31 Aug And So It Begins
Part 1 of 6
It’s 3:45 a.m. and I’ve just put melatonin on my shopping list. I’m awake and writing my first entry in this blog for my content strategy class, champing at the bit to get this project rolling.
I imagine I won’t be getting much sleep these next few weeks. When I go to bed thinking about a big project, I inevitably wake up with it still on my mind, and often long before my alarm rings. I do some of my best problem-solving in those nebulous moments between the sleep and awake states. It is in this tranquility that my subconscious connects the dots that my awake brain didn’t make because it’s too busy managing my day. So when those eureka moments arrive, I leap out of bed to take advantage of the moment and put the ideas in my head to work. In today’s wee hours, my brain was taking dictation about the contents of this blog entry.
My class consists of small teams tasked with developing report deliverables for a real-world client. In last week’s introductory meeting with the client, one of my peers asked for project specifics. Unfortunately, that will not be revealed until this week’s meeting on Thursday. It’s only Tuesday. So I wait—but not patiently.
In the meantime, there is plenty of prep to do, setting up a Kanban board via Trello inside the TEAMS app, and posting this first blog entry.
According to what I’ve read in the assignments this week, my usual approaches to project management are on track. I already follow the same prescribed conventions when I am working on a website.
I hope my approach to projects serves our team well. I am left-handed and as a lifelong lefty, I am a natural problem solver, the result of navigating a backward world. Take lefty scissors. I’ve never been able to use them. When placed in my left hand, all they do is bend the paper, which would be great if the end goal was origami. But the amazing thing about using a regular pair of scissors in your left hand is the ability to make precision cuts because the slant of the blade turns up, allowing for an unobstructed view of the cutting path. Likewise, I approach challenges from a different angle because of my handedness.
I signed a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) for this project. I’ve only done that once before when I worked backstage at Cats because I was privy to close-up views of costume construction and other backstage mysteries. Because I signed that NDA, even though it’s been a few years, I would never reveal those secrets—why ruin the magic? Most importantly, it was a binding document. The same applies here. I will think out loud about the process on these pages, but I will not reveal my client’s information and my methods. So if you are my classmate on another team looking for our team’s secrets, move along. These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.