“The difference between good at math and bad at math is hard work. It's trying. It's trying hard. It's trying harder than you've ever tried before. That's it.”2 The same is true about writing.
the key to being a better writer is, essentially, to be a more productive one. Or more simply, the key to being a better writer is to write.
Simply put, the key to being a better writer is to write. Make a regular habit of it, because as author Gretchen Rubin writes, “Habits are the invisible architecture of everyday life.”
Set aside time each day when you're freshest. I'm freshest first thing in the morning, before distractions hijack my day. For you it might be different. You've been living with yourself long enough to know what time of day would work for you, so I'll leave that in your hands.
“Write like crap if you have to. But write every day. Keep the streak alive,”
“Spending five hours on a Saturday writing isn't nearly as valuable as spending 30 minutes a day every day of the week.
So the challenge for companies is to respect their audiences and deliver what the audience needs in a way that's useful, enjoyable, and inspired. The challenge is to also keep it tight, as Tim Washer, who produces video for Cisco, espouses. That means clarity, brevity, and utility.
Brevity doesn't mean bare bones or stripped down. Take as long as you need to tell the story. (The length of content is dictated by the kind of content you're creating.) The notion of brevity has more to do with cutting fat, bloat, and things that indulge the writer and don't respect the reader's time. Keep it tight. Make it clear. Don't make the reader work hard to understand you. Develop pathological empathy for the reader. (More on that in a minute too.) And finally, make it useful. Readers will read what you write only if something is in it for them. Write, rewrite, edit. As content strategist Jonathon Colman, who works for Facebook, told me: “Start with empathy. Continue with utility. Improve with analysis. Optimize with love.”
Place the Most Important Words (and Ideas) at the Beginning of Each Sentence
The first words of every sentence should make a friendly first impression to encourage the reader to keep going—much the way a favorable first impression at a party encourages conversation (as opposed to, say, desperate glances around the room to find some other opportunity).
Here are some phrases to avoid at the start of a sentence: According to… There is a… It is [important, critical, advised, suggested, and so on]… In my opinion… The purpose of this [email, post, article] is… In 2014 [or any year]… I think [believe] that… You can tack them onto the end, or insert them somewhere in the middle—if you must use them at all.
Process is one of those things that in many parts of life I consider hopelessly boring and mind-numbing. Like peeling the skins of raw tomatoes. Or scrubbing dirt from beets. But in writing, process is necessary, because you need a road map to get you to where you need to be.
“the more personal you are, the more universal you become,”
Don't discount your own experience; at the same time, don't rely exclusively on it. Use yourself as one of your sources if you have relevant experience
Write to one person. Imagine the one person you're helping with this piece of writing. And then write directly to that person
Connect your reader to the issue you're writing about (again, why does it matter to him or her?), perhaps by relaying a scenario or telling a story. Put your reader (or someone just like him or her) into your story right up front—because you want the reader to recognize and relate to an issue. (See Rule 17 for more.)
“An hour with a fresh mind is worth five hours of fog.”
Think before ink means finding your key point by asking three questions about every bit of content you're creating. We talked a lot about this process in Rule 6, but to recap: Why am I creating this? What's my objective? What is my key take on the subject or issue? What's my point of view? And, finally, the critical so what?-because exercise: why does it matter to the people you are trying to reach? In some cases that key point becomes the headline. Sometimes during the writing phase I think of something better to use as a headline. But, still, that exercise lends the necessary focus.
There's no single way to organize a piece of writing. What works for me (as I said previously) is a single line at the top of the page that sums up the main point I'm trying to make. Then I list some key points that relate to or support my bigger idea. Then I go back and expand on those ideas in another sentence or two, creating paragraphs. Then I move the paragraphs around, adding transitions between them to create a smooth flow.
1. Quiz. Test Your Privacy IQ 2. Skeptic. You Don't Control Your Privacy Anymore 3. Explainer. The Online Privacy Debate in Plain English 4. Case study. How One Person Got Control Over Privacy 5. Contrarian. Why Online Privacy Concerns Are Overblown 6. How-to. Five Steps to Improving Online Privacy 6½. Quick How-to. Three Stupid Simple Things You Can Do to Keep Your Profile Private 7. How NOT to. Five Ways to Compromise Your Online Privacy 8. First person. My Personal Privacy Horror Story 9. Comparison. How Privacy Protection Services Measure Up 10. Q&A. Five Common Questions About Online Privacy with Edward Snowden 11. Data. Are Privacy Problems Worsening? Yes, Says Survey 12. Man on the street. Experts Offer Opinions on the State of Online Privacy 13. Outrageous. Why Online Privacy Is an Oxymoron 13½. BuzzFeed-style outrageous (not advised, but good for a laugh!). This Woman Insists Online Privacy Is a Joke, and You Won't Believe What Happened Next 14. Insider secrets. The One Thing You Need to Know About Your Online Privacy 15. Literary treatment. Online privacy haiku, epic narrative poem, comic book treatment, or whatever else your imagination can muster!
Much of writing paralysis is the result of expecting too much of ourselves the first time out. Sowing letters onto the blank page and expecting something strong and powerful and fully formed—the content version of Athena—to emerge is unrealistic. Unless you are some kind of deity, that's not going to happen.
Very often, the people you think of as good writers are terrible writers on their first drafts. But here's their secret: They are excellent editors of their own work. So embrace The Ugly First Draft as necessary. As painful and depressing as it might be to write badly—at least you're writing, you're getting the mess out of your head and onto the screen or paper. Then, when you get back to it, you can start shaping it into something more respectable. Recognize that brilliance—or anything close to it—comes on the rewrite. That implies that there is a rewrite, of course. And there should be. As writing teacher Don Murray said, “The draft needs fixing, but first it needs writing.”
Here's a timeline to keep in mind: Barf up TUFD. Think about what you want to say (think before ink!) and add your guiding bullet points or sentences at the top of the page. Jot down your key ideas as they come to you in whatever order they come. Don't worry about forming full (or even coherent!) sentences. Don't worry about finding the right words. Lowercased words, misspelling, poor grammar, awkward phrasing, subject-verb disagreements so violent they are practically fistfights…Let it all happen. You can fix all that stuff later. You're unleashing ideas here as opposed to really writing. If you get stuck, think about what's sticking. Do you need more research? More examples? Another point? Inserting “need a better example here” or “could use a research stat” or “something-something that supports that point” or “funnier anecdote” is more than legit during this phase. Reread what you've written only to remind yourself of what else you wanted to say, or to add some flesh to the bones of your terrible writing. (Even if it's rotting, smelly, walking-dead flesh.) Ban self-slandering remarks. Don't beat yourself up by saying things like I'm a crappy writer or this is awful. TUFD isn't for anyone to see but you. It's the content equivalent of staying home alone in your jammies all day and eating peanut butter straight from the jar. Revel in it. There's no one around to judge. Walk away. You'll feel some relief at getting the first draft out—but you might also feel frustrated by your TUFD. So this is a good time to walk away from each other. Get some space so that you can both cool off a bit. Grab the dog's leash and go for a walk, meet friends for lunch, whatever. Just put some distance between you two. Then, when you get back to it, you'll be fresh and (hopefully) less agitated. As I said in Rule 6, I like to put a lot of distance between me and my ugliness. I try to not look at my TUFD again until the next day. Rewrite. When you do get back to it, you might be horrified. You might shield your eyes the way nineteenth-century London recoiled from John Hurt in the movie The Elephant Man. But you will find things you like that you can upcycle. In other words, take the best parts of the draft and use them in your final product.
