The discovery of the past few months for me is the book This Button Needs Text by Kiril Egerev. It likely would have gone unnoticed if Alexey Arefyev hadn’t recommended it in his Telegram channel about product management.
Kiril Egerev is a seasoned copywriter who has worked in many online publications, both as an author and as an editor. Recently, he has been working as a UX writer at Russia’s Sberbank. For those unfamiliar with professional terminology, let me clarify: a “copywriter” is someone who professionally writes various types of non-fictional texts. These can include advertising copy, descriptions, official letters, and so on. UX stands for “User eXperience,” which essentially refers to how users interact with your product and what emotions they experience during this interaction. A UX writer (or UX copywriter) is a specialist focused on creating product texts. Here’s a direct quote from the book:
“UX writers are typically the ones who write clear and non-annoying texts for error messages, buttons, switches, and all other interface elements. They help develop the product’s voice, compile style guides, ensure consistency and adherence to typography requirements, and often handle user emails as well.”
In his book, Kiril aims to explain “briefly and clearly” what his work entails and why it is essential for any product, countering the common misconception of “who cares what we call the buttons; everyone will understand anyway.” In IT, there is also a role known as UX specialist (often called a “UXer”). In practice, the line between a UX specialist and a UX writer is very blurred. It’s generally accepted that the former focuses more on the overall interface and interaction (proper arrangement of elements, creating an intuitive design), while the latter specifically handles interface texts. However, in reality, one doesn’t exist without the other. As a result, the tasks often fall to either a team of two specialists with narrower roles or a single person who does it all.
I became interested in the topic of clear interfaces a long time ago (definitely more than ten years ago), so I read the book almost immediately after learning about it. If I were to describe it briefly in one sentence, it’s a very solid introduction to the subject with examples from a nitpicky copywriter. And “nitpicky” here carries no negative connotation—quite the opposite—because for such a specialist, being nitpicky is an extremely important skill. After all, a truly good UX copywriter won’t just mindlessly write text on demand (“we’ve got a button here with a maximum size—fit something short in there”). Instead, they’ll figure out what the developer actually intended to convey and will find the most suitable solution (ideally, also considering that this text will eventually have to be translated into many other languages and still fit within the given space). Sometimes, this solution can be radically different from the original assignment, even leading to significant interface redesigns. But to understand this, such a specialist needs to know the product from A to Z and have the persistence to dig into the root causes of issues through detailed discussions with colleagues. Even if, later on, everyone thinks they didn’t do anything special. Here’s another quote:
“In general, if the writer is good, they’re like a thorn in your side, often asking more questions than giving answers. Sometimes, you look at the result of their work and wonder: what did they spend all day talking about with everyone? They only wrote two lines—or even just deleted everything. And now the designers are thinking about changing everything. What a nuisance! A person—a stick in the smooth wheel of your seamless development process. Don’t worry. Chances are, those two lines are exactly what’s needed. And what you had planned for the interface might turn out to be pointless clutter that’s long overdue for reconsideration. And it’s good that the designers see it now rather than a day before the already-announced release.”
That’s exactly why this kind of work cannot be done “whenever there’s time” or assigned to whoever happens to be free. Nor can you bring in temporary specialists to “do it once and leave.” A temporary worker simply won’t be immersed in all the details; they won’t know why many decisions were made in a specific way. For instance, in my experience, there was a case where a new specialist persistently pushed developers to add several elements to the interface, refusing to listen to the team that had already tested this solution and reasonably rejected it because it conflicted with the product’s fundamental ideas and interface logic.
Kiril dissects various aspects of the UX writer profession and his work through examples. Naturally, reading one book isn’t enough to learn how to create excellent interfaces or write outstanding texts. However, the book provides insights into many aspects that developers often overlook, don’t know about, or don’t think through. And this is the book’s main value:
- Realizing that even the most amazing product can fail if the user simply doesn’t understand how to use it.
- Understanding that every product must have its own voice through which it “communicates” with its users. And this voice heavily depends on what you want to convey and to whom (interacting with a young college student is very different from interacting with a businessman or a scientist, so it’s crucial to know who your primary users are).
- Recognizing that the product’s voice is not the copywriter’s voice. Often, the copywriter must “adopt a new role” instead of just doing what they personally like or are used to.
- Knowing that the interface also depends on the device users will interact with and even their context—whether they’re sitting at a desk in the office or commuting on the subway.
- Understanding when it’s appropriate to use humor and when a joke will only cause frustration because the user is seeking help, not laughs.
And much more.
So, I definitely recommend this book. Moreover, for those who know English, I’d suggest reading another book alongside it (as far as I know, it’s never been published in Russian): Web Form Design: Filling in the Blanks by Luke Wroblewski. While it primarily focuses on designing web forms, it’s a treasure trove of excellent ideas about UX practices and understanding user interactions.
Now, onto some drawbacks.
First, the illustrations. They are crucial because they demonstrate examples of good and bad practices. However, they’re all very small, black-and-white, and low-contrast. This makes it quite difficult to discern the details or even read them. For those with poor eyesight, it’s even worse. Increasing their size would be an easy fix. Adding color would also help, at least in the digital editions, where there’s no cost difference for color printing. This issue is doubly frustrating because you don’t expect it in a book that’s specifically about presenting material effectively (even if it’s not about books).
Second, some sections feel underdeveloped, at least to me. For example, when the author discusses atomic elements, he separately examines checkboxes and toggles. For me, as someone with a programming background, the difference between them isn’t so obvious. Of course, I understand that they look and behave differently, but fundamentally, in most cases, both are about toggling between two states (yes, I’m aware that checkboxes can occasionally have an intermediate state, but let’s leave that aside since the author doesn’t emphasize it). Essentially, they are binary elements—either “on” or “off.” While the difference between “on” and “off” is fairly clear with a checkbox, it’s not as obvious with a toggle: when it’s to the right or on top, is that “on”? Or “off”? It’s disappointing that Kiril himself later raises this exact question but unfortunately never provides an answer.
Third, in the second part of the book, the author spends a lot of time discussing “bullshit” in texts, frequently referencing the book Write, Shorten (Пиши, сокращай) by Maxim Ilyakhov and Lyudmila Sarycheva. Personally, I found this section of the book to be its own form of “bullshit.” Kiril makes several valid points, but here his perspective feels too biased. He doesn’t quite “step into the role,” and this part doesn’t really teach the reader much. Not to mention that Write, Shorten is itself a highly polarizing book that provokes strong and divided opinions among readers, something I’ve already noted in my review of it.
Unfortunately, these flaws significantly lowered my final rating. However, the book’s strengths still outweigh these shortcomings. That’s why I recommend it to anyone interested in UX topics, as well as to those creating their own products and aiming to make them more understandable and user-friendly.
My rating: 3.5/5
