The most important part of writing isn't the writing

I question everything I write.

Until I don’t.

That doesn’t mean I believe my drafts evolve into perfection.

Truth is I haven’t come close to writing the perfect piece, ever.

But what I’ve managed to learn over a few decades of writing is this:

The most important part of writing

is questioning and thinking about

what you just wrote.

This is the writer’s contemplative work that demands unmerciful scrutiny:

• Is this really what you mean?

• Will it resonate with the audience?

• Did you use a helpful example or accurate analogy?

• Did you allow jargon to slip in?

• Can you say this differently but better, quicker, more human and conversational?

• Is it reflective of the brand or individual you’re writing for?

• Would you want to read this?

• Does it educate or challenge what you think?

• Does it make you want to take action?

Here’s an accepted truth:

Anyone can write and putting words on paper or a screen is easy.

But not everyone is a writer – and that’s okay and also acceptable. Not everyone is an engineer either. Which is why it’s helpful for non-writers to understand how writers do what they do.  

Writing (the process) doesn’t look like

writing (the act) at all.

Writing is rooted in everything that is simmering before the first words are hammered out, after the first draft –  and second, third or seventh – or however many are required until you land on a draft worthy of being final.

Writing includes thinking, mulling, stewing, questioning, arguing with yourself, walking away and letting first words calcify, returning to test if they are strong or brittle, tearing elements down and rebuilding.

It looks more like sculpting than writing. That’s because it is art.

Writing also involves letting someone with zero subject matter expertise read your draft to find out if they can follow it, to see if it makes sense even if they don’t know the technical details. Because simplicity outperforms the bravado of expert posturing. Which is to say…

Good writing is hard.

It is never automatic, and never a given.

Writing something good, once, is in no way a guarantee that your next thing will be any good. It requires doing the hard work from scratch, all over again with no shortcuts, in hopes that it too might become good.

The myth of great ideas.

Great ideas (epiphanies!) rarely “just happen” in a first draft or any draft. It’s like the fleeing fireworks display in the sky – it’s looks pretty, briefly, followed by hazy residue once the twinkle fades as you await what comes next. Instead, great ideas are the tortoises in these races to the finish line, always plodding a bit slower than we’d like but worth it in the end.

In fact, epiphanies aren’t unexpected, out-of-the-blue thoughts or ideas at all. They emerge when you prune and edit everything that’s been taking up space – in your brain and on the page. In this sense, the epiphany becomes sudden, recognizable clarity as bloated language and jargon get removed.

The great idea emerges after carefully working and examining the entire landscape and finding it has been hiding in plain sight all along.

Good writing is never over.

However, at some point it needs to be ready or complete. Complete means as far as you can take it, as well as you possibly can, with what you know right now. Because a few weeks or months from now you’ll look at what you wrote and find yet another way, possibly a better way to say it.

For people who don’t do a lot of writing, this takes entirely too long.

For writers, there’s always a desire for more time to allow the best ideas and language to emerge and mature. And that’s because writers know what’s at stake, writers know what the right words can unlock.

These days a lot of written content feels disposable, unhelpful, noisy [add your descriptor here].

It feels like fast food: quick, convenient, seemingly necessary, but also lacking. And just like fast food, disposable content feels even less fulfilling after its consumed.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Even the shortest post can have a powerful impact.

The deception is in how easy it appears (but now you know the truth).

Slow down.

Think it through (ask more Qs and then think some more).

And then write some really good sh*t.   

** For the record, I wrote and edited this piece across multiple days and sittings, challenging myself and what I believe about the process. Nothing comes easy.

*** The photo image is the cover of Steven Pressfield’s book of the same title and is a must read for writers.

Your bespoke, game-changing copy is the problem

photo credit: Greg Rosenke

You lost me at… bespoke.

It's one of many words that, when pressed, organizations don't really mean or embrace.

Words that would rarely, if ever, come up during conversation, let alone a contract negotiation.

Yet there it is... part of the web copy, the pitch deck, and the promo ad.

Not everyone cares about your word choice.
(but some do)

Not everyone sees you borrowing from the competition's vernacular.
(relax, most people don't believe them either)

So keep this in mind:

• There are few one-of-a-kind hand soaps or social services providers.

• There are even fewer game-changing law practices or pumpkin patches.

• And fewer still... bespoke agencies or pest exterminators.
  
  

Then ask:

• What do we do well enough for the ideal customer or client to say, "We could benefit from that"? (we're not even aiming for uniqueness or greatness yet, just relatability to their needs)

If they have to look up bespoke or question your unverifiable claim, they’re likely seeking out the competition next to see if they speak plainly to their pain point.

