There is a dramatic principle in theater that has existed since the late 19th century. It comes from the Russian playwright Anton Chekhov, a man who understood that the most important part of storytelling is not what you put in, but what you leave out.
In a letter to a fellow writer in 1889, Chekhov gave this advice: “One must never place a loaded rifle on the stage if it isn’t going to go off. It’s wrong to make promises you don’t mean to keep.”
This concept became known as Chekhov’s Gun.
It is a rule about focus and consequence. It argues that every element in a story must be necessary and irremovable. If a prop hangs on the wall in Act One, it must be fired by Act Three. If it isn’t fired, it is merely decoration. It distracts the audience. It sets up a false expectation. It dilutes the plot.
In my work as a Strategist at Spade Design, I review hundreds of websites a year. And the vast majority of them are bad plays.
They are cluttered stages filled with loaded guns that never go off.
I see weather widgets in the footer (Are you a meteorologist?). I see “Welcome to our website” text (The user knows they are on a website). I see carousels spinning endlessly with five different headlines (Which one matters?).
These are all props. They add noise, not signal.
To build a website that actually converts—a site that turns strangers into customers—you have to stop thinking like a decorator and start thinking like a playwright. You have to be ruthless. You have to take the gun off the wall, or you have to pull the trigger.
The Psychology of “Digital Hoarding”
Why do business owners clutter their websites? It usually stems from fear.
Fear of missing out: “What if a customer wants to see our Instagram feed right here on the homepage?”
Fear of being misunderstood: “We need to list all 25 of our sub-services so they know we do it all.”
Internal Politics: “The VP of Sales wants his photo on the front page, and the Marketing Manager wants a popup.”
The result is a website that looks like a junk drawer.
In User Experience (UX) design, this creates high Cognitive Load. Every unnecessary element forces the user’s brain to process it. “What is that? Do I need to click it? Is it important?”
The human brain has a limited amount of processing power (bandwidth). If you burn up that bandwidth on useless props, the user has no energy left for the one thing you actually want them to do: Buy.
The Law of Hick (And Why It’s Killing Your Sales)
There is a psychological principle called Hick’s Law. It states that the time it takes to make a decision increases with the number and complexity of choices.
- 1 Button: The user clicks it.
- 2 Buttons: The user pauses to compare.
- 10 Buttons: The user gets overwhelmed and closes the tab.
This is also known as “Analysis Paralysis.” When you offer everything, the user chooses nothing. Chekhov’s Gun is the antidote to Hick’s Law. By removing the non-essential elements, you reduce the choices, lower the cognitive load, and guide the user inevitably toward the “climax” of the scene: The Conversion.
The Audit: 4 “Guns” You Need to Remove Immediately
If you want to apply the Omakase strategy we discussed in my previous article, you need to let a strategist do this for you. But if you want to start today, open your homepage and look for these four common offenders.
1. The Slider (The Carousel of Death)
The Gun: A big banner at the top of the page that automatically slides through 5 different images and headlines. Why it fails: Users ignore them. This is a documented phenomenon called “Banner Blindness.” Furthermore, because the slides move automatically, the user often tries to read a headline, only for it to disappear before they finish. This causes frustration. The Fix: Kill the slider. Replace it with One Hero Section. One powerful image. One clear headline. One call to action. If your message is strong enough, you don’t need five of them.
2. The Social Media Exit Signs
The Gun: Colorful icons for Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and Twitter placed at the very top of the header. Why it fails: You spend money on SEO and Ads to get people to your website. Why would you put a bright, colorful exit sign at the very entrance? If a user clicks that Instagram icon, they leave your site. They enter the dopamine loop of social media. They see a notification. They see a cat video. And they never come back to buy your product. The Fix: Move social icons to the footer. If someone really wants to stalk your socials, they will look for them. Don’t invite them to leave before they’ve even said hello.
3. The “We Are” Paragraphs
The Gun: A block of text that starts with “We are a premier provider of…” or “Welcome to [Company Name].” Why it fails: This is ego-centric. As we discussed in The Hero’s Journey, the customer doesn’t care about you yet. They care about their problem. The Fix: Change the copy to be User-Centric. Instead of “We provide plumbing services,” say “Stop your leak before it destroys your floor.” Focus on the benefit, not the feature.
4. The Vague Button
The Gun: Buttons that say “Submit,” “Click Here,” or “Learn More.” Why it fails: These are “mystery meat” navigation. They don’t tell the user what will happen next. They create anxiety. “Learn More” sounds like homework. The Fix: Make the button descriptive and action-oriented. “Get My Free Quote,” “Schedule a Strategy Call,” or “Download the Guide.” The button should describe the reward.
The Architecture of a Scene (The User Flow)
Once you have removed the clutter, what is left? A great homepage should play out like a well-structured scene. At Spade Design, when we execute a Conversion-Focused Web Design, we follow a narrative arc.
Act 1: The Hook (The Hero Section)
This is the “Inciting Incident.”
The Prop: A headline that states the problem and the promise.
The Action: A primary button to solve it.
Chekhov’s Rule: If the background image doesn’t reinforce the message, cut it. If you sell roofing, show a roof, not a handshake.
Act 2: The Guide (Social Proof)
The hero (customer) is skeptical. They need a reason to trust the guide.
The Prop: Logos of companies you’ve worked with, or a testimonial.
Chekhov’s Rule: Don’t use a generic “Testimonials” page link. Put the best quote right there on the stage. Make it impossible to miss.
Act 3: The Plan (The Process)
The hero needs to know how to cross the chasm.
The Prop: A simple 1-2-3 step process. (1. Book Call, 2. We Build Strategy, 3. You Grow).
Chekhov’s Rule: Do not explain the “how the sausage is made.” Do not explain the technical specs of your software stack unless you are selling to developers. Keep the plan high-level.
Act 4: The Climax (The CTA)
This is the final confrontation.
The Prop: A large, contrasting section asking for the sale.
Chekhov’s Rule: This is where the gun fires. Remove the navigation menu here if possible. Remove the footer links. Give them one choice: Pull the trigger.
Strategy is Sacrifice
There is a saying in the design world: “Perfection is achieved not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.” (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry).
Being a Strategist isn’t about having more ideas than everyone else. It is about having the discipline to kill the mediocre ideas so the great ones can breathe.
When we work with clients on Strategic Branding, the most painful part of the process is often the editing.
“Yes, I know you are proud of that award you won in 2014, but it looks dated. Take it down.”
“Yes, I know you want to blog about your office dog, but does that help you sell enterprise software? No. Cut it.”
This feels like loss. But it is actually gain. By removing the distraction, you increase the attention.
The “Red Pen” Challenge
I want you to try an experiment this week. Print out your homepage on a piece of paper. Take a red pen. Cross out everything that does not directly help a user solve their problem or build trust in your solution.
Cross out the weather widget.
Cross out the “Welcome” text.
Cross out the stock photos of people high-fiving.
Cross out the third and fourth paragraph of your bio.
Look at what is left. It might look sparse. It might look empty. But I guarantee you, it is stronger.
Let the Gun Fire
Your website has a job. It is not a brochure; it is a salesperson. Imagine a salesperson who walks into a meeting and starts talking about the weather, shows you pictures of their dog, lists 50 different products you didn’t ask for, and then hands you a business card and walks out without asking for the order. You wouldn’t hire that person. So why is your website acting like them?
Clean the stage. Focus the light. And when you hang a gun on the wall, make sure you intend to use it.
