I like simple things with a clear purpose. A notebook and a pen are a good example. I pick them up when I want to write, and I can start writing. I do not need to open an app, choose a new note, or check which tool is selected.
There is also something I like about the physical experience. I feel the pen moving across the page. The notebook does not need to imitate writing on paper. It already is paper, and I know what to do with it.
I love using my tablet, too. I write math and literature notes on it at school, and I use Notability. Changing colors, highlighting, and recording audio are useful features. At one point, I thought a tablet could completely replace paper. I do not quite think that anymore.
Sometimes I want all those possibilities. Sometimes I just want to catch a thought before it disappears.
On a tablet, the path to writing can involve a few small decisions. I need to open the right app, find the right place, and choose the right tool. Sometimes I accidentally switch to another function. Sometimes an interface changes, and I have to work out where something has moved. None of these things has to be a big problem on its own. But while I am doing them, I can lose the thought I wanted to write down.
For me, the notebook leaves less friction between a thought and its record. That is part of why I enjoy it. It has a clear job, and it does that job without having to make room for many unrelated things.
This makes me think about the features I would rather leave out of a product.
An extra feature can make sense. An eraser on a pencil is probably my favorite example. When I write with a pencil, I may want to erase something. Usually, that would mean picking up a separate eraser. Having one on the pencil supports what I am already doing. A pen that lets me change colors can be useful for the same reason.
These things have more than one function, but the functions belong together.
Now imagine an eraser with a speaker. It could play music, but why would I need music to come from the thing I use to erase? Or imagine a flashlight on headphones, or a pen that also works as scissors. There might be a particular situation where one of these combinations is useful. But adding a possibility does not explain why it belongs there.
Combining functions can also mean making compromises. I want to understand what the main purpose loses when something else is added. Does the object become harder to use? Do I have to learn more before I can do something simple? Does a new feature pull me toward a different activity?
The same questions apply to software. A feature may be useful, but its controls and settings can still make the main action harder to reach. I appreciate extra tools when they follow the same path as what I am already doing, remain optional, and do not make the basic action more complicated.
I keep returning to this while building BlinkClip, my app for batch video tasks. I am still deciding how universal it should become. Adding a finished intro to a video has a clear purpose. But should the app also include a tool for creating that intro? That could be useful, but it would bring another set of tools, settings, and decisions into the app. I have not settled that question yet.
For BA, this is becoming part of how I want to approach design. I try to start with a problem and then find a feature that addresses it. If I start with a feature, I can always imagine some way to use it. That alone does not tell me whether it should be part of the product.
I want each addition to have a clear reason to be there. I also want to notice when keeping something out allows the main purpose to work better.
That is what I like about the notebook and pen. They are ready for the thing I picked them up to do. When I consider a new feature, I want to ask: does this help someone continue what they came here to do, and what will they have to give up for it?
Based on my own notes and answers. Compiled and edited with AI assistance.