They returned dejected, and a bit humbled, filing slowly into their manager’s office. Their manager started.

“What happened?”

“We weren’t invited to present.”

That was surprising. “Why not? You told me we had a great proposal, that we could clearly meet all their needs.”

“We do, and we can.”

“Then… what happened?”

“They rejected our proposal out of hand.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“They told us our proposal didn’t read well, that it was disorganized, wasn’t clear—‘fuzzy’ is what they said—that it rambled, was a little redundant, had some typos, and…” the hardest part, “it didn’t follow the rules of their RFP.”

“I don’t get it. I thought you guys had this all down pat, that you were expert.” It was more a statement than a question.

“We are expert in all the technical aspects required in the RFP. But…” The pregnant pause hung in the air. “But, as we’ve said before, it’s one thing to be technical experts, it’s another thing entirely to be able to communicate that expertise clearly, concisely, and conclusively. That we struggle with.”

The feeling of disappointment was almost palpable. Mildly accusatory glances circled around.

“We have a solution though.” Wary eyes. “We’ve said this before.” Wary looks. “We need an editor; it’s not a luxury.”

The team continued. “We’ve done some research (The Levels of Edit, Second Edition; Van Buren and Buehler of the Jet Propulsion Lab–JPL). There are nine tasks an editor can do for us. We’ve summarized them for you.”

Nine editing tasks. 1. Coordination, 2. Policy, 3. Integrity, 4. Screening, 5. Copy clarification, 6. Format, 7. Mechanical style, 8. Language, and 9. Substantive; each one substantively more comprehensive than the previous one.

1. Coordination. A coordination edit involves being the center point for the document, its additions and changes, and planning, monitoring, controlling, and scheduling of the overall job.

2. Policy. A policy edit ensures all the document parts are included and conform to any company policies and requirements (such as those stated in an RFP).

3. Integrity. During an integrity edit, an editor ensures that document parts match: table of contents are accurate, cross references to tables, figures, and the like exist, are accurate, and sequential.

4. Screening. A screening edit ensures fundamental aspects of copy editing are met and acceptable, such as contextual spelling; subject and verb agreement; missing or redundant wording; graph, figure, and table labeling; punctuation; mechanics; proper numbering.

5. Copy clarification. During a copy clarification edit, an editor ensures that everyone’s contribution is complete and addresses the full scope of the intended content, and that the various contributions are presented in a parallel manner.

6. Format. A format edit ensures that the entire document conforms to a consistent look and follows any specified guidelines. It ensures consistent font usage (including correct usage of bold, italics, and other font treatments); correct typography of line spacing, leading, indents, lists, bullets, and numbers; correct application of the various head levels; correct placement and juxtaposition of text and graphics; consistent page elements; and intelligent page breaks.

7. Mechanical style. An editor ensures that document complies with all aspects of a specific style. Absent a style guide, the editor ensures conformity and consistency for textual and graphical elements. Examples include abbreviations (kilowatt hour versus kWh), spelling (catalog versus catalogue), capitalization of words in headings (initial caps versus sentence caps), symbols, compound words (non-profit or nonprofit), acronyms, and nomenclature.

8. Language. The language edit entails an in-depth review of the expression of ideas to tighten the text for clarity and readability. An editor would refine a document based on specific and identifiable reasons in such areas as spelling, grammar and syntax, word usage, fluency of transitions, parallelism of words and phrases, conciseness, correct and consistent terminology, proper use of the narrative form, gaps in logic, inconclusive arguments, and many other language-based potential stumbling blocks.

9. Substantive. A substantive edit involves the most comprehensive work by an editor in that it deals with the meaningful content of a document. An editor ensures that the document accurately reflects the topic, develops that topic fully, isn’t repetitive or redundant, and doesn’t include any unnecessary information. A substantive edit reviews and offers rewrites and revisions to organization, phrasing, coherence, interplay and content of text and graphics, and scope so that it fulfills the document’s overall intent.

The levels of edits. An editor combines these tasks in various levels of edits, all directed toward the ultimate humanity of a document for the reader.

—Rich Maggiani

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

One of the most famous and memorable lines in all of movie history wasn’t written by the script writers—it was created on the spot by Humphrey Bogart while filming one of the many lightening-rod scenes in Casablanca. Not only is Casablanca considered the best movie of all time by most film critics, but its script is also considered the best of all time by the Script Writers Guild. Even with those sterling achievements, Bogart’s ‘editing’ of that crucial line improved the dialogue and the film. As a result, the line endures 70 years after Bogart uttered it.

This is the value that an editor enmeshed with the writers can bring to improve written text.

