There they were, in quick succession: the word “designer” as the job title next to my avatar. And then the thought in my head: I made it.
Actually, I’d literally made it — my title, that is. It was 2020, the year of think pieces about how content designer was the one true title to describe the work performed by my brand of tech worker, people whose title before that was UX writer or copywriter or UX copywriter or content strategist.
As the lead writer for the Duolingo app at the time, those pieces and the thinking behind them sang to me. No, I didn’t “just write.” I did a lot of verbs! I strategized, developed wireframes, researched, and architected information to make our product more usable and successful. If there was one verb to capture all the activities I did in a day, design was it.
Feeling worthy of design thrilled me. To design is to create beauty and order through creativity and intelligence. That’s a big job, a sophisticated job, and it felt like an upgrade.
As for content, that too felt like an upgrade from the words because it suggested more than just the words. We contained multitudes. All told, the shift from writer to content designer brought in the perception of MORE. And more, I thought, was good.
What would you say…you do here?
The problem with containing multitudes as a teammate is that people don’t know what that means exactly. We’re all consumers of the internet here: it’s like a tech product positioned as a “full-scale solution to supercharge your business.” Okay, but can it send invoices?
Because as I hired more content designers to join me, we were indeed met with more, in the form of more questions. What exactly is content? What do you mean by designing it? How is your job different from a product designer’s? What would you say…you do here? My job was Head of Content Design, but I felt like the Head of Questions About Content Design.
So, I created decks, had 1:1s with people of influence, and pointed to all the different ways that content designers could make an impact. But inevitably, I heard back, “What we really need help with is making the words stronger.”
The words? Didn’t they realize we were capable of, dare I say destined for, more?
Letting go of multitudes
But the words had the last laugh.
At the start of 2024, as I was once again refining my pitch for including content design early and often in the product development process, I noticed a new crop of think pieces: this time about how the vagueness of content design was doing us no favors. Vague role = vague impact.
At Duolingo, we have a product principle: that features and interactions should be intuitive. If they need a lot of explanation, they’re not designed well enough. The problem wasn’t with my pitch, or how or to whom I was delivering it. The problem was the title. It needed a rewrite, making it abundantly clear what my team’s job and value were.
It was time to let go of all those multitudes, and time to hold tighter to the words.
It was time to be writers again.
What writing is
Let me pause and tell you what’s been going on with me. I’ve been typing away at this piece, deleting, rewriting, deleting again. I’ve been closing my laptop to be with my kids, without completely closing my brain. I’ve been outlining, eureka-momenting, sharing a draft with a friend with a mixture of pride and dread.
That’s what writing is. It’s wrestling a thought, sometimes for weeks or months or years at a time, until it’s pinned down in the shape of words and paragraphs. It’s exhausting. It’s wonderful. It’s so much more than writing. Writing is the only word for it.
Justice for the words
And so, at Duolingo, we’re product writers now — writers because writing is the clearest, most valuable thing we do; and product because that’s what we write for. My team has changed the conversation from “just the words” to “justice for the words”: flexing the brand voice and wrestling thoughts into the right words for the job. Proposing copy experiments and getting wins. Making Redditors LOL. I know this team can still grow from here, but clarity is our tailwind now. Excellent writing is our north star.
Best of all, our product writing pivot has brought immediate clarity for all our collaborators. Now that our title is clear, they seem to want us around more.
Sure, we do more than just write the words. Show me a single job that does any one single thing. But let me tell you: the way to impact isn’t saying you can do all the things. It’s being excellent at the main thing you’re supposed to do, and then building trust to do more.
I enjoyed my years as a designer and the je ne sais quoi it brought me. But the real upgrade has been embracing the inherent dignity and uniqueness in the work of writing, taking joy and comfort in it, and flexing the skills that are uniquely mine and my team’s. When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted was to be a writer someday.
Kid, you made it.
Mary van Ogtrop is Head of Product Writing at Duolingo, where she champions strong copy and the people who create it. Having established voice and messaging for every kind of organization, she now sees to it that Duolingo’s product writers can focus, thrive, and write cool stuff that helps global users learn (and laugh). She lives in Pennsylvania with her family.
