Improve Something Today

Facilitation

Two facilitation methods starting with a single line: Actions|Results & +|Δ

A square piece of paper with a single line drawn down the middle. — Photo by Brian Kerr.

Two simple facilitation methods you can start anytime by drawing a single line on a sheet of paper. What these are and when to use them.

These two methods require you to draw a single line to start, which makes them very easy and portable. You don’t need to think of yourself as a facilitator. Just draw a line and move the conversation along.

Actions|Results

Bring Actions|Results out when people are talking about what to do next in a situation and things get muddled.

First, draw a single line somewhere everybody can see it. Write ‘Actions’ as a heading to the left side, and ‘Results’ to the right.
Then, as you hear specific proposals or ideas, start placing actions to the left side of the line and results to the right.
Leave plenty of space.
At some point, you may choose to explain yourself. The relationship between these two is like this:
1. We’ll take some action → to get to this result.
2. We want this result → so let’s try this action.
In most groups, you’ll hear some proposed actions (‘let’s train everyone on the new process’) as well as results (‘everyone needs to use the new process by XY date’). Keeping these two separated allows for structured thinking to arise. Encourage new connections or filling in of blanks on this basis.

At the end, a picture emerges that you can ask questions about. For any proposed result, there are probably several actions that could lead to the result—which ones are easiest, quickest, easily reversible, etc.? And for any proposed action, there’s an end result in mind—does everyone agree with the result, and how useful do we think the action will be in getting us there?

Use this picture to start choosing feasible or necessary next steps.

And the picture is helpful when looking for performance measures. Computers are usually better at counting actions than they are results. But the relationships you’ve identified between actions and results can hint toward a larger theory of change. I’ve noticed this is typically the most durable outcome of what can seem like a simple, improvised method.

+|Δ (Plus|Delta)

The second method, +|Δ, is a great way to wrap up or check out of a gathering. It’s a very popular method—you may have used it or experienced it yourself.

First, draw a single line somewhere everybody can see it. Write ‘+’ as a heading to the left side, and ‘Δ’ to the right. Maybe write out ‘delta’ or ‘change’ as a caption next to the latter.
Then, ask people for their feedback and write down what you hear.
1. Pluses: what’d they like? what should we keep doing?
2. Deltas: what should we change next time? For this, I encourage a ‘complaints with recommendation’ format, where any complaints are welcome, but a positive recommendation should come with ’em.
Now the important part: act on what’s there. For recurring meetings, I like to briefly bring up previous +|Δ board(s) while announcing any agenda, format, or logistical changes happening as a result.

An encouragement

I hope you try one of these, especially if it seems a bit out of character for you. Facilitation might seem arcane, but it can be very simple.

What’s fun about these methods is that they are easy enough to do with no setup and no ceremony. And you get much of the benefit of more complex methods: the chance to slow down, think in a more structured, communal way, and organize ideas spatially.

Learning

10 things I’ve learned in 10 years of writing Improve Something Today

Rhododendron in full bloom. A deep, rich red color. — Photo by Brian Kerr.

This site is about learning in public. As it turns a decade old, I scrounge around for 10 things I’ve learned while writing it. Also: my gratitude.

10 years ago today, I started Improve Something Today. I don’t intend to make a huge ceremony of it, but I would like to mark the occasion in two ways.

First, in the spirit of learning in public, I’d like to share 10 things I’ve learned while writing this site. I’ve been writing online a hell of a lot longer than that, but here—this site, this decade—is where some growth has occurred.
And second, I’m starting a series of 10 daily posts on the site—a series of topics I’ve wanted to deal with for a bit but haven’t been able to give their due. E-mail newsletter readers can expect a wrap-up of all these in the next newsletter, planned for June 2. In the meantime, check back to see what’s going on. Some of the most energetic periods of time for me were when I was posting daily, and I’d like to revisit that temporarily to mark the anniversary.

I am grateful for everyone who reads along, or listens to the podcast, or follows up with additional commentary or ideas. It’s my good fortune to know many of you directly because of our friendship or past and future connections, and it’s been a delight to have gotten to meet and get to know more of you along the way.

Spending a few minutes together in these words and pages is the biggest support a person could ask for. Thank you for that. As always, there are additional ways to support the site if you’d like—all voluntary, and most of them non-monetary.

