At work, I spend a fair amount of time creating process documentation. Most process documents follow a familiar structure: purpose, scope, roles and responsibilities, process steps, and verification.
On paper, it seems simple enough. Fill in the sections, document the workflow, and move on.
In practice, though, the hardest part is rarely writing down the steps. The real challenge is understanding the process well enough to explain it clearly.
Before I can document anything, I need to answer a few basic questions. Why does this process exist? What problem is it trying to solve? Where does it begin and end? Who is involved? How do we know it has been completed successfully?
Without those answers, the steps themselves don’t mean much. A process document is only useful when it provides context. It should help someone understand not just what to do, but why they are doing it.
Over time, I’ve learned that writing a clear process document is only half the job. The other half is being able to teach it. A well-written document can serve as a reference, but there are times when someone needs more than written instructions. They need the process explained in a way that makes sense to them. They need examples, context, and the opportunity to ask questions.
That’s when you discover whether you truly understand the process yourself.
It’s one thing to write, “Follow these steps.” It’s another thing entirely to explain why those steps matter, what could go wrong, and how someone should approach situations that don’t fit neatly into the documentation. The ability to articulate a process often reveals gaps that the document alone cannot. If I struggle to explain something verbally, it’s usually a sign that I need to revisit the process and make it clearer.
Lately, I’ve realized that I approach writing for GridPractice in a similar way.
Whenever I sit down to write a new post, I usually start with a vague idea. It might be something I’ve been thinking about at work, a project I’m working on, or an observation that has stayed with me longer than expected. At first, the idea often feels incomplete. I know there’s something worth exploring, but I can’t always explain it right away.
The writing process becomes a way of figuring it out.
In a sense, every post begins with its own version of purpose and scope. What am I trying to talk about? What part of the topic am I focusing on? What is the main idea I want the reader to take away?
Only after answering those questions does the writing start to take shape.
This is probably why I’ve come to appreciate process documentation more than I expected. It isn’t just about creating instructions. It’s about creating clarity. It takes something that exists mostly in people’s heads and turns it into something that can be understood, shared, and improved.
Writing does the same thing.
The difference is that process documentation helps a team understand how work gets done, while writing helps me understand what I think. Both require the same discipline: taking something that feels obvious in your own mind and expressing it in a way that makes sense to someone else.
Perhaps that’s one reason I keep returning to GridPractice. It gives me a place to document ideas while they are still developing—not after I’ve reached a conclusion, but while I’m still working my way toward one.
Sometimes the goal isn’t to have all the answers. Sometimes the goal is simply to become clear enough to explain an idea, whether to another person or to yourself.
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