The marked-up paper was in my bag.
My girlfriend was working on a business plan for a clothing line with an artist. She sent me a draft while it was still missing some research and asked what I thought.
I printed it, read it, and wrote comments across the pages.
My first response was positive and blunt. The content was very good. The facts and market definition needed more work. Some statements needed to be rephrased. The introduction also put the collaborators in the wrong order.
It was a clothing line, so I thought the designer should come first.
“Your credentials for this plan are more powerful and you should lead with your best assets first,” I wrote.
I was not trying to turn her plan into my project. I wanted the opening to explain immediately why this particular group could make the thing they were proposing. The artist mattered, but the designer had to be visible before the reader reached the rest of the story.
I asked when she wanted to go through the notes. The paper copy stayed in my bag until we could sit down together.
This was happening while Peek was consuming most of my professional attention. I was building technical operations, testing distribution lists, planning infrastructure, and trying to hire help. At home, the apartment was finally settling down after the cross-country move. The side-project energy came with us.
Not every idea in the archive belongs to me. Some of them show up because somebody I cared about was trying to build something and asked me to help make it clearer.
The plan was not ready. It was close enough to cover in ink.