Make it EASY for people to choose you.

And when it doubt, always simplify.

The overlooked value of your unseen audience

How much anxiety does the fear of an unliked post bring?

Plenty.

Study after study confirms the anxiety and depression it wields, especially among young people — perhaps the same young people who are or soon will be running your social media.

And for what? The measurable love of the heart button and that thumbs-up prompt?

Yet we’re told not to get caught up in the “likes” metric.  

That it’s really about engagement — you know, that other metric.

Here’s the thing: I agree with part of that logic. And I agree it can be lonely out there.

But I don’t view any post as a success of failure based on the illuminated heart or thumb.

Nor should you.

Because there are too many factors outside your control once content goes public.

Knowing this, some people will go to extreme measures to avert a low number of likes.

Perhaps you’ve been asked to like posts (even though we’re not getting caught up in that metric, right?)

Maybe you’ve be confronted with this question from friends, colleagues, or even clients:

“Why don’t you ‘like’ my content?”

My answer is: “I see your content and quite often I enjoy it. It’s just not meant for my audience.”

That’s not a slight, it is a reality of navigating a messy, algorithmic socialsphere.

Because when you “like” something, some platforms are compelled to put that liked content in front of your audience, too. And no matter how good it is, it might not be right/ideal/appropriate for your audience.

This is often an overlooked, secondary level of your content strategy — being keenly aware of everything you are putting in front of your audience.

So, back to my response about seeing content, but not reacting to it publicly.

The practice is known as lurking — and it is the bane of analytics teams because it lacks helpful, actionable data. That can push some decision-makers down the slippery slope of “if we can’t measure it, we shouldn’t do it.”

This should be the “a-ha moment” for anyone creating and sharing content.

You can safely assume there could be hundreds of lurkers seeing what you share, who perhaps don’t want to click, get hunted down, or sign up for your finely crafted marketing material — as good as it is.

This isn’t permission to inflate data, but it is permission to accept that a wider viewership exists.

That some of them are thinking about it.

That maybe a few will react to it.

And that perhaps someone will reach out because of it.

If not now, then over time as you continue to provide value.

It is the opposite of instantaneous gratification; opposite of the dopamine hit these platforms reward and we’ve come to crave.

Ask yourself this: during your last scroll through social media are you likely to remember what you liked or who provided value or insight? (it also might’ve been a like).

Proof of the unseen audience

In my other life as a painter, I share my work frequently online.

The vast majority — 80 to 90 percent — of people who have reached out and eventually purchased my work were unknown to me.

They weren’t publicly liking the work.

They didn’t comment on what the read or saw.

And they didn’t sign up to take a voluntary slide down my sales funnel.  

Instead, they were simply paying attention, patiently waiting, lurking…

Until it was time to act (and yes, marketers hate this random waiting and not knowing).

And here’s your takeaway:

We’ve all been conditioned to measure, to be metric hungry.

But conversion – the metric that really matters – comes in ways we can’t always graph or add up on a spreadsheet.

Sometimes – perhaps most of the time – our work is about showing up when it appears nobody is paying any attention.

Show up anyway.

Do the work. Provide value. Repeat.  

Enjoy the likes if/when they come. Engage those people if it makes sense.

But also feed the lurkers by playing the long and often quiet game.

Because when your sales funnel fails to tell you where out-of-the-blue customers come from…

When you’re left to assume they arrived on your doorstep without seeing your carefully curated email drip campaign or gated downloadable content, ask:

Would I prefer this interest and potential to become a right-fit customer come from…

A Google search? (assuming you’ve got a good SEO game going)

A Referral?

The individual quietly lurking but paying attention?

Referral is obvious, but quietly lurking is a close second in my book.

It is unseen, below-the-surface interest before there’s actual engagement.

It is the quiet act of someone building knowledge and respect for what you offer long before there’s an offer on the table.  

Don’t get too caught up in the likes, engagement, and things you can neatly plot as told + sold in a social media playbook.  It’s complicated. And frankly, you have better things to do than play beat the algorithm.

Which is why we can all like and learn to embrace the idea that lurkers exist.

Lurkers, when moved to action, bring a lot more end value than likes.

And that’s a metric everyone can get behind — if you have the patience.

The biggest problem facing content creation today

Content is king. Long live content.

If you buy into this mantra, then you already know there is a daily scrum playing out across every conceivable media platform among content creators. They are pitted in a continuous battle for eyeballs, influencers and customers in hopes of grabbing those brass rings of conversation and conversion.

