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Your Blog Openings Suck

I truly don’t care why you wrote your blog post.

It doesn’t matter that you were sitting in a coffee shop with your friend, Joe, when you were discussing some amazing idea. I don’t care that those of us who may know you may know that you’re committed to saving the manatees. I don’t care that you’ve been reading Gary Vaynerchuk’s new book, “And The Horse You Rode In On.” (Not a real Gary Vaynerchuk book.)

I want you to impress the hell out of me and make me want to read your post. And frankly, telling me that you were discussing the importance of light bulb recycling over a non-fat lemon chai with ginger sprinkles — which is Doug Karr’sfavorite drink — doesn’t impress me at all.

Want to write good leads? Study newspapers.

(I will admit that I am still guilty of these kinds of leads sometimes, but have committed to never do them again.)

An opening sentence in a blog, also called a lead — or lede if you’re a newspaper traditionalist — is supposed to grab your readers’ attention and fling them to the next paragraph (graf, if we’re still going old-school newspaper). The goal of that graf is to propel people to the one after that, and so on.

But you’re not even going to get out of the starting gate if your lead sucks.

When I took my Intro to Journalism class way back when newspapers were still thriving, our professor drummed the importance of writing good leads into us for weeks. “It’s the most important sentence in the entire article,” he would tell us. “Your lead tells people exactly what happened, but it does it with drama and flair.”

In short, your lead doesn’t blather about coffee shops and books. Your lead needs to grab people and intrigue them, or it needs to provide information, or both.

My lead — the fact that I don’t care about why you wrote your blog post — is a true one. I really don’t. Or if I do, I don’t want it to be the first thing you tell me. Drop it in later, if you want to give me the background. It can almost be an aside, but it shouldn’t be the thing you start with.

I think we get into storytelling mode when we write blog posts. We’re so used to “Once upon a time” that we think it’s important to our blog writing as well. Believe me, I love a good story. I love telling stories, hearing stories, reading stories. But when I go to a blog, I want to be educated and informed.

Chances are, your lead is buried under 3 – 4 paragraphs. You could get rid of the opening couple of paragraphs and be all set, although some writers will tell you — maybe a little cynically — that most people could get rid of the first half, and still be fine.

So when you write your blog post, start it any way you want. But then go back and start deleting paragraphs until you get down to the most important point in the whole piece. Lead off with that. If you need to add the old paragraphs back in for background information, do it. But do it later on in the piece.

As you get better, and your leads begin to surface sooner, you’ll reach the point where you’re writing that stellar opening lead right off the bat, getting your readers’ attention earlier, and propelling them all the way through the post. Time on site will go up, conversions will go up because people made it all the way to the end, and you’ll look like a genius.

And you can tell me all about it over a cup of coffee.

Photo credit: JudsonD (Flickr)

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The Newspaper Industry Isn’t in a Position to Sneer at the Blogosphere

The Indianapolis Star just suffered another round of layoffs this week, losing 81 jobs to Gannett’s ineptitude and bean counting. Of these cuts, 26 of them were in the newsroom — including 8 reporters and 12 editors — and 19 were unfilled jobs, all made in the name of budgetary concerns and profitability. The cuts were part of Gannett’s larger bloodletting of 700 employees nationwide.

Meanwhile, their CEO raked in $9.4 million in 2010, doubling his pay from 2009, including a $1.75 million blood moneybonus that was partly a result of his “restructuring costs and creating efficiencies.” Translation: ruin the lives of 700 people, and we’ll give you their salaries.

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Believe me, even though I’ve called for more citizen journalism — and this is exactly why — I have complete sympathy for the Star employees who just lost their livelihood because Gannett wasn’t making enough of a profit. I worry about them and their families. Gannett seems to excel at accounting and numbers, but they suck at news reporting and suffer from a complete lack of understanding of community. Where Indianapolis readers see stories and personalities, Gannett sees dollar signs.

But Bobby King, president of the Indianapolis Newspaper Guild, managed to throw a damper on my sympathies stick his thumb in my eye with this line from his latest blog post.

So, the answer that Star publisher Karen Crotchfelt came up with was to gut suburban coverage, eliminate an entire layer of copy editors (that last line of defense which separates us from the animals in the blogosphere) and make a nip here and a tuck there to reduce expenses.

Animals in the blogosphere?

