Flying Solo
Me, Myself, and UX
9 months ago I embarked on a journey I didn’t know would transform my career. It’s been the ultimate test of my patience, confidence, and resilience. No, it wasn’t finally publishing my first novel (I wish) or going Twitter viral (no thanks). It was a job at a tech company as the only UX writer.
Yes, you read that right. Only UX writer. As in: I’m the only content expert in my 100+ person product org. But that’s not the weird part. The weird part is this is the norm in the industry right now and we need to change that.
Browse any product design thought leadership piece and you’ll see that UX is becoming integral to business success. Ask any great CTO and they’ll tell you your user experience should drive your go-to-market strategy. Companies like Google, Spotify, and Dropbox have invested a lot of time and money into building out UX teams and have become tech giants because of it.
But “UX”, for most of its youthful existence, has referred primarily to designers and engineers. I don’t believe people intentionally forgot about writers. Someone has to hashtag the company Instagram! But the hard truth is our legacy is that of Mad Men-esque storytellers, not product developers. And teams learned to do their jobs without us.
…..but why?
Miss Interpretation
I blame this sentiment: “People don’t read”. Nowadays it’s easy to believe that. The average human attention span is 8 seconds. Insert zombie-like scrolling tendencies in an increasingly hyper-visual, on-demand society. But it’s also easy to forget that some of the most basic everyday activities couldn’t happen without language.
Imagine texting someone “Good morning!” but you had to do it without using words. It’s not impossible — everyone with a phone would instinctively choose a gif or emoji. But what if the other person interprets it wrong? That “😑☕️”, to them, means “I’m so unbelievably tired” and now the narrative and its expectations have changed.
Without the right words, misinterpretation is inevitable. And it’s a product’s worst enemy. It’s also exactly why it’s so important to think strategically about how we communicate in design. Yes, visual cues can tell a story (or in the product sense, guide a user to complete a task). But language has the power to make things personal, to resonate on levels that a beautiful interface alone cannot. In the end, great user experiences are more than their code and pixels. They need context and relevance, too. And that’s the part of UX where writers thrive.
Fueled By Uncertainty
So, 9 months ago I starting thriving. I dove headfirst into creating content standards, rewriting most of our app, and owning my expertise. My role isn’t clearly defined. Every day is an exercise in education, advocacy, and assertiveness. UX writing is a whirlwind profession and most of us, like me, are flying solo. But part of gaining trust and honing our unique craft is making sure we have a seat at the table. Only then will people realize writing isn’t the frosting. It’s actually the cake.
