Daniel De Laney

I built a timer I can’t fail to set

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Have you ever gotten to the end of a long work day and realized you’re no closer to your goals? I have.

Sure, I was doing a lot of stuff. But I wasn’t pausing to ask whether I was doing the right stuff. Or whether my approach was working. Or if I was spending the right amount of time on it. My fingers were moving but I wasn’t really thinking.

So I needed a reliable way to interrupt my “unproductive productivity” and actually think. The obvious solution was a timer.

Unfortunately, if you use timers a lot, you learn to dismiss them reflexively. And it’s really easy to forget to set the next timer. A week later, I’d realize: “Hey, that timer idea really worked, I should get back to that.” And then I didn’t.

So I built a new kind of timer. It does 2 unique things:

It asks what I’ll focus on.
It gradually blurs my screen if I don’t set a new timer.

When it asks “What will you focus on?” I answer in a word or two, start the next timer, and keep working. Having to name my intention keeps me fully aware of my trajectory. If I’m in danger of drifting, it’s obvious. And if I avoid thinking for long enough, my screen starts getting harder to see.

If I’m making great progress on something that doesn’t require much thinking, I can set the timer for a longer duration, maybe 30 minutes. But if I’m working on something more open-ended, I might tighten the leash all the way down to 3 minutes. Then I can’t get off track.

Unlike a regular timer, I can’t fail to set the next one. If I don’t answer it promptly, the screen gradually becomes less readable until I do. If I wanted to avoid answering, I’d have to make a conscious decision to close the app. I’d have to decide to be less productive. I never do.

This small intervention has worked beautifully. Not only am I catching unproductive divergences earlier, I’m noticing fewer of them over time. It seems to be training me to do more and better thinking.

It’s not a replacement for a journal. I love journaling, but that takes more than a few seconds, and there’s a lot of benefit to reflecting more frequently.

If you’re running macOS, Intention is available here. I use it every day, and I think it’s the superior way of working.

Free software scares normal people

Thu, 30 Oct 2025 00:00:00 +0000

I’m the person my friends and family come to for computer-related help. (Maybe you, gentle reader, can relate.) This experience has taught me which computing tasks are frustrating for normal people.

Normal people often struggle with converting video. They will need to watch, upload, or otherwise do stuff with a video, but the format will be weird. (Weird, broadly defined, is anything that won’t play in QuickTime or upload to Facebook.)

I would love to recommend Handbrake to them, but the user interface is by and for power users. Opening it makes normal people feel unpleasant feelings.

This problem is rampant in free software. The FOSS world is full of powerful tools that only have a “power user” UI. As a result, people give up. Or worse: they ask people like you and I to do it for them.

I want to make the case to you that you can (and should) solve this kind of problem in a single evening.

Take the example of Magicbrake, a simple front end I built. It hides the power and flexibility of Handbrake. It does only the one thing most people need Handbrake for: taking a weird video file and making it normal. (Normal, for our purposes, means a small MP4 that works just about anywhere.)

There is exactly one button.

This is a fast and uncomplicated thing to do. Unfortunately, the people who have the ability to solve problems like this are often disinclined to do it.

“Why would you make Handbrake less powerful on purpose?”

“What if someone wants a different format?”

“What about [feature/edge case]?”

The answer to all these questions is the same: a person who needs or wants that stuff can use Handbrake. If they don’t need everything Handbrake can do and find it bewildering, they can use this. Everyone wins.

It’s a bit like obscuring the less-used functions on a TV remote with tape. The functions still exist if you need them, but you’re not required to contend with them just to turn the TV on.

People benefit from stuff like this, and I challenge you to make more of it. Opportunities are everywhere. The world is full of media servers normal people can’t set up. Free audio editing software that requires hours of learning to be useful for simple tasks. Network monitoring tools that seem designed to ward off the uninitiated. Great stuff normal people don’t use. All because there’s only one UI, and it’s designed to do everything.

80% of the people only need 20% of the features. Hide the rest from them and you’ll make them more productive and happy. That’s really all it takes.

Objectivity is superstition

Mon, 17 Mar 2025 00:00:00 +0000

An objective, external world is a non-falsifiable assumption.

