My dusty but beloved writing stylebook by William Strunk and E.B. White urges the reader to use active voice, not passive voice. The AP Stylebook agrees, adding: Write in an inverted pyramid, with key information in the first sentences, and supporting but less vital facts trailing behind.
All of this conforms to how people consume information found in printed magazines and newspapers. Do these rules hold up to web reading habits?
According to web usability demigod Jakob Nielsen, the answer is yes and no.
Initially in his recent post, he asserts, “Active voice is best for most Web content.” But he concedes that the web has introduced a new concept to consider. It’s called the information scent.
This refers to “the extent to which users can predict what they will find if they pursue a certain path through a website.” He continues as follows:
Using passive voice can let you front-load important keywords in headings, blurbs, and lead sentences. This enhances scannability and SEO [search engine optimization] effectiveness.
It also breaks several sacrosanct rules of conventional writing.
Neilsen defends his points well. He says that users scan content so quickly that they “often read only the first 2 words of a paragraph.” [Emphasis mine.] Therefore, he contends, this summary statement is acceptable by all measures except scannability and SEO effectiveness:
Yahoo Finance follows all 13 design guidelines for tab controls, but usability suffers due to AJAX overkill and difficult customization.
To fix this, here is his proposed solution:
13 design guidelines for tab controls are all followed by Yahoo Finance, but usability suffers due to AJAX overkill and difficult customization.
Much better! Why, you ask? He explains it this way:
Because “13″ is sufficiently short, users will likely fixate on the first 3 words, not just the first 2, when they initially scan the blurb. Also, numerals beat words when referring to specifics, so starting with “13″ is even better at attracting the scanning eye.
I’m sure Mr. Strunk and Mr. White are spinning in their graves like a pair of synchronized swimmers. But in fairness, they never faced the challenge of an audience so awash in information. It’s a challenge that I, for one, find exciting. But I still will occasionally dip into this duo’s eloquent love letter to clear writing. I’ve probably reread it 20 times.
What’s more — and this is quite sincere:
I feel sorry for writers who did not fall in love with writing back when active voice reigned supreme.
Scratch that. How about:
Writers raised on passive voice, necessitated by information scents, are a target of my pity.
I don’t envy the marketer of the not-so-distant future who faces a world where the really good alphabetic generations are taken. In the meantime, several “Gens” after Generation X, we’ve circled back to the other end of the alphabet. Or so it appears with the emergence of Generation C. I’d frankly ignore the label, and its vague “official” definition, if it didn’t so accurately describe the group I and my team are spending time with. They are a powerful group.
This gen, although it seems to span more than one formal age group, is united by being “digitally native.” They have embraced Web 2.0 as a given — perhaps even a birthright — and are behind much user-generated content. In other words, they participate in the co-creation of products and services.
I see my role as straddling two worlds. One is populated by those who use networked technology only when they must, and who comprehend little of its potential. Perhaps this is only common sense, because the potential for benefit to this group of peers is minimal. After all, if a network consists of other non-networking “nodes,” it is no network at all.
By contrast, the other world is a vital, teeming network. Although it is smaller, it is far more measurable in terms of behavior of its inhabitants.
If you are responsible for a brand, and you aren’t a member of Generation C, you need to realize that it is possible your brand is being manipulated (co-created) at this very moment. This may not be a big deal for your brand. If the majority of your consumers are not Gen C’s, there could be no potential for harm. But if they are, and you aren’t there to observe and comment on the process of co-creation — watch out.
It’s easy to get excited about the potential of social networks and mobile devices. We’re forever reminded that from a marketing perspective, there’s gold in them thar hills. Yesterday I was able to glean more of the unvarnished truth about both. I attended a couple of excellent panel discussions organized as part of the annual conference of the American Society for Information Science and Technology.
Although the emphasis of these discussions was on mediated publics (e.g., MySpace, Facebook. etc.), I made a point to ask a few questions about how cell phones come into the picture as a way to keep the network dialogs humming when the computer is back at home. Here are three eye-opening realities of these new media, according to the panel:
People beyond college age are mostly using social networks for the following reasons:
Dating
Networking for business
Keeping an eye on their children (the evocative term that panelist danah boyd used was helicopter parenting)
Ms. boyd was leery about how long the “over-35 crowd” will be on Facebook. She theorizes it will be two years tops before they realize there’s little of value for them on that network.
