Posts Tagged ‘writing frustration’
Although they’re quick to ask for help on drywall mudding or taxes, lots of smart people who lack writing skill insist they can do it just fine, if only they had the time. Why are they so delusional? For the same reasons I’m thinking about building a backyard particle accelerator?
At a webinar this week, I was shocked to hear that the moderator, and the two co-hosts, all hate to write. Ironically, these smart, articulate men were talking about writing ebooks. As many of you know, I’m writing a new edition of Write Like You Talk–Only Better, which will be soon available in print and for e-readers.
That’s it for the commercial. Stick around for the fun.
You see, fun is what writing should be, according to people like me who choose this path. Then again, people like Dave Williams think doing cool things with web cams is a hoot.
Because I want Dave to see how comfortable writing can be, after the webinar I sent him an almost-final draft of the book and my post on what’s involved in competing with the oncoming flood of self-published ebooks. It’s a lot more difficult than snapping together Lego blocks, one of Dave’s metaphors.
We set up a time to talk, with a web cam of course. I even practiced looking at the camera while I talked, though as usual my eyes mostly stayed on my keyboard. That will change as soon as it becomes fun. And once I’ve figured out how to fake a glamor shot.
In addition to our lively discussion about how well ebooks can work for businesses that are based on expertise, Dave generously shared some suggestions for the web page about my workshops, which has an embarrassing conversion rate. I fixed it immediately. To say thanks, I am writing this advice for you, Dave.
As he explained in the webinar, the Lego blocks that make up an ebook can come from transcripts of the podcasts, videos and webcasts, the spoken communication that Dave and the guys call fun. So let me start there.
1. Focus on the golden 20 per cent.
Remember the 80/20 rule, also known as Pareto’s principle, as in 80 per cent of your business comes from 20 per cent of your clients. This also applies to anything you record. Other research too. Instead of transcribing the whole she-bang, note what the timer or other indicator says when there’s something you might want to use. Have that part transcribed, which I bet will be about 20 per cent of the total.
Selecting what you want to transfer from talking into writing is a big step toward getting it on the page. And think of the transcribing and editing costs you’ll save.
2. Have a snappy theme that’s relevant to your readers.
Express this in a clever working title that you may fine tune a million times before you finish. Your theme describes what you want to build from the blocks. If you want to sell books and gain respect for your expertise, you can’t randomly snap together blocks. Like Lego, you need a plan for a robot or castle. Otherwise, you’ll end up with a structure that fails to impress and probably collapses, as I know from my Lego experiences when my kids were little.
In addition to guiding you and unifying your content, this theme will help you write, or at least collaborate on, the ebook promotion. Yes, the writing does not end with the book, so you’d better start having fun if you want to feed the ravenous content marketing machine.
3. Write like you talk.
Okay, I promised no more commercials, but you really have to take this seriously. Just think about the best podcasts, videos and webinars you’ve done, then write like you’re having a conversation about them. No peeking at transcripts, though you should indicate where you want to insert those sections you decided to keep. What’s important is there for the picking from your memory.
By going back to talking, your first and favorite way to communicate, your writing will flow. You’ll intuitively know how to connect those blocks. You’ll remember most of the rules that matter. You’ll be your natural social self.
If you still can’t go from mind to mouth to mouse, even after you’ve practiced with the worksheets in my book, record yourself. As with the transcripts, look for the golden 20 per cent. That is your content.
4. Relax.
You are not back in school with a teacher waving a ruler at you. You are sitting in that lovely office where you have so much fun talking. No one is judging. Just write like you’re having a conversation, much as I’m continuing the conversation with you.
Follow these four tactics and there is hope for you, Dave and the other guys who hate writing. Just like there’s hope I’ll get comfortable talking to the camera light on my monitor.
When I want to impress people, I tell them to google “awesome” and they will find me.
Actually, they have to google “alternatives to awesome” or “other ways to say awesome” to find me quickly. Still, it’s close.
Almost every day my top post is 55+ ways to say awesome. Every month, the top phrase searched to find my site includes the word “awesome.”
When I wrote that post, which I’ve updated a few times with longer lists, my intention was not to rank high on “awesome.” No, my lofty objective was to discourage its overuse among people ranging from air heads who can’t think of a more original word to middle-aged people who delude themselves into thinking it makes them sound younger.
