I've been meditating for the last long while on what makes a project Good or Bad. What makes a project feel smooth or bumpy, stressful or pleasant? Drawn out or too short? There's a happy point where expectations are met, the process goes smoothly, and you walk away ready to do more because you know more. This is different from when you cast off and you go "yup, another one for the pile [of socks]" and cast on again; so I think I'm thinking more along novel projects, but I'm also not going to exclude rote projects, because I think the underlying joy is the same, even if it seems the root is different.
The big examples I have in my head rn are the sliding doors I just put up and hobby kits. Both are highly satisfying projects that took a while[1], had each step planned out, involve adaptation, and had a good outcome. But one of these things required adaptation and one of them merely encouraged it: The sliding door was fitting into an existing space with existing needs; the hobby kit is entirely self contained and only requires adaptation if you break something--otherwise any changes are because you felt like it. I often feel this gatekeepy need to look at hobby kits as lesser projects because of this. You don't have to ~think~ to make one, you can just follow the instructions and let your hands do their thing. But then I remember I knit socks entirely by rote, barely needing to look: I just follow the instructions in my head and let my hands do their thing. So I flipped the script and looked at the sliding door: Really, I was just following the instructions there, too! I had to put my own numbers into the boxes to make it fit in my space, but by the time the parts were at my house it was all ready: I just had to follow the steps and let my hands do their thing. I did a bunch of novel things[2] but most of it I actually knew how to do--not in this specific context, but I know how to mark & measure, drill, project price & scope, and procure materials for this kind of thing.
I think what makes both these project examples end up being good projects then, is the fact nothing went awry I couldn't solve on the fly. I went through the procedure as planned/expected, and nothing was so far outside the scope to feel overwhelming or impossible. And the reason nothing goes awry is both due to my developed skill and how carefully someone planned the work--in one case the model makers, and in the other, me. A well-designed model kit has already considered tolerances, materials, and dimensions. It is, effectively, designed to be pleasing to assemble because everything Just Fits. The designers meticulously thought through how it fit together--and in what order--so you can build it up neatly. Assuming no outlier defect in the manufacturing process and no slips of the hand, it will go together just so in good time. For my sliding door, I took on the burden of design, but by the time I got to actually doing each step, I Just Did It. It makes the whole thing far more pleasant when you do this! You're not worrying too far ahead because you know what happens next. You're able to focus on the step you're doing; if you get interrupted you have your place marked and can resume again. You... well hey. you know what this is?
mise en place
Mise en place is one of the foundations of cooking as an art[3] and The Most Important Thing You Can Do when learning to cook (or learning to cook something new). You absolutely must divide your work into gathering ingredients, preparation of ingredients, and then cooking. You do this so you can focus on each step, giving it the attention it needs when timing becomes All Important and the dangerous powertools[4] come out. You no longer have to fumble for the teaspoon and fight with spice jars when you want them; you don't have to pull out the acid and/or when you deglaze. Everything is right there, right where you put it. You can even divvy out the work or do it earlier in the day to make the project easier! Mise en place is transformative and a habit I highly recommend. It's also why projects go smoothly. A hobby kit has all of the parts right there on the runner. You gather your tools. and sit down for as long as you want, then come back knowing exactly where you left off. My doors were much the same--I had a pile of tools and materials, steps in mind, and markings staged before I ever picked up anything more changing than a pencil. It made the whole project much nicer, especially for the parts that until that moment were entirely theoretical.
Now here's the thing: stuff still goes wrong. I had to go back to the hardware store because I missed a few things. I may accidentally cut something wrong or decide my paint choice isn't working in a kit. But the ratio of failure to success is heavily in success's favor because planning removed most of the risk and my skill removed the rest. That ratio could actually go the other way, though: I don't have to meticulously plan a sock. I can, actually, freehand the entire thing with only a foot, some yarn, and some needles; not a single measurement or note needed. My decade + of skill means I can solve any issue that may come up on the fly. And it will be equally enjoyable! The project will end within a reasonable time[5], the wearer will have a lovely pair of socks, and I'll have a strong sense of accomplishment and satisfaction in my skill. When cooking, I don't always work from a completly staged mise en place! I'll save a lot of prep steps for that time when my onions or mirepoix is cooking because I know how long that takes and how much attention it needs. What I'm finding, based on recent experiences both mentioned and unmentioned, though, is I greatly greatly greatly enjoy removing as much risk as possible via planning and mise en place than skill, and that goes triple for anything new. I could have absolutely fumbled through installing the sliding door with much less planning. I have a skillset that would allow me to figure out how to install a doorplate without looking up any information. I could have read instructions less carefully, skipped envisioning myself doing the actions, and marked fewer holes. but it wouldn't have been nearly as fun
Before I dropped a dollar on those doors and hardware I knew exactly what I was going to do. I even thought about marking the wall before the purchase since it was planned out far enough. And the whole thing was awesome. There were points my own body's complicated mental and emotional state[6] should have stopped me, but the power of planning turned it into an inconvenience fairly easy to circumvent. There were points "I've never done this before" ended with a 🙂 when they would have otherwise been 🙃. Planning is good, planning is great; I'm gonna keep developing it as a skill as I keep making things--that's the dream: to keep making
I almost wrote this with two/tenses since hobby kits as an Idea is ongoing and the door is done but I'm not writing paragraphs of that ↩︎
Hanging doors! Installing door latches and mortising door plates![7] ↩︎
along with knife work and. I guess if you really subscribe to cooking ah. Classically? The Sauces ↩︎
yall ever think about how dangerous a stove or blender is? Stand mixers will break ya fingers/keep your hair up when operating one ↩︎
assuming ready access to the foot ↩︎
autism ↩︎
ya know, I think I was gonna post that work and then the idea wiggled out and grew into this post; check these out: baby's first chiseled mortises:
These two door plates are cut into the MDF of dirt cheap hollowframe doors and are the first time I've really chiseled anything. There are some scuffs, tears, and one little errant utility knife cut, but I'm quite pleased with them as first goes! ↩︎