Mobile marketing in the U.S. is hog-tied compared to the rest of the world, due to the incompatibility between carriers (what danah called the “carrier barriers”). I knew this going in, but it’s worse than I thought. Here are two constraints I hadn’t really considered against adoption within a key market segment:
Most high schoolers, and younger college students, are getting their parents’ antiquated hand-me-down phones. They are also often bound within their parents’ cell phone plans.
These plans rarely have unlimited texting, so every text is potentially another dime or more on the monthly bill. This can raise parental eyebrows — or worse, tempers. Bummer for us marketers, and for them.
All of this was a valuable splash of cold water about these emerging media. They will continue to “emerge,” but don’t expect mass adoption any time soon.
This week two emails hit my Inbox within hours of each other. The first was from the site selling Radiohead’s latest CD via download. It was confirming my order, with a specific price tag that was more of a surprise to them than me, since it was I who chose it a few minutes earlier, during the ordering process.
News on the street, and from Radiohead management, is that tens of thousands of others played the same “Name your price for this CD” game, at a level equating to a little more than $8 US. (11/9/07 Update: The real figure appears to be only half of that $8 estimate.) Not too shabby — especially since there was no DRM (anti-pirating protection) on the downloads, and the band was basically doing the digital equivalent of busking: Opening their guitar cases to collect whatever money listeners want to throw their way. (They also sell a fixed-price, $80 “Disk Box” for Radiohead completists.)
The second email was from a small, audacious music store site that announced it was closing shop. FakeScience.com is a source I’ve enjoyed for fun, mostly ambient electronica.
At $5 an album, their DJ artists — with names like Dr Toast — provide perfect musical soundtracks to knowledge working and long drives. Here is what the email from the gang at Fake Science had to say:
It is with a heavy heart that we must inform you that on November 1st, 2007 we will be closing the Fake Science Music Store. Fake Science was originally started as a labor of love by four friends who had an idea to help share music with people like you and has since grown into the online music resource it is today. However, we evaluated the amount of investment that it would take to keep the store running, as well as making necessary upgrades to keep the Fake Science standards high. We came to the realization that none of us could realistically keep the commitment due to the weight other important things in our lives, such as families, day jobs, and even other side projects.
This sounds like the explanation I’ve heard many times from musician friends, when they announce that their garage band is breaking up after graduation. The explanation is always sincere — and quite valid, considering the economics of music.
But doesn’t the long tail mean that everyone with talent has a shot at recording stardom, or at least economic viability?
Aside from “families, day jobs,” etc., what caused Fake Science to sink into the DRM-free equivalent of the prehistoric tar pits, while Radiohead’s experiment has — by all accounts and speculation — flourished? I believe economist and author Tyler Cowen nails it. He provides five reasons in his Marginal Revolution post:
Radiohead is an indie cult band with extreme loyalties from its partisans and the possibility of attracting more such partisans by seeming “cool.”
Radiohead peaks high on the charts (#3 for their last release, if I recall…) but I believe they sell the product pretty quickly and don’t have a long run at the top. Again, they’d like to widen their fan base.
Radiohead’s gambit has reaped enormous publicity, but this won’t be the case next time.
Many donors will give to a highly visible “cause of the month” (remember the outpouring of support for the tsunami victims?) but they won’t necessarily give on a regular basis.
Radiohead probably has an especially high ratio of touring to CD and iTunes income; see #1. This scheme is a natural for them but not for Kelly Clarkson.
Do read the comments of this blog entry for some interesting clarifications and opposing views. Nonetheless, I think Cowen’s points are all valid.
What’s more, I’d like to add a #6 to the list. Another reason why struggling artists won’t be reaping the benefits of this Radiohead “donor” experiment is what I’ll call The Prius Factor. A recent New York Times article points out that part of the tremendous success of the Toyota Prius hybrid is that it was built to be nothing but a hybid. This is in stark contrast to the major hybrid offerings by Ford, Honda and GM’s Saturn, where they started as traditional internal combustion vehicles. You have to look for a small badge on the trunk or side panel to know that any of these other cars is an environmentally friendly gas/electric hybrid.
That suggests, according to the article, that the Prius has become an “issue bracelet.” It’s a theory supported by research reported in the same Times piece:
… More than half of the Prius buyers surveyed this spring by CNW Marketing Research of Bandon, Ore., said the main reason they purchased their car was that “it makes a statement about me.”