Awesome seekers
Let me stress, “awesome” alternative seekers, that I am not judging. I too have word weaknesses. Often I lose words, usually nouns, which an expert on Oprah said was a fleeting perimenopausal symptom. Plus, I am convinced that wearing my Converse sneakers wipes years off my age.
I am encouraged that people are searching for alternatives to “awesome,” though I hear it just as often and have seen no studies to confirm elevated levels of articulate discourse.
While I am pleased more people are finding my site, they are not becoming my clients. Too few are buying Write Like You Talk–Only Better. I don’t know if it’s possible to “convert” them, as the SEO guys blithefully advise.
“Me, me, me”
Though far more modest, my success with “write like you talk” has been intentional. I rank high because I’ve used it in as many posts, blog comments, guest submissions, Twitter and other social media as much as I can, without sounding like a three-year-old who missed her nap screaming “Me, me, me.”
Of course, with long-tail keywords like this, I have to brain wash people into actually searching for “write like you talk.” Any tips, guys, for mass keyword hypnotics?
My Snooki
The same goes for my name, Barb Sawyers, which also ranks me high simply because of the unusual extra “s” spelling. Recently, I discovered a Barbara Sawyers on Twitter, who describes herself as an Arab princess who wears designer fashions to clubs in New Jersey. For a vicarious thrill, I am following her.
I keep reading advice to jam keywords into every title and first paragraph. But that would piss off my readers and get on Google’s nerves.
I am a white table cloth writer, as opposed to those McWriters who crank out keyword-crammed posts for content farms. I may not be too proud to admit temporary noun or footware deficiencies, but I am certainly above this kind of fast and cheap but low-nutrient, unappealing algorithmic food.
No thanks
To show you how ridiculous keyword-inspired titles can be, let me share with you the most recent title suggestions I have received from Ezinearticles.com, based on the keywords people have used to find the articles I post there:
Tips For Using Alliteration in Prose
Silly, eh? I can’t imagine filling an entire article. ”Using words that start with the same letter helps readers remember,” just about sums it up.
How the Way We Speak Reflects the Way We Write
Why, when ”write like you talk,” which I am busy plugging, is so much snappier?
Poetry – Emotions in Writing
I would never dream of advising gourmet poets, though emotions in writing are what I would expect to hear from teen girls, romance novelists and other literary wannabes.
The keyword challenge
In addition to my vulnerability in nouns and fashion, let me confess that I don’t entirely get all the fuss about keywords. I used to eat the crusts on my toast because my dad kept saying they would turn my hair curly. But I am not a child any more, so I’m not going to fall for every oft-repeated mantra.
I really can’t quite figure out how these keywords are going to sell my book or fuel my writing business. Though I am tickled pink that you can google “awesome” and find me.
Care to share, you self-styled SEO experts who keep spamming my site or anyone who has actually figured this out?
Thanks, Joudry288, for the awesome photo.
The bain of every corporate writer’s existence is the person who uses his higher perch on the org chart as an excuse to rewrite our work. We don’t mind when he clarifies a misunderstanding or adds missing facts. After all, Mr. Blue Pen is usually a subject matter expert, as they’re now called.
The trouble is he’s not an expert in writing, even though he thinks all the papers he wrote for his multple degrees qualify him to do my job better than us.
The best time to work with Mr. Blue Pen is when he’s “too busy.” Not only will he take only a cursory glance at the article you’ve written, but he might also ask you to write something for him.
He will apologize, saying he’d write it himself, but he’s “too busy.” You hope he stays that way.
You know that “too busy” can also be code for “too important.” But that’s a topic for another post, possibly a doctoral thesis.
Dismissing our writing like this demonstrates that he over-values his own writing and under-values ours.
Every organization I’ve ever worked for has lots of people like this. Every communicator I know complains about them, including Lindsey McCaffrey, who wrote a post that Mr. Blue Pen is probably “too busy” to read called Is your employees’ inferior writing sabotaging your brand?.
Lindsey is very brave in using “inferior” in her headline. Mind you, even if he read it, Mr. Blue Pen would have no idea she’s thinking about him.
Why are otherwise-smart people blind to their weakness in writing? They don’t have to be “too busy” to call a plumber, but writing is different, they think.
This happens only because they can’t see the words spewing out of the broken pipe, I now know, thanks to Susan Pinker in a recent article about our natural tendency to use a “neural air brush” to make ourselves feel prettier, more popular and better at anything that can’t be clearly measured.
