You installed it and then nothing happened

Twelve sentences. Copy whichever one sounds like your week.

There is no vocabulary to learn first. Each line below describes a situation somebody is actually in. If one of them is you, put your own specifics where the brackets are and send it. A page comes out, you go and fill it in somewhere away from the screen, and what you wrote by hand is what the next stretch of work gets built on.

The shortest version

You can also just ask, in your own words.

None of this has to be typed exactly. Three plain sentences are already in the README, and anything that means the same thing works the same way. The twelve exist because saying more about your situation gets you a page that fits it more closely.

Verbatim · README §Using it
  • Give me a paper session on this.
  • I need to think about this offline.
  • Print me something for the patio.

Twelve lines

Grouped by what is going on, not by what the page is called.

Everything set in serif is yours to type. Square brackets are blanks, so swap your own words in before you send. A few of these are wrong for some people, and where that is true it says so under the line. That part is worth reading before you copy.

Something just ended.

  1. Line 1 · After-action review · two or three pages

    You come back with an honest account of why it went the way it did, written while you still remember. That includes the version people almost never write: what went wrong inside something that worked.

    The [spring launch] is finished. I have the plan we wrote down before we started and the log of what actually happened, both in this thread. Give me an after-action review on paper.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    One condition

    It needs a record. The plan as written down beforehand and the log of what happened both have to exist, because reflection with nothing objective to push against does not improve anything. If all you have is your memory of it, line 2 is the better one. And if what you want is to sit with something that hurt rather than diagnose it, that is line 2 as well. This page is not built for that.

    After-action review, specified in full
    Verbatim · page-patterns.md §Named session formats

    After-action review. Deep, 2-3 pages, after a project phase or a completed agentic session that left a recorded plan and execution log. The printed record is a hard condition, not decoration: written reflection without an objective record to react to produces no improvement at all, and the record is what qualifies this sheet for its evidence base. Page 1: the plan as recorded ("what was supposed to happen") and, where the machine executed steps, a bare factual timeline with no interpretation, in the machine's voice, with a two-column react beside it under the line "The log is not the whole truth." Page 2: the gap zone — "Why the difference?" — human-only; the machine withholds all diagnosis. Then twin sustain/change lists covering successes as well as failures; after a success, reviewing what went wrong anyway is the working part. The four canonical questions are the fixed structure — what was supposed to happen, what happened, why the difference, what to sustain and change — and high structure outperforms low. Nothing gets ranked here: prioritization, if wanted, is a later Fast pick, and next actions get drafted on screen after scan-back. Sketch field: "Draw the timeline where it bent," paired with Second reading. Never offer it as emotional processing after a distressing event — that literature runs null-to-harm, and introspection belongs to the Distanced pair. No record, no AAR; a trivial session with no gap gets no sheet. Sources: evidence brief, after-action review cluster.

  2. Line 2 · Distanced pair · one sheet, on its own

    The thing you have been carrying around about it finally gets put down, in your own handwriting, far enough back from it that you can read it again later.

    Something about [the handover] went badly and I want to sit with it rather than diagnose it. Give me a reflection sheet, not a review.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    What is on it

    Two zones: what happened and what you make of it, then what it felt like. Both, because writing about the thinking and the feeling together does more than either alone. The prompts address you as “you” rather than “I”. It reads oddly at first, and then turns out to be the part that makes honesty possible. It keeps its own sheet, with nothing to rank or plan beside it.

You are about to commit to something.

  1. Line 3 · Premortem · two pages

    Six to eight ways this actually fails, found by the one person who knows the plan well enough to find them and is, for one page, not obliged to be optimistic about it.

    The [migration plan] is committed and I’m confident in it. It’s a year from now and it has failed completely. Print me the premortem.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    Read this before you copy it

    This one exists to puncture confidence, and every study behind it was run on people who felt sure. If you are already lying awake about this plan there is nothing left to puncture, and no evidence that puncturing the punctured helps anyone. Take line 4, or line 2. It is also not a second run at a plan you have not changed.

    The page prints no fixes on purpose. Naming how it fails and deciding what to do about it are two different sittings, and the second one happens on screen after you scan the first one back.

