Our most important job here at Brain Traffic isn’t information architecture. It isn’t content creation, or even copywriting …
Nope, it’s good old-fashioned listening.
I mean the kind of listening that demands our active attention and participation. The kind that leaves us with the information we need to recommend truly smart, thoughtful web content solutions. The kind that requires we really focus on YOU.
So whether we’re scoping a project, clarifying user goals, or managing rounds of client feedback, we all hold fast to a few rules for active listening around these parts.*
Keep an open mind.
We may have created content for a dozen healthcare websites over the years. But that doesn’t mean we automatically know the unique challenges your healthcare company faces as you fight to get your new site off the ground.
That's why we mindfully avoid assuming we know where the discussion is going before it gets there. We’ll let you speak for yourself. It’s only polite.
Lead with “open” questions.
Open questions start with “who,” “what,” “when,” “where,” “why,” or “how.” It's straight up Journalism 101. If we're getting yes/no answers from you, it means we’re being lazy reporters. And it means our conversation can only scratch the surface in terms of uncovering your needs and goals.
Get comfy with silence.
If our question to you is met with dead air or a frowny face, we're likely squirming in our ergonomic chairs. It's just human nature. So we count to 10 (in our heads, don’t worry) while you organize your thoughts. Because jumping in to fill that void might prevent you from collecting your ideas and articulating a particularly illuminating response.
Ask the “stupid” questions.
We wouldn't be doing anyone any favors by pretending we have all the answers. And we feel very strongly that the success of your project depends in part on us being bold enough to not take anything for granted. So we make a point to ask at least one “stupid” question in each client meeting.
Being not entirely shameless, however, we do practice some super sneaky tactics:
“I know we’ve been talking about this for a while, but could you just clarify one thing for me?”
“I’m afraid your users might not understand this fully. Could you take a minute to break it down so I can explain it in very basic terms?”
“You'll have to excuse me. This is probably a stupid question, but…”
Our willingness to humble ourselves in that regard seems to really resonate with our clients. Because in many cases, voicing our confusion helps them quickly pinpoint gaps in their content universe.
Be curious.
There we are, asking you our thoughtfully stupid, open questions, and waiting patiently for your equally thoughtful answers. Suddenly it hits us: We know precisely how to solve all your website woes. Nice.
But wait! Now is not the time to share our brilliant plan. We may have an inkling about where your main pain points lie. But we need to know more. Where did these issues originate? How long have they been plaguing your company? Whom do they affect? How exactly would your life be easier if we made them go away?
Now we’re finally getting somewhere together. And as it turns out, we suddenly have an even better plan to share.
*Bonus: These techniques have multiple applications outside the work environment. Try them on your friends! Your in-laws! Your pets!
First, I admit it. I have a not-so-secret crush on John Hodgman. Don’t know him by name? Picture the cuddly geek who plays the PC on those Mac commercials. Yeah, this guy:
My crush is not physical. It’s intellectual. John Hodgman is one of the smartest, funniest men on earth right now. Plus, he knows a thing or two about content strategy and information architecture.
The organized truth of a fictional reference book In his book, More Information Than You Require (the second in a trilogy of almanacs about fake facts), Hodgman realizes his lifelong dream of writing a page-a-day calendar.
Each page includes a date and “an interesting historical fact that did not occur on that date.” Pure fiction.
Besides being hilarious, the facts are perfectly placed on the page. They appear as insets—a sidebar of sorts. It works because the facts:
Do not interrupt the flow, nor have anything to do with, the chapter in which they appear
Do not need to be read chronologically
Are there for those who, indeed, require more information
For example, in the chapter “Even More More Information Than You Require, With a Special Emphasis on Food and Animals (A Kind of Food),” we find this gem:
July 3 1983, NEWTON, MA: The first suburban white child breakdances.
This fake fact has nothing to do with food. Or animals. Yet there it is. And I love it.
Typically, I wouldn’t applaud an author for providing aimless fodder, but each one goes perfectly with the book’s overall theme. It just doesn’t fit neatly into a chapter.
How I applied Hodgman’s genius to web content I thought of Hodgman’s book during a client meeting recently. While reviewing the client’s sitemap, I was having trouble understanding the position of a particular page. It seemed out of place.
After asking a few strategic questions about the page’s planned content, it became clear to me that it included “nice to know” information. The content was related to the site’s main purpose, but did not fit the overall story.