Good writing serves the reader, not the writer. It isn't self-indulgent. Good writing anticipates the questions that readers might have as they're reading a piece, and it answers them. Some writers adopt this mind-set during the initial writing phase. But this perspective is especially helpful on the rewrite or edit, once the first draft is out of your head and onto the page.
George Orwell wrote: “A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes will ask himself at least four questions, thus: What am I trying to say? What words will express it? What image or idiom will make it clearer? Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? And he will probably ask himself two more: Could I put it more shortly? Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly?”
The only people your content needs to please are your readers. Because ultimately you serve them, and not your boss or your CEO or your client. Why? If the customer loves your content, so will your boss or client. But the inverse isn't necessarily true: if only your boss loves it, it won't achieve what your organization needs it to. So create every bit of content to please just one person: your customer or prospect—not your boss (or client, if you're at an agency). Think of it this way: what would your content look like if your customer signed your paycheck? It's up to you to advocate for this point of view.
So write your first draft as you usually would—then go back and rework it, swapping places with your readers to consider things from their point of view, with honest empathy for the experience you are giving them. Ask yourself: What experience is this creating for the reader? What questions might they have? Am I making them work too hard to figure out what I am trying to say?
In other words, empathy for the customer experience should be at the root of all of your content, because having a sense of the people you are writing for and a deep understanding of their problems is key to honing your skill. Content created merely to further a search engine ranking is a waste of time and effort. What matters now is creating useful content that solves customer problems, shoulders their burdens, eases their pain, enriches their lives.
Spend time with your customers or prospects. Spending time with your customers sounds obvious, doesn't it? But it's surprising how few marketers actually interact with their customers; often, only customer service or sales teams do. Listen to customer service inquiries. Watch how customers behave. See what problems they have. “Look for patterns.” Understand their habitat. “Beyond putting together a focus group in an artificial setting or doing so-called user experience testing in a lab environment, arrange to visit the people who use your content or products in their natural habitat.…Talk with them in their homes, at their jobs; watch them as they browse your site or use your app on mobile while waiting in line at the coffee shop. This will give you an entirely new understanding of what people need from you and your content. You can't develop empathy without context.” Be a natural skeptic. A powerful question is, Why? Why do you do things that way? Why do you feel that way? Ask why they do it. “Never assume that you know the answer to why your readers or the people who use your products do what they do…You might be great at using analytics systems to measure every nuance of a person's behavior on your site or in your app. But analytics only tell us what people did, not why they did it. So ask. And then ask again. And keep asking until you understand the bigger picture of what people value and what they need from you.” Share story, not just stats. “A lot of companies build dashboards and monitors that they install all over the office that are filled with analytics data: How many concurrent users are on the site, the data throughput of the app, the number of transactions per hour, and so on.” But what about feedback from the people on your site or the people using your products? You can display that, too. And while you can build aggregate metrics around this feedback (sentiment, length, complaints per hour, etc.), it's even more powerful to display people's actual comments. Follow that up by building rapid workflows to solve problems and you're putting empathy into action! I'd add a simple shortcut—an empathy hack—to help you get into the customer mind-set: Use a customer-centric POV. Replace I or we with you to shift the focus to the customer's point of view. Then write (or rewrite) accordingly. For example: Company-centric: We offer accelerated application development. Customer-centric: Deploy an app to the cloud at lunch hour. And still have time to eat. (From the home page of Kinvey.com.) Company-centric: We are the leading global B2B research and advisory firm. We deliver actionable intelligence, strategic and operational frameworks and personal guidance from experienced practitioners. (From Sirius Decisions.1) Customer-centric: Make better business decisions based on actionable insight and years of experience placed at your disposal. Enormous empathy is especially important for sales copy or marketing landing pages, where you should be very specific about what your value offers to your customers—and not just what the offer is, Nadia Eghbal, co-owner of Feast, an online cooking school, told me in an interview. “Your customers don't buy your product to do your company a favor,” Eghbal said. “They're doing it because your product makes their lives better. So if you want to sell something, you need to explain how you're helping them.” On its home page, Feast shifted from company-centric to customer-centric writing, like this: Company-centric: A Better Way to Learn How to Cook. (This statement was too nonspecific, Nadia said. Better in what way? And according to whom?) Customer-centric: Become a Cook in 30 Days. Eghbal credits Feast's shift in messaging for a tenfold increase in sales,
the best way to keep readers reading is to talk about them, not you.
“Writing is easy,” said Mark Twain. “All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.”
Revisiting a first draft to rework and rewrite it doesn't sound like much fun, does it? It sounds like drudgery and tedium, like alphabetizing canned goods. But it's not really, because there's a kind of freedom in it. You've already done the hard part of setting down the words. Now comes the easier (and, for some, less anxiety-inducing) part of distilling it to its essence—or, crossing out the wrong words and the unnecessary words, and sometimes finding better ones to use.
There are two approaches to self-editing: Developmental editing, which I call editing by chainsaw. Here's where you look at the big picture. Line editing, which I call editing by surgical tools. Here's where you look at paragraph and sentence flow, word choice, usage, and so on.
There are two approaches to self-editing: Developmental editing, which I call editing by chainsaw. Here's where you look at the big picture. Line editing, which I call editing by surgical tools. Here's where you look at paragraph and sentence flow, word choice, usage, and so on. I like to use both on the same piece, first one…and then the other.
