Leading design on Charles Reynolds-Talbot

Competence is the enemy of brilliance

Thu, 01 Oct 2026 17:17:47 +0100

I’m going to start writing again. After a rather long hiatus.

You might call these weeknotes. I’m not going to. The likelihood of me doing this every week is slim.

I haven’t written anything for myself in years, so this is really just an attempt to restart a habit. If I write anything after this one, I’ll count it as a small victory.

To understand why I stopped, I need to rewind a little.

Why I stopped

I used to love writing — about design, obviously, but also human interactions, running, my family, and mental health in a very personal way, without the medical labels.

When I was a lot younger, I wrote stories. At one point, even screenplays. I don’t know if I was ever any good, but I loved the creativity of it all. It was an outlet, somewhere for ideas to pollinate. It was always something I did for me. If other people read it and got something out of it, that was a bonus.

A lot of it was slop. I was generating slop years before we had AI to do it for us.

But some of it rang true with others. That was the point: get an idea out there and see if it bounces off the wall. I’ve always been a bit of an open book like that. Transparent, emotive, genuine. What you see is what you get.

Then, a few years ago, I stopped.

It started to feel like there was a lot of scrutiny over what I was writing. I felt it through a couple of lenses.

The first was my own. I got to a point where I questioned whether I was actually saying anything worthwhile, or whether it was only ever for me.

The second was other people editing my writing. At times it changed so much that I couldn’t see the narrative I’d started with. In lots of cases, that’s fine. If it’s a collaborative piece, that’s cool. But these were pieces written from an individual perspective, and by the time several other perspectives had been added, they weren’t mine. I’d got a bit lost along the way, too. I was busy with other things, and I didn’t have the time, energy or inclination to push back.

So some of those pieces went out. My name is on them. I don’t think they’re mine.

At the same time, I was writing while wearing a few different hats, for a few different reasons. The narrative I was trying to thread rarely survived intact — trimmed to fit, cut to a word count, whatever it was.

Somewhere along the way, I fell out of love with writing.

For a long time now, my boss has been encouraging me to get back into it. Just put things out there. Don’t worry about writing in the voice of your employer. Do it for yourself.

It’s very sound advice. I know it is, because it’s exactly what I say to people in my team all the time. But that’s the thing about advice you give to others. You rarely take it yourself.

So, here you are, boss. I’m doing it.

What this has to do with competence

So, this piece is about competence being the enemy of brilliance. There is a thread here with the writing — I haven’t gone on about it for no reason.

I’ve become hyper-aware of this, much more so recently. I look after a team of 20-plus people, and over time I’ve noticed how people’s behaviours change, and what causes it. That’s made me much more aware of my own.

What do I mean by competence and brilliance?

By competence, I mean being dependably good at something. By brilliance, I mean what happens when you’re all in. The risky stuff. The ideas that give you a buzz.

I’m not one for blowing my own trumpet, but I’m pretty good at my job. I’m also a bit of an all-or-nothing person. When I’m all in, you’ll see it. I show up, I obsess, and that thing happens really, really well. When I’m not, it still happens, sometimes, but not to the same level. That’s the difference.

And I think competence gets in the way of brilliance in two ways. It attracts more work. And it makes you comfortable.

What happens when you’re good at something? Usually, people notice. They ask you to do it again. They see you as a competent person to have on a team, so they trust you. They trust that competence.

Then they ask you to do more. So you do, and you do it well. Competently. They see that and think: this person’s doing great, I can give them more responsibility. So they do.

And you take it on, because you’re a competent person. Of course you do.

After a while, you realise you’re doing so much, to a competent level, that you’re not actually doing anything brilliant any more.

How familiar is this?

It’s exactly what happened to my writing.

I’m using writing as a way to get some of that brilliance back. It’s always been my creative channel. But it’s worth saying out loud that there’s a reason the brilliance hasn’t been happening. It’s been diminished by all the competence.

My writing didn’t stop because I ran out of ideas. It became competent. It fitted the format, hit the word count and spoke in the right voice. It just wasn’t mine. And I was too busy being dependable everywhere else to push back.

The questions we stop asking

The second thing competence does is quieter.