In the weeks to come, people will be hearing songs from Radiohead’s (quite good) In Rainbows. Those who are fans will undoubtedly be asking the person playing this CD: “So what did you pay?” Like the overtly hybrid Prius, it’s an easy conversation-starter. Surely, Radiohead’s CD will be the catalyst for many a new friendship or hook-up.
This is bad news for the relatively unknown Dr Toast, and other Fake Science musicians. But there is hope that this business model could quickly morph to benefit all artists, given the accelerated Darwinian ecosystem of the internet. (And according to a fun NOFX song, dinosaurs will die).
Oh, and there is one final thing Tyler Cowen nails in his assessment: Kid A truly is Radiohead’s best album so far. Which just goes to show that even respected economists can’t resist sounding cool with a little musical name-dropping.
This afternoon I attended Milwaukee’s second annual BarCamp, which is about a lot of other things, but is primarily smart and creative technologists coming out to play. (The tag clouds below are from the BarCamp Milwaukee site, where attendees are asked to state their interests in the same way that presentations / activities are given relevant keywords.)
It was stimulating to experience the free-form workshops, and exciting to imagine what this event will grow into with a few more years of publicity and support.
As I write this late on a Saturday night, the events are still taking place. BarCamp runs non-stop through tonight and into Sunday afternoon. When I return to give my presentation at 10 AM tomorrow, it will be interesting to see the level of wakefulness of my audience.
Under the influence of seminars on topics like improving streaming video and using Ruby On Rails to build better sites, I couldn’t let the night go by without doing at least one software change to improve Digital Solid. It’s nothing you can see, but I’ve removed the nofollow attributes that appear in links with the comments that people leave.
In the post she recounts how she was acting out of what she perceived as the public good, and not as some shill for the brand. Truly inadvertently, she says that she became “a marketer’s dream.”
I agree. But what still amazes me is that similar efforts for less savvy brands would be viewed by their stewards as unacceptable — nothing more than the unauthorized spread of their content.
These folks would look at the Danah Boyds of the world as more of a nightmare than a dream. Go figure.
It was actually Charles Dudley Warner — and not Mark Twain as is commonly thought — who first quipped, “Everybody complains about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.” Boring slideshow presentations come in a close second behind the weather for producing the most heat for the least real flame.
On the other hand, the inventors of Pecha Kucha tell the press that they have no goal more lofty than putting butts in seats at their Tokyo performance space. But I really think they’re onto something.
As I mentioned a few days ago, I presented my first Pecha Kucha on Saturday, to support the discussion of a new web metric called the Content Interest Index. Today you can find it posted on YouTube (embedded above), to make viewing and sharing a little easier.
I hope to soon attend my first Pecha Kucha performance event in Chicago (the date is TBD), where I know the quality of the presentations will make me glad I didn’t quit my day job. But until I see what a real Pecha Kucha can do, I’m fairly happy with this quirky way to explore an otherwise “bland” topic. I’m also glad to do my part in “doing something” about the scourge that is SDD (Slideshow Deficit Disorder).
When I was in high school, in my sleepy, remote hometown, the local shopping mall wanted to do something different for the holiday shopping season. Not content with a mere Santa Claus, they had plans to build and “populate” a talking Christmas tree.
This hollow tree would contain a person — someone who would sit there all day and accost passersby, engaging them in clever yuletide banter. I must have gotten a reputation as someone who you couldn’t shut up, because I was offered the gig.
I declined.
I was 13 years old, and acutely aware that as soon as word got out I was the voice behind this blight on the retail landscape, I would become a serious candidate for after-school deforestation.
Everyone knows that mascots are not cool.
I must have given off a serious death wish, because I got a similar offer when I was in college. I was working as an intern at a bank.
They were shocked and crestfallen when I told them no, I would not spend my weekends prancing through the aisles of our football stadium dressed as a giant foam checkbook. What could I be thinking? I’ll tell you what I was thinking: Mascots are not cool.
That’s why I took special note when I heard this account on NPR’s On The Media. It’s of a mascot that is actually, certifiably cool. The podcast segment includes an interview with the actor who brings this mascot to life. And yes, he fully grasps that he has landed a truly plum job.
