Unsure about a plan? Hit pause.
When an idea feels wrong, wait for a better one
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It's a familiar feeling - we're going about a project and developing a plan, but something feels somehow off. It's an inexplicable but genuine doubt about whatever solution, idea, or proposal is on the table. Sure, the design at hand is a path forward. And as they say, doing something is better than nothing. So break it fast & fix it, right?
Not so fast, speedy maker. I suggest another way forward. Sit tight for a moment. Yes, hit pause.
A better plan is just around the corner.
In almost all my projects, I encounter first "the dubious plan." It goes something like this:
I have an initial idea, so I mill it over a while. Soon I realize the plan doesn't somehow fit. But if not this, then what?
So I pause and rethink. "There has to be a better way," I tell myself. But what is it? And how do I get there?
For me, only time and more thought will flush out this better plan. So I wait. And I wait some more.
I'm not talking about idle waiting, mind you. Often my best ideas come while I am doing something else. Cleaning, working on related projects, exercising - this is how I formulate my strategies. I find that engaging in light mental activities quiets the noise in my head and lets the good ideas surface.
After some time, an alternative plan does just that - surface. This new plan I sometimes think over too, for a while. But occasionally, I have that "eureka!" moment, the spark of ingenuity - it's the light bulb over the head kind-of experience. Big or small, when an idea explodes into your mind like that, you know it's right.
The other day, I had such a moment when I was making a piñata for my son's upcoming birthday. Yes, a piñata. I make these every year for his parties, and they're a hit.
This year, he requested a monster truck piñata. I'm not a fan of the sport, but we parents must support whatever our children are passionate about. So I committed to making him the best paper mache monster truck I could.
I was already sure of building the body: a simple cardboard frame refined into shape using that goopy flour-water-paper stuff. But the wheels were the challenge. How could I make them look like those big puffy tractor tires? It would be so time-consuming to sculpt them out of paper mache. And using actual wheels of some sort was out of the question. This sculpture was for whacking with a stick while surrounded by eager children. Heavy and pointy attachments were out of the question. Besides, I like to make these things entirely from scratch, if possible.
My initial plan was to make two cardboard disks for each wheel, attached by a spacer, and then wrapped somehow to make a flat-ish looking drum (kind of like those old stone grinding wheels). While it wouldn't look the same as a monster truck tire, I could adorn it with a tread pattern to flesh it out. So I started to make.
I assembled the disks as described, and those worked well. But when I tried to cover the circumference, it didn't look the way I intended. I tried paper, EVA foam, and even duct tape, but it all looked, well, amateurish.
So I stopped.
I didn't like it and had to come up with a better plan. But I was out of ideas, for the moment anyway. So instead of continuing, I hit pause. And - of course - I cleaned my shop.
After organizing the tools, I swept the floor and pondered materials. And that's when it hit me after sweeping up a small strip of scrap rubber. I could use drawer liner! This rubbery stuff has a great texture, is already black, and could be attached to give the wheels body.
Now, I know - this isn't an earth-shattering revelation, but it was an idea I could quickly implement, and it would look a lot closer to the actual tires than anything else. So I set out to cut some one-inch wide strips and hot glued these to my wheel disks.
The result was - acceptable. They look like big puffy wheels, and that's what I needed. Do they look precisely like monster truck tires? No. They're more like those goofy petal boat paddle wheels. But I'm okay with that, and most importantly, so is my son.
The point here is that waiting helped me get to a better idea. And it almost always does.
Look, I am all for quick action, and I know the power of jumping in and doing. There's a lot to be said for taking a path - almost any path - and getting started. But sometimes, a better plan is just around the corner, waiting. And if you don't create an environment that coaxes it out of hiding, it might never see the light of day. For me, I need to step away from what I am doing to see things clearly. And most often, this means hitting pause.
Until next time.
JRC