With that said:

10 things I’ve learned in 10 years of writing

(No pressure.)

I’m a perfectionist. I want to have everything dialed in before ‘going public’. But the outset is a great time to write about something, especially in a format as mutable as a blog. When I change my mind, I can write about that too. I can fix mistakes. I can remove the oldest, lousiest stuff entirely. And when I share what I’m only beginning to learn, others will share what they already know. What a treasure.

This is the curse of knowledge: the things we’re bored of are the things most valuable to others. Once I figure out how to do something, I’m onto the next one. That’s a big part of the forever appeal of consulting for me. People around me know how to do things that are amazing to see. The curse of knowledge is what keeps me from realizing that the same thing holds the other way around. So: when I’ve figured something out and worked out all the gimmicks, I gotta give it away. (Then I have a URL to refer back to or pass along to the next person who asks.)

Thing No. 0003. Learning in public § holding back on the middle

In between the previous two things: a big messy middle of learning, road-testing across client engagements, trial and error. This is my ‘apprenticeship to the truth’, where I take what I’m working on, perhaps somewhat Gollum-like, and hide it in some gross cavern for a while until it is ready to move along. I’m OK with that, at least for a while. You might have to come and lure me back out with some neat riddles. Feel free to do that as needed.

Thing No. 0004. A time-machine readership

It’s good to write the thing I, personally, would have benefited most from having read one, five, or 10 years ago. Also good to write the exact thing I’ll wish I’d written down in five years’ time. While I’d need a time machine to accrue these benefits directly, other people with the same curiosities and questions are out there today, right now. So I write for them, for you, and for me.

Thing No. 0005. Ignoring the numbers

Metrics, analytics, open rates, time-on-whatever. Turn these right off. Following the numbers has had a ruinous effect on the web. When I redesigned the site last year, I switched to this old-school mode where you go to the home page and read everything. Just scroll down. When you get to the bottom, it loads older stuff in. The reason this went away was to increase the fidelity of analytics (so that every little click, tap, and interaction could be measured) and to create more turf for advertisements. I don’t need those things. So if you’re on the home page you can… scroll on down. Start where you like, stop when you like. No ‘read more’ links, no pop-ups. It’s chill.

Thing No. 0006. Using media formats all y’all enjoy

I offer an e-mail newsletter because some people want to read it. I offer a podcast because other people want to listen to it. My preference would be to publish solely on the site and via RSS, and then, as the poem goes, to be ‘forgotten even by God.’ But giving you, my readers, what you want has only been beneficial. I’ve noticed that different people seem to follow along in different ways, which is such a delight.

I remember fondly the period of time when I’d cross-post things from this site as Twitter threads. What was wonderful about that is that people would reply to or favorite individual sentences. It was the most fine-grained writing feedback I ever got, and I liked it. It was super helpful in discerning what was useful and for whom and how so. My sweetheart Liana is a writer, and I notice that her ideal reader would be one who pauses after each sentence to recite detailed, specific adulation about the glories of those words before proceeding on to the next. (I think Liana’s writing is great, but even I tend to round up feedback to the paragraph or even scene level. Sorry, sweetheart.) We find ourselves in a strongly non-ideal world. Twitter is gone, the horrible blue web sites remain horrible. So I make the web site home. I can cross-post and promo elsewhere as much as I like (which is very little, and only in a few places).

I’ve learned that if you have an e-mail newsletter, you have to actually make it easy for people to sign up for it. I’m not an expert in this area, but I know the person who is, and here is their detailed advice. I wish I’d done this years earlier.

Thing No. 0009. Finding you & not losing touch over the years

There are people I’ve met or gotten to know even a little bit as a byproduct of writing this site. And then there are people I’ve managed to keep at least somewhat in touch with over the years via this site. That means so much to me, and the secret is that I’m pretty sure I benefit from it more than anybody else.

Thing No. 0010. Residing in gratitude

I’m grateful for the moments we’ve shared together, for the links and corrections and ideas and jokes and whatever else. I’m grateful that even in the degraded state of the internet and the awful state of the world in 2026, there are fussy, calm, weird places like this where we can be in communication. I’m grateful for your attention, even if you’re just flitting past. And I’d be most grateful if you could take an idea or method you find here and use it to improve something today.