The one thing I can’t stand from journalists is the way they look down on bloggers with this sense of smug superiority. Look, you guys don’t have any special knowledge or skills that any other writer can’t get. You have editors who save you from misspellings and continuity issues. Without them, you’re no better than we are. You print your words on dead trees, we print ours on a free software platform. Your printers cost millions of dollars, and without them, you’re dead in the water. I run my entire corporate blogging business on a $1,000 laptop, and if it breaks, I can get another one and never miss a beat. Our industry is growing, yours is shrinking.

If journalists want to survive this, they’ll quit looking down on the blogosphere as the gathering of the great unwashed and recognize it’s the future of news. They’ll quit acting like the crew of the Titanic and sneering, “ew, a rescue boat? How droll.”

Look, Bobby, I know you’re pissed, and scared, and are watching the dismantling of a once-great newspaper by some clueless nimrod 1,000 miles away. But don’t attack bloggers or refer to us as animals. Sure, we didn’t go to J-school or spend 20 years honing our craft. But blogging is more than 15 years old, and there are some bloggers who can outwrite most newspaper reporters. Hell, a lot of reporters and columnists have found a new career and a new voice as a blogger. (And it wasn’t lost on me that your “animal” comment was made on a blog.) But these former journalists are the ones who make blogging better.

So you can sneer at bloggers all you want, but we’re going to be here for a long time. You can look down on us, or you can join us.

Photo credit: evelynyll (Flickr)

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3 Secret Blogging Ideas That Professional Writers Don’t Want You To Know

I’ve written enough blog posts that I’ve figured out what it is that wins readers, and what bores the bejeezus out of them. If I’m stuck for a blog post idea, I’ve got a few general topics and idea kickstarters that will get my creative juices flowing, and get a decent post out of it. I use these same kickstarters to come up with topics for my own clients, especially when they think they’re stuck for ideas or have run out of things to write about.

These are the three best kickstarters I’ve found that work, regardless of the topic or industry.

List posts

I know, I know, you hate them. They’re boring, they’re trite, they’ve been done to death. But do you know who loves them? I mean, really looooooooooves them?

Your readers. They eat them up. They love that there is a small number of ideas that they can read and understand. It brings order to chaos. “Five Best Dishwashers” is way more interesting than “How to choose a dishwasher.”

Secretly, you still think they’re interesting too. Why else would you be here? Admit it, you saw the number 3, and thought, “Three, huh? I guess I have a couple minutes to check it out.”

Still don’t believe me? Do a little test. Next time you’re in the supermarket, pay attention to the magazines at the checkout lane, especially Cosmo. Look at the headlines on the cover. They all follow this format, and they sometimes use the next two ideas.

Every month, for years and years and year, we’ve been promised “Three Secrets Men Won’t Tell You About Sex,” and “Five Ways to a Sexier Love Life.” For YEARS, I tells ya!

And why? Because people love lists. If they didn’t, Cosmo would quit doing it. So I’ll keep writing list posts for as long as Cosmo does. Why? Because if you’re a fellow blogger, you’re not my customer. Corporations and small businesses are my customers. They’re the ones I need to appeal to. And if they want list posts, then I can think of Seven Reasons Why People Love List Posts.

Debunk long-standing myths and stick it to The Man

This is ingrained in our culture. We’re the little guy. We despise the big guy. David hates Goliath. Everyman and Everywoman hates bullies, corporations, and faceless bureaucrats. And if we can see evidence where the little guy sticks it to The Man, we go nuts! So who’s the Man? Big business, the government (state and local too), bullies, TV preachers, and teachers.

Not today’s teachers. Our teachers from when we grew up. We were little kids back then, and had all kinds of knowledge jammed into our brains that we didn’t want. We wanted to rebel, but were held down. Even people in their 60s still harbor a little of that Inner Rebel, and they still want to stick it to their old English teacher who’s been dead for 30 years. By writing a post about debunking an educational topic, I can reach that Inner Rebel and make him or her want to read.

Last week, I wrote a blog post about Five Writing Rules You’re Allowed to Break, and people liked it. Another one — Five Grammar Myths Exploded — was extremely popular. Why? Because I attacked the sacred cow of 7th grade English and showed where it was wrong. The little guy stuck it to The Man by proving he was wrong.

Special professional secrets

Want to get someone’s attention? Share something special with them that no one else gets to find out about. Or “they don’t want you to know.” (And who’s “they?” The Man.) But if it’s something secret — that “they” don’t want you to know — it must be really hot stuff.

