Kill your darlings: the path to writing understandable UX
By: Alana Fialkoff
Tags: Writing, Patternfly, UX Design, Ux Writing, UX

Writing killer content

Kill your darlings: the path to writing understandable UX

Sometimes writing clear-cut copy means throwing our favorite words under the knife.

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

Kill your darlings, kill your darlings. Even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings. – Stephen King in On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

Every fiction writer’s heard it before: kill your darlings.

It sounds dramatic, but the concept itself is fairly simple. Killing your darlings begs radical reduction: removing unnecessary yet beloved characters, details, and plot points from your narrative to streamline its story.

But oh, does it sting! We often view creating as a strictly additive process: “What can I put in to make this piece better? What is it missing?” Cutting elements is like breaking off bits of ourselves — hence why it usually takes a second pair of eyes to solidify which pieces have to go.

It makes sense, though, in the creative writing realm. Sometimes we think up personas or backstories that win our hearts but wind up off track. We include words that ring with little reason. We hate to see them leave, but our text loves to watch them go. In shaving away those trimmings, we shape a more compelling story.

That’s not to say less is always more. Less is always, well… less. But sometimes reduction is vital.

Whittling writing to bare bones can be a great exercise in clarity, but that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. Finding a balance between functionality and flair lies at the heart of all successful writing. We just have to tap into that flair without compromising our message. Creativity and clarity work hand in hand if we can perfect that ratio.

As a creative writer and former copywriter, I’ve grown almost grotesquely comfortable with wordplay: amusing alliteration, witty puns, whimsical turns of phrase… And all’s fine and well being playful in the marketing realm — cheeky copy sells. But it doesn’t always use well.

As a new UX writer, I had to get more comfortable letting go. Letting go of clever references, silly nods, extended metaphors. Letting go of the notion I’ve got to love everything I write.

Because I can adore my own content decisions, but that doesn’t mean they’re usable.

Falling in love with our own words creates content biases that support our egos instead of our users.

Take a step back and acknowledge who you’re writing for: it’s probably not yourself. As UX writers, our language needs to guide users through a flow to reach a desired end. So that button text? Might not be the best place to prove you know your Rihanna.

The most effective writers read — evaluating other successful (and unsuccessful) microcopy can help you critique your own. Joining online microcopy conversations helped me develop an eye for balancing function and flair.

Let’s say we’re drafting button text for an online music platform. Users click this button to make new albums streamable for subscribers — it functions as their digital release.

A clever copywriter might try to link this text to a cultural reference, something to make users react and create buzz. For this effect, Drop it like it’s hot might make a giggle-inducing call to action (CTA). You might get some amused exhales or endearing eye rolls.

But with great references comes great responsibility — and odds are, your entire user base won’t know you’re channeling your inner Snoop. Users who get the joke might relish in that witty line: but with two indirect pronouns (“it”), what this button accomplishes grows obscured by its playfulness. Why should a user click this button? For the average user, the incentive isn’t clear, nor is the actual phrase understandable.

I won’t lie, I think Drop it like it’s hot is clever. It’s zippy — it’s got flair. But it relies too much on specific context — music taste, pop culture investment — and asks the user to connect too many dots.

Now, this is where some of us fumble. We jumble priorities and rank wit over workability. Our lines become our babies. We hold fast to our intent without factoring in how our words actually resonate. We send our cheeky copy off into the wild and, to our disdain, it thwarts usability.

Well. Time to kill that darling.

References, puns, and wordplay infuse life into an interface, but only if they can be properly understood. Humor works, but only if it can be translated or localized without losing its meaning. There are many, many ways to give your microcopy zing. But sometimes it’s best to just keep things simple.

In this hypothetical button text scenario, Release now would communicate the button’s upload function with no frills — but it leaves personality to be desired. Something more like Drop my album would carry the button’s function while still maintaining a casual, hip brand voice. These three words may not be as laughable or smirk-worthy, but their clarity leaves little room for confusion.

Killing Drop it like it’s hot sacrifices a moment of potential user amusement in order to gain continued user satisfaction. In this instance, plainer words win.

That being said, crafty copy does have its place.

Strong brand personalities invest considerable time developing their brand voice, and may choose to incorporate jokes, puns, and other whimsical wordings to season their microcopy accordingly.

Using humor in microcopy can be tricky: will your users get the joke? How many times will they be hit with that tagline? Beyond being said once or twice, even the best lines lose their luster.

So how do we know when to wield our wit?

Certain situations or target audiences demand different content delivery methods. Web copy for an independent music platform, for example, could justify a more whimsical tone because your audience limits to a specific group of creators. Web copy for interfaces used by wider audiences, like Facebook or Instagram, might benefit from omitting one-liners.

It all boils down to knowing your audience.

Let’s return to that album release example. We killed Drop it like it’s hot because it relies too heavily on cultural context and might flounder when localized. I suggested Drop my album as a consumer-conscious alternative. But we could get away with a little more fun.

Independent music creators are our niche audience, and they’d likely be more receptive to copy that speaks their language. If our button appears at the bottom of an album release form, we’d have enough on-page context for a more casual line. We could replace Drop my album with Let it drop and have solid faith that most, if not all, of our users will comprehend its meaning. Substituting these words transitions power back to the user’s hands. Our interface isn’t dropping their album; they’re calling the shots.

Let it drop also taps into music industry slang and centers our CTA on the user without alienating others that may not have been familiar with our original reference to Snoop’s song.

For further clarity, hovering over or clicking on Let it drop could open a popover or modal for confirmation. When a user hovers over or clicks the button, a line of copy confirms they’d like to distribute their music to the masses.

I explored what these design and microcopy decisions might look like by rendering static examples in Sketch, and using PatternFly’s React demos for popovers and modals.