Editing by chainsaw. First, ignore the grammar and specific words you've used, and focus on the bigger stuff. State your key idea as clearly as you can near the start. You might've gotten bogged down by setting up an idea with too much introductory explanation, instead of just getting right into it. (See Rule 15.) If so, remove that introductory text, whittle it down, or (if it's really good) use it elsewhere. Slash anything that feels extraneous—if it doesn't support your main point or further your argument, or if it distracts from the key point. (Even if it's a good story or anecdote.) Make every paragraph earn its keep. Does every paragraph contain an idea that the one before or after it doesn't? It should. Are the paragraphs more like Frankenparagraphs—made up of disconnected sentences bolted awkwardly together, creating an ugly mess? They shouldn't be. The sentences should instead build on one another, furthering a single idea and creating a whole. Make every sentence earn its keep. Does it bring something unique to the paragraph? Or does it simply restate what its buddy before it already said? If so, kill it. Be ruthless. Adopt a less-is-more mind-set: many writers take too long to get to the point; they use too many words. Don't be that guy. Write concisely. Move things around. Are things in the right order? Does one point flow into the next? Think of the sentences in a paragraph as a conversation between an elderly, companionable couple. They don't talk over each other; they expand or elucidate what the other before them said. Editing with surgical tools. Next, turn off the chainsaw and turn back to the words. Trim the bloat and fat. Are you potentially using far too many words to say things that might be said more concisely? Shed the obvious. There's no need to include in this article, in this post, in regard to, I've always felt that, we are of the opinion that…You get the idea. Lose Frankenwords, word additives, clichés, and words pretending to be something they're not. (See Rules 29 and 30.) Trim word bloat. Sub in single words for phrases (some samples: sub although for despite the fact that; when or in for when it comes to; when or at times for there will be times when; remains for continues to be; and about or regarding for in regard to). Ditch adverbs unless they are necessary to adjust the meaning. (Rule 34.) Ditch weakling verbs in favor of stronger, ripped ones. (Rule 33.) Create transitions between paragraphs. Good transitions greatly improve the feel and reader-friendliness of any work. The best writing flows from paragraph to paragraph, creating progression and cadence. Good transitions are like fine stitching, turning disconnected writing into a seamless whole. Draw natural connections between paragraphs. Again, don't merely rely on high school transitions like however, thus, therefore, and so on. Instead, pick up an idea from the previous paragraph and connect it to an idea in the next paragraph. Did you notice that I just wrote 700 words on editing but didn't once mention grammar? That's not because grammar isn't important. It is, as we'll talk about in Part II. But writers tend to equate editing with fixing the grammar, when it's so much more than that. Fixing the grammar is copyediting (also important), but it's more important to get the writing right first. You can then go get some help with the copyedit (see Rule 24).
In a piece in the New Yorker, John McPhee suggests the trick of typing Dear Mother to neuter the fear of the blank page.3 You could do that, or adapt it to Dear Dad, Hi hon, or Hey you. If you're a marketing or business writer, you can adapt that approach by thinking of your favorite customer—and not some nameless, faceless market segment. Keep a real person you either know or you can imagine knowing in mind. Someone you like, too, because you want to help this person. McPhee's trick is also handy to use as a general approach, because it requires you to picture the reader on the receiving end of your writing as someone you know personally. Doing that helps relax your writing voice into sounding natural and loose and accessible. In other words, by framing your writing as a conversation with someone specific, you become more…well, conversational.
It's a great way to warm up to a topic, and I do it all the time. But in most cases I go back and erase the running start, covering my tracks completely and getting to the key point more directly.
Give special love to the first and last sentences of your piece—the opening and closing, or the lede (lead)1 and kicker—in traditional journalism terms.
A good lead, then, sets the tone for your writing and hooks the reader into wanting to know more. Here are some options: Put your reader into the story. Put your reader—or someone just like your reader—into the story. You might share an anecdote about someone grappling with a problem your piece solves, or set up a scenario your reader will recognize. For example, consider this lede to a MarketingProfs article by Ernest Nicastro, on what marketers can learn from Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address: It is a crisp, clear autumn afternoon, about 1:30. A full sun hangs in a bright blue sky. A large crowd mills about. Imagine that you are there. You jostle for position. You strain your neck to get a glimpse. You cup your hand behind your ear…as the 16th President of the United States steps to the center of the platform and begins his “few appropriate remarks.”3 Describe a problem your reader can relate to. This lead from online publication Thrillist puts readers in a place they can identify with: You're on vacation, dammit, and ready to let loose. Check out a museum? Ogle architecture? No thanks. Because you know that true cultural immersion begins (and ends) at a watering hole or epic party, where you can rub shoulders with local drunks.4 Set a stage. This is from Demian Farnworth, writing at the website Copyblogger, setting a stage in his lead to “13 Damn Good Ideas from 13 Dead Copywriters”:5 Advertising is an ancient art. In the Babylonian sea ports, merchants hired barkers to announce the arrival of wine, spices, and fabrics. Citizens in Greece hung “Lost” posters in hopes of being reunited with children, jewelry, or slaves. And elaborately painted signs (billboards) sprung up throughout Pompeii to announce plays, carnivals, and races. Surprised? You shouldn't be. The history of advertising is full of the tools, tactics, and strategies you—as online marketer—still use. Let me show you why this matters. Ask a question. Upworthy.com offers a good example of starting a piece by asking a question in “This School Struggled with Detentions, so They Asked for Students' Help”:6 What if there were a simple and cheap way to keep kids out of detention and from eventually heading down the wrong path? This school seems to have figured it out, and it's kinda genius. Use this one infrequently, as the technique gets tiresome otherwise. You want to avoid sounding like a one-note, late-night infomercial (“Did you ever wonder…?”). Quote a crazy or controversial bit of data. Grounding the lead in a crazy stat that blows your reader away is a way to shock the reader into sitting up a little taller and paying attention, in a Wait…what? kind of way. Like this, from Fast Company: A recent, widely circulated study found that one-third of Americans who bought a wearable tech product ditched it within six months. So why are companies as diverse as Google, Nike, Pepsi, and Disney pumping plenty of cash—and new life—into the technology?7 Tell a story or relay a personal anecdote. The New Yorker does this a lot. Here's the lead from a piece by Richard Brody: My artistic career was ended by Godzilla—as a child monster-movie maniac, I stopped attending painting classes when the long-awaited film…showed up on Saturday-morning television…I missed the 2004 screenings of the restoration, so this revival is a welcome chance to catch up with it, and the experience is surprising.8 Notice how Brody's lead is stronger because he ends it, appropriately enough, with a curiosity-eliciting cliffhanger: In what way was it surprising? How so? Other ideas. You could do other things, too. Start with a quote. Use an analogy. Make a bold statement. Whatever you do, do it up—because your lead sentence or sentences are among the most important words you'll string together.
Finish strong, with a call to action (if appropriate) and a sense of completion, rather than merely trailing off as if you ran out of steam. You can pose a question or challenge to the reader, of course: so what do you think? That's obvious, and it's also the easy way out. Instead, you might try these techniques: Recast the biggest takeaway of the piece. Try restating the main point of your piece—not as pure regurgitation, of course, but as a kind of synthesized summary. On AnnHandley.com, that's what I did in a post about how Honey Maid graham crackers dealt with haters in a recent campaign: Writing at MarketingProfs today, Carla Ciccotelli offers advice for brands dealing with haters, especially in our social media world. My favorite line from her post is this: “When dealing with complaints, think of the bigger picture and the effect public complaints will have on your business. I love the part about a bigger picture—especially when it helps a company make it clear what it stands for. And also—and this is gutsier—what it clearly won't stand.9 Add an element of tonal surprise. “Turn the story around,” suggests Matthew Stibbe. “If you've been formal, go relaxed. If you're relaxed, become formal.” He cites a recent example from Wired magazine: “It takes a clean digital signal from your USB port and converts it to a warm analog music. And it looks as badass as it sounds.”10 Let others have the last word. If you've interviewed someone for an article or post, consider ending with a direct quote from that person. In a post I wrote about quantifying the results of an Instagram campaign by the Toronto Silent Film Festival, I wanted Festival Director Shirley Hughes to have the last word: We want our audiences to go away from the experience wanting more and realizing that a good story, excellent cinematography, direction and acting to make a good film is what is needed to connect with them. When I have teenage boys come out [from] a screening of the Black Pirate [from] 1925 with Douglas Fairbanks and exclaim “that was the coolest!” you know you are doing the right thing.
