ISSUE #015
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I used to believe starting something new required the right conditions. I needed more time, more clarity, and a better plan. Ideally, I would also feel completely ready and strangely confident about how the whole thing was going to turn out.
So instead of starting, I prepared. I researched. I thought about preparing some more. Weeks could disappear this way, and months too if I was especially committed to convincing myself I was being responsible.
Meanwhile, the actual thing remained very impressively unstarted.
Preparation can look a lot like progress
This is what makes procrastination tricky for people who are good at planning. It does not always look like watching Netflix instead of working. Sometimes it looks incredibly productive.
You build the spreadsheet, research the options, rewrite the plan, read another article, ask someone else what they think, and make a prettier version of the document you still have not actually used. All of those things can be useful... up to a point.
Eventually, preparation stops reducing risk and starts protecting you from having to find out whether the idea actually works. I know that move well.
I kept waiting to feel ready
There was always some future version of me who apparently had everything figured out. She had more time, knew exactly what to do, and had anticipated every possible problem with a beautifully organized plan for all of them.
I have yet to meet her.
What I have learned instead is that a surprising amount of clarity only shows up after you start. You make the first version, somebody reacts to it, you notice what feels awkward, and a question appears that you never would have thought to ask while staring at a blank page.
Now you have information. Before that, you mostly have theories.
Make something you can react to
This is probably the biggest shift in how I approach work now. When I feel myself circling something for too long, I stop asking, How do I get this right? and ask, What is the smallest version I could make real?
If I am working on a new process, maybe I sketch it on one page instead of building the entire system. If I am writing something, I write the rough version before worrying about whether it sounds good. If we are considering a new program, maybe we test one piece with a small group instead of spending three months designing the perfect launch.
You need something outside your head. Once it exists, you can improve it.
Lower the bar on purpose
Perfectionists hear “lower the bar” and immediately assume standards are about to collapse. Relax. 😂
You are not lowering the standard for the final work. You are lowering the standard for the first version, and those are very different things.
The first draft is allowed to be clunky. The first process will probably have holes. The first version of the tool may make you realize you were solving the wrong problem entirely.
Good. That is useful information.
A rough thing you can learn from is worth more than a perfect thing that only exists in your head.
Give yourself ten minutes
I still like this from the original article because it is embarrassingly effective. If something feels huge, give it ten minutes.
Not finish the project in ten minutes. Just start.
Open the document and write the first ugly paragraph. Sketch the process. Make the list. Put the first few pieces on the page.
Ten minutes is small enough that your brain has less room to turn the task into a major life event. And once you begin, something usually changes. Maybe you keep going, or maybe you stop after ten minutes.
Either way, the project is no longer sitting at zero.
Do not confuse uncertainty with a stop sign
Some work genuinely needs more information before you move. I am not suggesting you make expensive, irreversible decisions because Kris on the internet told you to “just start.” 😆
But plenty of work is reversible. You can change the draft, adjust the process, test the idea, learn something, and make a better call next week.
When the decision is easy to reverse, waiting for total certainty can be wildly expensive. You spend days trying to eliminate uncertainty that the first small experiment could have answered much faster.
Sometimes starting is how you get the information you were waiting for.
Your first version has one job
It does not need to impress anyone, prove the entire idea works, or look like the version you will eventually be proud to show people. Its job is to help you learn what comes next.
That is it.
Once I started thinking about early work that way, perfection became a lot less useful. I do not need Version One to be excellent.
I need Version One to exist.
Start before the plan feels finished
I still like a plan. Let’s not get carried away.
Structure helps me think. Research matters. Good preparation can save a ton of pain later.
But there is a point where one more planning session is not making the work better. It is simply delaying contact with reality.
That is usually my cue to make the ugly draft, run the small test, or put something real in front of myself and see what it tells me.
The perfect time is not coming, and the perfect first version is not either.
Do the first ugly one.
Cheers to getting unscattered,
Put this into practice.
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