    Premortem, specified in full
    Verbatim · page-patterns.md §Named session formats

    Premortem. Deep, 2 pages, only when a concrete committed plan exists. Page 1: the live plan restated in one tight paragraph, machine's voice — genuine work worth reacting to. Then the certainty frame, asking voice: "It is a year from now. The plan failed — completely, not marginally. Write the history." Certainty is the active ingredient, not pastness; the wording must make the failure total and certain. Below it, six to eight numbered lines — a deliberate, sourced exception to the ten-to-fourteen overbuild rule. Overbuilding serves novelty; this sheet serves confidence calibration, and forcing many failure thoughts feels so difficult that the felt difficulty restores the very confidence the exercise exists to reduce. One input constraint: "At least three must be failures that are our own doing, not the world's" — the documented skew runs toward blaming the world. Page 2: sketch field, "Draw how the failure unfolded," with Second reading; then a separate Fast pick — circle the two most likely to be the real cause — with the counterweight adapted to "One circle must be the reason nobody would say in the meeting," because this sheet's bias is self-censorship, not feasibility. Countermeasures are deliberately absent from the sheet; the AI drafts them after scan-back, which closes the documented gap between naming failure reasons and revising the plan. No timer, no mitigation wording anywhere. Not for Light, not for an already-anxious planner — every supporting study targets overconfidence, and deflating the deflated has no support — and not for repeat runs on an unchanged plan. Sources: evidence brief, premortem cluster.

  2. Line 4 · Outside view · two pages

    A number you would defend out loud, and a written account of what would have to be true for you to beat what usually happens to projects like this one.

    I’m about to commit to [a date / a budget / an adoption number]. There are comparable past cases, some of them ours. Give me the outside view before I sign up to it.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    What is on it, and what it will refuse

    Comparable past cases, printed with where they came from stated on the page. Your own past cases beat strangers’ whenever you have any. If no defensible comparison exists, or the numbers cannot be sourced out loud, the format is meant to decline rather than invent a plausible-looking spread. A made-up distribution printed as an anchor is worse than no page.

    What it gives you is calibration, not accuracy. It takes out systematic optimism. It will not sharpen any one estimate.

    Outside view, specified in full
    Verbatim · page-patterns.md §Named session formats

    Outside view. Deep, 2 pages, for a timeline, budget, or adoption number the human is about to commit to. Page 1: the reference class in the machine's voice — comparable cases and base rates, with provenance stated on the page in one line; prefer the human's own past cases when they exist. Below it, a distribution strip on dot-grid with the base-rate anchor pre-ticked; the human marks where this case honestly sits. One pen position, and the spatial judgment is the point: prose lets you dodge it. The strip is the kit's sketch zone. Then the forced linkage, non-optional because it is the working part: "Write the short history of this project going the way the reference class typically goes." Displaying past cases beside an estimate does nothing; the linkage writing is the intervention. Page 2: the differences list — "What would have to be true for you to beat the base rate. Each line must be evidence you hold today, not an intention" — then the committed number, written once, that the human will defend. Promise calibration, never accuracy: the tested effect removes systematic optimism without sharpening any individual estimate. The pre-ticked anchor is licensed for this estimation format only and never leaks onto a generative sheet, where the same move is design fixation. Decline the format when no defensible reference class exists or the base rates' provenance cannot be stated: a fabricated distribution printed as an anchor is worse than no sheet. Sources: evidence brief, outside view cluster.

Something big was just explained to you.

  1. Line 5 · Teach-back sheet · two pages, closed book

    By the end you know which parts of it you can genuinely explain and which parts you were nodding along to. Those turn out not to be the same parts.

    You’ve spent this whole session explaining [how the auth flow works] and I stayed with all of it. Close the book — give me the teach-back sheet.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    Read this before you copy it

    Only worth doing if you really stayed with the explanation. After a skim it measurably hurts, because nothing is loaded to retrieve. Say so and take a different line; nobody is checking.

    The page holds back every scrap of what you just read, including the parts the machine obviously still has. Print the content and you are testing whether you recognise it, not whether you know it. Wherever you get stuck, the mark you make is a note to yourself and never a score. This is also the one place where scan-back checks your handwriting against the source instead of taking it as settled: it treats you as authoritative about what you believe, not about the subject.

