Writing for Designers

How and why you — as a designer — should be using your words.

Like coding, color theory, or learning a software, the use of words is a powerful tool we possess as designers. We find ourselves writing all sorts of things — emails, memos, landing page headlines, directional copy — the list goes on. Not all writing tasks are created equal but we can approach these many different scenarios with a thoughtful mindset.

I love the surface simplicity of written word. The pace of reading is antithetical to a culture of instant gratification and quick wins — you have to be patient with words. You don’t always know where they are going, and sometimes the only way to find out is to just keep reading. Without the help of a crafty visualization or an auditory cue, words must stand up for themselves.

When I write I flux between flashes of creative output and paralysis of choice from the many directions words could take me. I try to direct the ideas dancing in my mind into a unified routine, but they like to move to their own rhythm. The output is comparative to a middle school performance of Fiddler on the Roof, but maybe with enough rehearsals one day we’ll get to Broadway.

There are two things I want you, as the reader, to take away from digesting this rambling reflection. First, an excitement for improving your own ability as a designer and writer. Second, an idea of how and where to start.

Well-written words hold incredible weight. In a time of shrinking attention spans, short-form content and constant information competing for our attention the value of spending time with an idea is often overlooked. The tl;dr wins, not the experience of processing a complete thought.

In design we are seeing more and more experiences that are conversational in nature. Technology has surpassed the need for skeuomorphic visuals to create mental parallels between the digital and physical. We have the ability to simplify experiences down to simple words, and rely on natural language over complex visual interfaces.

Even directional, short-form content can be thoughtfully delivered. Heading back to Northern Michigan for the summer this past weekend, I noticed a small sign in the mirror of the airplane lavatory.

“A wipe of the counter goes a long way for the next guest. Thanks for helping keep the sink area clean and dry.”

Now the Director of Lavatory Signs for Delta could have said that in fewer words. “Keep counter clean” or “Wipe after use” would suffice. But how much more pleasant does the message read as phrased? As the customer, I’m not being told to do anything. Delta has offered an observation of an action that helps others — a wipe of the counter. They already assume I’m a respectful, clean person and thank me in advance for doing my part. The action is also referred to passively with a noun, versus using an active verb, another subtle hint to the customer that there is no burden placed on them to take action.

This could have also been phrased in a more direct way — “Clean the counter for the next guest. Sink area should be kept clean.” This language could present as condescending. A subtle assumption that the customer is an irresponsible individual who needs to be told to keep the lavatory clean. It also puts responsibility on the customer, not Delta, to maintain the cabin.

As we start writing together — because you’re in this with me now — how might we find a balance between brevity and intentional, thoughtful content? Most often times less is more, but more is also more. Let’s consider how we can facilitate thoughtful conversation with our audience using words that foster a pleasant experience.

In the design process, our audience changes with the course of a project. From sharing a concept to a final deliverable, consider who your audience will be and what their goals are. Lorem ipsum and strategically placed, symmetrical rectangles have their place in the tool kit of a designer, but a well-placed headline or bit of copy can work wonders. Adding realistic content early on can often reveal areas to improve the design and help spark conversation that will guide the design process.

Visuals have their place — the principle of “show don’t tell” holds true. With a little hand-waving and a couple pretty animations, it’s easier to get the “oohs and ahs” of an executive team than a with a short block of 12-point Helvetica text. Writing makes us refine and organize our ideas.

In working as a design consultant with Amazon a few years ago, I got to experience their very specific way of holding meetings and presenting work. A written memo outlining your work in a specified format, printed for every attendee was required. Before any discussion everyone took 15 minutes to read and digest the information. As a designer and storyteller, it was challenging coming in without the support of visual aids, but a great learning experience. Relying on words to communicate forced you to be clear and concise with your content.

So where do you start, as ‘non-writer’ who wants to write?

Don’t be overwhelmed at the burden of creating content out of nothing — it’s all been said before. It’s much easier to edit and critique existing content than to create new content from scratch. We’re just rearranging words in a way that hopefully, this time around, will resonate with our audience. Think of yourself as the steward of the text.

In product design, I’ve found writing intent-based placeholders in helpful in my own process. Instead of laboring over what the actual headline would say in the moment, I’ll write what the user needs to know as the “lorem ipsum” text. This creates an opportunity to bring others into the process and spark conversation, moving the creation process one step further towards completion.

One of my favorite books is Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. It’s a beautiful reflection on life and writing. The title is inspired by the story of her 10-year-old brother, overwhelmed at the task of an lengthly report on birds. He’d procrastinated all summer break, and the report was due the following day. Lamott describes the scene,

“He was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books about birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, ‘Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.’”

In my opinion, the best way to start writing is to start writing. Follow Mark Twain’s advice: “Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.”