Learning

Timely plugs: Mandy Brown’s workshop, Abby Covert’s next sensemaking book, & new music

A heron walks along the edge of a pond. — Photo by Brian Kerr.

Three things to consider this week.

Mandy Brown’s speculative fiction workshop

Mandy Brown is accepting applications now through April 22 for the next cohort of her speculative fiction workshop, which will meet weekly from late May to early July. I participated last year and hugely benefited from the experience. Mandy’s pitch:

Join a small group of people to practice new ways of thinking, being, and acting through your work, using the power of speculative fiction. Each week, you’ll write and play with stories, scenes, and notions about what work could become—unburdened by the practical realities of your day-to-day—and then reflect with fellow workers about what that writing tells you about your environment, standpoint, needs, and dreams of the future.

One idea I took from Mandy’s workshop is far-fetching. As I received it, far-fetching is the practice of reaching far out into a desired or necessary future and finding some piece of it—however far-fetched—to bring (‘fetch’) back into the current moment. Something practical to do with hope, in hope. There are, and have been, many small things I’ve far-fetched in this way in the year since. All this to say that I’m grateful for Mandy’s hosting of the workshop previously. And you have my strongest encouragement to read through the invitation and consider applying.

Abby Covert’s “Timeless Sensemaking”

I’m now going to do something very rarely do, which is to recommend a book I haven’t read yet, because it comes out April 16—tomorrow, as of this writing. The book is information architect & community convener Abby Covert’s third:

‘Timeless Sensemaking for Modern Sensemakers’ is a book for people doing real work with real people, where making sense actually matters. It borrows quietly from the idea of a spell book. Not in the sense of fantasy or mysticism, but in the older sense of a grimoire: a working collection of practices, observations, cautions, and tools, refined through use. It is written by a practitioner who has also walked alongside and taught thousands of people to make sense.

The basis on which I recommend even before reading is that Abby’s work is both remarkable and durable. And I want her to have a big first day of sales.

Abby’s first book is one I refer to weekly. It’s available in full online at howtomakesenseofanymess.com, which means I can point you directly to page 57. Her second book was also great. And I have high hopes for the third, which I’ll order as soon as it’s available tomorrow. Get your copy here:

80s kids 2

Finally, my friends and neighbors Shannon & Jamie, the ‘synthpop spouses,’ are releasing their second album of 80s cover songs this Friday, April 17. They’re also on tour—Liana and I caught their hometown show last year, and had a blast.

My favorite track is their cover of The Human League’s Don’t You Want Me, a lovely-but-weird song that is totally rehabilitated by their performance. Now, you might ask: why music, I thought we were being all gloomy and serious and knees deep in the work until we’re done. Art, culture, goofy-ass fun: we have to hang on to these as the structures by which we far-fetch—bringing from there back to here—the stubbornness and other energies needed in our shared project of universal liberation. So get listening. Can’t wait until Friday? Start with Dancing in the Dark from the first 80s kids album.

Facilitation

Questions along the way

Looking down into a rocky beach at low tide, with a weathered wooden beam in few; a few barnacles and lichen live on this beam. — Photo by Brian Kerr.

The Periodic Table of Questions, ICA’s ORID, Liberating Structures’ W3, and more. How might we organize questions, and to what end?

Dan Klyn offers this Periodic Table of Questions. 20 genres of questions, arranged spatially from left to right as hooks (questions with bounded answers) and nets (questions with open answers), and from top to bottom on an index I sense intuitively but still can’t describe as concisely as he does:

Image of a Periodic Table of Questions, available online at https://danklyn.com/questions.html

This is immediately interesting to click around. Click on each for an example question. Dan has a talk and draft book chapter available.

Also, it’s immediately useful. You can provide a question and the thing will guess what kind of question it is. You can ‘iterate’ a question and it’ll give you restated versions of your question across all 20 genres. (Must be some ill-begotten LLM device behind the scenes; re-roll if you don’t like what you see; use the cut-up method to swipe only the results that are meaningful to you. Meaning comes from you, not the randomization device.)

I told Dan it reminded me of ORID from the Institute for Cultural Affairs:

This is how ICA teachers advise a facilitator to arrange a ‘focused conversation’—one of several basic extremely valuable facilitation methods they teach. To design a focused conversation, you write up a sequence of questions in deliberate sequence across 4 levels: objective, reflective, interpretive, and (the most unlovely word of all) decisional. The Periodic Table of Questions has helped me arrange questions for one focused conversation so far, and I look forward to more. I do a good job of figuring out what the questions should be, but never want to slow down and get the wording just right. And one feature of the focused conversation is that if you have great questions in the right order, there is very little else to do. A group then brings itself to the appropriate ending point for a meeting or activity.

