I recently came back to a project I'd set aside three months ago.

It was a cohort course I was designing focused on prioritizing and moving creative projects forward. I had a name, research on the need, and a clear sense of what the experience should focus on. I hadn't designed the structure yet.

Then other intentions and priorities took precedence, so I paused it.

When I opened it again, I was dreading the work of piecing it back together. I expected to spend a while rereading scattered notes, trying to recover what I'd been thinking before I could do anything useful.

But I'd left myself a short note. Why I was building the course, what was already in place, and where I'd stopped.

As I read it, I could feel some of that dread ease. I didn't have to search through everything to recover the thread. It was right there, along with the next step: designing the course structure.

It took about a minute to find my way back.

I felt grateful to the version of me who had paused it three months earlier. He'd taken a few minutes to leave what I needed, even though it all seemed obvious to him at the time.

I hadn't always given myself that kind of help.

What makes setting work down hard

When returning to a project means reconstructing where we left off, pausing can start to feel risky. We keep work half-active because we're reluctant to lose our place, even when something else needs our attention.

Leaving enough context to return changes what we're anticipating. It can make setting the work down feel easier, too.

For me, coming back happens in two moments. First I decide whether the project is still in alignment with my current intentions. Then, if it is, I need enough information to step back in with as little cognitive resistance as possible.

Recognizing the project again

Within my project design system, I could have simply called the course project "Cohort Course." which would have helped me find it in a list, and not much else.

Its actual title is "Design: Cohort Course Focused on Creative Project Development."

I use an action verb followed by a description of the work. The verb tells me what kind of work is involved, and the description gives me enough detail to recognize what I intended.

When I revisit a paused project, my first question is whether it still serves the intentions I'm working from now. Reading "creative project development" helps me begin that decision without opening the brief.

There may still be questions about timing or capacity. But I can consider those with the project clearly in mind.

If I decide to bring it back into active focus, the note helps me find where to begin.

The state you leave it in

I keep a short note somewhere I'll see it when I open the project, usually near the top of the project brief. I call it an "interstitial note."

For the course, it read something like this:

Why: Creatives struggle to prioritize and move meaningful projects forward. Research confirmed the need.
​
​Where I stopped: Name, research, and focus are in place. The structure isn't designed yet.
​
​Next: Design the course structure.

None of this felt worth writing at the time I paused the project, because all of it seemed obvious. Of course I would remember where I was and what needed to be done.

But I'd had way too many returns where I felt lost trying to pick a project back up, sometimes even redoing work I'd already done.

I knew taking a few minutes to write the note would be worth the effort.

Before you pause

Choose one project you're about to pause, or one that's already been sitting for a while.

Read its title. Does it tell you enough to recognize what you intended to do? If it doesn't, add the detail you'd otherwise have to search for.

Then leave a few lines somewhere obvious. Why it matters. Where you stopped. What comes next.

If it's been sitting long enough that the details have faded, write what you can recover now. Even a partial note gives the next return a place to begin.

Until next week, may the work you set down be easy to pick back up.

Jeff