Self-editing as a choice. More than likely, neither the documents you write, nor the ones I write, will carry the same longevity of Casablanca’s script. Nonetheless, your writing is important. And yet, many of us—myself included—often self-edit and eschew the brilliance that an editor can bring to our writing.

Make no mistake, self-editing often is a useful way to improve your writing. Letting text you’ve labored over to rest for a few days enables you to see that text from a new and expanded angle when you return to it. There’s a renewed clarity after your subconscious has stewed, which allows you to improve and build upon your initial text. In general, though, you are still bringing the same mind-set to your text, using the same base of information and perspective that you brought at the beginning.

An editor’s job. An editor, on the other hand, doesn’t need a few days to stew on your text. An editor sees your text for the first time, with its inherent novelty and sense of discovery. As such, an editor brings a different perspective and mind-set to your work, a certain clarity. But, and I must emphasize this, your editor must work within your paradigm while looking at your text from that outside perspective. You, as the writer, maintain final say over your text.

Your editor’s job is to improve your writing while fixing contextual errors, helping you communicate more clearly with your audience, helping you attain your goals—all while maintaining your original voice and style.

The value of an editor. An editor acts as the ‘first reader’ of your document, advocating for clear language, for you the writer, and for your readers:

Get to the point. The first question an editor wants an answer to is simply this: what’s the point? An editor makes sure your point is well stated, consistent throughout, and that all your text supports that point. Everything else is superfluous, and thus—gone.

Bring clarity to your message so that your audience readily understands what you are trying to say. For example, a writer can be too familiar with a topic and speak over the heads of their readers. An editor can come from that reader’s perspective, ask and answer the kinds of questions your readers might have, and alter your text in ways to make it more easily understood.

Tighten your text to improve its readability and its comprehension. Stephen King, the prolific mystery writer, states in his enlightening book, On Writing, that he reduces the size of his final draft by at least ten percent. He admits that he used to be tempted to add more to his final draft, but he quickly learned that this was counterproductive. No matter how difficult it is to cut what he considers to be some of his more prosaic phrases, he mercilessly cuts them because he knows his writing is not for him—it’s for his readers.

Sharpen your message so that your reader fully understands what you want them to do as a result of reading your text, and then responds as you intended. When writing a report, study, or plan, your editor can help ensure the document is on topic and its conclusion and recommendations will be readily accepted and adhered to. When writing a proposal, an editor can help ensure your prospect will accept your pitch and buy.

All of this ensures that your writing is reader-focused. Too many professionals write from their own perspective. This is only natural, since your perspective is what you know. For your writing to be most effective, however, it must be from the reader’s perspective: what do they need to know, how do they need to read it to get it, how is this information important to them (why should they keep reading), and how should they respond or act (the “what’s in it for me” perspective). An editor, with an outside perspective, is often better poised to attain this reader-centered perspective.

Your collaborator. Good editors do not consider themselves adjunct to the writing process nor to the writer. Instead, a good editor acts as your collaborator, working closely with you to instill clarity and cohesion in your work.

Ultimately, your editor works toward integrating humanity into your writing.

—Rich Maggiani

“Where are we going?”

My teenage son and I sat in the car in our driveway. He was behind the wheel, beginning another training session as he learns to drive. No engine started yet, when he posed that question. I just looked at him quizzically.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No”, he said. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

I sat in silence for a bit, absorbing that. Okay, I thought, let’s start somewhere else.

“What are we trying to do?” I tried.

“Buy sneakers for me.” That’s good, at least he knew that.

“And where might we get those?”

“I don’t know.” The standard teenage response. Then he thought for a second. “How about the outlet mall? There’s a couple of stores there.”

“Let’s go then”, I said.

He started the car, and rolled a short distance, then stopped. He just sat there staring straight ahead. He looked deep in thought, pondering. I looked at him again, wondering.

He slowly turned to look at me, and with a look of chagrin said, “How do I get there?”

I laughingly smiled.

“You don’t know how to get there?” I asked with some incredulity.

“No”, he stated matter-of-factly. “How would I know that? I’m used to just sitting there and going along for the ride.”

Let’s pause the story there, and shift gears from driving to presentations.

How many presentations have you attended where it’s clear that the presenter doesn’t know where they are going? That the objective wasn’t clear, or even evident? Yes, there was a title that gave some idea of the topic, but the presenter just meandered along presenting various concepts and then just ended without any future direction or point. Been there? I have.

Whenever you give a presentation, you must know where you are going, where you are taking your audience. In other words: your objective. So here’s a quick primer on how to decide on your objective.

First, what is an objective? Your objective is what you want to attain as a result of your presentation. All presentations must have an objective, which essentially informs your audience why they are there, what they can expect, and how much they need to tune in.