    Teach-back sheet, specified in full
    Verbatim · page-patterns.md §Named session formats

    Teach-back sheet. Deep, 2 pages, closed-book by design. Offer it only after the human has genuinely engaged a body of conceptual explanation — an hour of AI-explained material is the canonical trigger — and never after a skim: closed-book prompts after passive processing measurably hurt, because nothing is loaded to retrieve. Page 1: one Serif line — "Explain X, from memory, to someone who has never met it" — over a full ruled page, with a narrow gap column: "Mark the lines where you reached for a word you couldn't cash out." Ask for mechanism, how and why it works, never a list of reasons; the deflation of inflated understanding requires mechanistic explanation and does not happen otherwise. Page 2: dot-grid — "Draw the mechanism from memory" — with Second reading; at most three retrieval probes in the machine's voice, no answers. The machine withholds every scrap of its own explanation, including material it obviously has: printing the content converts a calibration instrument into a recognition test, and paper is the enforcement the screen cannot provide. Closed-book is the calibration instrument, not the only route to retention. Gap marks are annotation, never scoring. The return trip is the feedback event, under the one scoped exception to scan-back's authority rule: the handwritten explanation is authoritative as a record of what the human believes, not as fact, so scan-back checks it against the source, corrects factual errors on return, and re-explains the gap-marked pieces differently. One sheet is one retrieval event, not a retention program. Wrong tool for procedural or worked-example material, and never a substitute for a generative sheet. Sources: evidence brief, teach-back cluster.

It’s the top of the week, or the end of a long day.

  1. Line 6 · Weekly review · two pages, every week

    You come back with the week’s loose ends triaged in pen, and with the ones no system knew about, because they were only ever in your head.

    It’s the top of my week. Inventory the open loops you can actually see — the threads here, [my task list, my calendar] — and print the weekly review.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    Read this before you copy it

    Only what it can genuinely see. If your assistant has no real view of your threads, tasks or calendar, it should skip this rather than fill a page with plausible guesses. An invented inventory is the exact failure the whole system is built to avoid, and the second page, the sweep of what has your attention, is never pre-filled at all.

    No quadrants, no priority matrix, no scoring of any kind. Weekly rather than daily. Next actions get drafted after you scan it back, not on the page.

    Weekly review, specified in full
    Verbatim · page-patterns.md §Named session formats

    Weekly review. Recurring ritual, Deep, 2 pages — the weekly self-meeting the skill description already solicits. Page 1: the inventory of open loops the machine can actually see — chat threads, task lists, calendar — laid out two-column react; the human triages with the pen protocol as designed: strike kills, green go, blue do, red review. These are reaction marks on machine work-product, rank-and-circle territory, not selection over creative options, so no selection counterweight prints; feasibility bias has no originality to corrupt here. Never quadrants, never a priority matrix, never scoring of any kind. Page 2: the mind-sweep, a human-only long list — "What has your attention that no system knows about?" — with the machine-visible loops marked as Spent Ground categories so the sweep goes where the machine cannot see; then a structure sketch: "Draw next week as a structure. Mark what carries the weight." No next-action or if-then wording prints anywhere on the sheet. Capturing undone tasks without then planning them leaves the intrusions intact, so the continuation after scan-back is load-bearing, not cleanup: next actions get drafted there, kept deliberately lightweight — elaborately batch-planning many goals in one sitting undermines the planning benefit — and the machine transcribes the human's plans, never audits them. The mind-sweep is never pre-filled: the machine's inventory is precisely not the human's mind, and printing guesses there is the design-fixation failure mode. Weekly, not daily. Never fused with introspection; the Distanced pair keeps its own sheet. Skip the format when the machine holds no genuine visible inventory — never invent loops. Sources: evidence brief, weekly review cluster.

  2. Line 7 · Light sheet · exactly one page

    A pile of things, reacted to. Circled, struck out, ranked, one mark each, done from the couch with the television on.

    It’s the evening and I’m on the couch. Give me a Light sheet on [the backlog] — things to react to, circle and cross out. One page.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    What Light means

    One page, and one pen gesture per item: circle, rank, strike, a single word. It describes how much you have in you right now, not how hard the work is. Saying which one you are in is worth the clause, because a page built for a cleared desk does not get filled in on a couch.

You have to make something that isn’t there yet.

  1. Line 8 · Long list, with Spent Ground · ten to fourteen numbered lines

    The strange ones. The obvious territory is already fenced off at the top of the page, so your pen has nowhere to go but past it.

    I need [twenty names for this thing] and everything I’ve come up with so far is the obvious version. Name the obvious territories as already-walked ground, then leave the rest of the page to me.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    Why “territories” and not “examples”

    That word is doing real work in the sentence. What gets printed is the obvious ground as broad categories, never as actual ideas. Naming the categories roughly doubles what people come up with, while listing real solutions and asking you to steer clear of them makes fixation worse.

    Expect ten to fourteen numbered lines rather than four. The common ideas get used up in the first third, and the back half is where the odd ones live.

  2. Line 9 · One provocation per page · one question per page

    The questions you keep deferring, answered in your own hand, with nothing else on the page competing for the space.

