How To Designing Workshops That Actually Land
Using the process-content model can be a game-changer for workshop design.
A workshop is, at its very essence, a piece of experiential communication. It is how we transmit an idea or a piece of information, and make (or take) meaning from it. The best workshops are an artfully delivered sense-making journey where, hopefully, the end result is the participants thinking: I understand what has happened, how it relates to me, and what I am supposed to do next with this information (or skill).
Yet that moment is often missing. I have watched people sit through content-rich workshops, with absolutely immaculate slide decks, and they’ve all left wondering the same simple question: and what now?
The problem is rarely a lack of effort on behalf of the person facilitating the workshop (though in some cases it may well be). More often, I find that it is a failure to design the workshop intentionally as something that unfolds over time, in a specific context, and makes sense to the people who are experiencing it.
Over the years I have worked extensively in education and learning design. And yet, nothing clarified my own thinking about good workshop design as powerfully as using the process-content model. I found it was a game changer, and I do not say that lightly. I first encountered it in practice while learning at Hyper Island, a Swedish organisation renowned for its innovative, human-centred approach to learning.
Whether I’m designing a single session or a multi-day experience, the process-content model forms the backbone of my planning routine.
What the process-content model actually is
At its heart, the process-content model reminds us of a simple truth: a workshop is not experienced as a single moment or event. It is a journey.
Firstly, it invites us to consider the process (the “how”, if you will). The process is how things actually unfold: decisions being made, experiments being tested, feedback loops forming, adjustments happening in real time. Process also refers to the more experiential aspect of workshop design: what should this journey feel like for participants, and how do we bring a level of intentionality to that too?
And that goes right down to the (often overlooked) basics, like the timing of breaks, lighting, room temperature, even whether the door should remain open or closed. Every little detail adds up to how participants experience the workshop, and can have a very real effect on its outcomes.
Content, on the other hand, is what flows through that movement: facts, data, instructions, stories, emotions, and metaphors that people use to interpret what is happening. It is the “stuff” we want to transmit, and what we want our participants to know at the end of the session.
Workshop design that is biased towards one side or the other tends to fall flat. Content that floats free of process feels dull and lacks nuance. Process without meaningful content feels fluffy and unsubstantial. This model reminds us that we must design for how participants experience the workshop (process) just as much as what is in it (content). Both in balance.
This dual lens offers clarity because it mirrors how people really make sense of new realities. They do not just receive information. They actively interpret it against what they know, what they fear, and what they believe is coming next.
Why this matters in complex environments
The process-content model was developed at the Swedish Defence University (Försvarshögskolan), an institution where people study leadership, crisis management, and decision-making under uncertainty.
In military, civil defence, and organisational training contexts, the difference between misunderstanding and shared understanding can be profound. The university trains both civilian and military leaders to think and act under pressure, emphasising structured learning and communication that reflects real-world complexity.
While the model emerged from these high-stakes contexts, it is not limited to defence. It is designed for any environment where communication must be grounded in what people actually experience as events unfold.
Start with ‘why’
This phrase (start with “why”) is terribly cliché these days, but still few people get it right. Fewer people still dare to name it intentionally at the start of a workshop, yet doing so does something to the air in the room and lends immediate purpose.
But before you even arrive in the room, if you’re responsible for designing a workshop, you should be crystal clear on why it matters.
That might mean naming a problem that a team has been sitting with, or explaining the importance of upskilling around a certain tool or process. If you cannot explain why it matters to be holding this workshop, you probably should not be doing it. Or at the very least, spend a bit more time thinking about why it matters and what you are truly trying to achieve.
Outcome (and why it is not the same as “why”)
The final component of the process-content model is the outcome. This is where we stop thinking like facilitators and start thinking like participants. Because in the room, people are not rating your workshop on whether you had an impressive framework, or whether your slides were aesthetically pleasing, or whether you managed time well (though all of those things do matter).
They are walking out with something much simpler in mind. Did this change anything for me? And if so, what happens now? This is also where an important distinction appears. The why and the outcome are related, but they are not the same. The why is the reason the workshop exists. It is the context. The urgency. The underlying “because”.
The outcome is what you want to be different afterwards. It is the impact. The shift. The tangible end state (even if the tangible thing is not a document, but a shared realisation).
A workshop can have a strong why (e.g. we need better collaboration) and still be deeply ineffective if the outcome is vague (we’ll see what happens). Similarly, a workshop can have good content and good energy, but still fall flat because it does not lead to anything.
People do not just want to feel engaged. They want to leave with a sense of direction. This is often where that lingering question comes from: and what now?
If you want to design more intentional workshops, you have to become almost stubbornly clear on outcome. Not just “what should people learn?” but:
What should people understand by the end that they didn’t before?
What should they now be able to do that they couldn’t do before?
What should they decide, commit to, or change next?
What should they stop doing as a result of this workshop?
What should feel clearer when they return to their actual work?
And the more complex the environment (and the more uncertain the situation), the more important this becomes. When people are under pressure, shared understanding is not a nice-to-have. It is the thing that prevents confusion spreading through a system like fog. Designing for outcome is also what forces you to make better choices as a facilitator. Because once the outcome is clear, you can immediately see what does not serve it.
That extra activity you love. That discussion topic that always goes off track. That clever metaphor that lands beautifully but changes nothing.
Outcome makes your design sharper. It gives you something to protect and it also gives participants something to hold onto.
A simple way to use the model (when you’re designing)
This is the bit I keep coming back to (and the closest thing I have to a workshop design checklist).
When I’m designing a workshop, I return to four clear questions:
Why: why are we doing this (and why now)?
Outcome: what should be different afterwards? (in behaviour, clarity, alignment, action)
Process: what should this feel like to be in? (and how should that feeling evolve)
Content: what are we actually working with? (facts, stories, skills, emotions, tensions, data)
The why creates attention. The outcome creates direction. The process creates meaning. The content becomes usable. And if I cannot answer all four, I am not ready to design yet. I might be ready to make slides. But I am not ready to design a workshop.
(For example, the outcome is not “better collaboration”. The outcome is something like: we leave with a clear decision-making agreement, and everyone knows the next step.)
Conclusion
At its best, a workshop is not an information dump. It is not even just a conversation. It is a designed sequence of moments that helps people make meaning together, so that they can act with more clarity afterwards. That is why the process-content model is so useful.
It stops you thinking of a workshop as “a session” and starts you thinking of it as a journey through time, context, emotion, complexity, and sense-making. It invites you to design both the mechanics and the meaning. It demands that you consider what people experience (process), what they are working with (content), and what they are left with at the end (outcome).
No matter how elegant your slides are, if people walk out thinking and what now?, then something critical is missing.
Takeaways
Workshops are experiential communication (people interpret through feeling and context, not just information).
Process and content need each other (one without the other is either dull or fluffy).
The “why” matters more than most people admit (and saying it out loud changes the room).
Outcome is not the same as why (why is purpose, outcome is impact).
A workshop is only finished when participants know what happens next (if they don’t, it did not land).
And maybe the simplest test of all is this: If your workshop ended right now, would people know what to do next?