But here’s the rub: for too many content creators, creating exceptional content takes a backseat to creating an exceptional amount of content – even when we know that, in most cases, less is more. A few great posts will outshine a bunch of mediocre ones every time. But still we feel compelled to churn out thoughts and ideas because our content calendars and social strategies demand it. After all, we must feed the beast, right?

The biggest problem facing content creation today isn’t a lack of new content, the need for more boundary-pushing thinking, or getting content to audiences faster.

The biggest problem is the absence of good editing.

Without good editing you jeopardize your credibility and the brand you represent. Poorly conceived content often falls on deaf ears and a quickly fleeing audience. When that happens, the “Content is King” mantra can suddenly become “The King is Dead.”

You can avoid that outcome by embracing a few basic “truths” to ensure the content part of a content strategy works as it should.

• Writers create better than they refine. Writers seek to articulate ideas through explanations, narratives, characters, examples and analogies – sometimes all in the same piece. Writers also can justify a dozen different ways to say the same thing. Truth be told, undisciplined writers can take a good story or message and make it confusing, exhausting and even complicated – and that’s not a strong value proposition for building an audience. But first, allow the creators create. Refinement is what follows. 

• Writers need content editors. Content editors find the essence of the story and cut the extraneous stuff and fluff that doesn’t add value or paint a clearer picture. They uphold clarity and conciseness. Through their work they make writers better, which is why writers need to consider them as their most trusted allies. Perhaps you’ve noticed that more of your favorite or trusted sources for news are publishing content riddled with typographical errors. The rush to "break the news" has always been there. But with the steady decline of copy editors, writers and the brands they represent look sloppy in the process – and that works to erode confidence.

• The self-sufficient writer/editor is a rare species. Writers can wear the content editing hat to a point, but eventually they become too close to the subject matter to be critical. This clouds objectivity and a willingness to be brutally honest about the content. Writers need objective content editors who embrace the red pen.

• Self-editing is an oxymoron. The knee-jerk reaction is to get those comprehensive ideas out there in all of their informed glory – right now. In contrast, few individuals and organizations are willing to chew on those ideas, let them percolate, and hone their potential through rigorous editing. Because writers know what they intend to say, it leads to reading over how things actually appear during the self-editing process. Self-editing is no substitute for a second set of eyes.

Six considerations for your content creation process

As a content creator, you need a process to develop your best work. These six content creation considerations help us get better and they can do the same to improve any piece of content you create.  

• Write. Then walk away. Get your ideas down and then walk away. Engage your mind on other work and return to it later so the ideas become fresh again. A refreshed eye will reveal what ideas are worth keeping and expanding upon, and those that just aren't clicking. If you’re working against a content calendar, don’t wait until the day of publishing to start writing. Give yourself some space to contemplate what you've developed.

• Edit. Then edit again. Slash unnecessary descriptors. Remove extraneous metaphors. Limit your number of examples. Look at each sentence and ask – What must stay? What can go? If it’s helpful, set word count limits to help rein you in.

• Ask for input and seek out a proofreader. These are two different exercises. With input you’re asking for a critical read about the content (content editing) from someone who is knowledgeable about your subject matter and can ask probing questions. In doing this, you’re helping the piece better resonate with your target audience. Finally, ask someone to proofread for grammar, punctuation, syntax, sentence construction, and so on. You don’t need to be an expert grammarian, you just need to have one on your team.

• Focus on being better, not first. Looking to be the first to provide insight on a breaking news story? Good luck. There is a finite window for responsive content in relation to breaking news and a mad rush to be heard. As readers, we quickly reach a saturation point. So ask this instead: what perspectives aren’t being talking about? – and take that angle. You’re more likely to stand out in a sea of sameness that way.  

• Not everything is meant for publication. The process of writing has a funny way of revealing interesting truths. Sometimes that truth is – this isn’t very good or I have nothing new to add to this conversation. Better to keep this work on the shelf than part of an online library that makes it difficult for your audience to find your best work. And who knows, after several good edits and a new angle at a later date, perhaps you can salvage elements of that effort.

• Post and share with confidence. Realize nothing is perfect. There will be ideas and elements you wish you would’ve approached differently when you review your post months from now. But keep this in mind: when you’ve considered your steps to creating better content and remained true to your intent to be helpful and shed new light on a subject, allow yourself to be feel confident knowing that you’ve put forth your best thinking at the time. Your audience will benefit from that kind of effort.    

When pressed with the proposition of creating more content or creating better content, pause and take a look around at what’s being published in your field. Then decide what camp you want to be in and the type of audience you want to cultivate.