He’s the star of an animated, digital billboard in Las Vegas. Hidden cameras and microphones allow him to carry on conversations with pedestrians, while images of the products and services he’s hawking stream and flash in the background.
I’m still trying to fathom why this is so dramatically different from a talking Christmas tree in Escanaba, Michigan. I’ve concluded that it’s another example of The Age of the Nerd.
If it’s digital, it is most likely pretty awesome.
So, if the marketing department of that bank where I interned is reading this, I have something to say to you:
I’m a little long in the tooth to sell checking accounts in football stadiums, but if the offer still stands, I’m your man, on one condition: It’s got to be electronic checking.
Earlier today I spoke at a conference for web marketing professionals in Jacksonville, Florida. My topic was web analytics. It was a well-timed opportunity for me. I used the talk to do these two things:
Try out a form of condensed slideshow presentation called Pecha Kucha
As I described in a prior post on Pecha Kucha, this is to slideshows what the haiku is to poetry, and Dogma 95 is to film making. It has strict rules designed to bring out the soul of a presentation — especially if you subscribe to the phrase “the soul of brevity.” The rules are that you have exactly 20 slides, and each is up for exactly 20 seconds. That means after 6 minutes and 40 seconds, you come to a full stop.
For those of you as nutty about films as I am, you know that Dogma 95 was borne out of the desire of a handful of directors to treat their audiences like grown-ups. Pecha Kucha may not pretend to be anything loftier than playful fun, but it does respect the audience’s valuable time. How refreshing!
My presentation needed a “hook.” I chose a doozie. I compared a web site’s conversion funnels to the lairs that are built by antlions. These critters were an obsession of mine when I was 10 years old (I even kept one as a pet, in a sand-filled coffee can in my bedroom!).
I frankly could not resist using graphics of the antlion’s traps as ways to illustrate aspects of measuring web conversion. In this elaborate comparison, ants unwittingly encircle the antlion’s lair and some tumble to their doom, in the same way that web visitors cruising around a site’s pages are attracted to offers (the “mouths” of conversion funnels).
Hey, no one ever said marketing was pretty.
Yes, this comparison is a bit of a stretch — if not downright grisly — but I do believe I got my point across. Especially with the help of a supplemental presentation, given in mind map format (here is the map, in Acrobat format … watch out, it’s a quite large file at 2,310 KB). My presentation included excerpts from the CII case study that you can download from this blog entry.
Why don’t you be the judge of the job I did in milking this helpless metaphor until it mooed in pain? Download this podcast of my Pecha Kucha (1,724 KB in MP3 format), and check out this PowerPoint player file (324 KB in PPS format) for the visuals. You have to sync up the audio and visual files, but it’s hopefully well worth it. Updated 10/9/07: You’ll find the Pecha Kucha on YouTube.
Let me know what you think, and more importantly, if you think the antlion should be some sort of Web 3.0 mascot. What’s the reasoning behind that suggestion? None whatsoever, except the antlion is a very clever creature.
And hey! What the heck. A creature looking this monstrous really needs a break.
According to this piece in Music News, Radiohead is releasing their DRM-free CD online and letting fans determine its monetary worth:
Radiohead said its seventh studio album “In Rainbows” would be available from Radiohead.com from October 10 in MP3 format, meaning it can be played on all digital devices. In the latest twist in the move to digital music, fans can choose how much to pay, or can pay nothing if they prefer.
If this scares you, you’re probably a record label, or some other member of the entrenched (many would say hidebound) music industry. Conversely, if you’re smiling, you’re probably like me: A fascinated observer of how technology is shattering pricing constraints and distribution barriers between artists and those who appreciate them. And did I mention I’m also a huge Radiohead fan? My smile just grew into broad grin.
Maybe, as a show of support, I’ll pay more than the cost of their physical CD (which will be distributed through conventional channels).
For instance, I might pay as much as I’ve ever paid for one of those glorified coasters. I’m guessing that was $18, ponied up sometime in the late 1990s. The CD that 18 bucks got me was, I’m sure, packaged in a crack-prone jewel case, and came complete with booklet featuring unreadable mousetype lyrics and liner notes. I’ll certainly miss that royal treatment.
For once I’ll be opening my wallet without feeling fleeced. That sounds pretty terrific.
It was stimulating to experience the free-form workshops, and exciting to imagine what this event will grow into with a few more years of publicity and support.
That’s why I took special note when I heard 