This failure was multi-faceted.

• My ego wanted to be seen as an exceptional thinker, so the focus of my writing shifted to fewer topics and novel ideas.
  
• I was trying to write for imagined external audiences of serious, critical thinkers who would dismiss anything imperfect.
  
• I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to write about anymore. My interests were diverging from UX and product to societal concerns and geopolitics.
  
• Inspiration wore off quickly — I would eagerly sit down to write, only to feel the motivation drain away within an hour.
  
• Often, the idea that inspired me wasn’t all that interesting after some probing.

Even right now, as I type this sentence, I can feel the writing engine in my mind sputtering, struggling to continue.

That brings me to what I really wanted to talk about — writing with the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI).

Over the last few years, a series of language models have shown increasing promise in generating human-looking writing. You prompt the model with something to nom on, and it outputs text that looks like something a professional writer put together.

For me, the biggest elephant in the room is that AI-assisted writing is going to destroy the searchable web. Google search results are already overflowing with low-quality pages, stuffed with keywords and designed to get viewers to click affiliate links. AI-assisted writing removes the only real guardrail constraining these websites, which is that it required effort to produce content. Now, you can have your own AI-powered blog in seconds, producing endless volumes of content.

Short of blacklisting websites that abuse AI content, I don’t think we can prevent the destruction of the searchable web. Enjoy the closing moments of signal-rich Google searches before the noise overtakes them. And hope that whatever rises from the ashes of Google search will be somewhat serviceable.

Next to that larger elephant is a smaller elephant, and this one may be more of a personal hang-up — I get distressed anytime I am mislead in a meaningful way. If someone uses AI to generate an article and then slaps their own name on it, are they misleading me? The answer comes down to how substantially they were assisted. If they are using AI to overcome writer’s block by prompting for ideas on where to take an essay next, that seems okay. If they are broadly copy/pasting from AI and claiming those ideas as their own, that feels like it’s not okay.

Unfortunately, we don’t get to see behind the curtains of what we read. We only have their final product to judge, and that final product may not be an accurate reflection of a writer’s skill or lack thereof.

It’s obvious that AI-assisted writing models like GPT-3 will eventually become valuable tools for authors and writers. While writing this essay, I used OpenAI’s GPT-3 model a few times to suggest what could come next. I didn’t directly use any of the output text, but what I saw did influence the direction of my thoughts. Not in a manipulative way, but as something more natural, as if I would have arrived at those thoughts whether or not the AI participated.

I’m excited for the arrival of AI-assisted writing. It’s coming whether we like it or not, so it’s better to be optimistic and thinking about how we can shape the technology to best service both writers and readers.

We want users to be able to do XYZ, so what’s the best way to add XYZ to the mix?

Regardless of where the idea came from, a necessary first step is to investigate the problem in context, particularly to see if it’s actually a symptom of something upstream. For example, if you live on a polluted river, the design problem you might start with is that your section of the river is polluted, while the source of the problem is that someone is dumping pollution in the river upstream. You could try to solve the problem locally, by changing some condition of the river near you, or you could try to solve the problem upstream, by reducing or eliminating the source of pollution. Ideal solutions almost always require going upstream.

After ascertaining the provenance of the problem, I then set out to identify many different potential solutions. I use a brainstorming funnel framework — at the top of the funnel, I pour in a lot of ideas and approaches without really considering their merits, and only after producing an exhaustive assortment of prospects, I narrow the many ideas to a handful with the project’s goals acting as a filter. In most projects, one idea will typically emerge as the best step forward. Sometimes, what ends up being built out is exactly what I envisioned while brainstorming. But usually it’s some variation.

This brings me to the central thought that sparked this writing — I’m tired of nitpicked design and UX critiques. There are many viable paths for designing and building a feature, just as there are many ways to drive from one town to another. Your own goals determine what the right route is. You might opt for the fastest option, the most direct path, or the most scenic roads. No route is per se wrong as long as you end up at your destination.

Years ago, I was freelancing with a startup that provided stock strategy screening and backtesting for financial advisors. I talked to potential customers and learned many things, including that they preferred information dense layouts, and they liked the look of the Bloomberg terminal.