Posts like “Five Gas Saving Secrets the Oil Companies Don’t Want You to Know” or “Three Secrets Your Credit Card Company Won’t Tell You” are a whoooole lot more interesting than “Five Ways to Save Gas” or “Three Little-Known Tidbits About Your Credit Card.” People love this kind of stuff; they eat it up.

I used all three of these tactics with this post, and chances are you were very intrigued by the fact that I:

  • Used a number.
  • Promised secrets.
  • Stuck it to an elite group of people — professional writers.

It was actually the idea of sharing secrets that led to this blog post, and I added the other two tactics to the headline later. But even if you just use one of these three kickstarters in your own industry or niche, you can come up with some awesome ideas on your own. For example:

  • Three Ways to Lower Your AC Bill This Summer.
  • History Answers: Who REALLY Flew the First Airplane?
  • Five Secrets to Avoiding Fines Your Library Doesn’t Want You to Know.

So the next time you’re stuck for a post idea, ask yourself: Is there a number of small ideas I can list, a sacred cow I can slay, or “insider secrets*” I can reveal to entice my readers? Once you start thinking this way, there is no end to the number of posts you can write.

* Please note that I don’t mean real insider or corporate secrets. Do not reveal business secrets at all ever. EVER!

Photo credit: Marcmos (Flickr)

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Rethinking Creation versus Curation: Curators CAN Add Value

After my last post about content creation versus content curation, I was convinced that curators didn’t do squat. I likened curators to what Truman Capote said about Jack Kerouac: “That’s not writing. That’s typing.”

I even said, somewhat dismissively,

But I don’t think content curation is that valuable. It’s important, to be sure. With a semi-decent RSS reader, anyone can be a content curator. But it’s not that valuable. Think of what the curators are actually collecting: content that someone else created.

However, I had a few people point out to me that curation is actually a rather valuable service. It’s not just a matter of creating an RSS feed of some cool stuff. Anyone with Google Reader can do that. Rather, it’s a matter of finding the important things and sharing them.

The aggregator just pulls in everything, and lets other people sort out what’s important. But it’s the curator who connects the dots by pulling in the five or ten most important points on the subject, and shows you the patterns.

Liz Guthridge said in her comment to my post, “We need curators to help us find items of value. In that process, they are providing value.”

She even wrote a great blog post on the value of curation. In it, she offers 5 great ways to curate and add value to other people’s understanding of a subject. Numbers 2 and 3 were the best — “Connect the dots” and “Provide context” — because they are what a real curator can do, as opposed to what an aggregator or collector does.

But my friend, Tania, had the best comment that made me rethink the whole idea of what a curator is. (And she should know. She’s an honest-to-God museum curator.)

As a curator of education I have occasional opportunities to organize exhibitions, but far more often it is a way of producing an opportunity for enrichment and learning–a program, workshop, film series, tour, lecture series, etc. Indeed I shuffle the (art collection) deck to reinterpret and reconstitute meaning based on the collection’s possibilities. The chronological approach to the history of art is just one means of understanding art, but if I develop a program about food in art that may turn into a totally different kind of understanding for visitors, and be the relevant connection they are seeking with art in turn changing their experience and understanding to possibly inform some aspect of their lives.

So, I’m revising my thoughts on curators. I think what they do is important. I still value the creators more highly than curators, because that’s where the real work lies, but only slightly higher.

However, thanks to blogging and ebooks, everyone is becoming a creator. But not everyone is doing it well. I think as we have access to more and more information, including all the mediocre and/or crappy stuff, we need the curators to help us make sense of it all.

If you’re only aggregating — that is, you’re only collecting without connecting the dots or providing any kind of context — that’s not real value. You’re just a smaller Google. Anyone can aggregate. But it takes some real talent and smarts to be a curator. And if you’re a curator, let me say thank you for making life easier for people like me. I apologize for not realizing how much you actually do.

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A Sure Cure For Writer’s Block

So I’m bugging the bejeezus out of this poor woman at a coffee shop, asking to look at one of her books when she’s obviously working hard writing something very scholarly. The name of the book? Professors as Writers: A Self-Help Guide to Productive Writing.