“Ask yourself, ‘What hell does my product save people from? And what heaven does it deliver them unto?’” Aaron explains. The idea is entirely secular, of course. “There are lots of hells and good marketing takes advantage of them all the time,” Aaron says. “There's no-time hell, stressed-out hell, bored hell, out-of-shape hell, lonely hell, overworked hell, no-budget hell, debt hell, bad-hygiene hell, low-CTR [click-through rate] hell, human-relations hell, disorganized hell…you get the idea.”1 In other words, don't talk about your features, benefits, and shining moons. Tell me—better yet, show me—why they matter to me.
“Ask yourself, ‘What hell does my product save people from? And what heaven does it deliver them unto?’” Aaron explains. The idea is entirely secular, of course. “There are lots of hells and good marketing takes advantage of them all the time,” Aaron says. “There's no-time hell, stressed-out hell, bored hell, out-of-shape hell, lonely hell, overworked hell, no-budget hell, debt hell, bad-hygiene hell, low-CTR [click-through rate] hell, human-relations hell, disorganized hell…you get the idea.”1 In other words, don't talk about your features, benefits, and shining moons. Tell me—better yet, show me—why they matter to me. And how do you do that? Details are what make your words come alive. You'd think the generic and nonspecific might apply broadly—and therefore almost anyone reading the description of a product or service would come to regard it as being relevant to them. But the truth is that specific details make content vibrant, and they add a necessary human element that makes your content more relatable. Details paint a fuller, clearer, picture and give readers necessary footholds for getting more involved or vested in the writing. (That brings to mind a gem from my journalism school days: Be specific enough to be believable, but universal enough to be credible.)
Natalie Goldberg describes the practice of adding details as giving things “the dignity of their names.” “Just as with human beings, it is rude to say, ‘Hey, girl, get in line.’” she writes in her book on writing, Writing Down the Bones.2 “That ‘girl’ has a name.” So, whenever possible, specify geranium instead of flower, as Natalie suggests. Or substitute cocker spaniel for dog. Or write Vietnamese sandwich truck instead of food-truck service. Or Alan Arakelian from Accounting instead of client.
For example, if I were Cisco Systems and trying to show how the role of information technology (IT) is changing, I could commission a white paper detailing new consumption models brought about by cloud, security, mobility, and programmable networks. I might talk about how that is creating new markets and business models, transforming communication and knowledge sharing, and significantly changing the role of IT. Or… I could tell you a story about a real chief information officer who shares in clear, simple language how she's using technology to sell more beer to the people who want to buy it. Which would you find more compelling? The generic or the specific? I suppose my setup wasn't entirely fair. The business world has room for both: complex whitepapers that give a comprehensive look at the changing world of IT, and lighter, specific, story-based content that adds a heartbeat and a pulse to an idea. But a story featuring a real person and a real solution to a real problem is a far livelier approach for customer videos and in-person testimonials—as opposed to, say, the canned customer testimonials that businesses tend to trot out.
Here's what any company can take away from that video series in using it as the model for an effective, specific approach: Ban Frankenspeak. In a lot of customer videos, folks speak in corporate lingo, using buzzwords and talking points. But CIOs are real people with real personalities. I like the innovative approach of showing true personality in corporate IT. How did Cisco pull it off? “A key to getting people into a relaxed, conversational state of mind is getting the right environment,” Tim told me. “We knew we did not want to shoot this in a conference room, but instead wanted to show these folks in some nonbusiness-related setting and interrupt that [reversion to a corporate persona].” Align story and strategy. Tell a specific, simple story really well, aligned with a bigger idea and broader strategy. We're all familiar with the classic voice-of-the-customer talking-head video. Rather than using the typical corporate approach, Cisco sought to create a different model. “We wanted to add an entertainment element, which I think is critical for a video to find an audience on YouTube,” Tim said. They also wanted to humanize the companies—both Cisco and the client company—by letting the audience see a personable, conversational side of both. (Notice how I said personable, not personal? The CIOs aren't talking about their home lives or children or pets; the video isn't personal. But they do talk about business with plenty of personality. That's personable—and to my mind a sweet spot for business-to-business companies.)
the key to all of this—making words come alive, adding a human element, and being personable and compelling—is to be specific. To show, not merely tell.
An analogy is a comparison that frames the unknown with the known. Think of an analogy as a kind of gift to your readers that helps explain a complex process or concept with familiar, relatable specifics. In other words, it helps make the abstract more concrete.
the best analogies have an element of surprise to them, and they don't rely on obvious clichés (e.g., as big as four football fields).
I like the way the Guardian used familiar but surprising analogies in a piece to explain why NSA (National Security Agency) access and privacy should freak us all out. “You don't need to be talking to a terror suspect to have your communication data analysed by the NSA,” the Guardian wrote, because the agency is allowed to travel three hops (degrees of separation) from its targets—”who could be people who talk to people who talk to people who talk to you.”1 So if you have 200 friends on Facebook (just over the average number of friends there), three hops gives the NSA access to a network that exceeds the population of Minnesota. Of course, your audience should be familiar with the elements of your analogy. (Yet another reason to know your audience.) You might have arcane and specific knowledge of, say, the topography of Karabakh or Kosovo. But does your audience?
For example, instead of describing something as huge, provide a familiar but interesting context: Instead of: The leaves of the giant pumpkin plant are huge. Try: The pumpkin leaves are the size of trash-can lids, covering pumpkins the size of beer kegs. Instead of: The pavement is covered with tiny speed bumps that are 10–12 millimeters in diameter. Try: The pavement is covered with tiny speed bumps that are about as large as a quarter. Better still: The pavement is covered with tiny speed bumps that look like acorn caps under the tar. Ground your data or your text in the familiar yet the surprising, taking it out of the theoretical and into the real and visceral.
It's easy to embrace the teaching mind-set when you're writing a how-to or other bit of instruction. But the notion is broader than that: strive to explain your point of view to your reader with supporting evidence and context. Don't just tell your readers that you feel something; tell them why you feel it. Don't just say what works; tell them why it works and what led you to this moment. Be as specific as possible: Don't say solution—tell me what your product does. Don't say a lot—tell me how many.
White space is a prerequisite, not a luxury. Large chunks of text are formidable and depressing. Designers will tell you that more white space makes your work readable, and it's true. It also gives your words oxygen, allowing them to breathe and live on the page with plenty of room to relax—instead of being jumbled together in a kind of content shantytown or ghetto.
Simplicity comes primarily from approaching any writing with empathy and a reader-centric point of view to begin with—that is, it's the result of writing with clarity and brevity, and in human language, as we've been talking about here. But also consider the vehicle carrying the message: Maybe you don't need words at all. Or maybe you need a cleaner, simpler look for the words you do use.
“The first requirement of The Economist is that it should be readily understandable. Clarity of writing usually follows clarity of thought. So think what you want to say, then say it as simply as possible.”
