Small projects, honest deadlines

Most of my side projects used to have a start date and a hope. The hope was usually that they would be done "by the end of the year", a deadline so vague it never arrived. Now every project gets an honest end date before I begin, and the projects have become smaller and better.

How I set the date

I count the evenings I really have, using the ninety minutes I can rely on, and then halve the count. If the project doesn't fit in half, it is too big, and I cut it until it does.

• List the evenings available before the end date.

• Halve the number, because life happens.

• Write the project as a list of single-evening steps.

• Cut steps until the list fits the halved number.

A deadline you choose is a kindness to your future self, not a threat.

What changes when the date is honest

The biggest change is that I finish. The second is that I enjoy the middle more, because I'm not secretly behind. And when the date arrives, I either ship what I have or move the date once, on purpose, with a note in my notebook.

If you want the evening-sized version of this idea, start with the ninety-minute evening. If you want the end-of-project version, finishing is a separate skill picks it up.

The date also tells me when to stop polishing. Polishing is where my old projects went to die, and an end date gives polishing an end too, which turns out to be the kindest rule of all.

The halving rule sounds pessimistic. In practice it is the opposite. It assumes that some evenings will go to illness, family and tiredness, so when they do, the plan doesn't break. Most months, I finish early and get the rare pleasure of a few spare evenings.

Cutting steps is the hard part. My first list for a small zine had thirty-one steps for a fourteen-evening window. I cut the colour cover, the second interview and the hand-bound edition. The zine came out on the date. Nobody missed the cover. A few people asked for a second issue.

I also write the end date somewhere public, even if public means one friend. A date that only lives in my head moves quietly. A date someone else knows tends to hold.

Honest deadlines have one more effect I didn't expect: they make starting easier. When I know a project ends in eight weeks, it feels small enough to begin tonight, instead of waiting for some imagined free month that never comes.

This week's question: what would you make if it had to be done in eight evenings? Hit reply.

— Ines