An objective must state what you want to attain during your presentation, but it must also demonstrate benefits to your audience. To meet your objective, state explicitly what you want your audience to do.

Three perspectives. You can determine the objective of your presentation in one of three ways: from your perspective; from your audience’s perspective; or from a combination of both.

To develop an objective from your perspective, answer these four questions:

• Why are you presenting? List the reasons that you are giving this presentation to this audience.
• What are you presenting? Briefly outline the main points or content of your presentation. Identify benefits that meet your audience’s explicit needs.
• What do you want your audience to do? Put another way, what is your desired result? Determine what you want your audience to do, what
  action would you like them to take. In your closing, state this call to action and motivate them to act.
• Are you going to inform, instruct, or persuade your audience to act? Generally, you would use a combination of all three of these. Identify, at a high level, what you are informing, how you are instructing, and how you are persuading.

To determine your objective from your audience’s perspective, look at your presentation with your audience’s eyes and mind. Then answer these four questions:

• What is this about?
• Why should I listen?
• What am I asked to do, and why?
• What’s in it for me?

Communicate your objective to your audience. Communicate your objective using three basic methods: informing, instructing, and persuading. Since most presentations include all three:

Outline how you are going to inform them about the information you are presenting, your two to four points.

Instruct them on what you want them to do, to act on your call to action.

Persuade them to act on your call to action within a certain timeframe.

Now, back to our story. Another driving lesson a few weeks later: my son started the car and just sat there staring straight ahead. I waited patiently a bit, then looked at him.

“What’s the hold-up?” I asked.

Pause.

“Well,” he began. “I know where I’m going.” He turned and looked at me. Then continued, “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to get there.”

At that, I could only smile.

—Rich Maggiani

Audiences pay attention at the start of every presentation. They want to know the context and objective of your presentation and what they can get out of it—before they continue to listen. Even with a compelling reason to pay attention, they also want to determine if it is worthwhile to listen… to you.

You can determine when you have your audience’s attention simply by listening to their nonverbal clues—their body language: they are sitting upright, looking at you, alert, bright-eyed. Ever look around while presenting and see the tops of people’s heads? Their heads are not bowed in deference; they are fiddling with their cell phones. And not listening to you.

You must connect your audience from the very start, employing an engaging and memorable opening, and giving them a compelling reason to listen. An effective opening:

• Captures, and retains, your audience’s attention.
• States your objective and its benefit to your audience.
• Previews your call to action—what you want them to do when the presentation is over.

Consider using one of these techniques to open your next presentation with purpose.

A relevant story or anecdote. Audiences love stories. Telling a story or an anecdote that is directly related to your presentation, especially one that makes the point you are trying to make, can be especially powerful and motivating (no ‘war’ stories though). Tell your story so that your audience not only hears your words, but more importantly, can visualize the story and action. In my experience, opening with a story is far and away the best start you can make. It is, however, also the most difficult.

Metaphor or analogy. Metaphors as well as analogies allow your audience to see your point through a different lens—a lens that is familiar and readily understandable. A metaphor is a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable (your presentation as a journey). An analogy, on the other hand, is a comparison between two things, typically for the purpose of explanation or clarification.

Metaphors open people’s minds to think differently, whereas analogies allow people to see concepts more clearly.

Provocative question. You can ask two types of provocative questions. The first, a rhetorical question, doesn’t require an out-loud answer; your audience answers it in their heads. A second, real question requires an answer even if the answer is a show of hands. Both types of questions must be easily answered by the majority of your audience and, of course, must apply directly to your topic.

Contemplative quote. A well-chosen quote gives your audience something to think about. That’s a good thing because a thinking audience pays attention. Consider a quote with a moral, especially when there is an obvious lesson and one that slowly unfolds as it sinks in; one that invokes that “ah-ha” moment. Also, a well-chosen quote that alludes to your objective can help compel your audience to act.

Startling statement or remarkable fact. Because you can impart a wealth of information, divulge information that makes your audience sit up and pay attention.

Surprising statistic. People love statistics. Offer a statistic that is designed to elicit an “I didn’t know that!” response from your audience, one that deepens their knowledge of your topic.

Bold promise. While this can be a dicey opening—you must be able to fulfill that promise, after all—it nonetheless impresses audiences to the point where they think to themselves: “Hmmm. I’d like to see that happen.”

Trend report. An insight into the future is always welcome. Be sure to use a trusted source based on valid research. Beware any pie-eyed prediction that might garner skepticism.

“Write this down for future reference…” Using this technique enables your audience to become immediately involved and engaged in your presentation. Try one of these examples: a short, pithy quote; a list of features and benefits of a product or service; the top five reasons for some subject. Be creative. Make sure it relates directly to your presentation, is worth writing down, and most especially is worth reading later.