Writer's Block

Having been in higher education for a number of years, and having written a number of scholarly works (and being the son of a professor myself), I was naturally curious what those Ivory Tower residents are talking about writing. I open it up to the first chapter and see:

Telling a writer to relax is like telling a man to relax while being prodded for a hernia. . . He thinks the article must be of a certain length or it won’t seem important. He thinks how august it will look in print. He thinks of the people who will read it. He thinks that it must have the solid weight of authority. He thinks that its style must dazzle. No wonder he tightens. — W. Zinsser, On Writing Well

Wow, I didn’t know writing had to be that hard. I’ve just sort of, well, done it. I never had writer’s block, because I’ve never worried about what other people thought of my writing, except for a few people. I quit worrying about what it would look like in print after the second time it was printed. I never worried about whether it made other people laugh, only if it made me laugh. (Coincidentally, the stuff I think is hilarious never gets that many compliments, but the stuff I think is just throwaway crap I needed to fill a word count is the stuff that gets rave reviews from readers.)

So quit worrying already and start writing. You’re not writing for posterity, for future generations, or for tens of thousands of readers. You’re writing for yourself. You’re writing what makes you happy, what pleases you, what brings you joy. If you like writing mystery novels, then write mystery novels. If you like writing blog posts, then write blog posts. But write your mystery novels, write your blog posts.

They’re not for someone else, they’re for you.

Writers loosen up once they start writing for themselves and stop thinking about the reader. Quit thinking about The Reader.

We all have a mythical buildup in our mind about The Reader. Our writing teachers always tell us to “think of The Reader, don’t forget The Reader.” But you’re not writing for The Reader. Once you start thinking about The Reader — that genderless, faceless judgmental bureauratic-minded nerd who’s all set to jump on your writing with a shrill “a-ha!” — you’re stuck, because you’re always trying to please him*. The only person you have to please is yourself. Pleasing everyone else is just gravy. (*I know that in a more accepting society, I should say “him or her,” but I’m not. It takes away from the rhythm of the language, and your own The Reader is going to be whatever you call it. Mine is a him.)

So, smack The Reader in the face, and write something you know he’ll hate. Do it on purpose. Make it suck. Make it really nasty, something that should be wrapped in newspaper. And then print it out, and put it somewhere where you can see it. Then, point your finger at it, and shout, “You see that, Reader? Choke on it!” (No, I’m not kidding. Ten cool points if you publish your sucky piece to your blog. Let me know you did, and I’ll even link to it out of moral support.)

Once you loosen up and start writing what you want, the ideas will come faster and more easily, your fingers will fly, and the words will come easily, and your writer’s block will be broken. You’ll be writing again. So, kick The Reader in the ass and tell him to go away and leave you alone. You’ve got better things to do than to pander to him.

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Who Would You Hire, the Rookie or the Veteran?

I’m occasionally asked by clients whether we have a writer with a specific background. Are/were they in IT, in finance, in animal husbandry?

I can usually find someone with a skill set that matches what the client is looking for, but it’s not always possible. But, it’s not always necessary either. We have two things going for us that make it unnecessary to have a solid background in the client’s industry:

    1. The client provides us with all the information first, and then they approve the final post. If anything is incorrect, they find it before it gets published.
    2. Our writers are smart enough and spend enough time working with a client that they get pretty good at the client’s issues, their value to the client’s, and the features that make the client’s business so awesome. They become marketing copywriters for that company.

So this presents an interesting problem for us. Do we hire a good writer who is smart and can learn the product, or do we hire someone from the industry and fix their writing?

Think of it this way: You’re a baseball coach, and you need to sign a hitter to your team. You have a choice between a rookie who can run from home to 1st in 3.5 seconds, and a veteran who run the same distance in the same time. Who do you pick?

Most people will pick the veteran, because he knows the game and is a proven talent. But the best pick is going to be the rookie. If he can run to 1st in 3.5 seconds right now, think of how great he’ll be if you can hone his technique and teach him a couple tricks to make him run faster.

That’s how we choose our writers. I prefer to work with writers who don’t have the industry skills, because I can teach them about the industry, and help them become better “runners.” But hiring the industry veterans who have reached their writing peak is problematic. I can’t teach them anything new. They’ve gone as far as they’re going to go as writers, unless they dedicate themselves to becoming better writers. (That’s not to say that these adults can’t become writers. It’s just that they have to make a major commitment to improving and becoming better, but I don’t have time to wait for that.)

Who would you choose? Would you go for the industry rookie and teach him or her the ropes, or would you get the industry veteran who has a wealth of knowledge on the topic? Leave a comment and let me hear from you.