So, I took a page—not literally, though he encourages it—from Hodgman’s book. I suggested placing this content outside of the site’s main navigation, perhaps as a sidebar throughout the site. That way, the information would be there, but it wouldn’t get in the way.
My client loved this suggestion. They created a new sitemap and new wireframes to reflect this direction. And I wrote a little sidebar that linked to the “nice to know” information.
I doubt my copy will crack people up the way Hodgman’s phony historical tidbits do, but his approach worked on my client’s site.
More information about John Hodgman I encourage you to develop your own crush on my little Hodgy. Perhaps you will discover more ways to apply his methods to web content.
Here are some links to help you stalk him from afar:
A suburban New York man said the personalized license plate he obtained for his car—XXX PERT—causes many people to ask him about buying pornography.
Henry DeRossi, 78, of East Meadow, N.Y., said the plate on his Mercedes-Benz is a reference to his business, Expert Metal Slitters of Long Island City, N.Y., but the triple-X on the plate causes many to confuse him for a porn seller, the New York Daily News reported Monday.
"You’d be surprised how many people stop me when I am at a light and want to buy porn," DeRossi said.
He told the Daily News the number of people confused by the plate has grown to the point where his auto dealer has him park the vehicle in a back lot when he brings it in for service.
Clearly label content, or risk user interpretation DeRossi may be an expert at metal slitting. But next time he chooses a vanity license plate, he may want to get a second opinion. Perhaps even from a web writer.
DeRossi’s unintentionally kinky license plate makes me think about poorly written navigational and page links. Since most users skim and scan web content while they’re looking for useful information, it’s important to clearly label your navigation and page elements.
Even if your users carefully read every bit of content on your site, they’re not likely to click a link unless they think it will take them where they want to go.
So when writing links, be sure to use words that are meaningful to your users. NOT corporate jargon or internal slang. And especially not the cutesy labels your marketing team cooked up.
Keep your links in context
Ginny Redish gives us a great example of how not to write web links in her book Letting Go of the Words. In chapter 2, she talks about how we all interpret as we read. For instance, your users may not know the same words you know. Or the same word might mean different things to them than to you.
Her example refers to an old version of the official Transport for London website. Two users are looking for information about special deals on tickets, which is found under a link labeled “Oyster.”
p. 11, Letting Go of the Words, Ginny Redish.
Call your content what it is
Let’s all learn from DeRossi’s dirty little mistake. If you label a section of your website “XXX PERT”—but what you really mean is “read tips from our knowledgeable staff”—be prepared to field lots of questions about porn from some very frustrated users. Or, you could just call it what it is: “Expert Advice.”
Back when I spent much of my day contacting media folks with the latest and greatest from my PR clients, the best compliment I ever got from a reporter was:
"I always open your emails because I know they'll contain something I can actually use."
Why should you care about my prized compliment? Because reporters have a lot in common with website visitors. Really.
Both suffer from information overload
Both need information or content to help them complete tasks
Both want to feel like content providers understand them
Both get annoyed by content that wastes their time or gets in their way
That's why we recommend you learn three very important things before creating a lick of web content:
Who the content is for
What information they want
How they want to receive information
The case of the compliment Here's what I learned about the reporter before I ever pitched her:
Who the content is for. This reporter wrote a personal finance column.
What information they want. From reading the column regularly, I determined that the information my client had to offer – personal finance tips focused on the emotional aspects of money – was precisely what this columnist was looking for.
How they want to receive information. I also knew – because I asked her – that her voicemail box was perpetually full and ignored and that she preferred to get PR pitches by email.
The web content connection Successful websites find the sweet spot between business goals and user needs. Searching for the sweet spot can be a lot of work. But it's absolutely necessary.
Finding the sweet spot At Brain Traffic, we develop a Strategic Foundation Brief (sometimes they aren't that brief) at the beginning of every project. It includes an analysis of business goals, audience characteristics, and user needs.
First, we learn all we can about the audience – web usage, gender, family situation, etc. Then we cross- reference business goals with audience wants and needs. It's sorta like magic when it becomes apparent that the business and the users want some of the same things.
Voilà. Your starting point. And your path to site feedback that garners the compliment: "I always find the information I need when I visit your website."
Like a lot of people, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my finances lately.
There are a lot of things that I either don’t like, or don’t understand, about money. And trying to get real information that makes sense to me . . . well, it’s hard to find.
Last fall, I decided it was time to open up an internet savings account. I looked at a couple of options. At the time, the rates were quite attractive.