The prevailing theory is that our subjective experiences correspond to an external reality. However, they may simply be subjective through and through.
That which we claim to be evidence of external reality is actually subjective experience, which may or may not have an external and objective cause.
Any test devised to prove objectivity is evaluated within subjectivity and therefore does not require objectivity to explain the result.
Some object to this, claiming that the consistency of experience is best explained by an external world. However, consistent experience does not require any external mechanism, let alone the specific one we have assumed.
- Claiming that belief in an external world is simpler is like claiming that belief in God is simpler; in truth we are inventing something vast and complex without evidence and agreeing not to question it. This is not science, it is a substitute for epistemic humility.
- Much as dreams appear consistent while dreaming, that which we consider waking experience may not actually be as consistent as we believe. However, questioning this is unproductive reasoning because it undermines the value of reason itself. We must assume our experiences are rational and consistent, or else give up thinking altogether.

Experience is the only reality which is detectable.

Whatever experience is, it is real and directly perceptible, unlike objectivity.
Claims that experience is an illusion presuppose an objective world to which experience does not correspond.
Pragmatic truth is supportable, correspondence is not. If an objective world can’t be proven, neither can we prove that knowledge does or does not correspond with it.
That which produces a consistent effect in experience is useful in influencing experience in the desired way, therefore science is useful.

Materialism is religious faith.

Just as we once invented a spirit world to help explain our experiences, we invented an objective world for which there is similar quality evidence. Both are assumed to explain experience, yet neither is directly known.
The assertion that matter gives rise to experience is no more compelling than the assertion that experience gives rise to matter.
The assumption of an external world has zero explanatory power, as consistent experience does not require it.
Materialism is superior to classical religions in that it responds to pragmatic truth, but it still accepts unsupportable metaphysical claims and regards them as unquestionable.
By contrast, noting that we have experiences does not require extrapolation or invention.

Modern civilization is optimizing materials, not experiences.

Focus on economic metrics has allowed us to make tremendous progress in reducing starvation and otherwise improve the experience of the least fortunate. Nonetheless, the subtle error of conflating material improvement with improvement in well-being has consequences.
In advanced societies, increases in abstract indicators of material wealth like GDP have been accompanied by negative changes in consciousness: stress, social disconnection, and increased suicide.
The materialist assumption that improving external conditions will always trickle down to better experiences is demonstrably unreliable. Often, this assumption results in methods which improve economic indicators by reducing experiential well-being, and in these cases it is worse than nothing.
In addition to misallocating its priorities, modern civilization also conditions people to feel powerless over their own well-being. As materialist structures (corporations, governments, economic systems) become more dominant, individuals are increasingly absorbed into mechanisms designed to optimize external conditions rather than subjective experience. People come to believe that their quality of life is dictated by forces beyond their control.
The best way to improve experience is to optimize it directly.

The only rational goal is maximizing satisfaction.

Long-term positive changes in consciousness are what is best in life.
If a person achieves material or hedonistic aims but is unsatisfied in the long term, they are having a negative experience and are working against themselves.
Secure, nourish, nurture, and build yourself and your community. Seek what is satisfying and aesthetic—that which feels good and true and beautiful. Unlike materialist assumptions, this requires no external faith, only a direct commitment to improving the reality we actually experience.

Chat is a bad UI pattern for development tools

Mon, 03 Feb 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Code forces humans to be precise. That’s good. Computers need precision. But it also forces humans to think like machines.

For decades we tried to fix this by making programming more human-friendly. Higher-level languages. Visual interfaces. Each step helped, but we were still translating human thoughts into computer instructions.

AI was supposed to change everything. Finally, plain English could be a programming language. No syntax. No rules. Just say what you want.

The first wave of AI coding tools squandered this opportunity. They make flashy demos but produce garbage software. People call them “great for prototyping,” which means “don’t use this for anything real.”

Many blame the AI models, saying we just need them to get smarter. This is wrong. Yes, better AI will make better guesses about what you mean. But when you’re building serious software, you don’t want guesses. Not even smart ones. You want to know exactly what you’re building.

Current AI tools pretend writing software is like having a conversation. It’s not. It’s like writing laws. You’re using English, but you’re defining terms, establishing rules, and managing complex interactions between everything you’ve said.

Try writing a tax code in chat messages. You can’t. Even simple tax codes are too complex to keep in your head. That’s why we use documents—they let us organize complexity, reference specific points, and track changes systematically. Chat reduces you to memory and hope.

This is the core problem. You can’t build real software without being precise about what you want. Every successful programming tool in history reflects this truth. AI briefly fooled us into thinking we could just chat our way to complex software. We can’t. You don’t program by chatting. You program by writing documents.

