As I sit here sniffling and coughing, I’m thinking, how can I get rid of this cold?
Let’s ask Google!
“How to Cure a Cold” is at eHow.com. The author, ranked as an “Authority,” advises me to inhale a lot of steam and avoid dairy products. Her credentials? “I have an English degree and love to write for fun, but I’ve never made a profit yet!”
“How to Cure a Common Cold Naturally” also appears on eHow.com. This piece advises me to wash my hands a lot: “Studies show by doing this step once you have a cold will shorten the cold’s duration.” Drink water, drink green tea, rest, exercise (?), cut out sugar, add garlic tablets … Huh. The author’s background? Apparently she’s a freelance writer and certified Pilates instructor.
Another “How to Cure the Common Cold,” anonymously written, counsels me to become an infectious-disease expert and secure a massive research grant. There’s a raging flame war in the comments section, but the article got 2 stars out of 5 in their ratings system … so somebody liked it.
“Cure for Common Colds” is brought to you by essortment.com. They list the symptoms of the common cold and observe that a cold lasts from 2-7 days “depending upon the virility of the strain.” (Oh my.) They admit, “there is no real fast cure for this condition,” recommend a bunch of OTC meds, and end with a butt-covering admonition to “contact your doctor.”
“How to Get Rid of a Cold Without Using Medications” on wikiHow.com says:
Don’t take medications.
“Keep your resting area clean and sanitary.”
Suck on zinc lozenges.
Take regular baths…
Right.
Seriously?
ezinearticles.com recommends hypnosis
associatedcontent.com says “cut all dairy out of your diet”
bukisa.com (tagline: “Share your Knowledge, Earn Money”) says to put peroxide on a Q-tip and stick it up my nose
answers.yahoo.com provides off-the-cuff remarks from random people with no credentials whatsoever
All is not lost
If I know where to look, there’s reputable, scientifically supported advice out there. Luckily, I’ve heard of the Mayo Clinic (where an actual doctor neatly debunks the anti-dairy angle). I know I can trust WebMD or the Merck Manual. Otherwise, I might be wondering how to tell the reliable information from the opinions of random passersby.
Turn on your BS detector
I’ve started ignoring all search results pointing to eHow.com and its ilk.
A simple guideline: If the whole idea behind the site is “We know all sorts of stuff about everything,” beware. (Except for Wikipedia, which has enough critical mass to make its own rules much the way Amazon does.)
The content farms have learned to game the system, and dubious content is clogging up the works. If you do internet research and don’t know any better, you can wind up relying on content that’s based on somebody’s vague recollections or urban legends. Come on, Google. Find a way to make expert-written content float to the top. Otherwise, using your search engine will be the equivalent of polling the checkout line at the supermarket.
I know this will likely come as a shock to many of you, but I have a Twitter alert set up for “content strategy.”
It’s really extraordinary how the tweets about content strategy have EXPLODED over the past few months. A year ago, maybe I’d see one or two a day. Now, hourly, it’s mentioned dozens of times.
The thing that fascinates me is that it’s being used in about a hundred different contexts to mean a hundred different things.
Now, I don’t really care that people are using the term inconsistently. I’m not altogether invested in figuring out The One and Only Definition. What bugs me is that we seem to be missing the point altogether.
Content strategy isn’t just what content you publish. It isn’t deciding to publish more content than before. It’s not where you distribute it. It’s not a blog, and it’s not Twitter. And it definitely isn’t all about getting SEO results.
Content strategy is a plan to get you from where you are now with your current content (assets, operations, distribution, maintenance, and so on), to where you want to be. But for some reason, we want to skip that part and rush ahead to the execution piece. Which is why we tend to mix up content strategy … with tactics.
Is it a blog?
Early in the week, Valeria Maltoni (ConversationAgent.com) wrote a terrific post called How to Develop a Content Strategy Process. I really admire the hell out of Valeria and was thrilled to see her tackle this topic. However, a few paragraphs into the post, I realized that she was specifically talking about how to plan for blog content.
If you’re a small business or an independent consultant, your blog may very well be 99 percent of your content. In this case, Valeria’s post is on the money. But for a mid-sized or large organization, if social media content is conceived and created in a silo (or siloes) apart from the organization’s other content channels, it opens the door for inconsistent messaging, irrelevant content for current target audiences, and so on. So it’s important to understand that a blog, like all social media, is (among other things) a channel through which to distribute branded content.
[Note:Just discovered that Valeria has changed the title of the post to “How to Develop a Content Strategy Process (for your blog)”.]
Interesting content strategy thought. Newspaper is best of, Internet is more of, mobile is instant.