A simpler version of this approach, one which trades away a lot of nuance for being easier to do, is the ‘What, So What, Now What?’ (W3) liberating structure:

W3 is based in part on the work of Chris Argyris (who I’ve written about before—

—and whose writing and ideas I rely on in my consulting practice). The ladder of inference shared in the W3 method feels like a fast-and-loose alternative to ORID.

Simpler still is to ask a single question, my own shortcut method:

When this works, it is because starting with something at the “data” level (as per the ladder of inference), or the “objective” level (per ICA’s ORID/focused conversation), or the lighter/topmost “net” questions (per the Periodic Table of Questions) is always enough to get a conversation started, and often enough to keep a conversation moving along, of its own accord, to its conclusion.

One last point. Jerry Weinberg had remarkable advice about not inflicting help—by which he meant offering known, or supposed, answers before someone is ready to ask for help. Over the last 20 years, this idea has made all the difference for me. The distinction between being (a) this dreary little (presumed) know-it-all and (b) a helpful colleague. Which is to say: people might not want the answer to the question you wish they would ask, but they might listen to your question if you ask it with kind curiosity, in the right way, and at the right time.

Monthly notes

Remembering Christopher Alexander: love even for the smallest pebble

A stone walking path going up a gentle incline with winter foliage surrounding. — Photo by Brian Kerr.

Two passages from the architect and writer on the fourth anniversary of his passing.

Podcast episode 0039: Remembering Christopher Alexander

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Christopher Alexander, architect, passed away four years ago today. He was a direct influence on several of my teachers, mentors, and friends, although I knew him mostly as a warm writer of challenging ideas. The independent consulting company I ran for a decade was called ‘Different Chairs’ after a passage he cowrote.

First, let’s enjoy the crispness of Alexander’s writing. Here’s a passage from his first book, Community and Privacy, coauthored with Serge Chermayeff, published 1963:

People want to be everywhere. The reason they moved out was to find the country and escape the disadvantages of the city. The reason they are moving back is that the country is no longer there and they would like to regain the advantages of the city. But when everything is everywhere, wherever you go there is nothing tangible to find.

Second, we dwell in the inviting and clarifying nature of his work. This passage is from the concluding pages of his last book, The Battle for the Life and Beauty of the Earth, with Hans Joachim Neis and Maggie Moore Alexander, published 2012:

Again and again we are confronted daily by decisions, by the question, “What should I do, what path should I take, how should I approach this problem?”

There is no human being who does not, in some form, encounter this kind of self-doubt. Every one of us needs help or guidance in doing the best possible thing, in so far as what is available and practical, on the day when you encounter this question, in yourself.

Gandhi-ji, Christ, the Buddha, Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma, and the man down the street at the gas station. They did it for love. I can do it for love. Any one of us can do it because of love, and because love is simple and so powerful.

Love itself! Not love for this person or that person—but love for a small spider who has fallen into a tin can, love for the field which nourishes, and the individual grasses that sway as the breeze comes gently across.

The ecology of humankind is created by the fabric of buildings, by the human fabric of affection, and by the powerful force of our love for our Earth—love, even for the smallest pebble.

Try to be aware, every waking day and every minute, of the love that lies in your heart. The most tender wakefulness lies in your heart, and gives you the only realistic picture of the world. It can give you access to the ultimate reality. At every moment, remain wakeful and aware of your love for the Earth and for the Universe around you.

I showed up to some consulting work this morning befuddled, tired, and uncertain of which of several alternatives—all equally irritating—to pursue next. This inside the universal local/global backdrop of loss, confusion, and cruelty. Remembering Christopher Alexander’s answer to ‘what should I do?’ has helped me a hundred times over across the years, including today, right now. Maybe it will help you, too.

Thanks, Christopher.

Podcast

Podcast episode No. 0037: The wooden chair

0037: The wooden chair

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Readings of two passages on the subject of wooden chairs, as seen in the Wooden chair as exemplar of emptiness section of the Quote barn.