A few years ago, I set out to build a boat in my garage. It was a pretty substantial project. Frankly, it was a lot more than I think I was really prepared for. Nevertheless, I did it. It took me about three years to get done, but I finally realized that particular dream and went sailing on a boat I had built myself. Pretty cool, right?
Well, one of my biggest frustrations was this weird phenomenon that happened right before I got started on the work. I can remember it happening in a very specific place: in the garage doorway. Full of good intentions, and ready to get down to cutting some wood, I would pause at the entry to the garage. There was this moment of uncertainty. Often it wasn’t just a moment though, this could turn into a 10-minute-long, what-in-the-hell-was-I-thinking pause. Often it could completely derail me. I’d spin right on my heels and head back to the couch where a beer and Netflix (and blissful determinism) awaited me. It got so bad that I had a rule: just go touch the boat. I figured doing that much would get me close enough to the problem to create the momentum to figure out the next step.
That pause…what was that?
It was a real killer. Here’s what I think it was: it was realizing that I really didn’t know what I was going to do next. At a high level, I knew I wanted to work on the boat. But the specifics – what part of the boat was I going to work on, what did I need to do specifically? That often wasn’t fully thought out. I had an instruction manual, but that really only described the high-level activities that I had to do. The devil was in the details. I suspect that the delays came down to a few different categories of problem:
- Setup– Are the requisite materials, tools and plans ready for the next step in the process. Are these preparations in a state where I can easily get started or is there some work I need to do before I can even touch the boat. Often this would be cleanup activities. Often, I had left my workspace a mess after the last session, so I couldn’t get started or find tools until I cleaned up the place. Or perhaps my wife had the audacity to park the car in the garage, thereby blocking my access to my precious…sorry…my boat.
- Comprehension– Do I really understand how to solve the problem at hand? I’ve learned that much of woodworking is a series of problems. At a macro level, the work is straightforward, but when you get right down to it, you discover that the tools you have don’t work right. Or you are missing a tool. Or you have no clue how to get the geometry of two pieces right in advance.
- Drive– There were times when I had things set up, and I knew what to do, but…I didn’t want to. Sometimes the prospect of turning on the table saw, braving the spinning blade of death, and filling the garage with a fine layer of sawdust (over absolutely EVERYTHING) was just too much. Huh…there, I said it. There were these moments when I just couldn’t face the effort after a long day at the office or sometimes even on a Saturday.
I mention all of this because I find myself in a similar position now. I’m not building a boat. Instead, I’m building a business. Just like a boat, there are plenty of instruction manuals. The problem is, just like with the boat, the details are often different from what they describe in the books. And I find myself eager to get started. And yet I pause…
So, I’m re-using a mantra that served me well when building the boat: just go touch the boat. I’m not sure what to call this pause. This moment of uncertainty before committing. But I’m willing to bet big money I’m not alone.