The case for slow design

Most of the work I am proud of took longer than it needed to. Not because it was complicated, but because I let it rest.

There is a particular kind of blindness that sets in after two hours inside the same file. Spacing stops registering. A heading that is three sizes too large reads as normal. You are no longer looking at the work, you are looking at your memory of it.

Sleeping on it is the cheapest quality tool available. The next morning the mistakes are loud. The heading is obviously wrong. The section you fought over turns out to be unnecessary and you delete it without any grief.

Slow does not mean precious. It means one extra pass, with fresh eyes, before you call it finished. That single pass is usually the difference between something competent and something people remember.