I love a good plan.
Color-coded calendar? Absolutely. Detailed list? Obviously. A beautifully organized system explaining exactly how I’m going to accomplish everything over the next three weeks? Look at me. Thriving.
Now ask me what I’m supposed to do first.
Suddenly we’re experiencing technical difficulties.
There is something incredibly satisfying about knowing the whole plan. It makes us feel organized. Prepared. Responsible. Like the kind of person who definitely doesn’t have 37 browser tabs open right now.
But here’s what I’ve learned about my own brain: Knowing the entire plan doesn’t necessarily help me start. Knowing the next step does.
And those are two very different things.
A Plan Can Still Be Overwhelming
Let’s say I need to work on a presentation. That’s the task.
Except…not really.
I need to figure out what I want to say. Find the information I need. Decide on the structure. Write the content. Build the slides. Find graphics. Fix the formatting. Review everything. Make edits. Practice.
Cool. I now know the whole plan. I am also suddenly very interested in reorganizing a drawer.
This is one of the frustrating things about executive function. Understanding what needs to happen and being able to initiate the process aren’t the same skill.
Task initiation – the ability to actually begin a task – is part of executive functioning. So are planning, prioritizing, working memory, managing attention, and moving between different steps of a task.
Which means you can be perfectly capable of understanding a project and still get stuck trying to begin it.
Your brain isn’t necessarily asking, Can I do this?
It may be asking: Where exactly am I supposed to start?
“Work on It” Is Not a Next Step
This is where task lists occasionally betray us.
Because we write things like:
- Work on presentation
- Clean apartment
- Study for test
- Apply for jobs
- Plan trip
Those look like tasks. They are lies.
Okay, maybe not lies. But they’re definitely collections of tasks wearing a trench coat and pretending to be one task.
“Clean the apartment” could mean pick up clothes, start laundry, put dishes away, wipe down counters, take out trash, vacuum, clean the bathroom, change the sheets…
And if my brain is already tired, seeing CLEAN APARTMENT on a list does not magically organize those steps.
It just announces that somewhere around me is an entire apartment requiring attention. Helpful.
A next step is different.
Not: Clean apartment.
But: Put dirty clothes in the hamper.
Not: Study for biology.
But: Open the notes from Chapter 6.
Not: Work on presentation.
But: Create the title slide.
Those actions are smaller, yes, but more importantly, they’re clear.
Your Brain Has to Translate Vague Tasks
One reason this matters is that vague tasks require more thinking than we give them credit for.
If my list says “work on blog,” I still have to figure out what that means before I can do anything.
Am I researching? Writing? Editing? Finding an image? Adding it to the website? Checking SEO?
“Work on blog” has now created another task: Figure out what the task is.
And that little bit of friction matters.
Executive function helps us plan, prioritize, sequence actions, hold information in working memory, and initiate tasks. When those processes require more effort, vague instructions can create a surprisingly large barrier between knowing something needs to happen and actually doing it.
This is also why someone saying “just start” can be so deeply unhelpful.
Thank you. Hadn’t considered that. I’ll alert the authorities.
The problem usually isn’t that I am philosophically opposed to beginning. The problem is that my brain hasn’t found a clear entry point yet.
The Whole Plan Can Become Too Much Information
There are definitely situations where seeing the whole plan helps me.
I want to know where we’re going. I want to understand the goal. I want to know what’s coming.
But once I understand that? I don’t necessarily need every remaining step screaming for my attention at the same time.
Imagine you’re standing at the bottom of a staircase. You know you’re trying to get upstairs. Technically, you can see all 15 steps. But you don’t climb them by somehow stepping on all 15 at once.
You take the first one. Then the next one. This sounds painfully obvious when we’re talking about stairs.
Yet somehow when we’re talking about work, school, chores, or life, we expect ourselves to mentally carry the entire staircase while taking step one.
Sometimes seeing everything that still needs to happen makes starting harder because now my brain isn’t dealing with one action.
It’s dealing with the anticipated effort of the entire project, and my brain would like to formally decline.
Starting Changes the Problem
There’s another reason the next step matters so much.
Once I start, I have new information.
Before I begin writing something, I might be thinking about the introduction, the structure, the research, the conclusion, whether it’s good enough, whether I forgot something, and approximately 400 other extremely useful concerns.
Once I write the first paragraph? Now I’m responding to something that actually exists.
The problem changes from: “How am I going to write this entire thing?”
To: “What’s the next paragraph?”
That is a much smaller problem.
Starting creates momentum, but it also creates clarity.
You don’t always need enough information to finish. Sometimes you need enough information to begin.
This Matters for How We Help Other People, Too
I’ve realized this isn’t just about how I manage my own tasks. It’s also changed how I think about support.
When someone is stuck, we tend to explain more. We give them the whole plan. We remind them of the deadline. We list everything that still needs to happen. We explain why it’s important.
Meanwhile, the person who was already overwhelmed is now standing there with even more information.
Sometimes the most useful question isn’t: “Do you understand what you need to do?”
It’s: “Do you know what you need to do next?”
That question tells us something completely different.
A student may understand that the research paper is due in two weeks and still have no idea what action to take when they sit down tonight.
An employee may understand the goal of a project and still be stuck because “get started on the proposal” isn’t specific enough.
An adult may fully understand that they need to deal with the giant pile of mail on the counter. Awareness has occurred. The mail remains undefeated.
Knowing the goal isn’t always the missing piece. Sometimes the missing piece is the bridge between here and there.
Smaller Doesn’t Mean Less Important
I think we sometimes resist breaking tasks down because it feels ridiculous.
Surely I shouldn’t need to write down “open the document.” I’m an adult. I know how documents work. But the point isn’t whether I’m capable of opening a document.
The point is whether defining that action makes it easier for my brain to transition from thinking about the task to actually doing the task.
If it does, great.
Open the document. Put the shoes by the door. Find the assignment. Write the first sentence. Send the text. Put one dish in the dishwasher.
We don’t get bonus points for making things harder than they need to be.
There is no Executive Function Olympics committee standing nearby deducting points because you used a checklist.
At least I hope not. I’d like to see their organizational system, if so.
This Is Something We’ve Thought About a Lot With NeuroLocker
A big part of NeuroLocker has always been getting things out of your head and into a place where you can actually do something with them.
But capturing the task is only part of the problem. Knowing you have a project doesn’t necessarily tell you how to begin it. That’s why task breakdown matters so much to us.
If the thing sitting on your list feels too big, the answer isn’t always more motivation. Sometimes it needs to become smaller. Clearer. More specific. Something your brain can actually grab onto.
The whole project still matters. The deadline still matters. The bigger goal hasn’t disappeared.
You just don’t have to do all of it right now.
You Don’t Need the Whole Staircase
There are times when having a five-year plan is useful.
There are also times when I don’t know what I’m having for dinner tonight, so perhaps we’ll manage expectations.
Knowing where you’re going matters. Planning matters. Thinking ahead matters.
But when you’re stuck, overwhelmed, or staring at something you know you need to do and somehow still cannot make yourself begin, zooming farther out isn’t always the answer.
Try zooming in. What is the smallest clear action that moves this forward?
Not everything you need to do. Not what needs to happen tomorrow. Not the seven steps after this one. What happens next?
Sometimes that’s enough.
And once you’ve done that? You can figure out the next next step. Which is admittedly a terrible phrase. But a pretty good way to get things done.
Talk soon,
Soph
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