Any fool can make something complicated. It takes a genius to make it simple. —Woody Guthrie
If writing were a sport, it would be a tennis match played against a brick wall, or a solo game of tetherball. You can do it, but it's a little lonely. Finding a writing buddy can feel like having someone to train and volley with. Together you might brainstorm ideas, give new writing a first read, give feedback, suggest improvements…in short, prod each other to do better work. A writing buddy is someone who's in your corner.
If your writing is subject to committee or client approvals, here's some advice on how to neuter the know-it-alls and mean-wells: Get sign-off on the bones of the outline, then start writing. (You can often avoid a lot of angst this way.) Set clear expectations for how many rounds are acceptable in the approval process. One is fine. Five? Nope. Seek an OK, not opinions. Please approve is likely to deliver far fewer edits than will please tell me if you have suggestions.
The best writing—like the best parts of life, perhaps—is collaborative. It needs a great editor.
In this book I advocate using a general approach to creating content that's more relaxed and less filled with jargon, buzzwords, and clichés. In general, the best Web writing isn't necessarily short, but it is simple, with… shorter paragraphs with no more than three sentences or six lines (and just one is fine). shorter sentences with no more than 25 words in a sentence. straightforward words—in other words, avoid clichés, jargon, and buzzwords (for example, avoid utilize when you can write use, instead). So… Use bulleted or numbered lists. Highlight key points (like this one), either in bold or italic, or as a pull quote. Use subheadings to break up text. Add visual elements, such as graphics, photos, slide shows, and so on. Use lots of white space to give your text room to breathe.
So, the longer the word, sentence, or paragraph, the longer the brain has to postpone comprehending ideas until it can reach a point where all of the words, together, make sense.
So, the longer the word, sentence, or paragraph, the longer the brain has to postpone comprehending ideas until it can reach a point where all of the words, together, make sense. Because they require more mental work by the reader, longer words and sentences are harder to read and understand.
Here are some examples of average scores for various types of content using the Flesch-Kincaid scale: Comics: 92 Consumer ads: 82 Reader's Digest: 65 Time magazine: 52 Harvard Business Review: 43 Standard insurance policy: 10
It's tempting to push through writing in order to finish a piece by the end of the day, just so you can be done with it and move on. But it can be useful to leave something undone—to give you a reason, and the courage, to start again the next day. So I like to end a writing session when things are going well and not when I'm sucking wind, so that the next time I pick up that writing again (to rewrite, edit, or whatever) I have some momentum carrying me into it.
Set a Goal Based on Word Count (Not Time)
If heavyweights can churn out 5,000 words in a sitting before breakfast, and you're just beginning your writing routine, make 50 words a win. In many cases, that's about a tweet's worth of content. Most adults I know can do that right now.With that done, up your weight class to say 250 words or 500 words, but keep working until you can get a minimum of 750 words completed in every sitting without too much pain.
If heavyweights can churn out 5,000 words in a sitting before breakfast, and you're just beginning your writing routine, make 50 words a win. In many cases, that's about a tweet's worth of content. Most adults I know can do that right now.With that done, up your weight class to say 250 words or 500 words, but keep working until you can get a minimum of 750 words completed in every sitting without too much pain. (750 words totals about three pages of text, and in writing circles it seems a kind of magic number traced back to Julia Cameron's notion of morning pages from her book The Artist's Way.) Dane's weight class right now is just north of 1,000 words. My own is about the same. “That means I don't ever feel good about a day unless I have a minimum of at least that many words put together around a single, complete idea,”
“Art is never finished, only abandoned,” as Leonardo da Vinci said.
So give yourself a hard deadline. And then strictly adhere to it. Be stern with yourself: don't allow yourself to float it further out, or treat it as a mere suggestion, or disregard it entirely. Do the best work you can by the deadline you've set, and then consider your writing project finished.
“Write in a way that comes naturally … Prefer the standard to the offbeat.”
Often you can ditch an adverb if you also ditch a weakling verb in favor of livelier one. That makes your sentence briefer and punchier, and it paints a more vibrant picture. For example, instead of saying production increased quickly, you might opt for production surged.
George Orwell took a hard line against clichés: “Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.”
Keep your verb tense consistent throughout; don't switch around between present, future, past tenses.
And why not put and, but, or because at the beginning of a sentence?
So, a good shortcut: if you can count the thing you're referring to, use fewer. For example, The couch has less fur on it now that I have fewer dogs.
May connotes permission (May I drive your antique Nash?) while can usually denotes ability (Can you drive a stick shift?).
Storytelling as it applies to business isn't about spinning a yarn or a fairy tale. Rather, it's about how your business (or its products or services) exist in the real world: who you are and what you do for the benefit of others, and how you add value to people's lives, ease their troubles, help shoulder their burdens, and meet their needs.
Start by grokking a few characteristics of a compelling story: It's true. Make truth the cornerstone of anything you create. It should feature real people, real situations, genuine emotions, and facts. As much as possible, it should show, not tell. It should explain—in terms people can relate to—how it adds value to the lives of your customers. It's human. Even if you are a company that sells to other companies, focus on how your products or services touch the lives of actual people. By the way, when you are writing about people, this is a good rule: be specific enough to be believable, and universal enough to be relevant. (That's a gem from my journalism school days.) It's original. Your story should offer a new, fresh perspective. What's interesting about your company? Why is it important? Is it uniquely you? If you covered up your logo on your website or video or blog or any content you've produced, would people still recognize it as coming from you? It serves the customer. Your story might be about you, but it should always be told in the context of your customer's life. I've read lots of brand stories that were just flat-out boring (or badly produced) and came off feeling corporate-centric and indulgent because the real protagonist was missing. The best content has your customers in it, so make sure your customer is the hero of your story. Even if you sell something that some might consider inherently boring, like technology—or toasters—focus on how your products or services touch people's lives, or why people should care about them. It tells a bigger story that's aligned with a long-term business strategy. We've already talked about aligning story with strategy regarding Cisco's CIO videos. The fast-food company Chipotle is another company that does this really, really well. Its viral video from the fall of 2013, “The Scarecrow,” depicts a kind of creepy, dystopian world that makes a heart-wrenching statement about the sorry state of industrial food production.
Armed with the fundamentals, ask yourself these questions as a starting point to crafting your story: What is unique about our business? What is interesting about how our business was founded? About the founder? What problem is our company trying to solve? What inspired our business? What aha! moments has our company had? How has our business evolved? How do we feel about our business, our customers, ourselves? What's an unobvious way to tell our story? Can we look to analogy instead of example? (See Rule 19.) What do we consider normal and boring that other folks would think is cool? And most important: relay your vision. How will our company change the world? That last point is especially salient, because it's the key to your bigger story. How will you change the world…even a little bit? How will you make it better for all of us?
Sometimes it seems as if writers are paid by the buzzword, doesn't it? The problem with all of these samples is that they could be describing a hundred different companies, rather than one unique company. What sets you apart? What's unique about your story? Don't tell me who you are—tell me why you matter to me. “Start telling the stories that only you can tell, because there'll always be better writers than you and there'll always be smarter writers than you. There will always be people who are much better at doing this or doing that—but you are the only you,” author Neil Gaiman said in a 2011 podcast.
