In Praise of Plan A

Let's begin with a re-cap of my blog post Death to Plan B.

What Plan B says: I got your back, bro. Go for it.
What Plan B means: You're going to fail, loser. Come move back home. You can live in the basement.

Plan B is not necessarily evil. When it is doing its job, that is, supplying a fulfilling and/or lucrative source of income while also providing time and encouragement to pursue your own creative projects, it's lovely. But when Plan B hisses in your ear to stop writing, painting, or researching ancient Nordic magical encantations because your ideas aren't worthy of the time you're giving them, and instead use your energy to give your already robust Plan B even more attention, then we have a problem. In general, the stronger the Plan B, the weaker the Plan A.

Why is this?

Let's take a look at your typical Plan A:
• silly
• impractical
• appeals only to people like you
• does not provide an obvious and/or immediate income-generating path
• makes you giggly, happy, and giddy
• little precedent for it
• none of your friends have done it
• none of your friends want to do it
• your friends have tried it and failed
• books are written on how many millions have failed at it
• looks strange on your resume
• parents are not able to describe it
• creates hopes of fame and grandiosity followed by waves of shame and self-loathing for allowing you to think expansive, wonderful things about yourself
• requires you attend expensive classes, workshops, conferences, and seminars
• tempts you to travel to places you've never been with money you don't have
• demands that you network with people you've never met

Look at your typical Plan B:
• has worked in the past
• capitalizes on your experience
• exists within an established market
• success is measurable
• affirmation arrives regularly, in the form of compliments, gratitude, and cash
• your parents can mostly explain it to their friends

Who wouldn't want Plan B?

Plan A is that great idea you have, like a post-apocalyptic clothing line, or a diaper composter, or glasses that change their prescription as your eyes change, or shoes that let you bounce like Tigger, or Asian/Dragon themed underwear for women (go ahead and steal these ideas, Plan B has already talked me out of them). Fun, exciting stuff that makes people go: "Cool! Too bad it's totally impossible for people like us."

I'm writing a novel. I've been writing it for eight years. The first chapter won an award. A NYC literary agency read the entire manuscript and said it's not finished. It has some traction out there in the world. I have been three months from finishing the novel for the last two years, writing anywhere from 0 minutes a day (sometimes for months at a time) to 6 hours a day (three times total). Things like work and kids and howling doubt get in my way.

During those eight years I have worked at graphic design almost every day. Kids and howling doubt and writing don't get in the way of work. I work hard, sometimes at night, sometimes on weekends. My design has improved immensely in the past eight years because of the energy I've put into it. I never used to refer to myself as an illustrator, except to say oh yeah I'm pretty good in this one cartoon-y style, but then I drew one cartoon-y thing, then another, and now I've fully illustrated two educational card games (coming to stores near you this spring)!

Here are two cards from one of the games.

Are they not the cutest things you've seen in your life? Thanks! I'm an illustrator! We get better at something the more we do it. We become what we do. If we only put the same effort into our day jobs that we put into our personal creative projects, we probably would have been fired. And if we work to please our creative muse as hard as we work to please our colleagues, our projects won't be shoved into corners of time no one else wants (née 11:42pm). We have to nurture those babies and create time and energy and resources for them. Which is why I'm here to tell you: my novel will be complete in three months. Now, I must go write.

Death to Plan B

The single greatest impediment to the success of Plan A is to have a really solid Plan B. 

Plan A by nature is more true, daring, and risky. It comes from the heart, from the gut, from unexpected successes, flashes of insight, moments of pure confidence. But for Plan A to become more than a bubbling in the belly and  real in the world, it must first push through the bullet-proof scrim of Plan B.

Plan B, ever practical and durable, is an extremely good liar. It tells you that you you don't need to give up security to achieve a dream; you can have your cake and eat it, too. That is true, if you like your cake crumbly and dry with no frosting or non-pareils.

Plan B crosses its legs and you looks straight in the eye: if you have a dream like writing, or singing, or performing—can't you work on that at night after your kids have gone to sleep? There's a good two hours of time right there. Imagine what you could accomplish with your exhausted, end-of-the-day brain if you used your night hours. It's your dream, so stop whining that your creativity is more ripe, bursting, and explosive first thing in the morning. That's a cop out, Plan B tells you, plucking a cat hair off its black turtleneck. 

Devote some time to your dream, Plan B continues, of course, but don't forget to put the lion's share of your energy toward that which enervates you. Work hard to stay exactly where you've already been. Cultivate the same solid, secure, goals and sources of approval you achieved ten years ago. Be safe, be assured, put food on the table and money away for taxes. Route the sewer. Replace the roof. You're reaching the age where you also probably need to up your life insurance.

Plan B's on a roll, now. It's a shame you can't take advantage of lower interest rates with your house being too far underwater to refinance and all. Too bad you're working harder to make less money now that half your industry has been outsourced to India. Just become indispensable. Become un-outsourcable. You know what you should do—you should learn Javascript. You'd be really good at coding because you are creative and logical. Who says art has to be limited to writing a novel? Live the creative life and let go of what creativity looks like. If you open your mind, you could be happy and have a good job. A web development firm with three weeks' vacation, a dart board, and free Intelligentsia coffee.

Plan B nestles in your ear, wallowing in its waxy cushion. Books are becoming extinct anyway, at least that's what it read on Yahoo! If you still insist on hitching your harness to the relic of publishing, at least write your novel while your kids are napping. What, your kids don't nap? Give them a twig and twine and tell them to go entertain themselves. That's what we did when we were kids. We spent hours building forts out of old newspapers and used Dixie cups. That's why we're so superior now, and why we give such great advice.

NEXT: A little more about Plan A.