Writing is design.

Writing is design. The toolbox is the only difference.

Designers use typography. Color. Texture. Size.
Writers use tone. Punctuation. Allusion. Diction.

Different tools, same objective. You want a viewer to perceive a product or brand a certain way. So you use what’s in your palette to present it that way.

Want a viewer’s attention on a particular point? Lead it there.

Designers direct the eye and the mind with layout. We use syntax.

A different typeface can vary the mood. So can diction. (Consider “buy” vs “purchase” vs “get”. Similar meanings, different feel.)

What designers do with negative space, we do with subtext. And on and on.

Good writing is design because, done well, it communicates intrinsically as well as extrinsically. You can feel it. Yet too often, companies are segregating their writers and designers. Kicking off projects separately. Going back to siloing the disciplines.

This often happens for valid reasons. Different skill pipelines. Varied review cycles. The sheer number of assets in a scaled, production-heavy org. But the result can be work that looks “branded,” but sounds generic. Or worse, is mismatched with the design and feels disjointed.

It’s true that people read less nowadays. But the less words there are remaining, the more crucial it is to keep the right ones. In the right order. Words that say what you want to say, yes. But that also FEEL the way you want them to feel. Words that either complement the design – adding to the refinement in that delicate, considered layout – or apply deliberate, purposeful tension. Making it pop. 

So, writers: lay out those words like the elements they are. Break out your thesaurus. Sweat the sentence structure. Put the most important idea at the end of the sentence. Polish your paragraphs. Stick the landing.

Always make sure you and your design partner are clear and intentional about the thing you’re creating.

And never, ever, let anyone call it “type”.