I chose ING Direct. They didn’t have the highest rate.
So why did I pick them?
Simple: They spoke my language.
Their motto is simply, “Save your money.” That’s it. I get that. And whether I like to save or not, ING makes the process clear. The basic functions, transactions and transfers, leave no room for interpretation, either.
Even the privacy policy and the terms and conditions, notoriously ugly gluts of legalese on most sites, make sense. Here is an example:
These people clearly understand that saving or investing money is intimidating. Their tone is reassuring and conversational. So right away I feel secure about leaving my money with them. Why? They skip that highfalutin’ financial talk and stick to basics. I feel like I’m in control. (Empowering your users is always a good thing.)
For example, their "Declaration of Financial Independence" explains what being a saver really means. After some basic saving rules, they move to more emotional and global issues around saving money (and even a plug for the ol’ adage, money doesn’t buy happiness). It makes me think, "You GET me, ING!" And it sheds some light. Saving money is less about not getting new shoes, and more about making a better world. I hadn’t thought about that before.
ING also sends periodic e-newsletters chock full of information chunked out into bite-size bulleted lists and easy-to-navigate chunks of copy. They use bullet points, lists, and lots of headings to keep information organized. They touch on the emotional side of saving and investing, but don’t dwell on it. And the newsletter is task-focused so it gives me something to do with myself (besides freak out, I mean).
If a well-written website can inspire this chronic spender to save, anything is possible. I love that ING makes money management simple. Now the only question is . . . can I live without these new shoes? (ING would tell me, straightforwardly: Stick that cash in your savings account, Missy!)
I’m certainly not the first—nor will I be the last—to gripe about companies leaping onto the social media bandwagon before they’re good and ready. Before they understand whether blogs, networking applications, or online games actually play nice with their brand and with their audience.
Wells Fargo, I’m talking to you.
I just visited Stagecoach Island, your virtual community. I took my eager avatar snowboarding, then on a quest into outer space. She started saving “shells” to buy her dream home. She even picked up a few real-life financial tips along the way.
I’m all for bringing fiscal responsibility to life for young audiences. These are dubious economic times, and it’s never too early to set a good example. I also get that you’ve probably been told to show a little personality, already.
But.
Stagecoach Island feels to me like the desperate cry of a parent trying to prove he’s still “with it” so his teenager will take him seriously.
News flash: Kids don’t actually want their parents to be cool. They want them to be real. Also, I’m guessing the audience you’re trying to reach isn’t going to be impressed by a video game run by a bank. But what do I know?
I share this example for a reason. In my mind, Stagecoach Island is a major step in the wrong direction.
On the other hand, you hit a home run for me back in November. I was reluctantly logging in to my dwindling savings account one day, when up popped an oversized shot of your distinguished CEO. His photo accompanied a sobering, yet cautiously optimistic, letter. Times are tight, it said, but we’re all in this together. Stick with us—we won’t let you down.
It was the right message at the right time from a company courageous enough to break the fourth wall and let me know they understood my needs and my fears.
Transparency (or illusions thereof) in the corporate world are all the rage these days. But this was something more. It was authenticity. Accountability. I didn’t need a snowboarding avatar—I needed a real person to look me in the eye (as it were) and tell it like it is.
As a champion of candid, no-nonsense content, I have a humble plea: It’s that companies like yours think twice about wooing users with adventures in virtual worlds and focus instead on helping them succeed in this one. Not just with letters from the CEO, but with well-crafted, carefully planned content that educates customers, inspires action, and respects the intelligence of their users.
I think it's time we revisit an outdated practice—the dreaded splash page. You know, that Flash introduction page that displays before you can actually enter the site.
You probably remember these popping up on websites years ago by companies wanting to show off their design creds. Then people started talking about how annoying they were. Well, they've vanished from a lot of sites, and for good reason—they're a real killer for user experience. But they've been popping up here and there, lately, and they put a real damper on an experience with a site.
I recently clicked on a banner for a book I thought looked interesting. I was directed to this site. Before entering the site, a Flash introduction page played in a rotating loop.
This is a lengthy process just to get to a website’s home page.
I navigate to website
Splash page loads
I acknowledge that I'm not looking for this content
I look for “skip intro” button
I click “skip intro” button
I navigate to relevant content
But, by step six, I was no longer interested. Why would I want to watch some swirling graphics with no words that tell me nothing about:
The product
The company
What kind of information I can expect
If the site gives the user the option to skip the intro, then he or she most certainly will take that option (if the button is obvious enough). What value does the splash page have site designers know ahead of time that they will most likely not be interested in seeing it? The user came to the website to find information, and the splash page acts as a barrier to that content.
