When I first started down the path of what became my 3D maps project, 48 Contours, I had a rough plan in mind for producing the models for my initial launch. I’d develop a process for turning map data into files that would work with a laser cutter. I’d cut them out, assemble them, then sell them online for a reasonable price. I’d repeat with new locations, and build a nice tidy side business doing it.

But that plan went sideways from the start, and I think that’s the problem with most plans. Plans assume tidy journey from start to finish, but reality is never that, and we humans never seem to learn that fact. As Jason Fried said more succinctly, “A plan is simply a guess you wrote down”.

Take just the first step in my plan: figure out how to turn map data into a model I can use for a product. Unimaginably more complicated than I had thought. I had to learn an entirely new skillset in GIS. New software, lingo, processes. Then I had to break a lot of those conventions to adapt the work to a use case GIS wasn’t really intended for, a physical, layered 3D model. What I figured would be a month or two of learning took half a year.

Then there’s production. Get a laser. cut the model on it, assemble. CNC laser cutters look simple but they’re way more complicated in reality, especially for the kind of work I do. I’ve had to fine tune the speeds and feeds of the tool for every element of a map. Engraving text too blurry? Try increasing DPI. Oh but now that causes scorching that will be a pain to remove later. Let’s try
minimum power threshold. And on and on…

And by the way, my plan was to ship a new model every two weeks. Hah. I think I made 5 models total last year. And quickly after I launched, I discovered a critical issue with my initial map data that required me to redesign every one of my models. Good thing I wasn’t immediately inundated with sales.

I could never have imagined and planned for any of these things beforehand. And I’d be willing to bet if you look back on a plan you made a year ago, how things played out probably looked a whole lot different. Planning isn’t bad. It’s helpful to get a perspective of one possible future (however unlikely). But I think the need to plan, at least for me, comes from a place of wanting to avoid the feeling of uncertainty. Yet uncertainty is the only certainty out there.

I won’t end this saying I’ve somehow transcended the trap of planning. I still build foolishly optimistic plans, and inevitably learn the same lesson later. But I like to think I’m learning. I’m a bit looser with plans. And a lot easier on myself when reality inevitably refuses to conform to my plan.