Making · 1 min read
Make a small version
An idea becomes easier to understand when it has a form. A small first version can reveal what thinking alone leaves out.
I can think about an idea for a long time without knowing whether I understand it.
In thought, the pieces tend to fit. I can move past an awkward detail without noticing. I can imagine the experience working because I haven’t had to make each choice that would allow it to work.
A small version changes that.
A page asks me to choose what comes first. A sketch asks where things belong. A simple tool asks what someone is actually trying to do.
The first version gives the idea some resistance. I can see where it becomes confusing, where I have added too much, or where the interesting part is smaller than I expected.
That is a useful kind of progress. It gives me something more specific to respond to than my original enthusiasm.
The size of the version matters. I want it to be substantial enough to teach me something and small enough that I can change my mind. If I build too much before looking, I may become more concerned with protecting the work than understanding it.
So I want to ask: what is the smallest thing I could make that would bring this question into view?
Then make that, and pay attention.
Matthew Hollingshead