Finally. Your opening is crucial to focusing your audience on your presentation. Make sure your opening, first, relates directly to the content and objective of your presentation and, second, comes from your audience’s point of view—stated in a way they can readily understand your topic and appreciate its benefit to them).

Prepare a tight opening, polish it to perfection, then practice it until you can deliver it flawlessly. After you have secured your audience’s attention, you can smoothly transition into the heart of your presentation.

To succinctly summarize: Start by grabbing them, then don’t let them go!

—Rich Maggiani

Because I enjoy telling stories, especially in business situations, my first thought was to begin this treatise with a story about a poor method for opening a presentation so that you can learn how dreadful this kind of opening can be.

This opening, one that you probably see and hear far too often and most likely bores you to doze off, seems to pervade far too many presentations. But I figured you would be so bored reading about it that you would not even make it to the end of this first paragraph. Understandable.

Story. Instead, I’m going to start by telling you a story about one of the first times I ever gave a presentation, and how I quickly learned how to start with an engaging opening.

The day before, I was practicing my presentation in front of a valued colleague, Philip. So I started:

“Good evening. Thank you all for coming here tonight. It’s so good to see all of you. I’m excited to speak to you about…”

“Stop!” Philip exclaimed.

I stopped. And looked at him. “What?”

“Rich, that is just about the most boring way to start. Everybody is so used to hearing that crap, that they immediately stop listening.”

“But,” I protested. “I want to welcome them.”

Philip frowned. “And fall asleep,” he continued

“And thank them,” I feebly added.

“Forget that crap. You want people to listen from the moment you open your mouth, to be on the edge of their seats, to hang on your every word.”

I smirked. “This is a business meeting. I’m supposed to tell them how they can communicate better with their prospects and customers. That’s got to inherently be a bit tedious.”

We just looked at each other a bit, Philip with that you-just-don’t-get-it look on his face.

“Hang on my every word,” I said a bit sarcastically. “Right.”

Philip continued to stare at me. There was that momentary stillness between us where time seemed to suspend. Somewhere in that stillness, I capitulated.

“Okay,” I said with some resignation. “What do I do then?”

He paused for effect.

“Tell them a story,” he said quietly.

A confused look crossed my face.

“A story?”

“Yes. A story,” he reiterated.

“A story!” I said again, incredulously.

“People love stories,” Philip continued. “Tell them a story about communicating with customers, about marketing to prospects. Something with a beginning, middle, and end. A story with substance, purpose, and meaning. Something with an edge, a conflict that gets resolved in the end. A story with a moral… or a lesson.”

“A story,” I said warming to the idea.

“Sure. People identify with stories in many different ways. They can be entertained by your story, and relate your story to their own experiences. Hopefully, they’ll get some greater insight as a result, something that resonates with them. That is what they will remember. Stories can be incredibly powerful.”

I thought about that for a moment.

“If you tell them a story,” Philip added, “even if they can’t relate your story to their own experiences, they will at least be able to empathize with your story, and by association, with you. They will be carried by the story, because if it’s captivating, they will pay attention until the very last word. They will want to know the resolution, how it worked out.”

I smiled at him. I liked this idea. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself telling the story, engaging the audience, looking them in the eye, watching their reactions, getting into the flow. Emoting. I knew just the story I would tell too. I could just picture the entire interaction.

As if on queue, Philip continued.

“Plus, when you tell a story, people visualize it. They see it in their mind. They not only hear the words, but those words paint a picture in their mind. And you know as well as I that being able to visualize something is paramount to understanding, to remembering, to… well, getting it,” he finished triumphantly.

The presentation. The presentation came. To dispense with formalities, the business group’s director introduced me.

I immediately launched into my story. No pleasantries, no thank yous, no welcomes; just story. And I watched their faces. Many looked surprised.

I moved across the front, first one side then the other. I walked down the aisle. I made points by looking various people in the eyes. I even threw in humorous epithets to describe a couple of the story’s characters. At the end, there were many questions: some about the topic, others about people’s experiences, and some about my story. Clearly, the story resonated with them.

There are many reasons to tell a story when you present. Presentations are all about your audience, and stories engage your audience. Besides, engaging stories move you toward humanity.

—Rich Maggiani

The best communication focuses on your audience. This is especially true when giving presentations. Too often, speakers are temped to call attention to themselves, thinking—erroneously—that they are the star of the show. Other times (although far less often), the focus is on the slides. While both are important components of presentations, they nonetheless must take a back seat to the needs of your audience.

