In the fast-paced world of software engineering, it’s easy to feel pressured to jump straight into coding when faced with a challenging problem. But sometimes, taking a step back and slowing down can lead to surprising clarity. A few weeks ago, I discovered the power of writing as a tool for software architecture thinking, and I’d like to share how it helped me solve a problem that initially seemed daunting.

The issue I faced wasn’t trivial. It required me to design a system with multiple interacting components, each with its own behaviors and flows. At first, I did what many engineers would do: I started with whiteboard diagrams, sketching out how the components might fit together. But even after visualizing the architecture, the solution still felt unclear. That’s when I turned to writing, describing each element, its inputs, and outputs in pure prose: no bullet points, no to-do lists.

Feeling the need to clear my head, I grabbed a pen and a notebook paper (I use these). Instead of diving into code, I started writing in pure prose, like writing a story. I described each component in detail: its role, inputs and outputs. Then, I explored how these components interacted with one another, capturing the flows and behaviors as a continuous narrative.

As I wrote, patterns began to emerge organically. I could see how certain components naturally grouped together and how others acted as intermediaries. By physically writing it all out in prose, I felt like I was laying out the story of the system, allowing the relationships and logic to unfold naturally.

By the time I finished writing, the problem that had seemed so overwhelming was now mapped out in front of me. I could see the relationships, the dependencies and the behaviors clearly. With this newfound clarity, transitioning back to the keyboard felt effortless. The solution practically wrote itself, guided by the blueprint I had created on paper.

Not only did this process save me time, but it also prevented me from diving into dead ends or making premature assumptions. The act of writing forced me to think deeply and deliberately about the problem before I attempted to solve it.

Why did this approach work so well for me? I think there are a few reasons (and I’ll use some bullet points here):

• Simplicity: Writing things down with pen and paper strips away distractions and forces you to focus on the core of the problem.
• Physical engagement: The tactile act of writing engages the brain differently than typing, encouraging deeper processing.
• Clarity through visualization: Seeing everything laid out on paper made it easier to spot patterns and connections.

This wasn’t just about solving the problem at hand, it was about changing my perspective. By stepping away from the tools I use every day and taking a more analog approach, I found a sense of clarity I hadn’t expected.

Final Thoughts.

This approach might not be a universal solution, but it worked for me. It reminded me of the value of slowing down and thinking deeply before jumping into execution. If you’ve ever felt stuck on a problem, I encourage you to try it. Grab a pen and paper and let the simplicity of writing guide your thoughts. You might be surprised at what you discover.