I’m Doing It All Wrong

My work at Pathwright often involves exploring new areas. Projects range from small things like drawing a new set of icons for an upcoming feature to big things like overhauling our website.

But things go pear-shaped when I try to draw a straight line through a project, ignoring the reality that nothing new moves in a straight line. Maybe you do this sometimes too. (I’d feel a lot better if you did.)

Oops’d projects go like this:

1. Write a cool title.
2. Begin actual work.
3. Form rigid outline/process/structure.
4. Try ideas out for the first time.
5. Burn it all to the ground in a fit of pique.
6. Repeat steps 1–4 (optionally, also step 5).

I know. It’s not great. I’m working on it.

Why do I do this? It could be that I forget how much work work actually is. I never know what the final product will look like at the outset. But I’d rather feel like a supergenius who sees the future. In focusing on an expected outcome rather than trusting the process, I attempt to build the product in the order in which it would be consumed. I’m short-circuiting any discoveries that would take the work in new, better directions.

I think it’s like this:

I read a lot of novels. I digest the title, look at the cover, maybe skim the jacket description, start on page one, then read to the end. Done. But that’s not how I’d write a book — title, next the jacket, then page one straight through to the end. I’d probably write some ideas, figure out the ending, make an outline, try a draft, revise my outline, rewrite (and rewrite and rewrite), then finish with things like the title and jacket copy.

A reader’s footprints through a novel are the reverse of the author’s as she or he wrote it. So, I think, consuming other people’s work doesn’t prepare me for creating work. If I take anything at all from being a consumer, it’s to reverse consumption in order to create.

That brings us back to my not-good process. If I move around the steps in my broken method, I may have something.

A better way:

1. Identify problem but distrust current understanding.
2. Try out a basic, lightweight solution.
3. Record the process.
4. As the problem crystallizes, evaluate and revise.
5. If it’s worth keeping, give it a name.
6. If it’s no longer necessary, discard.

Following this process helps keep us headed in the right direction at Pathwright. But I think it will help as you create your courses too. By keeping your attention on the problem at hand instead of the distant outcome you expect, you’ll give yourself room to build a better, unexpected outcome as you go.

If you’re not doing them already, here are . . .

3 things to try:

• Pilot your course with a small group first. They’ll reveal any not-quite-right pieces — good to find before your official launch.
• Keep an eye on performance stats. They’re the clues that’ll help you keep solving the real problem.
• Move steps and lessons around as you discover new things and refine your ideas.