day gets noisy.

  • One metric per goal: For the book, it was “words written.” For running, “miles per week.” That’s it. My Scrivener count hit 32,417 words by the end of Week 6. My Strava showed 27, 31, 33, 29, 35, and 32 miles. Not perfect—steady.

  • Sleep: In bed by 10:30 changed my mornings. My Apple Watch showed 7 hours 45 minutes on average. I woke up less foggy. Coffee tasted better too.

  • Money: With no drinks and fewer takeout “emergencies,” I saved $182 that month. Not even trying. I just ate what I had. Soup, eggs, rice bowls, chopped veggies. Sunday prep helped.

  • Social made simple: I didn’t vanish. I picked one hangout a week and was present. No endless scrolling. Real faces beat the feed.

What Hurt (And How I Fixed It)

  • Boredom: I got sick of my own rules. So I added small treats. Fancy tea. A new playlist. A 20-minute nap on Wednesdays. Sounds small. It worked.

  • All-or-nothing thinking: I slipped and checked Twitter one morning. I felt mad at myself. Then I set a rule: “If I slip, I pay it back with a 10-minute walk or 10 push-ups.” No shame. Just a reset.

  • Screen headaches: My eyes burned after long writing sessions. I set my monitor to warm tone. I used 20-20-20: every 20 minutes, look 20 feet away for 20 seconds. The pain faded.

  • Social pressure: I told my closest people first. I said, “I’m in Monk Mode till March 1. Text me. I’ll reply after lunch.” Expectations set. Drama down.

The Tweaks I’d Keep

After Week 2, I changed three things (turns out the more modern takes on the challenge—like this 30-day Modern Monk Mode experiment—also recommend building release valves):

  • I added a Sabbath: No goals on Sunday. I rest. I read my Kindle Paperwhite. I make pancakes. I call my mom.
  • I made weekends lighter: Only one deep work block on Saturday, or none. Movement still happens, but it’s a walk sometimes.
  • I set “flex windows”: If mornings blow up, I get one 90-minute block after 3 p.m. Not ideal, still fine.

This made the system feel human. Rigid breaks. Flexible bones.

Who Should Try It

  • Students with finals coming. You’ll like the clear rules.
  • Creators, writers, founders. If you need long focus, it helps.
  • New parents? Maybe not strict Monk Mode right now. You’re already in a real-life mode. Try “Mini Monk”—one block a day.
  • If you’re overwhelmed and tired, a