When you’re new to something — when you don’t know enough about it — you ask questions. Lots of them. Often the ones everyone else stopped asking a long time ago. Why do we do it this way? Does it need to be like this? Who is this actually for?

That’s where a lot of brilliance comes from. Not knowing.

Competence stops you asking. You already know how it’s done. You get comfortable. Maybe a little complacent. And once you’ve a reputation for getting things right, asking the obvious question, or trying something that might not work, starts to feel like a risk.

When I wrote for myself, I didn’t know if I was any good — and plenty of it wasn’t. But I put the ideas out there anyway, to see what came back. Competent writing can’t afford to be slop. Brilliant writing has to risk it.

A note for leaders and managers

I see this in people in my team, too. And I don’t want anyone to become just a hyper-safe pair of hands.

As leaders, I think we need to be really cognisant of this. It’s all too easy to see someone as a competent person. Someone you can trust and depend on. Those are good qualities. Don’t get me wrong: nothing I’m saying here is against being trustworthy or dependable. Be those things. Just find the balance.

And we need to be careful not to lean on that competence by giving people more, and more, and more. They may well ask what else they can do. And they’ll cope. They’ll compensate — overcompensate, even — with their competence.

What you will notice is that something’s missing. Those high-risk sparks of brilliance — one of the main reasons you hired them in the first place — aren’t there any more.

And you wonder why. Maybe this person has changed. Maybe this isn’t the right role for them. Maybe they’re looking for something new.

Often, none of those things are true. All that’s true is they’re doing too much.

From the outside, they might look like they’re doing it all well enough. But ask them to be truthful about how well they think they’re doing, and I suspect you’d hear that a lot of it is done quite badly — just at a level that still looks competent. What they’ve stopped doing is taking risks. Sticking their head above the parapet.

That’s why I’m having much more open conversations with people in my team about how much they’re taking on, and whether it’s too much. And I think it’s worth asking them, honestly, how well they think they’re doing it all. The aim is that the things they do focus on, they can do brilliantly — and feel that for themselves.

I’m very aware of my own part in this. It’s my job to protect the people in my team from becoming that safe pair of hands. To encourage them. To make sure they’re still doing the work that made them brilliant in the first place. I won’t always get the balance right, but I’m trying.

This is what I’d love leaders, senior or otherwise, to be hyper-aware of.

How can you create more time for the people in your team, and in your business, so that brilliance has room to shine?

If you’re the competent one

It creeps up on you. Before you know it, you’re looking at your own work and thinking: I’m doing all these things, but I don’t feel great about any of them. There’s no buzz of excitement. No “yes, we did that”. Just “we got through that”. “We got that done”.

Then you start to doubt yourself.

So, be aware of it. I’m much more aware of it in myself now. Notice when you’re being handed more because you’re dependable — and when you’re saying yes because it’s the comfortable thing to do.

That’s why I’m writing again. This might be slop. But it’s mine.

Brilliance is a shining light inside of you.

Don’t let competence — or anyone else — diminish it.

Be safe; be human

Fri, 20 Mar 2020 15:26:37 +0000

Principles for sane working in insane times

After a full week working from home due to the (COVID-19) coronavirus pandemic, I have observed great differences in human behaviour. Some caring. Some seriously lacking in the human department. It’s clear that with uncertain times, comes uncertain behaviour. CEOs, directors, leaders, managers, etc, need to put the self-created work-machine to one side and remember that everyone they work with is a human being.

8 Principles for sane working in insane times

I’m responsible for a team of 16 people who are all working remotely now, from home. Putting the challenges of technology aside–like getting video conferencing to work consistently–many are struggling. It’s not like they haven’t worked from home before. But they’ve never had to do it for an entire week, not knowing how many weeks they’ll have to keep going for while the world around them is becoming a scarier and scarier place.

When we’re all in the office, we’re on common ground. Everyone’s environment is the same, we’ve got oversight on what’s happening around us and we don’t get that fear of missing out. In isolation, we do share some common ground in that we’re all remote. It’s clear, communication works better when everyone is remote, compared to a few people remotely joining a co-located team. But, one thing that’s not common anymore is the environment each individual is in.