“Art begins in imitation and ends in innovation.”
“Innovation is often the act of taking something that worked over there and using it over here.”
All journalists (whether brand-side or not) deal in facts—they tell true stories well. “Facts are the pillars of any good reporting,”
“Brands are hungry for content, and journalists are good at creating content,” Dan Lyons told me. “They are natural storytellers who know how to spot a story and how to tell it effectively. They also bring an outside perspective and a touch of skepticism, which may or may not be helpful, depending on the company.”
That means you tell the full truth, with fairness, integrity, and accountability—just as traditional journalists are expected to do. It also means that you credit sources; ground your content in data; acknowledge any bias that may compromise your point of view; link to sources generously; cite reliably; disclose all connections, sponsors, conflicts, or potential biases; and limit the number of anonymous sources.
You need to be honest with your readers. That means you tell the full truth, with fairness, integrity, and accountability—just as traditional journalists are expected to do. It also means that you credit sources; ground your content in data; acknowledge any bias that may compromise your point of view; link to sources generously; cite reliably; disclose all connections, sponsors, conflicts, or potential biases; and limit the number of anonymous sources. (See specific sections in the book for more on all those.) At the same time, telling the truth means featuring real people, real situations, genuine emotions, and actual facts. Give examples and get interviews and perspectives outside of your own—and your company's. As much as possible, your content should show, not tell. It should show your product as it exists in the world—in the form of customer stories, outside perspectives, examples and narratives, and good old-fashioned reporting. “I still believe the old thing about reporters doing best work when they get away from their desks and out into the world,” Dan Lyons told me. “Also I think including other voices into your content is a way to raise awareness of your brand.”
PropertyCasualty360.com, an insurance industry trade publication, created a piece called “4 Ways Insurance Might Respond If Godzilla Attacks,”1 a lighthearted but nonetheless serious look at property and casualty issues caused by catastrophes. The site published the piece to coincide with the release of the latest Godzilla remake in the spring of 2014 and includes this setup: “Ever think about policy wording, exclusions, and ISO forms when watching a summer blockbuster? You're not alone.” What does Dr. Seuss or David Sedaris have to do with basketball? What does Godzilla have to do with insurance? Nothing, really. But they are timely and fun twists on popular culture—content moments that the NY Public Library and PropertyCasualty360 identified and seized.
Companies often spin internal developments as news that's worth reporting on, even though the developments are not really all that interesting. For example, they'll write a blog post announcing a minor product upgrade, or a new hire, or something so boring I can't even think of it to use as an example right here…because I delete it without reading it when it arrives in my in-box.
In his seminal book on journalism, Writing to Deadline, Donald Murray offers a pointer on how to find the focal point (or lead) in a story: “What would make the reader turn and say to her husband, ‘Now listen to this, Ira…’?”1 Murray isn't talking about how to discern what's worth sharing and what isn't, but it's a good filter to use. You might not be targeting Ira's wife as your reader, but consider her a proxy for your own reader by asking, would the reader find this useful to know? If the answer is yes…it's news worth sharing. If the answer is no…well, issue a press release if you must.
Content marketers who have been tasked with interviewing someone with deep expertise in a subject might have a sense of what I'm talking about here. It's a little daunting to admit, “Wait, you lost me there,” but you are far better off being up front about it. And (as I ultimately realized), subject-matter experts generally love to explain what they know.
Before offering interviewing tips, I'm going to assume that you've got the basics already covered—for example, you've at least googled the person, you have the gist of the issue at hand, and you've researched what he or she has previously said or written on the topic. In other words, you've prepared.
Here are seven less obvious techniques to help hone your interviewing skills. Be an advocate for your audience. What are you trying to get out of the interview for the benefit of your audience—the people who will consume this piece of content you're creating as a result of an interview? If it's something specific, make sure you open with a question that answers the biggest question you want answered on behalf of your listener or reader. Your number one goal is to be useful to your readers or listeners—so make sure you are an advocate for them, and get what they need. Don't worry about being an ignoramus. I said as much earlier: ask for clarification about what you don't know. If you're dealing with a highly technical or intricate issue, it helps to ask, how would you explain it to your mom or dad? That's not to say mom and dad are stupid, but they are a handy stand-in for an audience that would benefit from a plainer explanation. Another good question to ask is something like this: could you give me an example of how this might play out with a customer? Go for one-on-one conversation. Phone, video, or in-person interviews feel more natural and loose when it's just you and the expert—with no PR reps or assistants or note-takers listening in. Having a silent participant is just weird, even if that person has a job to do there. His or her presence hinders the back-and-forth flow of conversation and often makes the expert feel self-conscious, resulting in an unnecessarily constrained and forced exchange. The same goes for group interviews. The conversation can easily degenerate into one-upmanship, for example, or it can turn more formal and restrained than a one-to-one chat would be. Moreover, including colleagues or partners in the interview can also be confusing for the interviewer (who said what again?). Get the spiel out of the way first. Experts who have had corporate PR training sometimes rely too much on Frankenspeak or canned, prepared responses. In those situations, I find it's best to just let them get it out of their systems—and then ask follow-up questions to elicit less practiced, less wooden responses. Converse, don't interview. The best podcast hosts converse with their guests instead of interviewing them. They start out with a planned question or two and then let the response dictate the conversation. “Be prepared, but don't read off a script,” suggests Kerry O'Shea Gorgone, who hosts the weekly MarketingProfs podcast, Marketing Smarts. “Conversations aren't scripted, and you want an interview to feel like a conversation.” If you're trying to get specific information out of an interviewee—for example, for a bylined article or a blog post—you'll want to guide the conversation a bit, of course. Don't just let it wander off into a tangential rabbit hole. To keep things on track but still free-flowing, practice what my friend (and former MarketingProfs podcast host) Matthew T. Grant calls laser listening: listening for threads of the response to naturally pick up in a subsequent question. Don't just jump to the next question on your list just because, well, it's on the list. Superlatives can make for great interview fodder. Questions like, “What's the more interesting/best/baddest/most controversial/greatest/worst” can give you some great material to work with. Other favorite questions of mine: How did you get interested in this line of work/program/etc.…or How did you wind up here? People's journeys are always interesting—both to themselves and to others. And they can reveal some interesting bits of color about a person. Shut up already. Your job is to draw the interviewee out, so try to speak less and let the other person speak more. Try not to interrupt unless it's to ask a clarifying question. “An interview show isn't about the host, it's about the guests,” says Kerry O'Shea Gorgone. “Interjecting without having something truly worthwhile to add can disrupt the flow and cause the guest to lose her train of thought.” That said, you might have the kind of interviewee who in turn is not shutting up or doesn't seem to be making much headway toward giving you what you need. In that case, you'll have to steward his or her end of the conversation more aggressively. You are there as an advocate for the reader or listener, and so you need to stay in charge. If you want to record interviews, plenty of tools are available. (Skype is free and easy to configure; Camtasia is another option. For more content creation tools, see Part VI). But I am a fan of simple note-taking—in my case, with a Sharpie in a notebook. For some reason, recording someone's words with my own hand also captures a bit of the mood, and it allows me to quickly jot asides in the margins that I can refer to later—as follow-up questions, or as ideas I might want to include in a final written post or article. Maybe that's hopelessly old-school, but I like the visceral feeling of it.