Bottom line: you must discover what your audience wants and needs, then deliver it to them on their terms.

Let’s look at this from a different perspective. Consider the last time you spoke to a preschooler. Chances are you crouched down on one knee to bring yourself eye to eye with the tyke. You might have gently touched the child’s arm to establish a connection. You used the child’s lexicon, choosing your words carefully. You spoke slowly and enunciated clearly. All this to ensure that the child—your audience—would readily understand. In other words, you communicated on their level, focusing the conversation on their needs.

Follow this example when presenting. Focus on the needs of your audience.

Making your audience paramount is the most difficult aspect of your presentation. Your audience is not completely under your control, whereas you, the speaker, and your materials are. A little planning together with some hard work, however, eases the path. Here are some ways to better understand your audience, discover their needs, and connect with them during your presentation.

Do your homework. Invest some time to learn about your audience. Find out where they work and what they do. At the very minimum, find out what they expect to get out of your presentation; in other words, what are they going to do with the information you impart to them. When you know that, you can directly address that during your presentation. Discover what they already know about the topic, and perhaps how you can tap into that knowledge.

Talk to organizers to see what they know about the audience. Better yet, go right to the source and interview prospective audience members. Try to talk to the implicit leaders, people who probably have a better read on the problems your audience faces.

One other major factor: size. How many people do you expect to attend? Will you have a small intimate gathering or a large amorphous group? This number can affect how you engage your audience during your presentation.

Meet your audience. Arrive early before anyone else. As people enter, introduce yourself to them—even introduce them to each other—and get them talking. Ask questions; listen to the answers, and move the conversation along those lines. Breaking down some barriers at this point is easy since there are always early arrivals; the setting, informal and quieter. You can be more personable and less formal. Get to know who they are, why they are attending, and what they expect.

I especially enjoy this part. At the beginning, the room is relatively empty so there is a loose atmosphere in the air. I find that during these more personal exchanges, you become human to your audience. You become, at some level, one of them. I also take this opportunity to meet some people with whom I can establish an immediate rapport, for these are the people that I will focus on at the beginning of my presentation. This gives me some grounding, a deeper connection that the audience appreciates, and it helps me move quickly into being completely audience-centered while I present.

Connect with your audience. Speak to people individually by looking them in the eye for a few seconds; start with those people you met earlier, then move on to others. Move into the audience if you can; this breaks down barriers. Gesture and use facial expressions to emphasize what you say. Be energetic and enthusiastic. Refer to individuals by name. Speak conversationally. Employ the verbal techniques of projection, pitch, pronunciation, pace, and pausing. Get into it—reveal your personality.

I know when I’ve reached this point because I feel a flow to my movements and words; I feel intertwined with my audience by establishing this deeper connection that it brings everyone together. It raises the communication to another level to the point where the entire audience is imbedded in that same flow. While this might sound silly, there have been presentations where, together, the audience and I have attained a certain nirvana, where everyone is engaged, and everything flows as one. As a presenter, I find this incredibly gratifying for both myself and, more importantly, for my audience. Knowing that my audience has been engaged and connected, that they have learned and been enlightened, that they can move on in their professional lives with more information, that they are changed in many positive ways and their work has been enhanced, well…

That is your goal.

—Rich Maggiani

Anyone who has watched a teenager take driver’s ed can empathize—even if that teen isn’t your own. The angst, the “omg, not my car!”. That’s one of the beauties of driver’s ed: the teen learns on someone else’s car. As is my teen. Yesterday, when he came home from school, I was pleased that was the case.

“How was school?” I asked.

“Good.” (Don’t you just love those informative one-word answers?)

“How was driver’s ed?” I persisted.

Pause. Then finally, “It was okay.”

The story. Now, as any parent worth their salt knows, when there is a pause, there is trouble.

“What happened?” I asked matter-of-factly, cutting right to the core.

My son just looked at me with wary eyes. I could see that he was measuring his words in his mind, struggling to decide just what to say.

“The car broke down.” He ventured in a slightly hesitating voice.

Now I knew immediately that this was just the title of the story, that there was much more to hear. The question remained though: could I coax that story out of him? Worth a try. I had a feeling this was going to be good.

“The car broke down.” I reiterated.

He looked askance at me. “Yeah.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, not exactly.” He said, his voice trailing off a bit. “What is there to eat?”

Nice try, but diversion will not work.

“Let’s keep to one topic at a time,” I said. “Tell me about the car breaking down.”

“Well,” he intoned in that well-practiced, exasperated, annoyed voice that teenagers perfect early in their ten-year journey toward their twenties. “What do you want to know?”

I know that tone. It might have worked a few years ago in putting me off the chase for the truth, but I was long over that. So I forged on.

