Disclaimer: I'm not a design engineer or a songwriter—just a curious software engineer reflecting on what makes their work inspiring.
For the past four years, I've worked as a software engineer—dabbling in UI/UX, APIs, databases, and CI/CD to ship features. Recently, I've been thinking more about how to grow. And more importantly—what kind of work actually excites me?
Jerry Seinfeld once said, "Do what you think is cool." That line stuck with me.
So what I think is cool right now is this emerging role called design engineer in the software space—and also, watching songwriters break down how they make their songs.
At first, they seem unrelated. But the more I paid attention, the more I noticed a similar thread: a kind of creative obsessiveness.
Songwriters pull from whatever's around them—memories, moods, melodies—and shape it into something that feels honest. Design engineers often start from a product or design idea and focus on bringing it to life with care and precision.
The creative process looks different in each case, but there's a shared intensity in how the work gets done. A focus on how something is made—not just what it is.
I've been trying to understand what makes this kind of creative work so compelling to me. What I've noticed is that both seem to share three key elements that create this magnetic pull:
1. Coming up with ideas
Taste – the ability to know what should be built, or at least how to discover it.
- Design engineers often start from a designer perspective. They think deeply about how a user will feel clicking, scrolling, or interacting.
- Songwriters chase inspiration from all directions. A single phrase or chord can spark something worth exploring.
Both start with curiosity. They follow a hunch until it becomes something worth building.
2. Building the idea
Craft – having the skills to bring an idea to life with care and precision.
- Design engineers shape interfaces using HTML, CSS, and JS. They adjust spacing, time animations, and make sure interactions feel intentional.
- Songwriters layer sounds, rewrite lines, and experiment with structure. What starts as a loose idea gets tested and reshaped—again and again.
It's rarely straightforward. John Mayer once said that he scrapped eight songs in a week because the last line of a chorus didn't land.
That kind of persistence makes the final result look effortless—even though it isn't.
Some choices come from intuition. David Tao added a pizzicato string part because it just felt interesting in the moment. And I see similar things happen when Charlie Puth decides to put in the cowbell in the background, just to make each verse slightly different.
I love it when people get obsessed over their craft.
3. Creating Something Others Can Connect With
Connection – not just usefulness, but feeling.
- Design engineers make things that people interact with directly. When something feels smooth, responsive, or just right, it leaves an impression—even if the person using it doesn't know why.
- Songwriters write music that stays with people. A single line or melody can echo long after it's heard.
In both cases, there's something beyond the pure practical function. Something that sits with you, quietly.
The Creative Loop
When taste, craft, and connection come together, the result can feel alive. But it's rarely a straight path. One idea leads to the next. Decisions get tested, adjusted, undone, remade.
There's no guarantee it'll work—but the process itself seems worth doing.
What This Means for Me
Sometimes, software engineering can feel very logical and methodical. It's about solving problems fast, shipping features, fixing bugs. There's nothing wrong with that—it's a big part of the job—and it matters.
But when I watch a design engineer obsess over the perfect micro-interaction, or hear a songwriter explain why they spent days on a single bridge, I feel something click. It reminds me that the most compelling work happens when you care deeply about both what you're making and how you're making it.
This isn't about chasing a title or switching careers. It's about remembering what drew me to building things in the first place: the curiosity, the care, the satisfaction of getting something to feel just right. Of creating things that don't just work, but feel alive.
That's what I think is cool. And maybe that's enough reason to explore it.
Side Notes
- I used "design engineer" instead of just "designer" because I wanted to highlight how much care goes into the execution—not just the idea. That part of the process feels important to me. Interestingly, in the hardware space, "design engineer" already encapsulates the making part of the process; it's only in software where we see a clearer separation of responsibility.