What he’s talking about, here, is a little bit of a mishmash. The newspaper supposedly curates the “best of” content (editorial curation). The Internet gives us “more of” content (volume). Mobile gives us instant “access to” content (distribution channel).
These are all components of content strategy, but none of them really is, per se, a content strategy.
Is it whether you pay for content?
Then we have the big brouhaha over The New York Times paid content model that was announced last week. In follow-up discussions, lots of bloggers referred to it as their paid “content strategy.” Is it? Or is it just a new business model?
(Note that The New York Times press release did not refer to the plans as a “content strategy.”)
Or is it… something else?
A few other mentions of content strategy, all of which are totally different from one another:
The most important thing to understand is this:Content strategy isn’t a bunch of tactics. It’s a plan.
It’s a well-founded plan, fueled by your business objectives and user goals. An achievable plan, created with your current business reality, content assets, and limited resources in mind. A future plan, for what’s going to happen to your content once you send it off into the world. And, most importantly, a profitable plan, where your measures of success ultimately have impact on your organization’s bottom line.
So, folks, let’s try not to gloss over this process as the industry’s latest “shiny new object.” Instead, let’s talk about content strategy as a way of doing business, a way of looking at our content not as a commodity but as a valuable business asset, worthy of our strategic consideration.
My suburban neighborhood is pretty typical, with the exception of the 200-acre wooded park in the middle of it. I live right on the edge of the park, which means deer, ducks, pheasants, and turkeys roam near my house. And I enjoy that.
But a certain turkey has really started getting in my way. Literally.
He often hangs out on the corner of a four-way stop. At first it was funny, like he was waiting for the bus.
Then, this weekend as I approached the stop, the turkey was in the middle of the intersection. I waited for him to cross the road (I see the joke here), but he had other ideas. He headed right for my car and proceeded to block me every time I tried to swerve around him. He was so close I couldn’t even see him until his blue head popped up over the hood and he "gobble-gobbled" at me.
It was ridiculous. And maddening. I had no idea what to do. I wasn’t about to get out of the car—turkeys are surprisingly large. And this one clearly had no fear.
I finally escaped, and then I called Animal Control, who said, and I quote, "We’re aware of the turkey."
Apparently, even the local news had heard about this traffic-stopping bird. Police hadn’t been able to catch him. They even hired a professional trapper. And guess what? His trap was stolen.
Why? Because the neighbors like the turkey. They’ve been feeding him. They think of him as their mascot. They’ve even called city hall to protest his capture. They love this turkey so much that they are willing to put up with the hazards and annoyance this turkey imposes on, well, me.
So. Do you have any turkeys on your website? Let’s discuss.
A navigation "concept"
Website navigation helps users find the information they’re looking for. Sometimes.
The Flash-powered navigation on thomasedison.org includes an impressively long list of Edison’s inventions. But it literally spirals and moves as you use it, and the font is so small it’s illegible. I want to know more about Edison, but the design is getting in my way.
Here’s another example: The tiny gray boxes at the top of the site for fashion designer Alexandre Herchcovitch may look sleek, but as unlabeled navigation they tell you absolutely nothing about the content—unless you click each one. (P.S. Incredibly loud intro music and no off button? Isn’t that against the law?)
Give me what I’m looking for
If you give me a text link, make sure that when I click I get whatever the text tells me I will.
If a "Read more" link on a "Project Management Courses" page goes to a video, that video should give information on course content. It shouldn’t just show course participants saying "hi." This is only interesting to the people in the video.
And the video ending, showing a participant in his underwear and covered with Post-It notes, helped me decide to never sign up for these classes.
Show, don’t tell
Don’t fall victim to the "blah blah blah." Just give me the goods.
Ladder Golf site visitors are likely interested in ordering this new game or learning how it’s played. So the homepage doesn’t need all kinds of content telling them why the product is so great. Instead, move that animated banner demonstrating the game from way at the bottom of the page to the top, and give visitors what they want.
Too much fun
If you’re looking for product information on the Beggin’ Strips dog snacks site, you’re in for some unexpected fun. Play games! Put a picture of yourself and your dog in a music video! Lots of fun—and no actual product info anywhere. Hmm. Bacon-flavored turkey?
Why did the turkey cross the road?
I don’t care. Because it’s not funny.
Do you have turkeys on your website? No matter how fun, cute, or beautifully designed a turkey is, if it keeps users from getting to the information they want, then it’s causing an annoying, even aggravating, experience.
Think of it this way: Does anyone want a turkey getting in their way? No, they don’t. Trust me.
Recently, Brain Traffic Twitter friend Taj Moore (@tajmo) asked us for some advice about copy for authenticated websites, or websites that require registration in order to log in for firewalled content and/or functions.
