The exact structure of the graphic will either help or hinder design thinking so it is important to get it right. The overall form of the model above was developed through exhaustive iterations with our teams, so please copy it! Then, if all your data fits into the home–commute–work skeleton we provided, you are done.

Look for the best stories by selecting six individual models with the greatest ink density—the most observations and the most written into each section. Include those that cover all the sections relevant for your framework. Then, working in a small team, collect the observations section by section. Write a few words about the story and where to find it on a sticky note and put it on the relevant part of the framework. Walk the individual models in turn, collecting observations, writing them down, and posting them on the framework. Or work in parallel: assign two to three people to each large section and have everyone collect stories simultaneously.

You may find that stories group together, creating possible subgroups within one area of the framework. In home, for example, several stories might happen first thing in the morning. Collect these together in the Home section. Physical places like the coffee shop may have multiple stories, so collect them into a coffee shop place in In-the-World. Be literal with place—don’t create a “leisure place” that groups coffee shop stories with those at the gym. The Day-in-the-Life Model needs to evoke real life, and in real life, no abstract “leisure place” exists! These subgroups might represent physical place, time of day, and type of thing the user is doing.

Once you have collected and roughly grouped your stories, check the rest of the individual models and harvest any other good stories. Look for new internal groupings. When you are done, you will have collected all the stories which are now contenders to be included in the model—but more importantly, you will have found the key distinctions you need to raise up within the large framework. Now you can really tell the story of daily life and your target activity.

Bring your insights together, defining the sub-structure of each key place and the story you want to tell about it. Write a text block to tell each piece of the story. Decide on its location and how to graphically represent it. Label each section with the key distinction you are highlighting. This helps to define the structure of the model and provides the information in bite-sized chunks. In our travel model, we collected observations of quick research done to fill up time while waiting. This insight (Fig. 7.4) is represented as a rectangle within the orange home bubble labeled “…while waiting.” We chose the story about doing research during a child’s swim lesson as a characteristic example. The label focuses the reader on the need to design for dead time; the story of a specific activity suggests a class of activities that might be supported. We did not attempt to abstract or cover all instances we observed—instead, we provided a characteristic example to communicate the behavior in a lively way designers can connect with viscerally.

Once the insights are identified and written as stories, organize them into the full Day-in-the-Life Model by sticking them onto a wall-size skeleton. Now you are ready for final communication design.

In communication design, less is more. Force yourselves to hone your message, to pick the best stories. Don’t try to tell everything just because it happened. You are designing with the design relevance of the data in mind. Crowded information is overwhelming. If your model’s structure is unclear, it likely has no real framework. This will not help the team engage with the data or stimulate design thinking. If you vary the layout to modify core places be sure that you don’t add too many and that they are key for the target activity.

Introductory text is written at the top of each gray rectangle to provide an overview and the key insights related to that section (Fig. 7.5). Similarly the dominant graphic in a section like the orange home bubble has introductory text to focus the reader. Keep the stories short, pithy, and to the point. Be ruthless about eliminating stories that may be interesting in themselves but do not drive design action.

Now design the Way In. Like the Affinity, the Day-in-the-Life Model graphic structure draws the readers through the diagram allowing them to absorb the story in a flow. But to help the reader engage and bridge from data to design we include design questions throughout the diagram. See the examples in our models. To create these, look at each part of the model and ask yourself: What are the design issues here? What does the team need to consider? Write questions that will provoke answers to these questions. Remember these are not design ideas—they are challenge questions for the team (Fig. 7.6).

These questions give designers an initial focus when looking at the model—an entry point for thinking about the implications of the data, highlighting what the team thinks matters to the design. From there, designers can jump off to think about other implications—and they can ignore the questions entirely if they wish. The question bubbles stand as an example of how to use the data. We have found that the simple addition of these questions has dramatically increased the number of design ideas generated for each model.²

The questions also support interaction with the data. They give the readers a challenge while walking the data that will help them generate design ideas for the Wall Walk (Fig. 7.7).