It's instances like this when the following questions need to be asked:
How is the site presenting the information to the user?
Is the content valuable to the user?
With Flash splash pages, you can pretty much guarantee the answer to question #2 is a no. Still. After all this time.
Welcome to this week’s edition of links we like. Let’s get right to it, shall we?
In Defense of Readers YES! Users want content, which means the design of readability is very important. This post on A List Apart takes a careful, insightful look at how users read.
SEO and survival We’d like to add that you also need a good content strategy.
How One Little Letter Can Sabotage Your Meaning Editing still matters—spelling and grammar go a long way in helping readers understand your content. Even in the age of spell check, you must choose your words, and use your words, carefully.
Social media secrets This ClickZ blog post, combined with a great MIMA event today by Jeff Rohrs from ExactTarget, are good reminders that you aren’t in control when it comes to social media. And that’s a good thing. It means people are interacting with your content. And, well, isn’t that the point?
Contact us. Contact. How to contact us. It’s everywhere online. Often, it’s the reason for visiting a site—to connect with an individual, a company, or a group.
Proof points:
Googling “contact us” yields 1,540,000,000 results. A BILLION AND A HALF.
The government expects all federal websites to have a contact us link on every page.
When a phone book lands on my front stoop, it moves directly to the recycling bin.
Despite the fact that well . . . everyone is looking to make contact, every website seems to do it a little differently. Here are a few examples to seed the conversation, and our "Contact Us" set on Flickr:
A la carte contact If you’re poking around on Apple’s site, and decide you’d like to make contact:
Scroll to the lower-right corner of the page (any page) and click the “contact us” link. From there, you can scan for a relevant topic that prompted your contact query. Information is presented in a variety of formats—mailing address, phone numbers, related links, popular topics and e-mail.
YAY: There’s a solution for everything. From actually making contact to getting more information to help answer a question—it’s in there.
NAY: There’s a solution for everything. It’s a lot to absorb and may even be considered overwhelming if you aren’t committed to dig in and find what you need.
Concise contact Minneapolis drama devotees can uncover a lot of information online for the Fringe Festival. What if you need more?
Use the left navigation, to find a persistent link to “contact us.” It’s just what it says – simple, clear information about contacting Festival staff. Includes a mailing address, phone, fax and online form to submit a message.
YAY: There are no frills here. It’s just what it says, “contact us.”
NAY: Not a big fan of asking people to classify the subject of their message. The choices are never accurately descriptive (i.e., there’s no option to “whine,” “complain,” or “send angry note”).
In touch with Twitter For people who are on the Twitter train, there’s an easy-to-spot link in the footer for making contact.
Click “Contact,” and you’ll arrive at a page titled “About Twitter” with a “Contact us” subhead. Here, you can visit the blog for more information, check out an online support center, get the mailing address or email for partnership and press inquiries. There’s no phone number, but then again, in the office beauty shot on the contact page, there isn’t a phone in sight.
YAY: In this case, it makes sense to package “About” and “Contact” information together – they’re both succinct and a fair amount of the topics are likely reasons people would make contact.
NAY: It’s odd that there isn’t an option to use Twitter as a form of contact. Oh, wait. There IS a Twitter ID to message about spam—but you only find that after clicking “Customer support” on the contact page.
Are my expectations too high? Possibly. But the truth is that a little TLC for online “contact” can make a huge difference in customer experience.
Here are a few examples of interface copy that makes a difference. We’ll start with this application for an auto loan from USAA.
It clearly explains what you need to get started (helpfully listed under the "Things you’ll need to get started" header). It also tells you what will happen once you’ve finished the application. And if you still don’t understand, you can contact them with questions.
The "create a new account" screen on mint.com also has several nice examples of contextual help.
If you enter the wrong information, you’re told immediately what type of information needs to be entered, and how it should be formatted. It’s simply written and unambiguous.
This is a much better experience than most sites provide: a) enter the wrong info, b) click "Sign Up," and c) get the "Sucks to be you. Now start over" page.
And what makes the difference is good content.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. Make sure your online self-service content is clear, concise, and delivers on your promises before spending too much time on the follow-up pitch.
You might be surprised at how much more open your customers will be to that conversation.
