I’ve been working in web site design for a little over ten years, long enough to remember when clients judged a site almost entirely by how it looked on a desktop monitor. My early days weren’t spent debating typography or layout systems. They were spent fixing things that didn’t work—contact forms that never sent messages, pages that broke on mobile, and sites that looked polished but quietly failed the businesses behind them.
I didn’t come into this field with strong opinions. Those developed over time, shaped by projects that went wrong and a few that taught me what actually matters.
One of my first long-term clients had a site they were proud of. It had custom graphics, clever navigation labels, and plenty of content. What it didn’t have was clarity. Customers called with basic questions the site should have answered. Others never called at all. When we sat down to review it together, the owner admitted something that stuck with me: “I know what this means because I helped write it. A new customer wouldn’t.”
That moment changed how I thought about design. A site isn’t built for the people who already understand the business.
Design choices have long tails
Early in my career, I made decisions based on what felt impressive. Custom layouts, unusual page structures, interactive elements that made the site feel “modern.” They often photographed well for a portfolio. Months later, the same clients would reach out, frustrated that simple updates required help or that the site felt fragile.
I remember a project where a client insisted on a highly customized homepage with multiple interactive sections. It launched smoothly, but updating it became a chore. Eventually, we simplified the structure. The site looked quieter, but it worked better and was easier to manage. That experience taught me to think beyond launch day. Good web site design considers who will live with the site afterward.
Clarity beats creativity more often than people expect
After years of watching how people actually use websites, I’ve become cautious about cleverness. Clever ideas often require explanation. Clear ones don’t.
I once redesigned a service page where the biggest improvement wasn’t visual. We rewrote the opening paragraph using phrases customers used on the phone. We adjusted the order of sections to match how people asked questions in real life. The design barely changed, but engagement improved. That project reinforced something I’ve seen repeatedly: design supports communication, not the other way around.
When a site fails, it’s rarely because of color choices. It’s usually because visitors can’t quickly understand what’s being offered or what to do next.
Mobile exposes weak decisions
If you want to see whether a web site design really holds up, use it on a phone. Mobile doesn’t tolerate clutter, vague buttons, or long introductions. Every unnecessary element becomes more obvious.
A few years ago, I reviewed a site that looked fine on desktop but struggled on mobile. Important information was buried. Buttons were too small. The owner hadn’t noticed because they mostly viewed it from their office computer. After restructuring the layout with mobile use in mind, the site improved across all devices. Designing for small screens forces discipline, and that discipline usually benefits everything else.
Common mistakes I still see
One mistake I encounter often is treating content as something that gets added after design is finished. Placeholder text makes any layout look tidy. Real content reveals weaknesses. I’ve learned to ask for drafts early, even rough ones, because design should support real words and real priorities.
Another mistake is trying to please everyone. Too many options, too many messages, too many paths. I’ve watched sites become ineffective simply because they refused to choose a focus. Simplifying often feels risky to business owners, but it usually makes the site more useful.
There’s also a tendency to chase trends without considering longevity. I’ve rebuilt enough trend-heavy sites to know how quickly they can feel dated.
How experience changes your perspective
After ten years, my approach to web site design is less about personal taste and more about outcomes. I care about whether a site can be updated easily, whether it answers real questions, and whether it reduces friction for someone visiting for the first time.
I’m also more willing to recommend against ideas that sound exciting but add complexity without purpose. That confidence comes from seeing where certain choices lead, not from theory.
The sites I’m most proud of aren’t the flashiest ones. They’re the ones clients stop thinking about because they simply work. Customers find what they need. Updates don’t feel risky. Conversations start with less confusion.
That’s what web site design has come to mean for me: not decoration, not novelty, but quiet effectiveness that supports a business without demanding attention for itself.