Some people live in houses with a garden, others in studio apartments. Some already have their children home with them, some don’t have children at all. Some are sharing their home-work space with their partners, others have got access to separate quiet spaces. Each individual’s working environment is now different, so you need to be accommodating for a variety of needs and set standards that support the many.

Looking after your people is your job

As a CEO, or director, or leader, or manager, or someone who is responsible for a team of people, it’s your job to look after them. The worse thing you can do, is assume everyone’s environment and circumstances are the same as yours or impose yours on others. I have said a lot to my team this past week to reassure them and intentionally put time in place for the community to come together. The following principles should to be considered by everyone responsible for a team to reassure ways of working.

1. Everyone is still working, just remotely

Your team shouldn’t feel like they have to compensate for working from home–it’s still work. No-one has chosen to work from home for weeks while everyone else is in the office. Everyone needs to adapt and you need to accept that things are different now.

2. Forget the 9-5

I don’t care how many hours my team work right now. The normal 9-5 office hours are imperfect anyway. How many actual hours of productive work do you think people do in the office once you account for all the distractions, context switching and impromptu meetings? “Have you got five minutes for a quick chat”, almost always turns into an hour long conversation. If your team are delivering outcomes and bringing their whole self when they are working, it doesn’t matter if they only work four hours one day.

3. Children are an unexpected reality

I’ve heard of people being docked pay by their employer because they had their children at home this week. The majority of people are going to have their children at home with them from now on. It doesn’t mean they’re not working. Parents working at home with children are dealing with a context-switching-hurricane work environment. It’s volatile; they’re trying to entertain and educate their children and do their paid job.

You need to allow parents greater flexibility to deal with the unexpected reality of caring for a small human. This flexibility doesn’t need to stop with parents. You should apply it to your whole team. If someone needs to stop work and get out of the house for a few hours, in the garden or to the park, they need to feel they have permission to do so. You can give them that reassurance and reassure yourself: the work will happen, just later.

4. Partners are new teammates

Most of the time people would never choose to work with their partner. But a lot of people are now stuck sharing workspace with their partner. They’ve got a job to do too. If they’re in the background of a video meeting or need to take a call at the same time: it’s okay. It’s no different to the background noise and people when you’re in the office.

5. It’s okay to slow down

Work shouldn’t have to be crazy at the best of times so it certainly doesn’t have to be crazy now. There is a lot going on in the world, when suddenly, all of the news feels relevant. You can reassure people–they don’t need permission to take they’re foot off the accelerator and slow down. If someone needs to take a break and come back to something later: do.

6. Be open about your own struggles

People tend to follow authority. As a leader or manager, that means you. The way you work will dictate how your team thinks they should be working. So be open about your own struggles. It’s okay to show weakness and it might actually strengthen your team’s view of you.

7. Make time for communities

Outside of project work and meetings it’s good for your team and the community to make time to get together (remotely). This can be centred around a specific topic or could just be set time for random chat. These side-conversations used to happen naturally in the office whereas now, they might need to be forced a little. Create sessions for a daily coffee chat or a weekly social. Let people know, it’s not mandatory, it’s not another presence prison. If no-one attends the end of week social because they’d rather use that time to be with their families sooner: that’s okay (I know, I’d prefer that).

8. Be safe; be human

None of this is extraordinary, it’s just simple human touches. In times like this, it should be clearer than ever: work is not the most important thing in the world. I hope everyone is looking after themself and their’s. Be safe; be human.

Share the human things you’re doing with your teams: tweet me @charles_rt

White rabbit

Thu, 25 Oct 2018 18:39:02 +0100

Lately, I’ve been following the white rabbit relentlessly in the hope that if I keep going I’ll eventually stumble upon some life-changing Trinity.

Follow the white rabbit.

This Matrix Metaphor is representative of both the unpaid work I’ve been doing on the redesign of my own website and the paid work I do for UK government.

I’ve spent time worrying about why certain things aren’t working properly and investing too much in trying to find solutions. I’ve blindly ignored good advice telling me to stop—the effort required isn’t worth the reward—and after a while only a mad person would keep going. I am that mad person. Convinced, no. Obsessed, with following the white rabbit in the hope of achieving some self-gratifying win that might make all the effort feel worthwhile.