POSTING & PUBLISHING: confronting the challenges we all face

As a content creator, I am aware that I am in constant violation of many of the rules that lead to success: what to post, when to post, how often to post, the right channels to post on, visual vs. text, and if the latter, knowing how long is too long and what is too short. 

Here's a confession: I struggle with this notion of posting and publishing.

It's not just about keeping up with the frequency demand and aligning with these purported best practices, but also the content merit of any post. Do I really have something that interesting, that urgent, or that profound to share with the world? I doubt I'm alone in my uncertainty. But one thing is certain: I don't bemoan anyone who is nailing the aforementioned rules and enjoying wild success. I'm just not on that page yet, and I question when or if I will.  

I'm also confronted with this reality: as a writer and a communicator, and as a strategist with marketing sensibilities, is it blasphemous to avoid (or recommend avoiding) publishing and posting on social? Wouldn't that be socially unacceptable in any 2016 marketing strategy? And, by the way, shouldn't I do a better job of leading by example? 

Before answering those questions, consider these thoughts from an interesting interview with contemporary American writer George Saunders where he responds to a variety of societal hot-button issues, including his decision to refrain from on social media. Here's a relevant excerpt from that interview:  

"I’ve found that my first drafts are not so special. But the more I work on them, the better they get. They are more unique and defensible. So that makes me averse to jotting things down and sending them out, when I know that my only chance at any kind of depth or profundity is to linger within the story, trying to make it distinguish itself. I’ve also found that trying to be active with social media changes my moment-to-moment perceptions. Instead of feeling, “What’s the deepest version of what’s happening here?” I start to feel, “How can I use (or “claim”) this?”

"The bottom line for me is that life is short and art is long — and I don’t love the way that being engaged in social media makes me feel, or the way it seems to shape my thinking."

Let's be honest: few of us are novelists or essayists. We're often writing copy about services and business solutions, not books. Some of us wouldn't dare claim our work as an art form. The approach Saunders takes is unique to him and by no means are hard and fast rules for, let's say, the OEM supplier or the not-for-profit organization. But Saunders hits on things that resonate with me as a strategist who leverages the power of words and ideas. In particular, this: 

"The more I work on them, the better they get. They are more unique and defensible."  

Isn't this what developers of content, consultants and agencies should strive to deliver on behalf of clients? Shouldn't we be in constant pursuit of those clutter-cutting ideas, those anti-listicles that impart more than a checklist?

So back to the earlier questions:

• Is it blasphemous to avoid publishing and posting on social? There's a place for all of us to utilize our voices for good on social. I embrace the power of compelling storytelling, so there's always opportunities to utilize these platforms we've been given. I would like to believe that when I publish and post, it's because I have something to say that might provide a different perspective or point of view. 

• Shouldn't I do a better job of leading by example? Indeed I could, but can't guarantee I will.  

Because, like Saunders, I find that the longer I linger with the story (e.g., the client's story, my own story), the more clarity and focus I get. The stronger the word choices become. This only happens when you and I invest the time and become deeply familiar with our subject matter, seek out points and counterpoints, and stew over the myriad of ways to say it -- whatever "it" may be.

Not everything benefits from hours of wrestling with what to say. The point isn't to navel-gaze, but to take the time to hone your thinking, know your voice and be true to it.  

Audiences rarely care that we miss a regularly scheduled Tuesday post or bi-weekly update. They care when they realize they miss the meaningful content we're providing, not the date or time it arrives. By easing our self-imposed time constraints, we afford more time to focus on creating better content.  

When we choose to publish and share our thoughts, we should slow down and take inventory. In doing so, we are banking on thoughtfulness and contemplative work over immediacy, of writing and refining versus the mere act of posting and sending, of eschewing the easy post for the one that requires more of us.

The end result isn't perfection or guaranteed success via likes and shares. It is the knowledge that the contribution is purposeful and hopefully unique. The belief that it matters and we will not regret the post at some point in the future. And the hope that perhaps we've found a way to say the interesting thing, the urgent thing and, if we're fortunate, the compelling thing. 

"Likes" and "shares" are nice. They're measurable and a quick barometer of interest. But analytics cannot measure the heart.

Perhaps the more heart we put into our work, the more likely our content will resonate with others -- which may or may not translate into a metric-measuring action. The question we must ask is: can we live within that reality and outside of the vanity metrics?

If so, cut yourself some slack. Take a bit more time if necessary. Be intentional. And if you feel so bold, embrace a positive definition of what it means to be socially unacceptable with your content strategy.