.png)
Planning season has arrived. Between September and December, most healthcare marketing teams will draft a 2027 plan and defend it in a budget meeting, then lock the numbers into a spreadsheet nobody reopens until spring. We have written plenty of those plans. Our experience in healthcare has taught us how they get built, and a decade of agency work taught us how they die. Outcomes Rocket now runs medtech engagements as 90-day sprints instead, each one ending with a decision to continue, redirect, or kill the work. Before you lock next year's plan, consider the case for planning less and deciding more.
The problem with an annual plan is simple. It asks a volatile market to hold still for twelve months, and healthcare refuses. A payment rule changes, and the value story behind your entire content calendar needs a rewrite. The plan approved in November never saw it coming, so the team spends spring executing against a market no longer there.
Nobody plans around a competitor either. A rival clears the FDA in April with a product your positioning ignored, and the messaging work scheduled for Q3 becomes the emergency of Q2. The annual plan has no mechanism for this. It was built to be followed, not revised, and revising it mid-year feels like admitting failure. So most teams follow it anyway, straight past the point where it stopped describing reality.
Shrinking budgets raise the stakes. Gartner's CMO Spend Survey put marketing budgets near 7.7 percent of company revenue, continuing a multiyear slide. When the pool gets smaller, a wasted quarter hurts twice. The money is gone, and there is no reserve left to recover with.
Ninety days is a proof cycle
A sprint changes the promise marketing makes to the business. An annual plan promises activity across four quarters. A sprint promises an answer in one. The scope is fixed and the deliverables are dated, so at day ninety the team either hits the number or explains why.
Ninety days also turns out to be the right size for a real test. An ABM push against fifteen named accounts produces meeting data within the window. A conference cycle fits it almost exactly, from pre-show outreach through the follow-up after the booth comes down. And because the window is short, the assumptions behind the test are still true when the results arrive. Annual plans report so late nobody remembers what they were testing.
Every program earns its next quarter
Most marketing programs continue because ending them requires a conversation nobody schedules. The annual plan protects weak programs by hiding them inside a portfolio approved months earlier, where sunk cost does the arguing. A sprint puts the conversation on the calendar in advance. At day ninety, the program defends itself with numbers or it ends, and neither outcome is a crisis, because the decision point was part of the design.
There is a career argument here too. Spencer Stuart's research puts average CMO tenure near four years, the shortest seat in the C-suite. Boards want proof in quarters, not fiscal years. A marketing leader who reviews the portfolio every ninety days walks into the board meeting holding evidence. A program surviving three consecutive reviews carries a track record no annual plan produces, and its budget becomes the easiest line to defend.
What still deserves a year
Some decisions should never reset quarterly. Your positioning is one. Your named account list is another. Churn those every ninety days and you become a company nobody recognizes twice. The sprint governs execution, not identity. Set the destination once a year. Fund the route one quarter at a time, and let each leg earn the next.
The common objection is fatigue, the fear of a permanent quarterly scramble. My experience runs the other way. Teams on annual plans spend the whole year quietly renegotiating a dead document, which is its own scramble, stretched across twelve months and dignified with the word strategy. Teams on sprints argue once a quarter, decide, and get back to work.
So before the 2027 plan gets locked this fall, run one test on last year's version. Count the assumptions still standing by June. If fewer than half survived, the document was a wish list with a budget attached, and this is the season to stop writing them. What would your team kill at day ninety, and why is it still running?