When your intent is in a document instead of scattered across a chat log, English becomes a real programming language:

You can see your whole system at once
You can clarify and improve your intent
You can track changes properly
Teams can work on the system together
Requirements become their own quality checks
Changes start from clear specifications

The first company to get this will own the next phase of AI development tools. They’ll build tools for real software instead of toys. They’ll make everything available today look like primitive experiments.

Atomic Design in 1998

Thu, 08 Feb 2018 00:00:00 +0000

When you hear “atomic design,” you probably think of Brad Frost. Interestingly, he was not the first person to develop that method of delivering design as components, or even the terminology.

Brad published his atomic design article in 2013. While digging through the archives at frog, I’ve learned that Mark Rolston developed and applied an atomic framework as early as 1998.

The description found on the Index page, now 20 years old, embodies every bit the same spirit as the recent design systems movement:

The Dell Design Center helps Dell employees and creative vendors maintain a single, global online brand for Dell.com. By adhering to the design methodology and object guidelines in the Dell Design Center, anyone can create and implement new content without diluting the Dell global online brand.

Part reference manual, part cookbook, part toolbox, the Dell Design Center is an up-to-date, online repository of the imagery and methodology needed for Dell.com construction.

When I asked Brad, he said that he wasn’t familiar with the earlier work done at frog. “For what it’s worth,” he remarked, “modular thinking in design is nothing new, and I acknowledge as much in my book.”

There is Definitely a Grid

Fri, 10 Jun 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Grids are the best thing to ever happen to graphic design. They form a rational basis for organizing information. They support the harmonious distribution of elements and visual weight. We don’t design things with grids because it’s easy, or because everyone else is doing it. It’s not a trend. We design with grids because they help the brain process information.

The text of this article is left-aligned, and there’s a reason for that. Left-aligned text gives the eye a consistent line to return to. Instead of searching for the beginning of each new line, we can use a kind of muscle memory to avoid wasted cognitive effort. This is a perfect way to understand how great the grid is.

Grids are like left-aligned text for your entire layout. They allow a rational and consistent method of scanning the information. They establish hierarchy and rhythm. They support good proportion. Grids are everything good and right with design.

There could, of course, be an alternative to the grid. Grids work because they support the human brain. Intense study and effort could reveal other systems that support it equally well, or even better. “Perhaps I’ll run out and invent something better than the grid for my next client project, to help spice things up,” however, is not a good plan. It’s a bad plan in the same way that it’s a bad plan to design your own cryptography, or your own aircraft engine. The chances your design won’t fail are are slim, and the consequences are often catastrophic.

If you invent something novel for the sake of novelty, without considering why the standard exists, you’re likely to come up with something bad. Take this example, in which the hover state for a link is strikethrough text:

Sorry, this video didn’t work.

It’s different, right? You usually don’t see that. There’s a reason. Strikethrough isn’t just a cool look—it has meaning. It means that something is no longer valid. Strikethrough would be appropriate in the event of an error. If the link no longer went anywhere, or there were some other problem. In this case, our novel solution has implied exactly the opposite of the truth. It’s worse than nothing at all. This uncommon solution is uncommon because it’s wrong.

If you do something novel because it’s better for an articulable reason, you are designing. If you reject standards out of hand because they’re not interesting enough, you’re bowling for bad solutions.

Use a grid.

The Eli Schiff Problem

Thu, 19 May 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Fellow members of The International Cabal to Destroy Design, I write you today because we stand atop a precipice, faced with the threat of annihilation. The rogue Eli Schiff has been systematically exposing our wicked deeds in an attempt to derail the Modern Minimalist plot. I’m sure you remember this piece from last year:

This move towards the design engineer has excited designers like Cap Watkins and 3000 of his supporters who advocate for an ideal “lazy” and “boring” designer who never experiments and “Chooses obvious over clever every time.” A perfect designer who compromises their vision to fit what is easiest to produce, not what is best to produce. Most of all, as a manager, Watkins reveres supplicatory designers who “rarely stand their ground.”

Cap’s article seemed well-reasoned and constructive. It fell perfectly in line with our deceptive narrative that you should design things by thinking about their purpose rather than injecting illustration for no reason. Our excuses seemed plausible, even mature—until Eli came along, and the sheep finally understood that we were undercutting ourselves on purpose. Reducing our own value. For evil.