To do the consolidation, start with six of the most detailed models as we did for Day-in-the-Life Model. Break into groups of two to three people each with a few of the models. Walk the statements of identity from the individual models you were assigned, looking across each section for common statements. Group similar statements together and give them a name. As you group them, keep in mind that these are aspects of self, not behaviors. They should complete the sentence of the potential sections, “I am a…” without sounding trivial: “I am… someone who stands up in the plane when I travel.” Nope, that’s a behavior, not a core aspect of self. “I am… someone who is embarrassed to spend $400 a night for a hotel on a business trip. I don’t waste corporate money.” That might work.

Once the sub-teams have contender identity elements with preliminary names put them on sticky notes and post them on a flip chart. Now as a team, step back and review them. Combine those that are really the same and eliminate the ones that are trivial to produce a reasonable, manageable set. You shouldn’t have more than 6–12 in all, and they should both characterize the market and challenge design thinking.

Look at the statements that make up an identity element grouping. Think about the best name to focus people on the real experience of pride, competency, and value that you felt during interviews. Read the observations over and over until the right words jump out. Brainstorm a list of possible names together. When the right one emerges you will know; it will feel like it fits the actual people you interviewed who manifest that identity element.

Good names sound a bit like titles. For example, “Cultural Sponge,” rather than a verb phrase like, “Loves to Visit Other Cultures.” Here’s a list of observations coming from multiple users in the travel project. What’s the best name for this identity element?

“Trip Planner” describes the behavior but not the feeling behind it.³ “Grand Organizer” overemphasizes the organization part. “Trip Wizard” demotes the planning behavior too much. “Hobby Travel Agent” suggests an element of service that is not quite right. We picked “Master Planner.” It has the planning which evokes organizational skill, but the word “master” connotes pride in being that wizard with trips, but brings along the sense of the in-charge person for the trip. It raises up the person as a master—like a martial arts black belt. The word “master” communicates the pride element of this identity element.

Pick your names with care. The words you use are powerful communicators of implied feeling and values. They resonate with the inner experience of the reader calling up their own interpretation. Be sure that the words you use evoke the understanding and feeling you intend.

In the travel example, “I am” connotes self-image: I can pick up and go to Macchu Picchu on a moment’s notice; or, I travel for the adventure others can’t handle; or, I create mind-broadening experiences for my whole family.

“I do” is tied to the target activity directly. For travel, “I plan” connotes how I approach the planning. Like a Master Planner, on top of every detail and option, loving the fun of investigating. Or the people who are driven to get the absolute most from every penny—“Europe on $5 a Day has nothing on me.” That’s the Deal Hunter and it would go under “I do” as well.

The other sections emerge when you find elements that don’t fit “I am” or “I do.” In the Travel Project, we had the “Cultural Sponge” element. Is it really expressing an element of self, like the other “I am” elements do? It’s certainly not an “I do” element, but it is tied to the target activity. It says what kind of trip fits with the person’s sense of self—with what they value. So we combined it with two other elements that had to do with the kind of trip—“My Kinda Place” and “Me, Myself, and I”—and created an “I like” section of the model to talk about how the sense of identity affects the kind of vacation a person looks for.

Now you are ready to draw your sections and lay out the identity elements each in the appropriate section.

The narrative should reflect the core motives, values, and specific details of how the identity element drives behaviors and choices. Specifics are combined from the multiple users that were the source for the element. Fig. 7.11 shows an example.

Use direct, personal language written from the point of view of the user, and speak directly to the reader. “I want authentic experiences.” Incorporate users’ actual words into the narrative: “I didn’t come all this way to eat at McDonald’s.” Use emotional language that is true to the users’ experience: I love this, I’d never do that, I find this tremendous, exciting, exhilarating. Avoid neutral, “objective” bureaucratese: “User finds diverse experiences preferable.” Such language does not communicate the feeling of users’ lives.

