On shortcuts and longcuts

An essay is not a vehicle of knowledge transmission; it is a landscape to think in, and a path to get there.

It is tempting to make shortcuts. When writing or doing art or building software (or in any other way constructing paths for people to walk on), you can typically earn more if you cater to the marginal user, the one who is on the fence. But the marginal user is the least patient and least interested, so you have to simplify, reduce friction, make t... See more

Almost everything that is meaningful, beautiful, life-affirming, empowering, transformational, true—it can’t be reached by shortcuts. But what we can do is make the longcuts walkable, put out footbridges and stairs, and a table where the ocean comes into view.

By leading us off the easy path—the one that leads to the garbage can and the mailbox—we can enable new activities.

Almost everything that is meaningful, beautiful, life-affirming, empowering, transformational, true—it can’t be reached by shortcuts. But what we can do is make the longcuts walkable, put out footbridges and stairs, and a table where the ocean comes into view.

There’s this design heuristic that if people cut across the grass, you should pave the shortcut they make. This gives the path a lovely human fit. But sometimes you want to do the opposite. You want to design ways to get people to take a longer path, a longcut, so they can see or do things they’d miss otherwise.