Well, it’s gotten worse. Just yesterday he posted another explosive bit of journalism:

On the other hand, there was significant resentment among modernist designers and journalists who felt that Instagram had not sufficiently prostrated itself to the cathedral of modernism. Since 2013, designers and journalists proceeded to shame Instagram for not keeping up with trends. As the whig historians at WIRED put it, “Why the thorough makeover? Because it was time.”

Verily, it is a great blow to our cause that Eli has exposed WIRED as being a mere shill for Modern Minimalism. And how did he know of our Cathedral? Perhaps there is a spy amongst us?

Furthermore, this is only Part I! What terroristic designs will he uncover in Part II? Has he divined our end goal—namely to not use as much ornamentation as we used to, in an effort to control the minds of the weak and effect world domination or something?

We cannot allow this. We must act. We will draw fewer lines! We will use even fewer pointless flashy effects! We will fight with all we have, pixel by pixel, to realize our hateful vision of doing things differently than Eli would prefer them to be done!

Go forth and design things badly on purpose. For evil.

Ever your brother in wickedness,
Daniel De Laney

The Right Way to Unsubscribe

Fri, 23 Oct 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Clicking “Unsubscribe” should have a straightforward outcome. In the wild it’s rarely that simple. Here’s an example from Ugmonk, a fantastic clothing brand run by a passionate designer. I’d never unsubscribe from their newsletter in real life, but let’s pretend:

Sorry, this video didn’t work.

Notice that clicking “Unsubscribe” doesn’t unsubscribe. It brings us to a screen with the action “Update E-mail Settings”. Does clicking that button unsubscribe? No. The default behavior is this:

“I like the current email frequency. Don’t change a thing.”

In other words, neither “Unsubscribe” nor “Update E-mail Settings” have done what they say they do. We have accomplished exactly nothing, thanks to Klaviyo.

What should happen when you click “unsubscribe”? This:

What’s better about this example?

It unsubscribes. Buttons should do what they claim to do.
It affords undo. People will click by accident.
It asks questions afterward. It doesn’t get in the way.

Unsubscribing is a defense mechanism. People use it to reclaim their time and attention. The unsubscribe process is a great opportunity to show users that you respect them. Slow, complex processes will only harden their resolve to separate from you permanently.

Unsubscribe means unsubscribe.

The Fear of Being Right

Wed, 07 Oct 2015 00:00:00 +0000

The best designs often look wrong. They appear unexceptional. They don’t show off. They don’t push our technical skills to the limit. They leave out things we expect. They don’t reflect the latest trends.

“It just doesn’t look right.”

“It almost looks unfinished.”

“Nobody does this anymore.”

Great designs achieve their goals and nothing else. They’re not flashy for the sake of being flashy, and they don’t conform for the sake of conforming. Great designs know what they’re for. They have a sense of purpose, they serve it well, and they know what doesn’t belong.

Empathy is essential to design, but the desire to be liked can spoil a product. We might use an interaction pattern that doesn’t fit because it looks more impressive. We might include a gimmick that detracts from the message because it looks nice.

The important thing is how well your design works, not what people think of it. Do your best work, even if you don’t get any credit for it. You don’t have to worry about looking wrong. You can afford it.

Don’t be afraid to be right.

We Need a Bigger Touch Screen

Tue, 15 Sep 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Human beings need space to express themselves. Eyes have a broad field of view, heads turn, and arms reach several feet in many directions.

Unlike us, our screens are small. They constrain our movement to small twitches of the fingers and a few degrees of eye movement. They’re easy to carry around, but they’re also restrictive.

The invention of the touch screen removed a barrier between people and technology. They allowed us to interact with computers more naturally. A desk-sized touch screen could free us to be even more of ourselves. It wouldn’t be just a new device. It would be a completely new kind of experience, peerless in the history of computing.

Imagine the way a map could feel if it filled a desk of luminous glass, spilling into our peripheral vision and inviting us to turn our heads. Imagine how it could feel to drag a finger across that map, and see a huge amount of information respond. This could be a transformative moment in human history.

We’ll always need mobile devices, but right now we’re missing the big picture.

Our attempts at full-sized touch screens have been limited to prototypes and science fiction. The images above are from the 2013 film Oblivion. If you care about interfaces, you should watch it. GMUNK hosts a fantastic breakdown.