“What do you mean, ‘the car broke down?’”

He pursed his lips. “The car stopped running…” he began, paused a couple of seconds, then continued. “After it kinda got into a little accident.”

Whoa. I didn’t expect that. I was a little unnerved. He was in a car with inexperienced drivers, after all. Perhaps I should worry more.

“What do you mean, ‘kinda?’”

Again, the hesitation.

“Torin. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. And so is everyone else.” He stated flatly.

“Then what do you mean by ‘kinda got into an accident?’”

He took in a deep breath. Then it all came out rather quickly.

“The car went over a curb at a corner, kinda hit a lamp post a little bit, scraped a lot on the bottom, then bounced back into the road.” Pause. “Then the engine died.” Another pause. “Just like that.”

I was speechless. And stunned. I tried to envision what had happened, then thought of the students and the instructor, and the driver. Then it hit me.

I looked at him. In my most understanding voice, asked, “Who was driving?”

Right away, I knew I had hit on a sensitive spot. He gazed at me with baleful, slightly watered eyes.

“Me.”

I felt all the air go out of me. I just looked around helplessly. Finally, I sat down on the counter stool. I started to pull myself together.

“Then what happened?”

“You know,” he said, emboldened a bit now that the hard part was over. “Driver’s ed teachers don’t know diddly about cars. I mean, after I couldn’t restart the car, I popped the hood. He got out of the car, looked under the hood, and just stared at the engine like it was alien. He yanked a couple of wires, but clearly, he didn’t know a thing about it. Finally, he took out his cell phone, called his office, and next thing you know, a wrecker showed up. The mechanic got the car running in about two seconds. Ridiculous.”

“So, everyone is all right?”

“Yes.” That exasperated voice again.

“And the car is all right?”

“Hmmm. Not too sure about that.”

“And the driver’s ed teacher?”

The enlightenment. “You know, he’s a good driving teacher, but he knows nothin about cars. He can drive them, but doesn’t know how they work. The mechanic, now he knows how cars work, but I’m sure he can’t teach a bunch of high school kids how to drive one. Don’t you think that’s ironic?

“Yes, I see that.” I said. Because I really did see it. We’ve all said that phrase: “Yes, I see that.” Immediately after someone has explained something to us, and we understand. We see it, even though the explanation was verbal. Seems a little out of context, but, actually, it is not. We understand because we can visualize it, “see” it in our mind’s eye. Stories do that—they enable you to visualize. As such, they are a great way to communicate information. Makes me wonder about how poorly all those bullet-point slide presentations communicate when stories are far more effective.

—Rich Maggiani

This past June, I was attending my son’s lacrosse tournament. We wanted a down-to-earth place to eat breakfast. The locals recommended a nearby diner. Now you know what a diner looks like: silver façade, booths with plastic seats, counter and stools, coffee machines and blenders and that little window into the kitchen, slightly cramped. You can picture it, right? Sounded perfect, so we went.

We walked in and looked around. Lots of people, but no waitresses. After a few moments, the swinging doors from the kitchen popped open. Out walked an elegantly dressed man, tux and bow tie, replete with cummerbund and gleaming black shoes. He approached, bowed, and said in a proper tone, “Good morning gentlemen. Have you a reservation?” I raised my eyebrows. “Apparently not,” he intoned flatly. “Fortunately,” he said in a brighter tone, “we’ve just had a cancellation. Please, follow me.” Turning crisply, he walked toward an empty booth. After we sat, he pompously handed us each a stylish menu. Then addressed me formally: “Could I interest you in our reserve wine list? A crisp white would prove a fanciful accouterment for this lovely Sunday morn.”

Confused? Well, if this had been reality, we would have been too. When you walk into a diner, you expect things a certain way. But not this way. To put it another way, this diner’s look did not match its content.

A more pertinent perspective. A long, long time ago (in a galaxy far away), I was approached by a software company to work on their documentation. The docs were basic reference and how-to manuals, describing their menu and explaining their function. They were written by an engineer—who also had a penchant toward inserting references to popular cultural philosophies and weaving their ideologies into the text. Interesting since this ersatz writer-engineer took pains to make the context of these fairy tales relevant; most ended up mild rants.

Management at the company felt that customers were not using the guides because they were out of date, needing and update to match the current software version. Okay, I said, let me look at them.

Let’s say that the guides were, hmmm, typographically and design challenged. I was presented with a relatively tall stack, about two dozen guides. Three-hole punched. Courier 12 point headings and text. All single spaced. All grey.

“What about a redesign too?” I gently suggested. “Perhaps part of the problem,” I continued, “is your customers can’t find anything in the guides, so they don’t use them.”