    There are [three] questions here I keep deferring. Put one at the top of each page and nothing else on the page.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    Also the one that travels

    The whole thing is the questions and the emptiness underneath them, which is why it survives being read aloud into a notebook completely intact. Ask for this one if you have no printer.

  3. Line 10 · Cut-apart cards · cards to move around a table

    You come back with the order, worked out with your hands on a table where you can see all of it at once instead of four items at a time.

    I have [eleven studio sessions] and the order is the problem, not the pieces. Print them as cards I can cut apart and move around a table.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    When cards earn it

    When the arrangement is genuinely too big to hold in your head: many items, spatial or relational. Handling things is not a general creativity booster, and controlled studies find no such effect, so a four-item list does not qualify. Ask for cards when the order is the problem. The set comes with blanks, because a closed set reads as closed.

Other people are involved, or it runs across days.

  1. Line 11 · Brainwriting rounds · one sheet per person

    Everyone in the room comes back with a full sheet, including the people who would not have got a word in. Each sheet ends up carrying three ideas from every pair of hands it passed through.

    There will be [five] of us in one room on [Thursday] with one problem to open up: [the onboarding drop-off]. Print one brainwriting sheet per person.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    Groups only

    Three to six people, in the same room, passing sheets by hand. Never on your own: the solo version was tried and cut, because putting you back in front of your own first ideas may rebuild the fixation the pass had just relieved. The page cap counts per person, so five people is one page printed five times.

    Nothing on the sheet is a timer and no number of rounds is promised. When your three are down, pass left. The name box is optional, and leaving it blank is a fully supported way to use it. Choosing a winner happens afterwards, on a different sheet.

    Brainwriting rounds, specified in full
    Verbatim · page-patterns.md §Named session formats

    Brainwriting rounds. Deep, group-only: three to six co-located people, one sheet each, passed by hand. Never solo — the solo interleaved variant was evaluated and cut, since re-anchoring a person on their own first concepts may reinstate the fixation the break relieved. The Deep page cap counts per participant, not per table: it protects one human's completion load, and each participant completes one page, so a six-person session is one page pattern printed six times, not a six-page kit. The sheet: the shared problem in one Serif line; a Spent Ground category header aimed at teammates' obvious ideas as much as the machine's, since copying concentrates on common upstream ideas whoever wrote them; then rows of three idea cells per round, each cell lightly dot-gridded so a sketch is as welcome as a sentence. One protocol line, event-based: "When your three are down, pass left." Each recipient reads the column above and adds three that extend, combine, or fork it. One HAND: box per sheet in the infrastructure voice — furniture, not a heading — routes a follow-up to whoever wrote a line. Filling it is optional and leaving it blank is a fully supported choice; nothing printed or said asks for a name, and the nominal-group evidence may favor anonymity outright. Ink keeps meaning intent, never identity, and ideas stay unattributed to their authors in synthesis. Nothing else prints: no timer (the five-minute round is the brand's convention, never isolated as active), no round count as a promise, no idea-count arithmetic, and no attend-and-memorize instruction — reading the column above does the attention work, and a printed memory instruction cut fluency in the one study that tested it. Selection is exiled to a separate Fast pick sheet after the rounds, with the named criterion, distance frame, and counterweight, never on a passing sheet. A slim open-territory band closes each sheet. No group, no format; a task that is not idea generation belongs to a different kit. Sources: evidence brief, brainwriting cluster.

  2. Line 12 · Grinnell field kit · a series, one kit per sitting

    You come back, day after day, with an account of each person or team that keeps coming up, longer and more specific every time. Scan them in and they are stitched into one running record apiece, ordered by the dates in your own hand.

    Over the next several days I’ll be [running these interviews], and the same [three teams] keep coming up. Set me up with a Grinnell field kit, one per sitting.

    Or select the sentence and copy it.

    A series, not a sheet

    One kit per sitting, up to four pages each, with an account page for every thing that recurs. More things to track means more sittings rather than more pages.

    It is a journal in the fact-forward voice, not a diary. The reflective register belongs on line 2 and never merges with this one. If nothing actually recurs, ask for a plain observation log instead.