It’s time to be a quitter.

A lot of times it’s better to be a quitter than a hero…people automatically associate quitting with failure, but sometimes that’s exactly what you should do. If you’ve already spent too much time on something that wasn’t worth it, walk away. You can’t get that time back. The worst thing you can do now is waste even more time. —Rework, Don’t be a hero, Page 118-119

For the work I’m doing on my own website that means quitting the crazy rabbit hole of confusing code and ideas I was falling deeper into. I’d lost sight of the goals I was trying to achieve. I’m rolling back a number of files and will revisit the redesign with a clearer, fresher mind another time.

For the paid work I do that means quitting too. Not quitting my job but quitting getting too involved in certain aspects that, right now, can’t be influenced positively.

Next week is half-term. I’m going to take some time off to spend it with my family. I’m also going to reread Rework that contains advice I’ve been ignoring.

Reset. Rework. Then, keep going on what matters.

Egoless design: Reviewing the right way

Tue, 06 Sep 2016 12:30:00 +0100

I was halfway through a design deep dive. I became uncomfortable. I was nervous. I was hot. I started breathing heavily. My heart started racing. But — I was not presenting. I was in the audience. An audience that was not doing it right. An audience that was criticising.

An illustration of a head in empty space

Nobody benefits from criticism.

Crit(ique) vs Crit(icism)

These two words are too similar in form to appreciate their difference in definition. The language we use is important as it forms our mental model and approach to a situation. This is why I’m going to use the softer word review, which works better.

Reviewing the right way

When we review design we should not make statements or pass comments, we should ask questions to learn more:

How might you…?
Why did you…?
What did the user…?

As designers it’s easy to try to think like the user, but we are not, and we can never hope to fully grasp the context of something in a short review. We should have trust in the designer(s) presenting. They have lived and breathed the problem. They have attended and observed user research sessions. They are the professionals that have been hired and entrusted to do the job the right way.

By asking questions, we prompt answers that will force designers to communicate the context and process in more detail. This helps them discover new ideas or alternative approaches they’d previously missed because they were too focussed. Self–captured comments will always be better acted upon.

It’s important to talk about what works well too. Don’t forget that this is a chance for both sides to learn something new.

Three’s company

With the best intentions, design reviews can still be challenging. Designer(s) can be anxious about presenting; worried that it is them or their ability that is being reviewed, rather than their work. To help ease this feeling of audience vs presenter(s), it can work well to have someone take up a third role of facilitator. A facilitator can help reviews by:

introducing the designer(s) presenting
clarifying what we’re reviewing and what we’re not — there’s no value in discussing things that can’t be changed right now, especially if there is a specific problem area the designer(s) want feedback on.
asking the audience for questions
taking notes to help prompt the designer(s) later
confirming next steps

No egos

There are no bonus points for egos. We’re all working towards the same goal — we all want to solve the problem collaboratively. In the beginning; it doesn’t matter what it looks like, or how it feels — it matters how it works; how people understand it and how people interact with it.

Ask questions. Listen. Learn. Repeat.

If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies

Fri, 05 Aug 2016 14:55:00 +0100

Normally, we don’t pay attention to change — we live busy lives — and the changes taking place around us are not worthy of a second thought.

A butterfly on a leaf

Occasionally, we allow our perceptions to determine a particular change as having a higher effect on us. That change could be work related; a project cancelled, close team members leaving, organisational change, starting a new job, or it could be personal; having a baby, or moving home. Sometimes that change is outside of our control, sometimes we’ve instigated it — that isn’t what’s important. The important thing is how we let that change effect us; our mood, our outlook and our work.

We can’t always change change, and most of the time it’s futile to try and stop it. When change happens, we need to adapt and evolve. Don’t focus on the negatives or the known unknown, but — if the opportunity arises — do influence change positively. We can’t regret trying to make something better, we can only regret not trying.

We should embrace change and the new opportunities it may bring, while reflecting on our past decisions so that we learn for the future.

After all, tomorrow is a new day.