Two tools to use when kicking off product strategy

Design is… hard. Product strategy is even harder, to say the least. Most of it is an art, using some science and numbers to guide us. If you Google product strategy, you’ll get a whole slew of resources, ideas, and argumentative articles. I’m not here to give you the overall breakdown, or convince you that you need product strategy.

Instead, I want to share the two methods I use most often to help clear things up, gain alignment, and give my brain have everything it needs to percolate and create its bizarre little connections. And they require absolutely ZERO design skills. I pinky-promise.

You know what they say when you assume…

I can almost guarantee if you think back to a less than favorable project experience, you’re probably going to point out there was an assumption that was used to make decisions. Here’s the thing about brains - you are never going to consciously say “Ok, I will be making this assumption now.” Our brains jump to conclusions faster than the speed of light (thanks synapses!) and we’re heavily influenced by social norms. What does that mean? It means if no one else around us questions a detail, we will often ALL accept that detail as truth. So - great - our brains are working against us. But there’s ways we can make ourselves and our brains more aware of these behaviors - all while doing team building and getting valuable direction.

The Assumptions Exercise
What: A collaborative exercise that gets everyone involved to contribute anything that could be an assumption in the project. This can be anything from an assumption about a user behavior to an assumption that there is any value to be derived from this effort (aka this project might not be the right fit).
Who: Ideally everyone involved on the project - Design Lead, Delivery Lead, and Product Owner. At minimum - Design Lead (who will then communicate insights to Delivery Lead)

When: At kickoff. Before logging hours to ANY design.

How:

1. Schedule a mini-workshop 1.5-2 hours long.

2. Remote: Miro board with stickies color-coded per participant
   In-person: everyone gets a stack of stickies in a unique color/shape

3. Set the stage: For the next 15 minutes, everyone writes as many assumptions as they can conjure for this project. If more time is needed, please go ahead and add it.

4. Once everyone is done, it’s time to talk through them. Spend the next 30min having each person go through their sticky notes, out loud, and explain their thinking. As everyone does this, encourage everyone to start grouping sticky notes that feel related. Eventually, you should have several groupings of sticky notes.

5. Have the team label these groupings.

6. Spend any remaining time identifying which assumptions can be validated (by user research, talking to a stakeholder, etc.).

7. Assign an owner to each assumption that can be validated.

Breaking things down…

One of the hardest parts of Product Strategy is that there is just so much to discover. Information comes and goes - often changing quickly as decisions are made. This exercise continues to be my favorite for getting started on anything - whether it’s strategy or a hi-fi comp. I call it Fragment Gathering.

Fragment Gathering is almost exactly what it sounds like - I start making note of any fragment of info that pertains to problem I’m tackling. This includes things like:

1. Data points

2. Terminology preferences

3. Known/Expected patterns

4. User Jobs-to-be-Done

5. User mindsets and provisional personas

6. Reusable components

My favorite way to track these things (now) is in Miro. The ability to toss a sticky note down listing a fragment, and then be able to connect that so I can model/manipulate the relationships without jumping into Sketch is :chef-kiss:. That said - my brain has moments where it really, really needs physicality to grasp these relationships. In these cases a good old whiteboard or some papers scattered on a floor do wonders to seeing things in a different light. But regardless of the format - this is where any design I put together starts. Just tiny pieces of information being moved around so I can see where they are best suited, where they’ll have the most impact, and how to combine them for maximum value. Like designing a logo - if it works as its most base form (a simple black-and-white logo), it will work regardless of the effects and styling you apply over it. Same thing goes for the information in an experience - the base form needs to do most of the work. Anything added on top should only serve to aid in further/quicker comprehension.

I’m curious - have you found yourself doing similar things when first approaching a project or problem? Do you have a set process, or do you trust your gut to find the process?

The Social Media Design Lexicon

A User-Generated Shift in Design

Fire up any social media app, and you’re guaranteed to be inundated with tiles of beautifully plated food, pristine blue-green waters in the tropics, and a desk so meticulously organized you almost forget this particular friend’s commitment to creating a new form of sentient life in their sink just two days ago. 

Despite people clamoring that social media created this apparent phenomena of self-editing, it’s quite far from true. Humans have always altered the “self” they present to the world – it comes with the territory of being a social creature. We spend our formative years learning to navigate a social environment that is dependent upon us reading social cues that shift the “self” we present. But I’m not here to discuss the psychology of sharing, or even blame social media for all societal ills. I am, however, here to wildly speculate on what this shift means to visual design.

Visual design functions through an lexicon of images, colors, patterns, and icons, often dependent upon culture to aid in the context. This language is just like– well– a language. It only works if the other person has the toolset to decode it. This often means that, as a whole, visual literacy ebbs and flows according to what the majority is doing.