They thought about that a moment, then, to their credit, they accepted. What would it cost? How long would it take? Because they were releasing another version of the software soon, they wanted the guides to match. The entire redesign and writing took a year, but we completed them all. And they turned out great.

Perception is paramount. As with the look and feel of a diner, the design of your documents—be they technical, promotional, training, web, reports, proposals, essentially all communication materials—directly affects how they are perceived and received. And used.

Okay, so these are egregious examples. Here’s the point: To be effective, your documents—instructional, promotional, and technical, as well as your web pages, request-for-proposal responses, reports, customer correspondence, essentially all written communication—must meet the demands of document design.

Document design brings together text, graphics, layout, and typography to inform, instruct, and persuade. In our work for the software company, we also incorporated elements that identified the company and helped with product recognition. In other words: branding. We endeavored to be subtle, not overwhelming, but apparent.

Engage your audience. Superior document design compels your audience to engage in your communication.

The effective design of written communication, whether practical or promotional, takes a discriminating eye and intelligent, deliberate design. Document design’s goal is to successfully present information without getting in the way. In other words, design itself, by its very nature, must be all but invisible.

Effective document design requires more than type selection and spacing and color and imagery. It requires a thorough understanding of your audience and their needs: how they will perceive the communication, process its content, assimilate it, and ultimately use it. The fundamental purpose of document design is not to simply “look pretty”, win awards, call attention to itself, nor showcase the designer’s skills, but rather to meet your needs. It must enable people to learn, use technology, make decisions, and ultimately, get their jobs done.

Put another way: a reader’s needs must ultimately drive document design. And when they do, the resulting design moves you closer toward humanity in communication.

—Rich Maggiani

“Reading is dead.”

I had just parked my car in the local library’s parking lot. My seventeen-year-old son, who I just picked up from his lacrosse practice, happily sat next to me. Until I told him of my agenda in the library. That’s when he looked at me with that withering expression teenagers perfect, shrugged apathetically, and returned to his iPod earphoned bliss. As I was alighting to proceed through my attendant tasks, he exploded that ‘reading is dead’ bomb on me.

Being a teenager, I thought he was just being provocative, toying with his Poppa. Except…

Ten minutes later, I got back into the van and laid down my materials. He looked down at what I borrowed, looked at me, and said, “See. I told you reading was dead.” I smiled. I had borrowed two CD audio books and a DVD.

“Okay, Mr Smart Teenager”, I retorted. “If I don’t get information from reading, how do I?”

Quick was his counter. “The Web. Audio and video feeds.” He paused. “That’s why YouTube is so huge.” He smiled at me. “You know, that’s where the computer shows you movies and talks to you.”

I had to smile at that.

What could I say. He was right: YouTube is the number two search engine on the web.

But as we drove, he backed off a bit. This was after I pointed out that he was exchanging text messages. “See,” I said, “You’re engaging in a dead act.” (Don’t you just love payback as a parent?)

A reassessment. “Actually, Pops, what I really mean is that reading books is dead. People just don’t have the stamina for reading books anymore. Lots of pages; long chapters. Look at what we read now. Text messages, web pages, blogs, tweets, stuff like that.”

I thought about that for a bit, and said, “But books are still being published, and people are still buying them.”

“Yeah, old people,” he said with a wry grin. “Really old people.”

“Seriously!” I looked over at him, with my own version of that withering smile.

“Seriously.” He reiterated with raised eyebrows. “Books better start having really short chapters.”

And with that, he plugged back in.

I didn’t think too much about that on the way home, except for the part about the short book chapters. I have some of those books, I realized.

But things have a way of coming back at you and rearing their ugly heads. A few days later, I caught a snippet of a televised movie that brought me up short. The characters (cop-related) were discussing the degradation of society, when one said, “What I truly lament is that in a hundred years, no one will know how to read anymore.” Not “will not read” but “will not know how to read”. Is that where we are heading? This is communication at its most basic: the ability to read, cogitate, re-read only slower this time.

An onslaught of electronic communi­cation. In a recent blog, I wrote about my Kindle. What I didn’t mention is that many of the books that can be downloaded come with an audio component: the Kindle can read them to you. And that just adds to communication without reading. I can have web pages read to me. I listen to and watch recorded webinars; I listen to podcasts and webcasts; I watch You-Tube videos; I watch and listen to televised reports on newspaper sites instead of reading the accompanying articles. Our local Borders bookstore is closing soon. The one in Saratoga New York is already closed. The company is bankrupt. A visit to our local Barnes and Noble supports less reading: a huge amount of floor space dedicated to their Nook and its related products. There clearly is a movement afoot.