With a name and a narrative, you now need a catchphrase. The catchphrase is the team’s key insight about this identity element. It is written as though spoken by the user, summarizing the user’s emotion around the identity element. The catchphrase frames the reading of the story focusing the designers on the most relevant aspect of the emotional experience. For the Cultural Sponge:

Finally, add a Way In. Other models use design questions but the Identity Model is more abstract and we find direct suggestions more useful: Give me this. Do that for me. Write two or three such design suggestions for each identity element. They don’t have to be great ideas—they just have to respond to the actual data. The design team may love them or hate them but either way, they’ll think about how they relate to the narrative and that will start the wheels turning. Note in Fig. 7.12, how the ideas on the model directly address the desire to immerse in local culture.

Now within each group, look across the interactions and ask yourself, “What is going on? What roles are people playing? Are there a set of core roles to support—is that an insight to communicate? What are the interactions between people—are they smooth or full of hassle? Do they represent opportunities to improve relationships? Are people talking to each other directly or through text, email, pictures, or communities to help make a decision? Is the topic of the discussion the big insight? Is better content needed to support the shared activity? Do you need to automate sharing to help coordination? Or do the people who are supposed to collaborate fail to do so—are they simply nagging, begging, ordering, and beseeching each other?” Only the team, by looking at the detailed data, can see what is going on in the relationships. Write down the main learning and insight—this is your message that the model must communicate.

Role-centered: If the user plays a key, identifiable role in the collaboration, this may be the best option. Roles are collections of responsibilities which, when executed by a person on a team, help the team get things done. When people organize themselves to get a job done, whether for work or life, they naturally take on different roles. “You write the first draft,” they say, “I’ll review it.” Or one member of the family takes on the role of travel planner—the others tell her what they like, but let her take over. The people you interview may play an important role, in work or in life. In life, roles such as “travel planner” are key parts in getting the activity done. When studying work, you may have interviewed people in the same organizational role—but that doesn’t mean they all do the work the same way. Also, they may take on roles that are not part of their formal job description to get the work done. Look for the formal or informal role which is key to accomplishing the target activity. In every case, the user has a story to tell about how collaboration takes place relative to their role. This is the story you want to tell in the model.

Typically, you’ll have one to four core roles worth representing. Fig. 7.18 shows the graphic we designed for a Project Overseer, who works to ensure all aspects of a project go forward in sync. The main message is about what it means to oversee. The graphic represents the inner experience and core motives of the overseer wanting to know all things all the time about his team while simultaneously providing air cover to the team and status to the organization. Interactions with others are shown but this graphic is telling the story of the role as the dominant message.

For example, the team creating the travel Collaboration Model found the role of designated trip planner to be a dominant role: the person or people who do the legwork of planning a vacation and works with family members on plans and preferences. The key finding is that this role can be shared, so the team was challenged to show the two strategies people used. But they also realized that there was an additional message—that planning does not happen in vacuum. Travel planning involves continuous coordination with people in other roles: trusted advisors, fellow travelers, and people being visited.

These insights led the team to the model shown in Fig. 7.19. It characterizes the two role behaviors and experiences in the colored rectangles, placing those they coordinate with in the middle. Labeled areas and text chunks organize the communication and talk bubbles to provide specifics from the data. When the structure of the interaction, the nature of the interaction, the content of the interaction, or the difficulties of the interaction are the key insights, choose a variant of this format to represent your consolidation. If there are also two strategies for fulfilling a role—as in the travel data—the insights can be combined.

Our Audit team kept expecting real collaboration between auditors and their clients. Certainly people passed documents back and forth, made calls, and wanted status. People interacted with each other, but these interactions were so frustrating and difficult that we decided the best way to communicate the impact of this insight was to do it in a cartoon. A cartoon can communicate pain lovingly, with humor. It can use real instances and focus the reader. Here the purpose of the “model” was to highlight the relationships’ dysfunction. The impact of this message would be lost by simply showing interactions that were continuously broken—the insight wasn’t in any one interaction—it was in the overall way work was done in that profession. We wanted to challenge the design team to invent how the players could start to enjoy working together instead of living in a culture of nagging. You can see one of the cartoons in Fig. 7.20. Note the Way In is still there, but for humor we made it come from a dog.