Taj wanted to know our thoughts on what to call members vs. non-members, and logged in members vs. non-logged in members.
Taj’s question inspired quite the philosophical discussion around here. And by “philosophical discussion,” I mean: “really long email chain.”
We like Amazon’s approach to labeling members.
In short, we side with Amazon’s way of doing things. But, as it is with anything of value, it was the ride that mattered. Here’s how we came to our conclusion.
Are there terms to diff. bw member logged in and member not logged in? "Guest" not useful bc conflates w/ non-member.
…Or another tack: how about a word for guest/visitor who is not a member?
…b.c. I am leaning toward "logged-in," "logged-out," & "non-member" but thought you might have better insight.
Kristina: Let’s discuss. Who wants to go first?
Katie D.: Just call everyone Earthlings. We’re all just people, after all.
Christine A.: Is he asking about a user-facing label? I’d question whether there is any value in showing those terms to users.
I like Amazon’s approach. They use a cookie to identify users who have accounts, and ask them to log in only when they do something significant like go to their shopping cart.
Amazon doesn’t tell people they’re logged in, logged out, non-member, etc. They just put the person’s name up there if the cookie is in place, or show a generic login link if it isn’t. They don’t need users to keep track of their own status.
If he’s asking about what the developers/UX people/etc should call it, it doesn’t much matter as long as they’re consistent and the labels identify clearly defined roles.
Elizabeth(her email passing Christine’s on the information superhighway from NYC):
I’d say, the first question is, how are these terms going to be used? Are they internal or user facing?
If they’re meant to be user-facing, they don’t really seem necessary. If the user is logged in to the site, you’d address them by name. If they’re not logged in, you’d probably call them a guest. If they’re a member who isn’t logged in, you can’t really know that. Not sure why it’d be necessary to label each separately, unless he’s talking about terms to be used internally …
Angie K.: Whoa. It’s like Elizabeth and Christine A. had a cross-country mind meld.
(My New Year’s resolution was not to resolve anything this year. So far, I’m doing great.)
Say, I’ve gotten several requests for the "hive" diagram I use in presentations. It’s a simple, visual example of how web project team roles interact with one another.
This is it:
(click to see full-sized image)
I found the diagram on Skillset.org back in ‘08, but apparently they’ve pulled it down since then. So, as my gift to you, here it is. Wield it within your organizations at will.
As a writer or a content strategist, it’s your job to advocate for useful, useable, and on-brand web content. Like it or not, that responsibility includes unsexy stuff like error messages, functional copy, and automatic feedback copy.
Like most users, I never thought twice about automatic feedback copy until I ran into some bad examples of it. But since my experience on StratosphereHotel.com, I’ve done a lot of thinking about it.
What is automatic feedback copy?
Automatic feedback copy—also known as “automatic validation copy” or “real-time inline help”—is content that displays immediately after a user interacts with online content. It’s meant to guide the user’s actions to help them complete a task.
For example, it’s the “invalid email” message you get when you forget the “@domainname.com” part of your email address.
When automatic feedback copy goes awry
I recently signed up for email alerts from the Stratosphere hotel in Las Vegas, where I planned to stay. Filling out the contact form should have been a quick, easy task. Instead, I spent minutes struggling to understand their automatic feedback copy:
(click to see full-sized image)
What makes it bad automatic feedback copy?
They may seem harmless, but “Good Email” and “33 is perfect!” interrupt instead of support the user experience.
Here’s why. The copy:
Doesn’t fit tone of the site
Doesn’t move the user toward a goal
May alarm the user
Using the wrong tone
Automatic feedback copy can be sassy—as long as it matches the site’s overall tone. A departure in tone makes for an inconsistent—and therefore unprofessional—website.
Missing the user goal
“Good email” is probably the Stratosphere’s way of saying “valid email address.” But what’s the point of patting your user on the back for their data entry skills?
“33 is perfect!” is equally problematic. I’m not sure the message is the appropriate response for age verification. A “thank you” or simply removing the default message—“You must be 21 to sign up”—would suffice.
Alarming the user
For many users, red font screams: Caution! Danger! Error! But instead of a warning, the red text gave me a compliment. “Good Email” just didn’t make sense to me in that context.
Why automatic feedback copy matters
Like every piece of content on your website, automatic feedback copy is an extension of your brand. Be mindful of how your online brand reflects—or detracts—from the brick-and-mortar customer experience.
If our rooms hadn’t already been booked, I may have reconsidered staying at the Stratosphere. But in contrast to a frustrating online encounter, my in-person experience at the hotel was more satisfying than busting a blackjack dealer. I’m glad I took the gamble.