She quoted Nicholas Epley, a professor of behavioural science at the University of Chicago’s Booth School of Business. “When people rate themselves on any dimension that’s ambiguous–their managerial skills, their interpersonal skills, their grammar, or their test-taking ability–there’s zero correlation between their self-perception and their performance,” he said.
Although he mentioned grammar specifically, I’m sure his comments apply to writing in general. Lacking objective measurement, as the professior said, “people give themselves the benefit of the doubt.”
Susan also described an experiment where most of the subjects claimed an idealized photo of their face instead of the actual photo or a version that made them look worse.
I get this. When I see photos of people close to my age, I usually tell myself they look so much older than me.
Yet, despite this self-delusion, I buy costly skin revitalizers.
So how does this work? And how can I apply these lessons to the likes of Mr. Blue Pen?
I’ve been thinking about this as I try to market training based on my book Write like you talk–only better. I’ve worked with so many people whose writing could improve, if they would read the book or attend the workshop.
The trouble is most of them think their writing is just fine. Moreover, they are “too busy.” Wink, wink.
My general reason for buying skin revitalizer is that my internal PhotoShop could never knock off enough years, which any woman over 30 can understand.
Lesson one: I need to persuade Mr. Blue Pen that he needs to always sound more brilliant.
I am most likely to buy the skin revitalizer if I’m having a bad day, am in a nice drug store and see a display featuring an older, air-brushed super model. Not that I ever looked half as good as her. But at least it saves me from buying chocolate, my bad-day alternative.
Lesson two: I need to catch Mr. Blue Pen after a fissure of self-doubt has been opened by a bravura performance of Steve Jobs, Guy Kawasaki or some other business celeb.
I also will buy skin revitalizer that has some scientific backing. If Dr. Oz, who combines medical credibility with star power, tells me a certain product has been proven to work wonders, I will shell out. Even though experience tells me I will simply end up with zits around the wrinkles.
Lesson three: I need to come up a measurement that takes the ambiguity out of assessing writing skills, then conduct clinical trials and get the word out.
I’ll develop a hypothesis and visual tracking tool, test it on my workshop participants, replicate, have it peer reviewed and touted it in an academic journal, then promoted on a popular television show.
My head is starting to hurt. Complaining is easier. Maybe I can just slip my book onto Mr. Blue Pen’s desk and hope he’ll read it. When he’s not “too busy” of course.
Recently, Globe and Mail columnist and author Russell Smith asked his readers whether they still used two spaces after a period, as taught in 70s typing class, and serial commas, as in apples, peaches, and pears.
From the hundreds of passionate responses, he concluded that his readers are retired English teachers, editors in their 50s and typographers in their 40s.
Extremists versus Xtremists
Russell’s readers overwhelmingly insisted on two spaces after a period. In Write like you talk–only better, I advise people to closely follow the rules when they’re writing for people like this. I love to impress them with hyphens in compound adjectives and other triple lutz marks. But this is going too far.
With doubles or singles after a period, no one, beyond the extremists, is going to notice. Besides, adding a space lets my picky clients feel they are correcting something in my writing. Better to have them add a space than mess with a phrase I’ve worked hard to perfect.
It’s like the story an old boss told me about the cartoonists working for the persnickety Walt Disney. Often they would give Mickey an extra finger so Walt would have something to fix and leave the rest alone.
International uproar
It’s not just Russell’s demographic and Canadians who are stuck in typing class at the same high schools where they taught us that the girls whould continue to secretarial school and Pluto is a planet. I’ve participated in heated discussions with professional communicators around the world on my Linkedin group for the International Association of Communicators.
In the double space debate, I was amazed that so many professionals did not know that the world had changed. I was struck by the ferocity and length of the debate over serial commas.
Although banned by lots of style guides, many cling to the serial comma, even though we all understand what’s meant by apples, peaches and pears. No comma required. Don’t get me going. Read my post about minimalist punctuation
The real issue
What scares me is the chasm between the people who champion the musty old rules and the people who display a total disregard for the linguistic conventions that enable us to communicate. Let’s build a bridge to bring us together.
The advent of computers has meant people are writing more than ever before. With social media, they are even writing for pleasure, which had gone out of style when the telephone was invented.
To you people who care about double spaces and serial commas: I have no problem with you feeling more comfortable writing this way. But let’s calm down and allow writing to evolve. As long as we aren’t flouting rules that help us understand each other, who cares?