The editor—who I'm certain ate cigarettes for breakfast—schooled me thus: there's always a story there, he said, even if it's not the one you were expecting to write. So your boring technology product? Your services firm? Your regulated industry that precludes you from talking about certain specifics? The mind-like-water content creator finds the crevices that the stories flow into and reside in. (Also, whatever you sell or market can't possibly be as dull as town-planning board meetings, and I found plenty to say after that night.) I said it here already: content moments are everywhere. Companies so often fear that they don't have anything interesting to share. In truth, though, every one of us has a great font of inspiration right in front of us, if we only train ourselves to see it. As the designer Michael Wolff says, “What already exists is an inspiration.” Consider the content-creation prompts that follow, and for more content development tools, see Part VI: What's commonplace to you that might be interesting to others? What events outside our industry or in the larger world might serve as inspiration? Get out of the office: trade shows, clients, and partners all offer content opportunities. Draw offbeat analogies from your own life or interests. A post that copywriter Tom Bentley wrote for MarketingProfs is an example of that last item: “Mark Twain's 10-Sentence Course on Branding and Marketing.”1 Or the way Jason Miller, a content marketing strategist at LinkedIn, frequently draws from his love for metal music, as in “5 Rock n Roll Quotes to Inspire Content Marketing Greatness.”
Newspaper reporters go to the scene of an incident to report what happened; in the business world, you should, too. Metaphorically speaking. Are you blogging about a new technology? Talk to the guy who developed it, not the PR or marketing person promoting it. My newspaper editors used to tell me this: find the person standing closest to the center of a story.
Proper citation is rooted in respect for other people's work and it allows your readers to refer to the original source of your information if they so wish. Think of it as a giant thank you to the people who said something before you did, or helped advance your thinking on an issue. Seek out primary, not secondary sources. A primary source is an original research project, or the originator of an idea or statement. A secondary source quotes the original source.
One final word on citation: you'll notice that, in those two presentation examples I gave, what's cited is actually the source of inspiration for an idea, not the source of the specific idea itself. Calling out the valuable contributions of others, even if it's just inspiration, isn't just a good business practice. It's a good practice, period.
If you are merely regurgitating content from elsewhere without adding your take, that's not curation—that's aggregation. A robot can aggregate content, but only a human can tell me why it matters. Your curated content might not be original to you, but you should deliver an original experience that adds unique value.
The sections you create in your own words should be longer than any sections you're quoting. Quote short passages or a short section of the original piece only—don't reprint the whole enchilada. You're curating parts, not reprinting the whole. The idea is to give your readers the gist of another piece so you can share your take on why it matters, or why it's important, or what else to consider. Extensive quoting will also blur the line between fair use and copyright infringement,
In other words, in matters of copyright, seek permission, not forgiveness. Getting permission often boils down to these three steps: Ask. You'd be surprised at how often just asking works, but make sure that you're asking the correct person or company for permission. Ownership of copyrighted works can get confusing, particularly in the case of sound recordings and other works in which multiple parties may have a stake. Get permission in writing. Some people forget conversations, others may outright lie if there's a large amount of money at stake. Even if the written permission is just in the form of an email, it works. Go beyond a phone call or an in-person conversation. Honor the terms. If you receive permission to use someone's song as your podcast introduction, don't assume it's OK to use it for a TV commercial too. The permission will be specific to the proposed use. View permission requests as an opportunity to build relationships: people will appreciate that you admire their work, which is a great way to begin a conversation. Talking with other content creators in your industry builds your network, and it can lead to partnerships and connections. None of those relationships can develop if you use the other person's work without permission.
Data puts your content in context and gives you credibility. Ground your content in facts: data, research, fact-checking, and curating. Your ideas and opinions and anecdotes might be part of that story—or they might not be, depending on what you are trying to convey. But the more credible content is rooted in something real, not just your own beliefs. Said another way: data before declaration. If you are going to tell me what you think, give me a solid reason why you think it.
That means tweets work best as a dialogue, because dialogue establishes rapport and encourages interaction.
So write every tweet as you would speak it…to your girlfriend, boyfriend, significant other, dog, cat, goldfish swimming in its fishbowl—or whoever you can imagine in the room with you.
your point of view is your bigger story—your broader perspective—that represents who you are.
Tell your bigger story. You might be the owner of a cupcake truck, but your bigger story can be that you are passionate about locally sourced food or community-centered activism. Or perhaps you're just an advocate of embracing the simple joys in life. It can be anything. What matters is that it be authentic.
So rather than posting “Spent the day reading” (boring), try “Spent the day reading David Sedaris's new book. Unplugging after last week's big shipment!”—which provides both context (why you're doing what you're doing) and a sense of your character (who you are).
In social media (and in life, I suppose), true engagement—person to person—trumps technology.
“I use what I call a ‘writing ladder,’” David told me. “If a tweet resonates—it gets a bunch of RTs and at replies—then I consider it good blog post fodder. If a blog post resonates, I'll explore it with a riff in a speech and maybe another blog post or two. If a series of posts on the same topic resonates, that's my next book.”
Use a clear call to action if you want your followers to do something. Don't sacrifice grammar and spelling or use abbreviations unless you want to seem like a texting 12-year-old. Use Bitly to shorten links, because it offers rich analytics, and short links generate the most retweets. Keep your posts below the 120-character level, per the chart in Rule 60.
Content hack: Try reading each sentence backward, instead of the usual way. Doing so jars your brain to consider each word independently, allowing you to spot typos more readily.
People want to talk about what matters to them—not what matters to you as a company, organization, or brand.
Differentiate yourself by uniquely describing what you have accomplished…and back it up with concrete examples of your work by adding photos, videos, and presentations to your LinkedIn Profile that demonstrate your best work. Providing concrete examples to illustrate how you are responsible or strategic is always better than just simply using the words.
Here are two other suggestions from Nicole: Use active language, citing tangible outcomes. Be specific about what you've done, and use active language to describe your accomplishments. Instead of saying you are “responsible for content marketing programs,” you might say you “increased blog subscribers 70 percent over three years, resulting in a 15 percent increase in leads generated and a 30 percent decrease in the average length of a sale.” Or, instead of saying you are “responsible for chucking wood,” you might say you “hit the quarterly goal of chucking more wood than a woodchuck chucks if a woodchuck could chuck wood.” Mirror the language of the companies you want to work for. Nicole suggests job candidates tailor their profiles on LinkedIn by selecting the right words for specific opportunities based on an aspirational role in a company you'd like to work for. One of the best ways of standing out, she said, is to mirror the language of the organization you're applying to. “Follow the company you want to work for on LinkedIn and you'll not only discover what their business goals and priorities are, but also the words and phrases they use to describe these objectives,” Nicole suggested in an email interview. “Companies want to hire people who have an understanding of who they are and what they do,” Nicole says. “If you already sound like them they'll be more apt to reach out to you if you're already talking their talk.” In other words: go to the source and adopt its language. Of course, that approach applies whether or not you're looking for a job. Your profile should complement the content marketing you engage in via LinkedIn; it should, like your content, appeal to a specific target audience or industry by using their vocabulary. Other tips: Claim your LinkedIn vanity URL, which makes your profile look more memorable and professional, and makes it easier to share. Consider the key words you want to be known for, and optimize your profile by including those words in your headline and summary. Customize your profile rather than using the LinkedIn defaults. The LinkedIn profile format is a standard template, of course. But you can move parts around, embed examples or other media, and include descriptive headlines.
