Building systems that let friction do the work.
The book is with the editors. If you want to know when it’s out — and get early-reader access if you’re quick — register your interest over on Deltastring.
I’ve been thinking for a long time about the layer between people and the things they’re trying to do. The form. The queue. The metric. The menu. The road sign. The hiring round. The keyboard. The support ticket. That layer is never neutral. You can choose it on purpose or inherit it by accident, but it’s always there.
The book is about designing that layer deliberately. The metaphor is the racing line: carrying speed on a track isn’t about fighting friction, it’s about riding the line the friction already wants you to take. The same lens applies to software, physical products, processes, institutions — anywhere a human meets a system.
It isn’t a book about which choice is right. Sometimes the right move is to disappear into the background. Sometimes it’s to use deliberate friction to shape the choices people make. Sometimes the texture of using the thing is the product itself. None of those is virtuous or failed. They’re dimensions, and the work is choosing where you sit on each one, on purpose.
The timing feels important to me. We’re increasingly handing the layer to defaults, and the question “what is this layer doing on my behalf, and is that what I wanted?” stops being a luxury and becomes basic literacy.
People who design processes, build products, run hiring rounds, lead support teams, set metrics, or otherwise ship the layers other people live inside. Also everyone who lives inside layers other people chose and would like to start seeing the choices.
By the end of it you shouldn’t be able to walk into a shop, a website, a meeting, or a waiting room without asking: was this designed with intention? Does it work this way for reasons? Are the goals being achieved? Or is there a better racing line through it?
Trackside.
A lot of this thinking grew out of running Deltastring, the business ops consultancy where I spend my weekdays. But it’s broader than work. It’s how I look at race tracks, art installations, instruments, kitchens, the route my son takes to school. Once you start seeing the layers it’s hard to stop.
Register your interest and you’ll be first to hear when it’s ready.
