One popular headline writing technique on the market involves inserting famous people’s names into the headlines.

For example:

• Richard Branson’s Guide to Surviving an Amish Bathhouse
• The Most Controversial Feng Shui Designs by Barry Manilow
• 1,283 Cheap and Vaguely Fun Lessons You Can Learn from Tiger Woods about Losing
• Louis CK on How to Stack Money unto the Lord

The thought is you leverage the famous person’s name for attention. Usually works pretty well.

Naturally, this technique does not work when the person isn’t famous. Gasper Hicks might be a great guy, but his guide to how search engines work will be worthless.

But it also fails when your subject is only parochially famous. Meaning, her name might mean something to people in New Zealand, but not in South Africa or Cleveland.

Or her name is only meaningful to people who work in a certain industry like fashion, carpentry, or  telecommunications.

This happens a lot in podcast titles that involve interviews. The host will interview someone who’s doing good work, but not well-known outside a very small section of the universe.

But it occurs in articles, too.

Thus, if the focus of your article or podcast is a minor star, focus on the benefits, particularly the most powerful desire of the reader or listener.

Speaking of podcasts, have you listened to my new podcast Rough Draft?

Image source.

So I’m in the middle of an article that’s filling out at around 1,300 words. I’m about two-thirds of the way done. I still need to close it.

However. There is a glaring hole in the middle of it. And I’m searching for the right word. The right metaphor. To fill that hole.

For some reason I got the bright idea I would watch Apocalypse Now. Perhaps my metaphor was in there. That’s a 2 hour and 38 minute movie.

Will it be worth it? Perhaps.

How far are you willing to go to find the perfect word? Sentence? Metaphor? Share examples.

Give it up for Jim Pryor, NYU professor of philosophy, for championing clean, concise, and compelling writing.

He does this in on an old-school web page (think early 90s) on “What Does One Do in a Philosophy Paper?” that is spot on.

Here’s a clip:

In fact, you can profitably take this one step further and pretend that your reader is lazy, stupid, and mean.”

And he expands that advice:

• “He’s lazy in that he doesn’t want to figure out what your convoluted sentences are supposed to mean, and he doesn’t want to figure out what your argument is, if it’s not already obvious.
• “He’s stupid, so you have to explain everything you say to him in simple, bite-sized pieces.
• “And he’s mean, so he’s not going to read your paper charitably. (For example, if something you say admits of more than one interpretation, he’s going to assume you meant the less plausible thing.)”

Jim concludes, “If you understand the material you’re writing about, and if you aim your paper at such a reader, you’ll probably get an A.”

Translated into our world, you’ll probably gain a reader or two. Do it consistently and you’ll grow an audience.

You’ll find this discussion about the lazy, stupid, mean reader just before the half way mark.

But the whole page is worth a read. Just convert the page with a tool like Readability (otherwise you’ll get a headaches from squinting).

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Image source: I’m Not Just Some Stupid Photo Title He Said

This morning I was over a friend’s house. Just above the sink, taped to a cabinet door, was a note.

The note read, “Never give up.”

I didn’t know who wrote the note nor why. Nor did I know if the note was intended for the husband or the wife. Because of circumstances I had a hunch it was for the wife … 

So I tried to imagine what it meant for her to give up. Anything I offered was pure speculation, so my train of thought didn’t get far out of the station, but I knew this … giving up translates to one word: abandonment.

Abandonment of a goal like these: stop smoking, keep on blogging, or finish that PhD. Or it could be abandonment of a life.

My default temptation when things get really bad is to throw in the towel to this suburban project and go vagabond. Lose myself in the world of mountains and ocean, port and poetry.

But I cherish my wife and children entirely too much to even allow that temptation to root. So I smother it immediately.

Yet it’s a lot easier to give up on dying projects. That souring friendship or meandering blog post. Some things deserve to be abandoned … however, it’s hard to make that call. It takes courage. 

When it comes to giving up, we need encouragement to stick it out for the things that truly matter … but we also need encouragement to abandon things that truly don’t matter, because we often get wrapped up inside a project that we can’t see straight.  

So have the courage to try new things, but also have the courage to quit when they don’t make sense. Have the courage to tell someone when they should keep on trucking … and when it seems appropriate to get off the bus.

Finally have courage to dig in your heels and never give up when the monumental is at stake.

What about you: what does giving up mean? 

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Not long ago I said creativity and efficiency don’t mix. I’m not so sure I stand behind that notion. For a few reasons.

One. Turns out Mel Martin was not the slow poke I thought he was.

Copywriter Brian Kurtz, who shared a cubicle with Martin in the 80s, told me:

He was not as slow as most of our other great writers and once he got on a roll writing ‘fascinations’ he was prolific and productive (and he was able to speed up as well).”

Here’s the thing: as we practice our art we naturally get faster.

This became abundantly clear to me Easter weekend when I helped my brother in law install a pond in his backyard. My job was to put the pump together — something I’d never done before.

And something that should’ve taken me twenty minutes took me two hours because I had more pieces than necessary, was guessing about which piece goes where (the instructions were not great), and was, more importantly, afraid I might screw something up.

Let me knock out twenty of those pumps, however, and I’d have my time under ten minutes.

The same with writing.

Over the years you learn what not to worry about, understand where the different parts of a formula fit in (without even referencing the formula), and know when to pillage your cutting floor (the extra pieces left over from previous projects).

In addition you toggle between projects and research at all times.

But, let me be clear: this is not the same thing as speed by brute force. This is speed by reduction of moves. By muscle memory. Divorced from the creative process.

Because, in the end, I still feel that the creative process is not unlike a grown man riding a tricycle. With a broken wheel.

More on this later. Share your thoughts on Google+.

No one likes to be on the wrong side of the velvet rope.

NO ONE likes to be excluded.

In fact, we all dream of being on the other side … the exclusive side.

We all want to stand out as special, significant and superior in some way. We want to be treated like royalty.

A rock star. A billionaire.

And it’s not necessarily about greed or selfishness–although that plays into this.

It’s just something in us that craves attention, significance and meaning … and that’s called pride.

That’s not a bad thing because as a copywriter or advertiser you can use that emotion to motivate people to do what you want. [Read more…]

 The story I refer to was The Hook and the Hitch.

It illustrated two very important copywriting concepts. Which ones? The first clue was in the headline: the hook and the hitch.

So, let me show you what those words mean: [Read more…]