Writing | Copy Unlimited

It's the customer, stupid

It’s not about you – it’s about them. Don’t ever forget it.

A few months back, a pop-up popped up in Skype.

Would you like to win £1,000? it trilled. Of course I would. I was excited at the prospect – positively thrilled, in fact.

All I had to do, it explained, was complete an online survey that would help them improve the program. It would only take a few minutes.

I jumped at the chance.

Several long minutes later, I was losing heart. The questions were endless, and all began to resemble each other. I was answering on autopilot, ticking yes and no randomly, awarding 5 out of 10, or neutral when it came to agreeing or disagreeing – anything, as long as I could just get to the end of this damn thing.

You’re almost there! it gushed. Except I wasn’t. Another screenful of questions taunted me. That thousand quid was disappearing faster than a carrot on telescopic stick.

And finally, I snapped.

In a fit of pique, I closed the browser, brought my clenched fist down on my desk (ouch – don’t try this at home) and had a double espresso to calm down (ditto).

So what went wrong? Simple: Skype needed some info, so they found a cheap way to do it. They dangled the lure of £1,000 in front of me, and like a goggle-eyed fish, I bit.

But here’s where they went wrong: they thought it was about them.

It wasn’t. It was about me.

After a few dozen questions, I didn’t care about the money anymore. Easy money should be…well, easy. And it wasn’t.

It wasn’t even money – it was the chance to be entered into a draw. To win money. And even then, probably not money but Skype credit (no doubt to be used by a certain date).

Net result?

I didn’t win £1,000.
I didn’t even get a chance to win £1,000.
I wasted my time.
I felt more negative about Skype than before.
I resolved never to complete another survey.
(and worst of all) I felt used.

Not good.

Through the looking-glass

If you want to understand your customers, think like a customer. If you want to understand a reader, think like a reader.

Let’s take websites. Most have an About page. So what’s it about?

Wrong. It’s not about you (haven’t you been listening?).

It’s about them. Even when it’s about you. Everything you say – even when you’re talking about your company, your history, your people, your offices, your reputation, your fabulous dress sense and good looks – it’s about them.

What you say	What you really mean
We’ve been in business 20 years.	Relax. We know what we’re doing.
We have dedicated account managers.	You don’t need to repeat yourself to some witless moron every time you phone us.
We have a one-stop service.	You keep your costs down, you have less hassle, you can leave all the hair-pulling, desk-banging (ouch) details to us.
We pride ourselves on professionalism, service and [blah, blah, blah].	Yes – you did make the right choice. Now go to bed and stop worrying.

I Customer

Never write a word without thinking how it’ll be read. Never launch a marketing campaign without thinking how it’ll be received. And never call an offer special unless it’s just that – special.

With a bit of practice, it becomes second nature.

Some people, however, need more practice than others. Remember my Top 10? It included 3, the UK mobile phone operator. When I switched to them, they gave me £10 ($16, €11.50) free credit to be used within 30 days, just to thank me.

Wasn’t that nice?

Not really. You see, when I logged on on 3′s site, I saw that the credit had been ‘queued’. A little footnote told me that the credit would be used up in the order in which it was displayed.

And it was displayed in the last row of the table.

In other words, my free credit would be used only when my paid-for credit was gone. And if that didn’t happen in 30 days, the freebie would disappear.

Free? Schmee.

Don’t think like a marketer. Think like like a marketee. Don’t think like a writer. Think like a writee.

Aka reader.

Happy writing.

Three tips to sharpen your writing

…or how to avoid mixing, dangling and losing control

OK, let’s jump on in.

Oh you thought there’d be a witty intro, a scene-setting anecdote, did you? You thought you could just sit back and enjoy the ride?

Well you can, in just a moment. But first, here’s a question for you:

What is a paragraph?

Give up? Well cast your mind back to your English class, and you’ll remember that each paragraph should have one idea. When you move on to a new idea, or a new angle on the same idea, then start a new paragraph.

It really is that simple.

(Paragraphs also allow you a little breathing space, as you can see.)

Now if a sentence is part of a paragraph, it too should have a purpose. And it does: it conveys part of the idea, and should have a focus all of its own. Pack too many elements into a sentence, and you’re heading for trouble.

Here’s an example from The Guardian newspaper:

Having been one of just 10 women MPs when first elected in 1982, at seven months pregnant, she has long been a critic of the gentlemen’s club culture, and while many of her colleagues are calling this crisis a catastrophe, to reformers it is also an unmistakable opportunity.

Feeling seasick yet? I certainly am.

This never-ending sentence is taken from an otherwise well-written profile of Harriet Harman, focusing on the MPs’ expenses scandal.

It’s a one-sentence paragraph, but look at how many ideas are in it:

She was elected in 1982
She was one of just 10 women MPs
She was seven months pregnant
She’s a critic of the gentlemen’s club culture
Some of her colleagues are calling the crisis a catastrophe
To reformers [is she one of them?] it’s an opportunity

This sentence is a bulging holdall, a ragbag collection of unrelated ideas. And yet it was written by a journalist with decades of experience.

Tip #1: don’t mix too many ideas in one paragraph, or in one sentence.

Say what you mean

Though the above sentence is long and winding, its meaning is still (just about) clear.

That isn’t always the case.

I know what I mean, you say to yourself, as you read back over a sentence you’ve just written. Sure, it’s not the most elegant sentence in the world, but then, you’re not looking for prizes – just to get your message across.

But it doesn’t matter if you know what you mean. Does your reader?

Last week, I came across the following sentence:

Interestingly, and perhaps in a sign that this is changing, Cruddas goes out of his way to praise James Purnell, who resigned on Thursday night with a spectacular call for Brown to do the same, both personally and intellectually.

I scratched my head. Aren’t all resignations personal? And how do you resign intellectually? I read it again. And again.

Then, in desperation, I read it aloud. And finally, I realised the meaning. It’s this:

Interestingly, and perhaps in a sign that this is changing, Cruddas goes out of his way to praise James Purnell, who resigned on Thursday night with a spectacular call for Brown to do the same, both personally and intellectually.

Tip #2: read everything you write out loud (but make sure you’re alone first).

It takes two to dangle

Have you ever received a letter or email that begins:

As a valued customer, we’d like to make you a very special offer.

Something feels wrong, doesn’t it? (I mean other than the ‘special’ offer, and the fact that you’re valued no more than the 100,000 other recipients.)

This problem revels in the delightful name of a (deep breath) dangling non-participial modifier.

In plain English, it means that the first part is unrelated to the second.

Who’s the valuable customer? You are. So the first word after the comma should be you. The corrected sentence looks something like this:

As a valued customer, you qualify for our great special offer.

Alternatively, you could rework the beginning, giving you:

As you’re a valued customer, we’d like to make you a very special offer.

See? That works better. Well the English does anyway – I’m not so sure about the offer.

But that’s another story.

Tip #3: if you begin a sentence with ‘as’, be on your guard. You might just be dangling (and it’s not a pretty sight).

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