What Deserves the Next 12 Months of Your Startup’s Life?

Happy New Year, a few weeks late.

Let me tell you about the moment I realized I was about to waste an entire year.

It was late November, and I had just finished a “strategic planning session” for Trevean Spice. I had a beautiful Notion board. Color-coded priorities. Quarterly milestones. Revenue projections that curved upward in that satisfying hockey-stick shape investors love.

A few years back, a mentor of mine named Bruce Kornfeld saw my day planner—the physical one I carried everywhere, with different colored highlighters coding each type of activity. Green for customer calls. Yellow for deep work. Blue for internal meetings. Pink for personal. He flipped through the pages, nodded appreciatively, and said something that stuck with me:

“This is impressive. But be careful—this is planning porn.”

Planning porn. The art of creating beautiful, meticulously detailed plans that feel like progress. You spend weeks perfecting the color-coding, aligning the milestones, making the Gantt chart just right. It’s satisfying work. It looks professional. You can show it to people and they’ll be impressed.

And then you spend the entire year admiring the plan instead of executing it.

I thought I’d learned that lesson. Apparently not.

I showed my Notion board to my wife. She looked at it for maybe thirty seconds and said:

“So… you’re going to do all of this? In one year? While also running Trevean Living?”

I started explaining how the initiatives were interconnected, how each one built on the others, how I’d carefully sequenced everything—

She cut me off. “Dan. There are fourteen things on this board.”

I counted. She was right. Fourteen “priorities.”

Here’s the thing about fourteen priorities: You don’t have fourteen priorities. You have zero priorities and fourteen wishes. And a really beautiful plan.

That conversation sent me down a rabbit hole that completely changed how I’m approaching 2026. And if you’re a founder staring at your own ambitious planning doc right now, wondering how you’re going to pull it all off—this one’s for you.

The Uncomfortable Truth About Focus

Nobody starts a company because they’re excited about saying no. We start companies because we see possibilities everywhere. That’s the whole point. We’re the people who look at a problem and think, “I could build something to fix that.”

The uncomfortable truth? That same instinct that makes you a founder will destroy your startup if you don’t learn to override it.

I’ve watched this happen. I’ve almost done it myself—multiple times. You start with one clear idea. Then you talk to customers and hear about adjacent problems you could solve. Then a potential partner suggests an interesting angle. Then you read about a competitor’s feature and think, “We should have that too.”

Six months later, you’re building fourteen things, finishing none of them, and wondering why you’re exhausted but not making progress.

Sound familiar?

The uncomfortable truth is this: Your startup doesn’t need more ideas. It needs fewer ideas, executed completely.

Every founder I know intellectually agrees with this. And almost every founder I know—myself included—struggles to actually do it.

Why Urgent Always Beats Important (Unless You Intervene)

Here’s what happens in practice.

You wake up Monday morning with a clear plan: This week, you’re finally going to nail down your supplier contracts. That’s the important work. That’s what moves the business forward.

Then you check your inbox. A wholesale lead responded—they want samples by Thursday. Your website has a bug that’s breaking checkout. A customer posted a complaint on social media. Your designer has questions about the packaging that’s going to print next week.

All of these are urgent. All of them feel like they need immediate attention. None of them are the supplier contracts.

By Friday, the supplier contracts haven’t moved. But you’ve been busy all week. You’re tired. You feel like you worked hard.

This is the trap.

Urgent tasks come with built-in deadlines and external pressure. Someone’s waiting. Something’s broken. There’s a clear moment when it needs to be done.

Important tasks—the ones that actually determine whether your startup succeeds—rarely have that urgency. Nobody’s emailing you demanding that you finalize your product strategy. No customer is complaining that you haven’t figured out your unit economics. The important work can always wait until tomorrow.

Until suddenly it can’t, and you’ve lost a year.

The only way to beat this pattern is to intervene deliberately. To create artificial urgency around the important stuff. To build systems that force you to work on what matters, not just what’s loudest.

That’s what this whole post is about.

The Test Itself (And Why It’s Harder Than It Looks)

Here’s the question I’ve started asking about everything—every feature idea, every partnership opportunity, every “quick win” someone suggests:

“Does this deserve the next twelve months of my startup’s life?”

Not “Is this a good idea?” Good ideas are everywhere. I have a notes app full of good ideas.

Not “Could this work?” Lots of things could work.

