What to do when you’re stuck and struggling.
I’m a painter. Not the walls and windows kind — though I’ve done plenty of that too — the oil on canvas type. I paint because you can’t think about anything else while you do. It’s the perfect escape.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. When evaluating a work in progress, one of my mentors often says: “It’s unresolved.” That’s the most precise description of the painting process I know. You’re addressing one problem after another until the painting is resolved. You come to crave that resolution. The sense of accomplishment is so satisfying, but it can also be elusive.
If that sounds a lot like your job, you’re not alone. Our work, be it art or changing behavior, follows a pattern, a consistent arc with three phases. If we know where we are in the process, we can facilitate our way through the phases, speeding up and improving the outcome.
PHASE ONE
It’s going to be amazing. The options are limitless.
The canvas is white. Nothing but possibilities. You think: “I want this to be the best painting I’ve ever done.” In behavioral science, this is referred to as optimism bias. The first few brush strokes are the scariest, you’re tense and tentative because you’re aiming for perfection. You get a few things blocked in. Then, despite having a clear idea about how you want the painting to turn out, you realize you don’t know how to get there. This is followed by a crisis of confidence where you question why you even bother trying to paint.
I see agencies and nonprofits in this spot all the time. (No one calls my firm when everything is working perfectly.) Filled with good intentions, they are focused on internal issues like operations and funding, not external facing efforts like communications or program design. The result is a lack of engagement. The organizations’ outcomes aren’t meeting expectations, or, worse, there’s no plan to address the gap.
The psychological problem here is that there are too many options, and we instinctively want to keep every one of them open. Recently, a client approached me about a website addressing substance abuse. It was important for the site to speak to both teenagers and their parents. But in trying to not leave anyone out, the site wasn’t appealing to either teens or their parents. Sometimes leaving two doors open means neither is used. Indecision is always more costly than imperfection.
PHASE TWO
Exiting the conundrum.
Indecision becomes paralysis. When painters are stuck, they trace the same stroke over and over. That’s procrastination, not problem-solving. Here are two ways to get unstuck:
Lower the stakes. Putting the canvas aside and painting on paper can transform your approach. It’s just paper, if you mess up, you just throw it away. Amazing things can happen when you stop caring about messing up. Risk is a necessary part of progress.
Set an unrealistic self-imposed deadline (USID). I had an instructor who would lay out a complicated still life and tell the class that we had an hour to paint it. Our paintings had to completely cover large canvases prior to a group critique: “No white canvas,” the instructor repeated as the class painted. This was a great method of freeing oneself from overthinking a problem. Some of my favorite paintings have resulted from just trying to fill a canvas in an hour.
Both techniques are what Drs. Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein refer to as choice architecture in their book Nudge. They force prioritization through intuitive System 1 decision-making. And prioritization is exactly what’s missing from so many behavioral change initiatives.
I’m currently working with a nonprofit addressing climate change by increasing urban tree canopies. They also hold multiple public education events each year on various topics related to gardening. And they raise money to provide beautification grants to neighborhood associations and municipalities.
These are all wonderful things, but the organization’s resources are limited. Isn’t mitigating global climate change a large enough mountain to climb? I see so many organizations allow legacy programs and cause creep to render their staff exhausted and less impactful.
PHASE THREE
The path to resolution.
Resolution is about lots of corrections and a few finishing touches. Finding parts of the painting that aren’t quite right. Change one color and the color next to it needs adjustment. Simplify. And hold back on the small detail that will make the entire canvas sing. The hero of the painting usually has to wait until the end, when the surround is firmly established.
Cause initiatives share the same need for refinement. Yet we can become so mired in the intervention that we overcomplicate things for those we are striving to help. Thaler and Sunstein call this sludge. Sludge is what the cable company puts in your way when you want to scale back your service. Or what is required when you attempt to cancel a subscription before the free trial ends.
We have to find ways of simplifying the intervention, of removing sludge. Too often, we start by looking for a big win, a masterstroke. But like the hero of a painting, big wins tend to come at the end. Start by course-correcting program design one little tweak at a time. A collective set of revisions may wind up being your hero.
I’ve worked on many cancer screening initiatives. Imagine how many lives could be saved if our healthcare system eliminated even a little sludge. What if there were just fewer forms on the clipboard that kicks off every office visit? Start small and keep refining.
There’s a moment in every painting where I think, “This is awful.” But I know that awful moment is just part of the process. It keeps me from giving up. And the struggle gives me something in common with every other painter I meet. Our cause work is the same way. Whatever issue you’re wrestling with is not unique to your agency or nonprofit. Your program isn’t broken, it’s unresolved. We can all do better, and we will.
In solidarity,
Kevin