The interface I put together made the activities easy to accomplish, and to make customers feel more at home I used an information-dense layout on a dark background. I thought it looked nice, and early customers didn’t complain. I took it as an affirmation that my work was satisfactory for customers.

Some time later, as I was winding down my role with this company, the startup’s founder brought on a project manager who had his own opinions on design. He thought the interface polish I had used was wrong, in particular he loathed the dark background. So this PM colleague put time and energy into updating the look & feel to his vision. I didn’t really fight it because it wasn’t going to be my responsibility for much longer.

So what happened? Customers didn’t complain. I don’t think they really even noticed that the look & feel had shifted drastically. Nitpicking the interface design didn’t produce any real benefits for this company.

For me, this was a valuable lesson that the heart and soul of product and UX design is the solving of meaningful problems. If you can help customers do what they’d like to do, they won’t really care what your interface looks like as long as it’s reasonably polished.

That being said, visuals and branding still do have value, but more so as a means of amplifying a solution. Perhaps this is why Apple’s products and interfaces are such a delight to use, they solve a problem and then amplify that solution with pleasant UX.

I had another trip planned that would come exactly 10 weeks into my recovery: a five-day vacation in Oregon. If everything went well, I would be in shoes by this time, and hopefully able to keep up with our traveling companions.

This map, taken without permission from Wikipedia, indicates the location of Oregon within the United States

Well, everything went according to plan, and it was time to head out to Oregon.

Traveling at this stage of recovery presents a few risks:

Blood clot

This is actually a danger for anyone who sits in the same position for several hours. A long flight will cause swelling in your legs, and with the blood not moving like it otherwise should, you can develop a blood clot. That’s why it’s really good to stand up and move around at least once per hour while on a flight, or driving, or any similar scenario.

To avoid a blood clot, I took a full-strength aspirin, and also wore a compression sock on my recovering leg.

Long walks

Since getting out of the orthopedic boot, the longest walk I’ve taken in shoes was around a grocery store. Airports aren’t known for being small, so I was looking at over a mile of walkways just to get from Lansing to Oregon.

I’m not going to gloss over the truth here. I struggled to keep up. It was physically demanding.

Frequent walks

Coastal Oregon is scenic, and we stopped our rental car many times to soak in views of rugged terrain and the Pacific Ocean. I enjoyed this sightseeing, but the walking was taking its toll and my heel began to dread the next spontaneous excursion. Having only a few minutes to rest between stops became mentally exhausting, and mental exhaustion is dangerous because you can easily make a mistake.

Unknown environments

The first week or two in shoes are risky, because the muscles and ligaments surrounding your Achilles tendon are weak. Your balance takes a big hit, so it’s best to walk on smooth surfaces that you are familiar with (like home).

Coastline near Devils Punchbowl State Natural Area in Oregon

In the span of a few days I went from walking around at home (like a good patient) to climbing steep outdoor stairs, hiking across sandy beaches, trying to maintain my balance on a choppy boat, and even skipping across a small tidal creek. Each of these new challenges require extra care to sidestep errors.

Oregon beach near Depoe Bay

Since you’re reading this, you can probably guess that the Oregon trip went okay. While there were several points at which I questioned my decision to keep it on the books, those moments were fleeting, and I managed.

My walking improved substantially just in these five days. On the way out to Oregon, my steps were reluctant to fully engage a normal gait. Walking out of the Lansing airport after returning home, my gait was tolerably normal (but with some obvious limping).

Sun setting over Oregon’s western coast

Immediately following the injury, there was a palpable gap at the point where my Achilles tendon tore.  After surgery, that gap was a dent, and my body has been slowly filling in that dent with scar tissue. The last few days, I noticed that the dent is now down to a dimple, and when I bring my foot to neutral, the tendon is starting to stand out. For me, that’s the most obvious illustration of my improvement.

But there’s still one major challenge in front of me — shoes.

The first four weeks, I was in an immobilizing fiberglass cast. The last four weeks, I’ve been wearing a removable orthopedic boot. The cast and boot served to immobilize and protect my healing Achilles tendon. Shoes remove that safeguard.

——

At the eight-week mark, before my doctor was officially set to give permission, I decided it was time to try shoes. I justified this experiment by planning to take it slowly, and stop if anything didn’t feel right.