Be a real person. Write with a point of view—from an actual person to an actual person. I don't necessarily mean this literally. The from line might still be the company's brand name, but the content should feel as if it comes from an actual person, speaking to me in the first person (using I or we and you), with natural-sounding language.
Use short subject lines. Emails with subject lines of 6–10 words have the highest open rates,
It uses you and your repeatedly, which makes it clear that the email isn't about TaskRabbit, it's about me—how TaskRabbit can help me. Subtle difference (maybe), but a critical one (definitely).
When it's possible, you might consider punctuating emails with images from your Instagram or Pinterest feeds, or using photos taken by your staff.
“Don't amplify the act of proceeding, amplify the value of it. Not ‘Start free trial,’ but ‘End scheduling hassles.’”
So what's the common thread between TaskRabbit and Brain Pickings, for all of us? It's to focus relentlessly on how you can help the people in your audience—by enriching their lives literally (TaskRabbit) or metaphorically (Brain Pickings).
So speak to landing page visitors directly (lots of you and your) and use active verbs to match your tone to theirs. Something like Get or Go or Start or Try as opposed to the more generic Submit.
(“amplify the value, not action”), as in Start saving or Simplify your banking or Get free advice
A headline from BuzzFeed such as “This Guy Is Painfully, Cringe-Inducingly Bad at Wheel of Fortune” paints a more vivid picture than a more straightforward headline (“Man Loses at Wheel of Fortune”) might. And the use of this modifying man inserts a specificity that subtly humanizes the story.
The key is this: spend as much time on the headline as you do on the writing itself. Respect the headline.
Place your reader directly into the headline. “14 Kinds of Pumpkins” is a boring title because it doesn't offer the reader anything specific. But “7 Kinds of Pumpkins You Can Grow on a City Balcony” speaks directly to him or her, offering a clear benefit. Even better might be something with a double benefit, such as “The 10-Minute Guide to Growing Giant Pumpkins on a City Balcony.”
Ideally, your headline should have fewer than 70 characters,
Use numbers. Numbers set expectations for readers. I like oddball numbers (like 3½, or 19, or 37).
For example, you might be tempted to use your home page to say you are “The world's leading business-to-business sales training and research firm.” That might be true, but where is your audience in that description? Why should they care? It's far better to say “You will make smarter sales decisions and grow your business faster with the help of our training and research.” That tells people what's in it for them. And, by the way, did you notice that I'm using audience and not customers? That's because your home page should also appeal to those who might not yet know who you are—and not just those with whom you have done business already.
Use words your audience uses. You don't need to embellish what you do. Use words that are familiar to your potential customer. Did you notice that Dropbox uses stuff instead of files, data, photos, and so on? I suppose it could've come up with a more sophisticated sounding word (maybe assets? property? resources? content?). But stuff really does cover all the things we all have stored on our computers, phones, and tablets. And that's how many of us refer to all those things, right?
Use you promiscuously. On your home page, use you more than you use us or we. As a kind of empathy hack or shortcut, an easy way to test your audience-centric approach is this: count how many times you use you on the home page, then count the number of times you use us or we. Make sure the yous are not just winning, but sweeping the series.
Even an email sign-up can be framed as a kind of gift that makes the value clear to the visitor—as opposed to what I often see, which is to take a corporate-centric approach, such as “Sign up for our email list.” (Pop quiz: Do any of us feel email-deprived? Answer: No.) Takeout delivery service Eat24 offers clear value and conveys personality in its invitation to sign up for emails: “Want coupons, love notes, deep thoughts about bacon? Get our weekly email.”
All good content puts the reader first,
content formula in the Introduction: Useful × Inspired × Empathic.
Most blog post titles are around 40 characters in length. However, those with titles a bit longer than average—around 60 characters—received the most social shares, according to a recent study by TrackMaven. (Blog posts with titles of more than 60 characters had sharp declines in social shares.)
Add blog bling. Every post should have a large graphic or embedded video. Make it count: “No stock photos of an Asian, an African American, and a woman staring at a laptop,”
Time it well. Usually the best time for publication is between 8 and 10 a.m. weekdays, in the time zone where your readers live,
Tuesday and Wednesday are the most popular days for posting. However, the 13 percent of pieces published on weekends actually had more social shares per post on average, and Saturdays were particularly ripe for blog post sharing: only 6.3 percent of posts were published on Saturdays, but they received 18 percent of the total social shares.
“Bullets and numbers indicate an organized mind and empathy for the time constraints of readers,” Guy said. I couldn't agree more. Also, they tend to create white space.
Don't leave your visitors hanging! Give them a path to conversion—however you are defining the conversion action (download, sale, signup, and so on).
Keep them short. Ish. Posts should have fewer than 1,500 words (per Andy Crestodina's chart in Rule 60) and they should be structured with subheads and bolding. Guy likes fewer than 1,000 words. “I cannot remember reading any blog post that I wished was longer,” Guy said. “I can remember reading many, many blog posts that were too long—tellingly, I cannot remember what they were about!”
Show up. Half of blogging is consistency, or just showing up on a regular basis. As writer and content marketer Barry Feldman told me: “Write. Write now. Write a lot. Write freely. Write what you feel. Write first and edit second. If you want hits, you need to keep going up to the plate and swinging.”
They looked to analogy, rather than example.
A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word on paper. —E. B. White Done is better than perfect.
At the beginning of a piece, many of us take too long to delve into the topic. We offer too much setup and background. In other words, we take a metaphorical running start on the page—before getting to the real starting point. It's a great way to warm up to a topic, and I do it all the time. But in most cases I go back and erase the running start, covering my tracks completely and getting to the key point more directly. One of my professors in college used to routinely lop off the first paragraph or two from our essays. Usually that barely affected the meaning—but greatly improved that first impression I talk about elsewhere here.
At the beginning of a piece, many of us take too long to delve into the topic. We offer too much setup and background. In other words, we take a metaphorical running start on the page—before getting to the real starting point. It's a great way to warm up to a topic, and I do it all the time. But in most cases I go back and erase the running start, covering my tracks completely and getting to the key point more directly. One of my professors in college used to routinely lop off the first paragraph or two from our essays. Usually that barely affected the meaning—but greatly improved that first impression I talk about elsewhere here. Try it with the next piece you write: Can you trim the start, or lop it off completely? Does doing that help the reader get into the heart of things more quickly?