We see this happening dramatically in the design world with what Paul Adams of Intercom dubbed “The Dribbblisation of Design”[1] Adams argues that design often becomes homogenous through a focus on the resultant visual rather than the meaning or context. It’s the equivalent of building a transatlantic bridge but only making it large enough to hold pedestrians or bikes.

A good example of this widespread shift in design literacy is typefaces. Back even before the the good ol’ Gutenberg days, the human brain understood one thing very well: blackletter, or Gothic Script. It was the standard, the norm, the modus operandi of writing.

Today, the jumble of vertical lines, squished closely together even with all the flourishes, appears illustrative rather than functional. Yet, at the time, this was no more difficult to read in its time than serifs were in the 15th century, or sans-serifs are now.

The brain remains unsurprisingly adept at translating what the eye constantly sees–and our eyes see so much more thanks to the internet.

Now, a small, flat rectangular screen that we hold in our hands (when we’re not dropping it in the toilet) contains our entire world. One selfie post takes half an hour of shooting and editing, that clever comment went through four revisions. We have become curators and editors, tailoring the reality we present not just to strangers, but the people we know. We are becoming more deliberate–and this has resulted in the commodification of the individual. Merriam-Webster defines a commodity as, “something useful or valued,”[2] usually with the intent of sale.

Yeah – that follower count you’re trying to ramp up? You’re quite literally turning yourself into a product by assigning a measurable value.

So, the argument should follow that we aren’t spectacularly unique products. After all, we’re curating a perfection based on the other bytes we’ve seen–copying a convention because we have a stronger gauge of its impact. So is design doomed? Is user-generated content creating an blurry average of visuals whose focus on being quickly digested that is skewing the output of the “professional” design industry?

No. Everything ever in and out of this world has been reactive and cyclical. A focus on industrialization resulted in the rise of the Arts and Crafts movement in the 19th century, which then resulted in a shift back towards mechanized production, which then – you get the gist. What’s newer is that the reactive push-and-pull of design is significantly faster.

We’ve already seen a strong response to the focus on “beauty.” A resurgence in brutalism is apparent throughout the web, 80s geometry and type has been cleaned slightly but left intact, and 90s colors and gradients are back and so neon you can hear the crackle and hum of the CRT tv.

Ugly isn’t the only way to go – another response is to stop focusing on the old “form follows function” adage by designing “pretty for pretty’s sake”. Clean, serious, and very Western minimal design has seen a shift towards ornate, decorative, and playful visuals – largely through the influence of the sole user.

With an increasing power to define and influence the visual lexicon that shapes the visual world of humans, we are also seeing growing spheres of influence from more and more cultures and regions. Borrowing visual components from other cultures is hardly new, but the manner it’s being carried out in is quite distinct. Individuals from their respective regions and cultures are responsible for these insights, rather than an outsider that visits and “brings” back selected components. This increases the context and meaning of the elements, ideally resulting in a truer understanding and avoidance of appropriation.

As most designers will tell you, following a trend may pay off in the short run, but ultimately its value decays. With a slew of images all shiny and tailored, perhaps we should be curating for authenticity rather than status. Perhaps we will become more conscious consumers and designers because of our increased exposure to new design. Perhaps users the world over will change the metric by which we view the world. Perhaps we’ll just continue shoving the stuff on our desk out of frame to show off that clean, organized workspace.

[1] Paul Adams. Inside Intercom, 2016. blog.intercom.com/the-dribbblisation-of-design

[2] Merriam Webster. merriam-webster.com/dictionary/commodity

Changing Ecosystems

The future is now and it’s in the form of virtual assistants. Of course, virtual assistants have been around for a while, but they’ve gotten oh-so-much smarter.

So I bought one.

There are a couple major players on the market, but I stuck it out with the newcomer (though by no means the underdog): Google Home. So, why not wait for Apple’s virtual assistant? Or go with Alexa, Amazon’s solution to virtual assistants that has been on the market since late 2014 and would integrate perfectly with my existing Prime account? Why go with the one that looks like a glamorous air freshener? My choice ultimately boiled down to two factors: brand and established products.

A good brand goes a long way, and it’s hard to argue when Alphabet, Google’s parent company, is valued at approximately $500.1 billion as of May 2016. It’s easy to think of marketing as advertisements. In print, on the web, with social, we are constantly inundated with products we should try and services that will fix everything in our lives. I recognize that my consideration of the Google Home was the result of a marketing effort, but the marketing did little to really sell me on the Home. Google’s consistency as a brand, however? Different story. 

