The Trap Disguised as Productivity

I’ve got a knack for over-preparing.

Most new projects I start involve a serious amount of legwork. I plan. I outline. I research. I feel responsible.

At first, it’s exactly what I need. The effort gives the idea shape. It makes things feel less vague and more manageable.

But if I’m not careful, that same effort becomes the thing that slows everything down.

Early on, preparation reduces uncertainty. Later, preparation itself can become a way of staying safe from exposure.

From the inside, the feeling is identical. Both take effort. Both consume time. Both feel like work. But only one moves the project closer to reality.

Nothing seems wrong on the surface. I’m not avoiding the work in any obvious way. I sit at my desk organising notes, executing ideas, and making decisions.

And despite feeling incredibly productive, the thing itself rarely makes it out into the world.

It’s easy to convince ourselves that we’re doing a project justice by being thorough. Preparing feels like you care. Like you’re showing respect to the idea. Like the time is well spent.

But at a certain point, responsibility stops meaning preparation and starts meaning contact.

What Useful Preparation Produces

Useful preparation moves you toward a real starting point.

It should feel obvious that it is helping—not because it feels busy, but because it’s reducing confusion. You encounter fewer unknowns. Loose ends become resolved.

The vision sharpens instead of expanding.

You feel less confused about what to do tomorrow than you did yesterday. The work begins to flow because the small decisions no longer demand so much energy.

You can explain what you’re building to someone without talking in circles.

When Preparation Turns Into Avoidance

As things progress, a new feeling can creep in. The list of non-negotiables gets shorter. The starting line comes into view.

Completion starts to loom, along with the judgment.

That’s when extra tasks begin to appear. Not because they’re necessary, but because they delay feedback.

This is where preparation stops working on the project and starts working on your comfort.

Humans are naturally problem-solvers. We’re uncomfortable with too much certainty. When things get easy, we look for something else to optimise.

The shift happens when the self-conscious part of the process enters the equation. The work is now close enough to be evaluated.

So you push a little further. You try to make it more polished. More legitimate. More defensible.

On the surface, this seems responsible. But in reality, it’s a sign that distance from contact is now the new objective.

Preparation is no longer reducing uncertainty. It’s reducing exposure.

That distinction is easy to miss because reducing exposure feels calm and controlled. It preserves our capability.

Instead of learning whether the work actually works, you avoid finding out that it might not. The cost is subtle, but real: the feedback loop that would improve the work gets delayed—sometimes indefinitely.

What Avoidant Preparation Looks Like

Avoidant preparation looks reasonable in the moment. It shows up as polish:

• Nice-to-haves
• Design tweaks
• Visual adjustments
• Structural reorganising

Things that make the project feel more complete without making it more testable.

I’ve done this many times. Near the end of the useful preparation phase, my attention drifts toward fonts, colours, layouts, and presentation—long before the work has ever met an audience.

These things aren’t unimportant. But they stop the feedback loop that would actually make the work better.

None of these behaviours are inherently wrong. They become a problem when they replace contact with reality rather than support it.

Why “Just Start” Isn’t Enough

When people sense they’re stuck in preparation, the usual advice is to swing hard in the opposite direction: “Just start.”

In the right context, it works. When nothing exists yet, almost any action creates momentum.

But if some preparation has already taken place, the obstacle is not inaction. It’s ambiguity. You’ve done enough work to move, but not enough to know what the movement is meant to reveal.

This is where “just start” can backfire. You act, but nothing gets resolved. Motion occurs without any learning.

“Just start” helps answer when to act. It doesn’t help clarify what the action is supposed to teach you. What you need at that point isn’t more activity, but feedback.

The 24-Hour Test

The 24-hour test is a way to separate necessity from preference.

Ask yourself:

If I had to put this in front of a real person in 24 hours, what would actually be necessary for them to respond honestly?

Then:

1. Write down the parts would make the release pointless if they were missing.
2. Ignore everything else. Especially anything that improves presentation but not function.
3. Complete only those parts.
4. Show, ship, or test the smallest real version.

Pay attention to what reality gives back.

If the test reveals something genuinely essential is missing, then finishing that is still useful preparation.

If nothing essential remains and you’re still refining, the correct move is to ship.

The goal isn’t to get it right in 24 hours. The goal is contact. Without feedback, there’s no way to know what actually needs improving. More preparation won’t answer that question.

Only reality will.