Not “Would customers want this?” Customers want lots of things.

The question is: Does this specific thing deserve to be one of the tiny handful of bets I make with the most precious resource I have—time I cannot get back?

That reframe changes everything.

When someone suggests adding a subscription box option alongside our core product, the old me would think: “That’s interesting. Customers might like that. Let’s explore it.”

The new me thinks: “Am I willing to spend three months of 2026 building subscription infrastructure instead of something else? What won’t get done if I do this?”

When a potential retail partner reaches out, the old me would think: “Retail distribution! That’s a huge opportunity. We should definitely take that meeting.”

The new me thinks: “Is retail the best use of the next six months? Or is it a distraction from the direct-to-consumer model we haven’t even proven yet?”

The test sounds simple. In practice, it’s brutal. Because you’re not just saying “not now” to bad ideas. You’re saying “not now” to genuinely good ideas that simply aren’t the best use of your limited time.

That’s harder than it sounds.

What It Actually Looks Like In Practice

Let me show you what this looks like with real stakes.

Unfocused Trevean Spice (what I almost built):

Here’s the plan I was working from in November—the fourteen-priority disaster my wife called out:

Launch flagship spice blends (okay, this one’s obvious)
Build NFC-enabled smart packaging with freshness tracking
Create AR experience showing origin stories
Develop subscription box program
Build custom blend creator tool
Pursue wholesale partnerships with specialty grocers
Launch at local farmers markets
Create content hub with recipes and cooking education
Build influencer partnership program
Develop B2B offering for restaurants
Create gift box product line for holidays
Build loyalty program
Expand to international shipping
Launch podcast featuring spice farmers

Every single one of these is a legitimately good idea. I could make a case for any of them. Our customers would probably want most of them.

But here’s what would actually happen if I tried to do all fourteen:

The NFC packaging would be half-baked because I’d be distracted by the subscription box. The subscription box would launch late because I’d be chasing wholesale meetings. The wholesale relationships would stall because I’d be spread across farmers markets on weekends. The content hub would be thin because I’d be building the loyalty program instead of writing.

By December 2026, I’d have fourteen things at 30% completion. No clear wins. No proof points for investors. Just a lot of “almost there” projects and a founder running on fumes.

Focused Trevean Spice (what I’m actually building):

After applying the twelve-month test ruthlessly, here’s what survived:

Launch flagship blends with NFC-enabled packaging that actually works. This is the whole bet. This is what makes Trevean Spice different from every other spice company. If I can’t prove that customers value tech-enabled spice experiences, nothing else matters.
Build the direct-to-consumer foundation on Shopify Plus. Not wholesale. Not retail. Not B2B. Direct-to-consumer, where we control the relationship and can learn what customers actually want.
Create enough content to support the core product launch. Not a content hub. Not a podcast. Just the essential recipes, origin stories, and educational material that makes the NFC experience valuable.

That’s it. Three things.

Everything else—the subscription boxes, the wholesale partnerships, the AR experiences, the custom blend creator—goes on a different list. More on that in a minute.

Avoiding The Superman Complex

Here’s where founders get stuck, and I know because I get stuck here constantly.

You look at the focused list and think: “But I could do more. If I just work harder. If I’m more efficient. If I wake up earlier and stay up later and really commit…”

This is the Superman Complex. The belief that you’re somehow exempt from the laws of physics that apply to everyone else.

You’re not.

I spent fifteen years in corporate environments watching people burn out because they couldn’t admit their limits. I’ve seen product managers try to run six projects simultaneously and deliver none of them well. I’ve seen directors working seventy-hour weeks who were somehow always behind.

The founders who win aren’t the ones who work the most hours. They’re the ones who ruthlessly eliminate everything except the work that matters most.

Here’s the math that finally convinced me:

Let’s say you have 2,000 productive hours in a year. (That’s generous—it assumes no sick days, no mental health breaks, no weeks where you’re just running on empty.)

If you’re pursuing fourteen priorities, each one gets about 140 hours. That’s roughly three hours per week per initiative.

Three hours a week is enough time to make something feel active. It’s not enough time to make something excellent.

Now take those same 2,000 hours and put them behind three priorities. Each one gets 650+ hours. That’s real time. That’s time to do something properly.

The Superman Complex tells you that you can have it all if you just try harder. The math says otherwise.

The Most Common Mistake (And I’ve Almost Made It Three Times Already)

Here’s the trap that catches even founders who understand everything I’ve said so far.