    Grinnell field kit, specified in full
    Verbatim · page-patterns.md §Named session formats

    Grinnell field kit. Deep series — the library's first multi-day format, and the multi-day sibling of the Observation log. One kit per sitting, up to 4 pages per kit: the Deep page cap counts per kit, not per project, and more entities means more sessions, not more pages. For projects with recurring entities worth tracking across days — stakeholders, subsystems, failure modes. Page 1, the journal: a printed header of labeled blanks the human fills at the time of writing — date, location, conditions — then a ruled narrative zone in the fact-forward register: what happened, who, where, with human-written times as data. Times are quantification, not schedule; the Observation log's timestamp column is the precedent. A dot-grid band runs beside the narrative for sketch maps and diagrams — the lineage's own instruction, and it satisfies the sketch requirement natively. Account pages, at most two per kit: one per recurring entity, the entity's name printed as the page header in the machine's voice — gathered inventory at category level, categories-not-instances territory — and every field below empty, human-only. A compact catalog closes the working pages: a numbered one-line register of the concrete artifacts captured this session — documents, links, quotes, samples. The journal is not a diary; the lineage's own doctrine excludes the reflective voice, so this kit never merges with the Distanced pair. The same-day writing discipline is real doctrine, and it lives in the chat framing and the human's practice; nothing on a sheet ever schedules, deadlines, or hurries. Kits return days apart and account pages accumulate: scan-back appends to an entity's running account across sessions rather than treating each scan as standalone, and reorders by the human-written dates, which are data. No generative zone, so no defixation pattern is required. Not for Light, not for ideation; a project with no recurring entities is already served by the Observation log. Sources: evidence brief, Grinnell field-note cluster.

The one that isn’t on this page

There is a thirteenth, and it needs a conversation rather than a button.

It is three sittings of expressive writing on consecutive days. Those three are the only pages in the whole system that print private and never come back. A fourth page, the distillation, is the one that does.

The offer has to say several things out loud before you agree to it: that the first sittings reliably feel worse, and that the dip has nothing to do with whether it is working; that no relief is promised; and that what is on offer is the whole series rather than a page, because the effect is small, delayed, and accrues across sittings.

It is for work friction and professional setbacks. It is not therapy, treatment or clinical support, and it is ruled out entirely for anyone in acute distress, after recent or severe trauma, or seeking trauma processing. Those exclusions are why there is nothing here to copy: a button cannot hear your answer, and this is a place where the answer matters. If it sounds like your situation, describe the situation in your own words and let the offer be made properly, including the parts you would rather it left out.

Serial disclosure kit, specified in full
Verbatim · page-patterns.md §Named session formats

Serial disclosure kit. Deep series, the second multi-day format after the Grinnell field kit: four pages across three consecutive-day sittings — pages 1-3 are the sittings, page 4 is the distillation that closes the series. Cadence carries in the chat framing and a printed sitting label ("First sitting", "Second", "Third"); no date, deadline, duration, or schedule prints anywhere. The three disclosure pages are identical: one Serif provocation in the classic register — first person, deepest thoughts and feelings about the friction together — over a genuinely full ruled page. The page is the dose: every trial doses in minutes across days and none has run untimed, so the full page is this skill's own conversion, labeled untested wherever it is claimed and never shrunk — an undersized dose left writers with more negative appraisal, not less. The machine contributes the provocation wording and nothing else: no examples, no sub-prompts, no I PROPOSE zone. No format withholds more, because the writing is the intervention. Distanced wording is banned on them, a scoped exception to prompt-craft.md §5: instructed distancing raised depressive symptoms in vulnerable writers. Each prints, in the infrastructure voice, PRIVATE — THIS PAGE STAYS WITH YOU. IT IS NOT SCANNED. (the marker is specified in design.md §9; print it exactly). Scan-back honors it: never requested, never asked after, their absence never read as information. Page 4 is the only page that returns, and where the Deep sketch requirement is met: dot-grid, "Draw the shape of this over time," with Second reading; then a TLDR distillation zone in the distanced voice ("What would you tell someone standing where you're standing about what this was?"); open territory closes. Offer only for work friction and professional setbacks, never as therapy or treatment. Never in acute distress, after recent or severe trauma, or to anyone seeking trauma processing — clinical territory this skill does not enter — and never to a self-described low expresser, where anxiety worsened. Say in the offer that the first sittings reliably feel worse, a dip unrelated to whether it works; promise no relief. The effect is small, delayed, and accrues across sittings, which is why this is a series and not a sheet. Sources: evidence brief, expressive writing cluster.

Every format on this page is written out in full, contraindications and all, in page-patterns.md. Worth reading the entry before you commit to a series.

If you can’t print, say so.

Add it to any line above, or send it on its own after a PDF has already turned up. Nothing asks you first; the card only ever answers something you said.

I can’t print anything today. Dictate this as a card I can copy into the notebook I already have.

Or select the sentence and copy it.

What survives the crossing to a notebook, and what does not, is on the no-printer path.

Open territory