The most important aspect of innovation is creativity, defined as the ability to produce something both new and useful. The problem is that the gap between novelty and usefulness is often wider than expected. In other words, the more original something is, the less likely it is to be useful. Ideas that elicit a “Wow!” in a meeting often end up being seen as “Not very practical” in real-world applications.

A few years ago, a home-use juicing machine gained attention. Insert a dedicated pack, and the motor would squeeze fresh juice. But people soon realized that hand-squeezing produced almost the same result. Though the high-performance motor and sleek design were novel, their cost-effectiveness was questionable. Augmented reality glasses faced similar issues: the technology was impressive, but they soon encountered barriers in reality—price, privacy, and social awkwardness. People still felt uneasy wearing glasses with a camera on the street. The Segway, too, was a remarkable invention, but its dream of becoming a standard urban transportation tool failed because sidewalks, bike lanes, laws, and insurance did not catch up. How, then, can we overcome such cases in which novelty and originality exist, but usefulness is lacking?

Adam Grant, an organizational psychologist at Wharton School, has shown through experiments and field studies that prosocial motivation—a desire to help others—enhances the usefulness of creative ideas. He argues that intrinsic motivation alone, i.e., doing something simply because one enjoys it, cannot fully explain creative thinking and behavior. When prosocial motivation is added, the likelihood of producing ideas that are both novel and useful increases. The reason is simple: the desire to help others shifts one’s perspective to the user’s standpoint, prompting truly practical solutions.

In other words, altruism does more than inspire goodwill; it can redirect the course of an idea. Strong altruism shifts focus from questions like “Is this my unique, original idea that no one else has?”, which seeks mainly newness or originality, to questions of usefulness such as “Who will benefit from this idea, and how?” Consequently, the focus of innovation changes from “How clever is our idea?” to “Whose day can this idea make genuinely better?” When this question is kept in mind, novelty finally attains usefulness.

To make a new idea useful, consider these three things from others’ perspectives: First, trace the inconvenience you encounter to its root. Novelty starts in the mind, but usefulness comes from legwork. Recall the awkward moment at a subway gate: one hand holding coffee, the other a bag, as you reach for a transit card. This small inconvenience is the seed of usefulness. Adjusting the card location, redesigning the phone recognition area, or modifying the cup holder can make life easier, even with minor changes.

Second, check for repeated use, not just positive responses such as “I like it.” When introduced to a new idea, people may say, “This is nice,” but usefulness is proven by whether they actually use it again. Take, for example, a new restaurant-ordering tablet. People will try it on the first day, but the real test comes on the second day. If staff complain, “it takes longer because selecting menu items is too complicated,” small adjustments are necessary—changing the order of screens or highlighting the recommended sets. Usefulness is proven through repeated use.

Third, reduce embarrassment. Even if a feature is good, people tend to avoid it if using it makes them feel awkward. Features such as scanning faces on the street or automatically displaying questions as captions in a meeting room fall into this category. They may seem appealing, but people will likely steer clear if they draw unwanted attention or raise privacy concerns. Such features are less noticeable when turned on or off, causing less embarrassment even if they fail. They are adopted not because the design is beautiful, but because they reduce social risk.

Novelty catches the eye, but usefulness becomes a habit through the test of time. Most of the great products and services we remember initially stood out, yet ultimately became so natural that they seemed almost invisible. Such changes usually come not from a single grand feature, but from a chain of small adjustments.

Taking a step beyond the question “Is this idea novel?”, and being able to offer concrete answers to questions like “Does it make life a little less inconvenient for someone? Will they really use it again?” allows novelty to truly reach usefulness. The task of a leader in an organization that expects creative ideas from its members is not to select brilliance, but to redirect their perspective so that their ideas achieve usefulness.