Word Salad Part II: Electric Boogaloo
My last post discussed the origins and applications of word salad, a jumble of intelligent-sounding words that don’t actually mean anything, don’t hold up to scrutiny, and often equate to unethical and/or dishonest marketing copy.
Go back and check it out if you missed it, because this week we’re going to talk about the word salad that happens when you’re NOT unethical or dishonest, but you do have a hard time translating the depth and value of the work you do into clear and compelling writing.
Sometimes this happens because “what you do” is new(ish) in the world, like my friend Kathryn who works in applied neuroscience. The actual work she does with her clients is simple enough—a series of physical and sensory exercises that reset and reboot your nervous system. But it’s powerfully transformative for people with PTSD, ADHD, chronic stress (so, everyone), anxiety, and more.
Kathryn’s issue is twofold.
One, “applied neuroscience” sounds, well, science-y. Most people aren’t familiar with what that is, so it drifts into jargon territory.
Copywriting is all about taking your reader on a very intentional journey, leading them to the place where they decide whether or not to stick with you (i.e., hire you, sign up for your newsletter, etc.).
It doesn’t work without crystal-clarity every step of the way, and a science-y term that isn’t well-known or widely understood risks losing them entirely.
Two, the kinds of results Kathryn gets for her clients are the exact kinds of things you can’t promise in marketing messaging.
A balanced nervous system can create all kinds of changes in your life, from less road rage to a healthier relationship with your kids. (It will look different for everyone.) Chronic pain might be greatly reduced; sleep could improve; your trauma response might chill out; you might feel happier in general.
The problem is, it’s unethical to promise stuff like that. Kathryn doesn’t know for a fact that someone’s PTSD will become more manageable, even if she’s seen it happen 20 times before, so she has to be really careful about how she talks about this in her marketing content.
On top of all that, people often come to Katrhyn vulnerable and depleted. They’ve already tried a million other modalities, and the last thing she wants to do is exploit that vulnerability to make a sale.
But she DOES want to help them, and she’s pretty sure her work can do that. So what does she do?
For Kathryn, the solution lies in an age-old, often misunderstood piece of writing craft: showing vs. telling. She needs to get super specific about the day-to-day lives of her clients, what they want, and what happens in an applied neuro session.
Her challenge is to remove any nerd-brain editorializing she might be tempted to add, and literally just describe what can be perceived through sight, sound, and touch.
Lucky for Kathryn (and you), I’ll be doing a real-live edit of her writing in next week’s Soapbox. :)
But what about the opposite problem, when people are too familiar with what you do—and bring a bunch of misconceptions to the proceedings?
Lookin’ at you, coaches. 👀
The word “coach” carries all sorts of built-in connotations that may or may not have anything to do with the work you do. LOTS of people have had a negative experience with a coaching figure—in life, business, finance, fitness, parenting, or health.
What’s worse, a negative experience in any one of these realms can pollute the waters for all coaches, everywhere. The word itself has bad juju for a lot of folks, and it can turn people off without them even realizing it.
When I see that word, for example, I feel a slight tug that says, “well-meaning but ineffectual person who won’t understand me and doesn’t actually do anything.”
This hasn’t stopped me from engaging in (and benefitting from) other coaching relationships—but it’s never gone away either. It’s an extra layer of skepticism any coach needs to overcome if they want to keep my attention.
Once you get past that, though, coaches have another challenge: it’s super hard to make the work clear and understandable, because so much of it happens internally.
This is another area where mastering the art of showing vs. telling can help.
If you can ground your reader in experiences they can see themselves having—whether it’s identifying with their struggles before they hire you or showing them what’s possible through your work together—they’ll be much more likely to stick around on the journey you’ve written for them.
It also helps to remember what any piece of writing is FOR. If you know you can speak brilliantly once you have someone on the phone, then all your copy has to do is get the person on the phone.
In that case, it’s the phone call you’re selling—not your entire six-month program.
There’s one more word salad trap we should talk about before we wrap this up, and that’s when you’re so “in” your work that you have a hard time getting into the headspace of a person who’s brand-new to it.
The solution lies in talking to your clients and potential clients, asking pointed questions, and listening to their answers. It’s an empathy gap, and it happens because you’re so immersed in your work—and so deeply excited about what’s possible for people—that it becomes impossible to turn that off and meet people where they’re at.
In my next post, you’ll get to see real-time editorial fixes to all of this word salad, including Kathryn and a handful of other examples.
Meanwhile, I’ll leave you with this:
If you’re someone who struggles to articulate the cool, valuable work you’re doing, it’s NOT because you’re “not a copywriter.”
It’s because this is a super hard thing to do—for everyone. I’m a copywriter and I find it challenging, too. It’s a challenge I enjoy, and one that I have a lot of practice with, and one that I’m pretty good at unraveling.
This is where having a writing coach comes in handy.. We can talk through the depth and meaning of the work you do, figure out how to articulate it clearly and confidently, and strategize how to best tell your people about what you’re up to.