On the advice of other Achilles tendon recoverees, I chose a pair of sturdy trail shoes. The idea is to give your heel some extra support.

My first steps went well. I moved around, but it felt like I was walking with someone else’s foot. Though I had been putting weight on my foot for weeks, the experience of a shoe was odd. Almost like I was wearing it for the first time. The healing Achilles tendon stretched and did its job without any pain, though the muscles surrounding were stiff and sore.

I also tried walking around barefoot. It’s more difficult than walking in shoes. In shoes, I can at least approximate a normal gait (if moving slowly enough), but barefoot I walk with a significant limp.

——

After a few days of shoe experiments, I reached the nine-week mark, and went into the doctor for our scheduled consultation. He inspected my tendon, and advised that it was time to get rid of the boot. We also talked about physical therapy. Most patient blogs I’ve read include a long period of physical therapy — my doctor told me it may not make a difference, and that just walking and returning to a normal lifestyle will naturally accomplish that. That surprised me, but I still want to move forward with physical therapy.

As of this writing, that consultation was the last time I’ve worn the boot. My walking is improving (albeit incrementally) every day.

While walking, my foot wants to take a sideways angle. I have to manually correct for this, and go slower.

There’s still a long way to go. The step in my right leg has no power when I push off.

Curiously, the healing Achilles tendon is no longer the problem. Rather, the problem is everything else. Nearby ligaments and calf muscle withered away because they’ve barely been used for the last 9 weeks. Judging by other recovery patterns, it will take months for these friends of Achilles to return to their former glory.

Apple’s iPhone 6 and iPhone 6 Plus at the company’s launch event in 2014

At the time, I was using an iPhone 5, and after skipping the iPhone 5S, I was eager to move to the new generation while also getting away from Sprint. Apple’s new size choices forced me to agonize over which choice to make. After preparing cardboard cutouts, I ended up buying the 4.7-inch iPhone 6. I’ve been very happy with it.

While my iPhone 6 has been great, I’ve always wondered if I’m missing out on a better experience — Plus owners rave about their devices, shouting to anyone who will listen about screen size and battery life, while simultaneously dismissing concerns over pocket-ability and one-handed use. It’s compelling to hear them say they’d never go back to a smaller phone.

Pricing also impacts my interest. We’re psychologically conditioned to assume that cost is directly correlated with quality. Apple, being a luxury technology brand, attracts many customers who will pay top-dollar for the very best. Because the Plus is $100 more expensive, there’s an implication that it’s the primo phone.

For these reasons, I had to try the larger phone. This year, with the release of iPhone 6S and 6S Plus, I took the plunge and picked up a Plus. I told myself that, if I couldn’t live with it, I could always return (within 14 days) and switch to the smaller model.

Gripping an iPhone 6S Plus, with my left hand

Things I like

Plus model owners are right — battery life on the larger device is terrific. I’ve been able to go a full day without charging, while I would have to charge the smaller iPhone throughout the day at the same level of use.

Extra screen space is great, because the text is a little larger, and I can see more content at once, but many apps fail to take advantage. A bigger display also means a bigger keyboard, and when using two hands, it’s more comfortable to type on than the smaller phone.

Aside from screen size and battery life, the Plus has one more advantage on features — optical image stabilization (OIS). While the smaller model has digital image stabilization, it’s not as effective as optical stabilization if you’re taking video. I took a few videos with the Plus, and OIS is nice. However, with photos, I couldn’t detect OIS making any difference. In any event, the 6S Plus and 6S have decent cameras, but any serious photo-taking will still involve a Canon DSLR.

One more benefit of the Plus — I can get rid of my iPad Mini, which has mostly been used for reading, and watching movies. The Plus is large enough for me to enjoy doing both, so the iPad Mini would no longer have a place in my technology lineup.

Things I don’t like

With a heavier phone, I was hoping that my hands and wrists would quickly overcome fatigue from the weight. They have not — every time I reach for the 6S Plus, its heft is immediately apparent. According to Apple’s technical specifications, the 6S Plus weighs 192 grams, which is 34% more than the 6S’s 143 grams, and a whopping 50% heavier than the iPhone 6 I was previously using. (Yes, the 6S and 6S Plus models are slightly heavier than their predecessors.)