You do the hard work of focusing. You narrow down to three priorities. You feel good about your discipline.

Then something happens. A big opportunity appears. An investor suggests a pivot. A competitor launches something that makes you nervous. A customer asks for something you hadn’t considered.

And you think: “This is different. This is too important to ignore. I’ll just add this one thing…”

I’ve almost made this mistake three times in the past two months alone.

Mistake attempt #1: A well-connected friend offered to introduce me to a buyer at Whole Foods. Whole Foods. The opportunity was real. The introduction was warm. All I had to do was shift some focus to retail.

I caught myself. Retail is not the 2026 bet. Even a good retail opportunity is a distraction from proving our direct-to-consumer model works.

I said no. It physically hurt.

Mistake attempt #2: A potential investor asked why we weren’t pursuing restaurants. “B2B is where the volume is,” he said. “You should have a restaurant line.”

He wasn’t wrong. B2B could work. It’s a legitimate strategy.

But it’s not this year’s strategy. I’d be building a completely different business—different packaging, different price points, different sales process—instead of proving the thing I set out to prove.

I explained our focus. He understood. (Good investors respect founders who can say no to good ideas.)

Mistake attempt #3: A friend suggested launching with QR codes instead of NFC tags. “You could be in market next month,” she said. “Why wait for the NFC tech to be perfect?”

This one was the hardest. She was right that QR codes would be faster. She was right that we could start generating revenue sooner.

But QR codes aren’t the bet. The bet is that NFC-enabled packaging creates a meaningfully different customer experience. If I launch with QR codes, I’ll never know if the NFC vision is real. I’ll have revenue, but I won’t have an answer.

I’m still waiting on the NFC tech. It’s painful. But it’s the right call.

The pattern: Every one of these “exceptions” was genuinely reasonable. That’s what makes them dangerous. Bad ideas are easy to reject. Good ideas that don’t serve your focus are the ones that kill you.

My Secret Weapon: The “Not This Year” List

Here’s the tool that’s made all of this possible.

It’s not enough to decide what you are doing. You need to explicitly document what you’re not doing—and why.

I call it the “Not This Year” list.

This isn’t a someday-maybe list. It’s not a backlog. It’s a deliberate record of good ideas that I’m consciously choosing to ignore in 2026.

Here’s part of mine:

Product Features We’re Not Building (Yet):

Subscription box program — not until we prove one-time purchases work
Custom blend creator tool — requires tech investment that distracts from NFC
AR origin story experiences — cool but not essential to core value prop
Loyalty/rewards program — premature before we have repeat customers to reward

Go-to-Market Approaches We’re Not Pursuing (Yet):

Wholesale/retail distribution — can’t control the experience, need DTC learnings first
Farmers market presence — time-intensive, doesn’t scale, distracts from digital
Restaurant/B2B sales — completely different business model
International shipping — complexity we don’t need while proving US market

Partnerships We’re Not Chasing (Yet):

Influencer program — need product excellence before amplification
Chef collaboration series — great for credibility, not great for focus
Co-branded products — adds complexity, dilutes brand clarity

Content We’re Not Creating (Yet):

Podcast — would love to, but it’s a time sink
Video cooking course — same issue
Comprehensive recipe database — will build with customer input over time

The magic of this list isn’t just saying no. It’s remembering why you said no.

When that Whole Foods introduction came up, I looked at my list. “Wholesale/retail distribution” was right there, with my own reasoning: “can’t control the experience, need DTC learnings first.”

I didn’t have to re-litigate the decision. I didn’t have to figure out whether this particular opportunity was different. I’d already thought it through. The answer was still no.

The list also helps when people question your focus. Instead of seeming scattered or indecisive, you can say: “We’ve explicitly decided not to pursue retail this year because we need to prove our direct-to-consumer model first. That might change in 2027.”

That’s a confident founder who knows their strategy. That’s fundable. That’s trustworthy.

How I’m Actually Implementing This

Okay, let’s make this practical. Here’s the framework I’m using, step by step.

Step 1: The Brutal Audit

Write down everything you’re currently working on or planning to work on. Everything. Features, partnerships, channels, content, internal projects—all of it.

Don’t filter. Don’t judge. Just list.

I ended up with 23 items when I did this. Twenty-three things I was either actively doing or telling myself I would do “soon.”