Largely fueled by their Material Design visual framework, the Google brand establishes user experience and interaction patterns that are easily recalled and translate across their entire product line. For me, that means I got hooked. Once you get the hang of one Google product, you’ve virtually eliminated a learning curve for all products following and, in doing so, you’ve reduced the apprehension against trying a new product. That’s huge.

I’ve been a longtime (if not necessarily loyal) user of Google products. Beyond Google search and Gmail, Alphabet has developed a lot of products under the Google masthead that all connect and communicate. This is, possibly, the largest reason for my decision to go with Google; their product “ecosystem”. I don’t own android devices anymore–my current product ecosystem is almost entirely rooted in Apple at the moment. But from the moment I setup my Google Home, the assistant was able to play an obscure Spotify playlist, rattle off my calendar for the coming day, give me a breakdown of weather, lower and raise the volume, tell me when to leave for work, play parakeet noises for my bird, and pronounce my name correctly.

More than anything, the Google Home scratches the ego. There’s something about walking into a room and, unprompted, telling the air to schedule an event for tomorrow and “check the weather there”. Then, Google Assistant will cheerily confirm my event and update me on the weather where the event will be. Still, there are miscommunications and times I ask something that can’t be done. Instead of simply saying “I can’t do that,” Google will say something along the lines of “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to do that yet. I’m always learning, though!”

And she is. Google isn’t exactly known for leaking information about their upcoming products, but with the competition already able to do so much that the Google Home is lacking as of release, it’s extremely likely we’ll be seeing new features soon. Not to mention that with the Google framework powering everything, I’m not worried about my information getting “stuck” in the ecosystem (like Apple tends to do). In the meantime, I’ve started trying to beef up my smart tech by researching smart bulbs, switches, etc. My finding? Any future smart product I consider will always run by the “does it work with Google Home” filter, something I’m sure isn’t unique to me. This presents one obvious truth: third-party products that choose to support Google Home first will see a huge traction with Google users who are new to creating their own automated ecosystem. 

Fact is, we no longer buy a singular product. Instead, we now buy product ecosystems. It’s not a new idea, and it’s evolving into something interesting with the implementation of consumer-level IoT in recent years. We might even see something of a super-product ecosystem, where more companies partner to work together exclusively to integrate their products. Either way, we’re seen tech move away from a single product, and more into modular ecosystems in which outdated components can be replaced, rather than an entire product. So, did I make the right choice? Maybe, maybe not. In the meantime, I’m going to pretend my life is busy enough to warrant an assistant.

The Design of Tidying Up

A month ago, I picked up a neat little book: Marie Kondo’s “The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up”. The anchoring principle of her KonMari method is that we only hang on to what “sparks joy.” She recommends holding each item individually and having an existential conversation with it. Out loud. In a room with no noise or distraction.

So, I decided I would do it. I’m currently starting month two of the most thorough cleaning spree I’ve ever initiated and my closet is finally completely done. That’s it, just one standard walk-in closet. And yet, it feels different now. Instead of clothes pouring from shelves, all of my clothes are neatly folded and stored on their side (like books), everything taking up only one-third of my entire closet.

And it isn’t just my physical environment: it’s impossible for me not to see the connections between the KonMari method and graphic design—after all, it has strong roots in minimalism and a material design aesthetic. So, let’s talk about tidying and design, shall we?

Throwing things out is not unlike a brand or website redesign.

The KonMari method is popular largely because it guides you through a learning curve of identifying criteria for discarding. The same applies for design. No matter how you personally define a brand, there is one immutable truth: people made it. Which also means those people like it. And those people don’t want it to change. In cases like that, I’d recommend what Marie recommends: begin it all at once. Gather every part of a brand and look at the design all together. You’ll start to see pieces that don’t click as well as they used to.

Discarding doesn’t mean destroying.

Marie Kondo is often faced with the expectation she’d rather see everyone with as few possessions as possible, but she argues that the amount of stuff doesn’t matter, as long as it serves purpose. Minimizing duplicate information and graphics on a website improves speed while promoting a seamless and happy experience to visitors.

When the clutter is gone, the purpose shines.

There’s a significant change that happens when your space is in order. The air feels fresher, the room looks lighter, and everything feels like it’s clicked into place. The need to fill the space with as many visuals as possible dissipates, replaced by careful curating. The same applies to a website; deliberate content and elements become neon signs for what you do, why you do it, and why it matters.

For me, my recent foray into tidiness has been from a desire to have more time. Cleaning is always an ordeal, and too often I hide-clean when someone announces they’re just dropping by. Think of it like this: if the visitor you most want to see your site decides to look at it, would you be furiously hiding something or opening the door?