An anchor problem is a real (but hard) problem we've been stuck on for so long that it seems insurmountable. Specifically, we've been wedded to a problem so long that it just isn't working. It's a kind of creative tension caused by having a vision that isn't working, triggering emotional tension. The solution is to reframe the problem ([[Choice- or Problem-framing]]); open up new ideas; prototype (reducing anxiety); and then move forward with a new solution. Compare anchor problems to [[Gravity Problems]], which are non-real problems (or [[Problems - Predicaments|predicaments]]); they're impossible to solve, like trying to change gravity, which cannot be done. I need to make sure the problem itself isn't one of these kind of things, that it's an actual (but again, hard) problem that can addressed, albeit with new thinking. ## Reference Burnett, Bill; Evans, Dave. Designing Your Life: How to Build a Well-Lived, Joyful Life (p. 74). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. > There’s a certain class of problems—the ones that just won’t go away—that we call anchor problems. Like a physical anchor, they hold us in one place and prevent motion. They keep us stuck, much as Grant and Sharon were stuck with their career problems. If we are going to practice good life design, it is important to notice when we are stuck with an anchor problem. > **The moral to the stories of Dave, Melanie, and John is this: Don’t make a doable problem into an anchor problem by wedding yourself irretrievably to a solution that just isn’t working.** Reframe the solution to some other possibilities, prototype those ideas (take some test hikes), and get yourself unstuck. Anchor problems keep us stuck because we can only see one solution—the one we already have that doesn’t work. **Anchor problems are not only about our current, failed approach. They are really about the fear that, no matter what else we try, that won’t work either, and then we’ll have to admit that we’re permanently stuck—meaning we’re screwed—and we’d rather be stuck than screwed.** Sometimes it is more comfortable to hold on to our familiar, failed approach to the problem than to risk a worse failure by attempting the big changes that we think will be required to eliminate it. This is a pretty common but paradoxical human behavior. Change is always uncertain, and there is no guarantee of success, no matter how hard you try. It makes sense to be fearful. The way forward is to reduce the risk (and the fear) of failure by designing a series of small prototypes to test the waters. It is okay for prototypes to fail—they are supposed to—but well-designed prototypes teach you something about the future. > > Prototypes lower your anxiety, ask interesting questions, and get you data about the potential of the change that you are trying to accomplish. One of the principles of design thinking is that you want to “fail fast and fail forward,” into your next step. When you’re stuck with an anchor problem, try reframing the challenge as an exploration of possibilities (instead of trying to solve your huge problem in one miraculous leap), then decide to try a series of small, safe prototypes of the change you’d like to see happen. It should result in getting unstuck and finding a more creative approach to your problem. We will talk a lot more about prototyping in chapter 6. > > Before we leave the topic of anchor problems entirely, we need to make clear how they differ from the gravity problems mentioned in chapter 1. They are both really nasty problem types that keep people stuck, but they’re entirely different in nature. **An anchor problem is a real problem, just a hard one. It’s actionable—but we’ve been stuck on it so long or so often that it seems insurmountable (which is why such a problem has to be reframed, then opened up with new ideas, then knocked down to size by prototyping). Gravity problems aren’t actually problems. They’re circumstances that you can do nothing to change. There is no solution to a gravity problem—only acceptance and redirection. You can’t defy the laws of nature, nor do we live in a world where poets reliably make a million dollars a year. Life designers know that if a problem isn’t actionable, then it’s not solvable. Designers may be artful at reframing and inventing, but they know better than to go up against the laws of nature or the marketplace.**