Larger screen size also makes the Plus more challenging to use one-handed. I have large hands, and I’ve made some grip adjustments with the Plus, but serious use requires both hands for stability and coverage.

My last complaint about the Plus model is that its size makes it more difficult to safely pocket. While wearing athletic shorts, the Plus always seems at risk to fall out (particularly when seated). I often wear athletic shorts, so that’s a major inconvenience for me. Jeans and khakis were manageable, but the extra size of the Plus was uncomfortable — I found myself removing the phone from my pocket every time I had the opportunity.

The decision

After a week with the 6S Plus, I didn’t uncover a single moment where I greatly preferred it to the smaller iPhone. That is, at no time did I say to myself, “This is way better.”

While the size and heft does make the Plus feel substantial, that’s the only positive takeaway I have from the past few days, and therefore the Plus is not the right fit for me today. Tomorrow, I will bid adieu to the Plus.

Re-boxed and ready to go home. I was glad I tried the iPhone 6S Plus for a few days.

In Safari, users can hard-press on links to preview the next webpage. This action is known as Peek and Pop. Peek can also be used in Mail to preview an email without having to load the full message, and in Messages to look at a photo or video. Third-party apps and games are on the way that take advantage of 3D Touch in other ways.

I was skeptical of 3D Touch, but after using it for a few days, 3D Touch is clearly a pleasant innovation for touchscreen interaction.

So that means that developers need to adjust to a new world where users will be Peeking at content.

Peek-friendly content

Here’s an example from the New York Times of what makes for a great Peek. I did a Google search for Donald Trump, and I just wanted to get a quick idea of what would be on the next page.

This Peek is perfect. It loads quickly, gives me a tasteful, appropriately-sized photo. I get the title of the article, and a subhead. Based on the Peek, I would probably proceed to the page.

Here’s another example, from a rapidly-growing tech startup.

Awesome! A big, friendly portrait of what I can expect when I load through.

Peek-unfriendly content

Now let’s take a look at poor Peek experiences.

The preceding GIF shows the website of a popular sports website. They give you a splash page advertising their native app before you can view the article. In traditional navigation, this is annoying, but simple to overcome. For a visitor peeking at the page (before moving forward), it may mean skipping altogether.

In the next example, Peek shows a webpage with a standard mobile header. The standard header keeps relevant content down on the page.

Because I can only preview a sliver of what this page is about, I may not tap through.

Taking advantage of Peek

Developers and designers, then, can take advantage of Peek by creating webpages that provide more content, and super-fast. And this can probably only be done by making the page itself considerably better for everyone. As far as I can tell, it’s not going to be possible to detect when a user is Peeking at a page, versus having it regularly loaded in Safari.

Best practices for Peek-friendly content

In considering good Peeks, it’s obvious that a well-designed mobile page will also make for a great Peek. But there are a few more considerations.

• Don’t use splash/interstitial pages that load for first-time visitors.
• Don’t use webpage popups that load for first-time visitors.
• Restrict the vertical height of your mobile header.
• Provide a clean glimpse into the page’s content.
• Make sure that pages are optimized for load time.

My goal for Week #7 was to sleep without the orthopedic boot. Though my Achilles tendon is strong enough for nighttime injury to not be a concern, it’s psychologically tough to overcome when I’ve been in a cast or a boot for the previous six weeks.

For two nights, I started off without a boot, but eventually put it on. I could not fall asleep with my foot and leg unprotected. So I ordered a product known as a night splint.

A night splint I ordered off Amazon

This night splint holds my foot at neutral. It’s designed for bed use, and despite looking quite large, is lightweight and hard to notice (especially compared to the boot).

More walking

I’ve been walking, in the cast and now an orthopedic boot, for three weeks. But it’s only been in brief bursts around the house.

Toward the end of this week, I pushed my walking limits, going on a day-long trip where I ended up walking around a large grocery/retail store. According to my fitness tracking data, the 5,400 steps were the most I’ve moved since before the injury, and all this walking made me tired.

Fatigue is a danger area. It’s easy to make mistakes when exhausted. So the moment I noticed exhaustion (both mental and physical), I slowed down and took my time.

Another doctor followup

The week was capped off with another followup consultation with my doctor. This one was quick in and out, with nothing of note, as I’ve had no problems and everything has gone well recently.