Brain Traffic is taking some time off to celebrate the holidays with family and friends. Our office closes December 24 and will reopen on Monday, January 4. We’ll see you in the new year!
I just finished reading Michael Arrington’s "The End of Hand-Crafted Content" (also published elsewhere as "AOL’s New Fast-Food-Content Strategy Means the End of Journalism You Actually Enjoy").
Here’s a summary of how mass-produced content works:
Pieces [(content to be created)] aren’t dreamed up by trained editors nor commissioned based on submitted questions. Instead they are assigned by an algorithm, which mines nearly a terabyte of search data, Internet traffic patterns, and keyword rates to determine what users want to know and how much advertisers will pay to appear next to the answers.
Then, the assignment is posted to a ginormous database; it’s accepted by a freelancer somewhere, who then throws something together as quickly as possible because he’s only getting paid, like, four dollars to create it. (Want to know what the best vodka in the world is? A random bartender from a random bar in Florida KNOWS THE ANSWER!) (Uh, you’ll have to sit through the ad first.)
So, in one fell swoop, Demand Media—and now AOL—are both flooding the search engines with awful, terrible content and gleefully commodifying the work of writers, videographers, editors, and other media professionals around the world.
Does McDonald’s make more money than La Belle Vie? Of course they do. They’re freakin’ McDonalds. But La Belle Vie is running a very fine, profitable business, thank you very much, turning out exquisite French food that makes me want to weep with joy. (Even their cocktail menu is extraordinary.) (No, I do NOT say that about every cocktail menu.)
You don’t have to eat at La Belle Vie to appreciate the metaphor. Not everybody wants McDonald’s, and nobody wants McDonald’s all the time. People go out of their way to find what will satisfy, even delight, their appetites.
AOL and Demand Media (and dozens more competitors, I’m sure) are anathema to pretty much anyone who wants an even slightly obscure question answered online. But in the long run, I’m betting on people, not algorithms. Just because I clicked on your stupid video doesn’t mean I can’t use my back button.
As an Information Architect and HUGE Martha Stewart fan, I have unrealistic expectations about how organized my house should be. I periodically take on projects to get sections of my house in order. I approach them similar to my work projects, with audit and analysis, followed by designing a solution and implementing the structure.
Early attempts at these projects would always stall in audit and analysis. I would come across the random things that just didn’t seem to go anywhere. Unable to find a home or at least some friends for said item would paralyze me into inaction.
But I’ve since found a solution that’s made my projects finish without fail… I get rid of it.
This doesn’t always work, but approaching a large organizational task by assuming that I will be getting rid of anything that is redundant or without a home clarifies the usefulness of the item and my emotions about it.
If I truly cannot part with it, then it needs a home. Usually that home is a highly prominent location that allows for organization based off of frequent use, like a utility drawer.
I’ve since transferred this process to wrangling source content. When I’m left with the stragglers that aren’t like anything else, I consider a series of questions:
"What will this information add to the experience?"
"What would be lost if this information went away?"
"Who would be affected if they look for this and can’t find it?
"By including this information, will it get in the way of more important information?"
If any or all of the answers to the above mean I need to keep it and there’s still no obvious home, perhaps I need to reconsider how I’ve organized things.
If I don’t need to keep it, then it’s simple. It just goes away.
Useful, usable website content is not about providing every single piece of information that anyone could ever think of, but instead focusing the information that people are most likely to want and use.
Getting rid of extra stuff clarifies your message and makes it easier for the majority of people to learn what they came there for.
So when you’re faced with leftover pieces of content start with "what if we got rid of it?" If you can answer that, the rest is much easier.
I’m currently seven months pregnant. Rather than developing nesting tendencies and actually cleaning my home, I have developed an addiction to reading craft blogs.
On many of these blogs, I’ve noticed the trend of labeling the comments section with something more customized than the standard "comments."
It’s a great combination of being human and still being useful. This small change demonstrates an individual’s voice, but also clearly communicates the goal of the section.
I also thought it was a great example of how content (rather than design) can show brand and personality. These are blogs that are built on standard templates, but with this one little change, I suddenly felt a connection to a human on the other end.
Added bonus? People seemed to comment on these blogs more than the ones simply labeled "comments" or "leave a reply".
Many companies are locked into template designs that they feel constrained by, resulting in lamentations about being unable to add a lifestyle image or change a font. These projects are often time-consuming and expensive. Neither of those terms are popular, especially in the current economic climate.
So, when half of the room is screaming for a redesign while the other half is screaming back about time and budget, consider focusing on how the content can improve your site.