There they were, in quick succession: the word “designer” as the job title next to my avatar. And then the thought in my head: I made it.
Actually, I’d literally made it — my title, that is. It was 2020, the year of think pieces about how content designer was the one true title to describe the work performed by my brand of tech worker, people whose title before that was UX writer or copywriter or UX copywriter or content strategist.
As the lead writer for the Duolingo app at the time, those pieces and the thinking behind them sang to me. No, I didn’t “just write.” I did a lot of verbs! I strategized, developed wireframes, researched, and architected information to make our product more usable and successful. If there was one verb to capture all the activities I did in a day, design was it.
Feeling worthy of design thrilled me. To design is to create beauty and order through creativity and intelligence. That’s a big job, a sophisticated job, and it felt like an upgrade.
As for content, that too felt like an upgrade from the words because it suggested more than just the words. We contained multitudes. All told, the shift from writer to content designer brought in the perception of MORE. And more, I thought, was good.
What would you say…you do here?
The problem with containing multitudes as a teammate is that people don’t know what that means exactly. We’re all consumers of the internet here: it’s like a tech product positioned as a “full-scale solution to supercharge your business.” Okay, but can it send invoices?
Because as I hired more content designers to join me, we were indeed met with more, in the form of more questions. What exactly is content? What do you mean by designing it? How is your job different from a product designer’s? What would you say…you do here? My job was Head of Content Design, but I felt like the Head of Questions About Content Design.
So, I created decks, had 1:1s with people of influence, and pointed to all the different ways that content designers could make an impact. But inevitably, I heard back, “What we really need help with is making the words stronger.”
The words? Didn’t they realize we were capable of, dare I say destined for, more?
Letting go of multitudes
But the words had the last laugh.
At the start of 2024, as I was once again refining my pitch for including content design early and often in the product development process, I noticed a new crop of think pieces: this time about how the vagueness of content design was doing us no favors. Vague role = vague impact.
At Duolingo, we have a product principle: that features and interactions should be intuitive. If they need a lot of explanation, they’re not designed well enough. The problem wasn’t with my pitch, or how or to whom I was delivering it. The problem was the title. It needed a rewrite, making it abundantly clear what my team’s job and value were.
It was time to let go of all those multitudes, and time to hold tighter to the words.
It was time to be writers again.
What writing is
Let me pause and tell you what’s been going on with me. I’ve been typing away at this piece, deleting, rewriting, deleting again. I’ve been closing my laptop to be with my kids, without completely closing my brain. I’ve been outlining, eureka-momenting, sharing a draft with a friend with a mixture of pride and dread.
That’s what writing is. It’s wrestling a thought, sometimes for weeks or months or years at a time, until it’s pinned down in the shape of words and paragraphs. It’s exhausting. It’s wonderful. It’s so much more than writing. Writing is the only word for it.
Justice for the words
And so, at Duolingo, we’re product writers now — writers because writing is the clearest, most valuable thing we do; and product because that’s what we write for. My team has changed the conversation from “just the words” to “justice for the words”: flexing the brand voice and wrestling thoughts into the right words for the job. Proposing copy experiments and getting wins. Making Redditors LOL. I know this team can still grow from here, but clarity is our tailwind now. Excellent writing is our north star.
Best of all, our product writing pivot has brought immediate clarity for all our collaborators. Now that our title is clear, they seem to want us around more.
Sure, we do more than just write the words. Show me a single job that does any one single thing. But let me tell you: the way to impact isn’t saying you can do all the things. It’s being excellent at the main thing you’re supposed to do, and then building trust to do more.
I enjoyed my years as a designer and the je ne sais quoi it brought me. But the real upgrade has been embracing the inherent dignity and uniqueness in the work of writing, taking joy and comfort in it, and flexing the skills that are uniquely mine and my team’s. When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted was to be a writer someday.
Kid, you made it.
Mary van Ogtrop is Head of Product Writing at Duolingo, where she champions strong copy and the people who create it. Having established voice and messaging for every kind of organization, she now sees to it that Duolingo’s product writers can focus, thrive, and write cool stuff that helps global users learn (and laugh). She lives in Pennsylvania with her family.
Further Reading