All in all, though, I’d have to say that my son is a bit off-base. Reading isn’t dead. But with so many other communication options available, reading appears to be dying. and the amount of material that can be read at a sitting is being dramatically reduced. It must be structured in smaller and smaller bites. This affects all sorts of communication besides books, such as instruction, reports, proposals, and marketing copy. Just take a look at any current college text and you’ll see what I mean: lots and lots of smaller chunks of text, scattered page layout, sidebars, and an overabundance of graphics.

One last point. Perhaps the greatest difficulty in writing is its detachment from the reader. You write; they read; and there is no interaction. It’s a true throw-it-over-the-wall situation. (Just think how easy it is to flame someone online, through an email, a post, or a text, when that same writer wouldn’t think of being that rude in person.)

Now a lot of written online text is accompanied by a comment section, so there can at least be the semblance of a dialog. Listening to audio and watching videos creates a higher level of human interaction that simply doesn’t exist with written text that is read. I, for one, revel in that movement toward increased humanity in communication.

—Rich Maggiani

Seventy-seven million dollars ($77 million)! That is the amount of money SAS AB is seeking in compensation from Bombardier, the Canadian-based aircraft maker, for omissions in Bombardier’s technical maintenance manual for their Q-400 turboprop plane.

Two of SAS AB’s Q-400 planes were involved in emergency crash landings in Denmark and Lithuania, both involving malfunctions in the plane’s landing gear. (No one was seriously injured in the accidents.) As a result, SAS AB grounded their entire fleet.

SAS spokesman Hans Ollongren said, “The incidents were caused by flaws in components not included in the maintenance manual. This is why we feel the responsibility lies with Bombardier.” Ollongren said that SAS has lost about $62 million since the grounding of their fleet of Q-400s. “There are other costs involved, too, related to credibility and our flight safety record,” he continued. SAS wasn’t the only company affected; about 60 of the 160 turboprops in use by airlines worldwide were grounded.

SAS wants to resolve this matter privately between the two companies. Failing that, SAS has every right and intention of litigating against Bombardier. Can they litigate? For flaws in a maintenance manual? In the European Union (EU), in Canada, in some U.S. states, and increasingly around the world, SAS has tort law fully on their side.

Tort law creates liability issues for poor documentation. In 1998, the EU drew up legislation that recognizes technical documentation as part of a product. This is landmark legislation. Now, the documentation and product are inexorably tied together for liability purposes by this tort law. Corporations are legally responsible for customers not knowing how to use their products and for using them incorrectly.

This legislation raises the bar for the quality of technical documents and related technical materials, and for the technical communicators who create them. But are technical communicators creating these documents, or are companies using other, less qualified, staff?

Many members of the European Union have adopted this tort legislation; Canada has written similar legislation consistent with the intentions of the EU. In the United States, the Unified Commercial Information Transaction Act of 2002 includes language modeled after the Canadian and EU legislation. While only a few states have since adopted this legislation, more are sure to follow, if only to keep up with the evolving tort law and to compete effectively around the world.

Not an isolated incident. “That’s a blank check, isn’t it?” observed Bob Hunter, director of the insurance program at the Consumer Federation of America. Hunter was referring to a Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) directive that allowed insurance companies to over bill the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP) while shortchanging claimants for Hurricane Katrina damage.

In the directive, NFIP’s director David Maurstad wrote: “FEMA will not seek reimbursement from the company when a subsequent review identifies overpayments resulting from the company’s proper use of FEMA depth data and a reasonable method of developing square foot value in concluding claims.” (Italics ours.) Not if, but when. This sentence states that insurance companies do not have to repay over-billed amounts when FEMA discovers them. Changing when to if dramatically alters the sentence’s meaning: if over-billings are discovered, insurance companies must repay them. So much for a simple word.

Cost of doing business? Many companies look at their documentation department as a cost of doing business rather than a source of competitive advantage and a profit center. Technical documentation is often subject to cuts when finances get tight. This leaves the documentation task to others, such as software programmers, product engineers, and their managers—people who are not adequately equipped to create clearly written and usable documents for an oftentimes unsophisticated audience using increasingly complicated products. (Think telephone here: a once simple device is now a feature-laden and complicated communication tool.)

The need for technical communicators becomes essential, and indispensable. Technical communicators deliver unparalleled benefits to a company through their communication expertise, education, experience, and interpersonal skills. Technical communicators understand their audience and create accurate, clear, comprehensive, accessible, honest, correct, concise, and imminently usable documentation in many different forms to address the specific needs of that audience.

With the emerging playing field of increased liability, companies cannot afford—literally—to undervalue their technical documentation and related technical communication.

—Rich Maggiani