I've been running experiments for years, and you know what trips people up more than anything else? It's not the statistics or the tooling - it's writing a solid hypothesis. You'd think it would be straightforward, but I've seen brilliant engineers and product managers stare at a blank document, unsure where to start.
The thing is, without a clear hypothesis, you're basically throwing spaghetti at the wall. Sure, you might learn something, but you're just as likely to waste weeks collecting data that doesn't actually answer your question. Let me show you how to craft hypotheses that actually drive meaningful experiments.
Here's the deal: a hypothesis isn't just academic fluff - it's your experiment's GPS. Without one, you're wandering around in the data wilderness hoping to stumble upon something interesting. And trust me, that rarely ends well.
I learned this the hard way early in my career. We ran an A/B test on our checkout flow without a clear hypothesis. Just "let's see what happens if we change the button color." Three weeks later, we had a mountain of data and no idea what to do with it. The conversion rate went up slightly, but was it the color? The placement? Pure chance? We couldn't tell because we hadn't thought through what we were actually testing.
A good hypothesis forces you to think before you act. It makes you articulate exactly what you expect to happen and why. This isn't just about being scientific - it's about being efficient with your time and resources. When you know what you're looking for, you can design better experiments, choose the right metrics, and actually learn something useful.
David Robinson puts it well when he talks about sharing your hypotheses publicly. Even if they're not perfect, putting them out there creates accountability and invites feedback. It's like pair programming for your brain - having to explain your thinking makes it clearer.
The real power comes when you start treating hypothesis formation as an iterative process. Tom Cunningham's point about combining formal methods with human intuition resonates here. You don't need to overthink it, but you do need to think it through.
So what makes a hypothesis actually useful? Let's break it down.
First, it needs to be crystal clear about what you're testing. None of this "we think user engagement will improve" nonsense. What specific action are you taking? What specific outcome do you expect? I've seen too many experiments fail because the hypothesis was so vague that success became impossible to define.
The best hypotheses focus on one relationship at a time. You're changing one thing (your independent variable) and measuring how it affects another thing (your dependent variable). It sounds simple, but you'd be amazed how often people try to test five things at once. As the chemistry students on Reddit discovered, keeping it focused makes everything clearer.
Here's what I look for in a solid hypothesis:
Specificity: Can someone else read this and know exactly what to build?
Measurability: Is the outcome something we can actually track?
Grounding in reality: Does this make sense given what we already know?
Falsifiability: Could the data potentially prove us wrong?
That last one is crucial. If there's no way your hypothesis could be wrong, it's not really a hypothesis - it's just wishful thinking. The whole point is to let reality check your assumptions.
Your hypothesis should also connect to existing knowledge. This doesn't mean you need a PhD literature review, but you should understand the basics of your domain. The folks discussing this on r/labrats nail it: good hypotheses build on what's already known while pushing into new territory.
Alright, let's get practical. Here's how I actually write hypotheses that don't suck.
Start by identifying a real problem. Not a solution looking for a problem, but an actual issue your users face. Sometimes the best insights come from casual observation. Maybe support tickets are piling up about a confusing feature. Maybe your analytics show people dropping off at a specific step. That's your starting point.
Next, do your homework. I know research isn't the most exciting part, but skipping it is like coding without checking if someone already built the library you need. Look at what others have tried, what worked, what didn't. The research process doesn't have to be overwhelming - even 30 minutes of reading can save you from obvious mistakes.
Now comes the fun part: writing the actual hypothesis. I'm a big fan of the if-then format because it forces clarity. "If we add a progress bar to the checkout flow, then completion rates will increase by at least 5%." See how specific that is? Anyone reading it knows exactly what we're testing and what success looks like.
When defining your variables, be ruthlessly specific:
Independent variable (what you're changing): Adding a progress bar to checkout
Dependent variable (what you're measuring): Checkout completion rate
Expected relationship: Positive increase of at least 5%
Finally, sanity-check your hypothesis. Can you actually test this? Do you have the technical capability? The user traffic? The measurement tools? I've seen beautiful hypotheses die because someone forgot to check if we could actually track the metric they wanted. Avoid the trap of creating untestable statements - if you can't imagine how you'd prove yourself wrong, go back to the drawing board.
Here's where the rubber meets the road. Your hypothesis should drive every decision about your experiment.
When I'm designing an experiment, I work backwards from the hypothesis. What's the minimum viable test that could validate or invalidate it? If my hypothesis is about checkout completion, I don't need to redesign the entire flow - I just need to test that one specific change with enough users to get statistical significance.
Your hypothesis also dictates your metrics. This is where a lot of experiments go off the rails. People start with a hypothesis about user engagement, then measure everything under the sun. Stick to metrics that directly test your prediction. If you hypothesized about completion rates, that's your north star. Sure, track other things for context, but don't get distracted.
The beauty of a good hypothesis is that it makes analysis straightforward. Either the data supports it or it doesn't. No mental gymnastics required. Tools like Statsig make this even easier by automating the statistical heavy lifting, but the clarity still comes from your hypothesis.
Here's something they don't teach in statistics class: hypotheses evolve. Your first experiment might invalidate your hypothesis, but reveal something unexpected. That's not failure - that's learning. I once hypothesized that simplifying our sign-up form would increase conversions. It didn't. But the data showed that users who abandoned the form were mostly coming from a specific ad campaign. New hypothesis: the ad was setting wrong expectations. That insight was worth more than my original test.
The key is staying flexible while maintaining rigor. Use platforms that let you iterate quickly - you want to go from hypothesis to results to new hypothesis as fast as possible. The teams that win aren't the ones with perfect hypotheses; they're the ones who learn fastest.
Writing good hypotheses is like any other skill - it gets easier with practice. Start simple, be specific, and don't be afraid to be wrong. Some of my biggest breakthroughs came from hypotheses that turned out to be completely backwards.
The main thing is to actually write them down. A hypothesis in your head isn't a hypothesis - it's just a hunch. Put it on paper (or in your experiment tracking tool), share it with your team, and let it guide your work.
If you want to dive deeper, check out Statsig's guide on hypothesis testing or their walkthrough on creating experiment hypotheses. The framework for formulating testable ideas is also worth a read if you're struggling to turn vague ideas into concrete tests.
Hope you find this useful! Now go write a hypothesis and test something. Your future self will thank you for the clarity.