Step 2: The Twelve-Month Test

For each item, ask: “Does this deserve the next twelve months of my startup’s life?”

Be honest. Not “could this be valuable” or “might customers want this.” Does it deserve to be one of your three-to-five major bets for the entire year?

Most things won’t pass. That’s the point.

Step 3: The Murder Board

This is the hard part. Take everything that didn’t pass the test and put it on your “Not This Year” list.

For each item, write one sentence explaining why it’s not making the cut. This forces you to articulate your reasoning, and it gives you ammunition when the idea inevitably comes back around.

Step 4: The Survival Test

Look at what’s left. If you have more than five things, you’re not done cutting.

Here’s my rule: If I can’t explain my entire year’s focus in under sixty seconds, I have too many priorities.

Try it. Time yourself. If you’re still talking after a minute, you need to cut more.

Step 5: The Calendar Check

Take your focused priorities and map them to quarters. Not vague intentions—specific milestones.

If you can’t see how the work fits into actual calendar time, you’re still being too ambitious.

Step 6: The Weekly Ritual

Every Monday, I review two things: my focused priorities (to make sure I’m working on them) and my “Not This Year” list (to make sure I’m not getting distracted).

This takes ten minutes. It’s the most valuable ten minutes of my week.

What This Year Is Actually Going to Feel Like

Here’s the honest version of my 2026, quarter by quarter.

Q1: The Unsexy Foundation Work

This quarter is about getting the NFC technology right. That means working with suppliers, testing adhesive tags, solving the integration between our packaging and the digital experience.

There will be no launch in Q1. No revenue. No exciting announcements.

What there will be: A technical foundation that actually works. The unsexy infrastructure that makes everything else possible.

I’m going to feel impatient. I’m going to wonder if I should just launch with QR codes. I’m going to see competitors shipping while I’m still testing.

I’m going to stay focused anyway.

Q2: The Real Launch

This is when the flagship blends actually hit the market. Shopify store live. NFC experience working. First real customers.

Q2 is where I find out if the bet is right. Do customers actually tap the NFC tag? Do they care about origin stories and freshness tracking? Is this a real value proposition or a founder fantasy?

I’m expecting this quarter to be humbling. First customers always reveal things you didn’t anticipate. There will be bugs, complaints, features I forgot, and at least one “oh no, we didn’t think about that” moment.

I’m going to resist the urge to pivot based on early feedback. I need enough data to know what’s signal and what’s noise.

Q3: The Learning Quarter

By Q3, I should have enough customers to learn from. This is analysis and iteration, not expansion.

What’s working? What’s not? Where are customers getting stuck? What do they actually care about?

Q3 is where I earn the right to think about Q4 expansion. Not before.

I’m going to feel pressure to grow faster. I’m going to hear “you should do X” from well-meaning advisors. I’m going to see the “Not This Year” list and feel tempted.

I’m going to stay focused anyway.

Q4: The Decision Point

By Q4, I should know whether the bet worked.

If NFC-enabled spices are resonating—if customers are engaging, reordering, telling their friends—then 2027 becomes about scaling what works. Maybe subscription boxes come back on the table. Maybe retail makes sense.

If it’s not working, Q4 is when I face that honestly. What did we learn? What would we do differently? Do we pivot, persevere, or wind down?

Either way, Q4 is about making decisions with real data, not hopes and assumptions.

The Question That Changes Everything

Here’s what I want you to take from all of this.

The next time someone suggests a feature, a partnership, a “quick win,” a pivot—ask yourself the real question:

Does this deserve the next twelve months of my startup’s life?

Not “is it a good idea.” Not “could it work.” Not “do customers want it.”

Does it deserve to be one of the precious few bets you make with time you will never get back?

If the answer is yes—truly yes—then commit completely. Put it on your focused list. Map it to your calendar. Make it happen.

If the answer is anything other than a clear yes, it goes on the “Not This Year” list. You can revisit it in twelve months, when you know more and have accomplished more.

This won’t feel good. Saying no to good ideas never feels good.

But you know what feels worse? Getting to December and realizing you made progress on fourteen things and finished none of them.

Focus isn’t about productivity hacks or time management tricks. Focus is about deciding what deserves to exist—and having the discipline to build only that.

What’s on your “Not This Year” list?

If you’re doing your own annual planning right now, I’d love to hear what you’re cutting. Drop a comment below—sometimes saying it publicly makes it real.