When tweeting, most of us add an image only if it’s explicitly called for. For example, if we’re commenting on a facepalm by the White House chief of staff during a speech by the president, it makes sense to include the priceless pic.
Yet for the vast majority of content, the vast majority of people don’t think in visual terms. Instead, we put out the link along with some text, and leave it at that.
They say the shoemaker’s son has no shoes. Few fields illustrate this principle better than marketing: so many of our fellow flacks neglect their own websites that it can be hard to take them seriously.
That’s why (after far too much procrastination), we finally made a few critical changes to JRG’s site. They’re nothing dramatic, but they facilitate major improvements in SEO and UX. Here are the details:
Visual aids make writing easier and reading more enjoyable.
Smart writers know a secret. They know that what you write — your choice of words — is only half of any project. The other half is how those words look — everything from your font size to your margin widths. Packaging and presentation matter more than most people appreciate.
This is one reason stores like Gucci and Whole Foods can charge a premium: the layout of their bricks and mortar gives rise to a certain appearance and ambiance. By contrast, while I have nothing against Marshalls or Giant Food, when it comes to aesthetics, their displays just can’t compete.
Have you ever told someone, by way of apology, “I’m sorry if you feel that way”?
If so, please know that this is not an apology. In fact, this all-too-common phrase is one of the most specious in the English language. It’s a head nod toward contrition, but it’s utterly devoid of sincerity.
There are at least three major problems with these seven little words.
If you’re reading this, you no doubt have a LinkedIn profile. What you may not have is a full understanding of LinkedIn’s hidden powers — how it can transform your online presence from an afterthought into a model of thought leadership.
Here’s a quick example. LinkedIn offers two fields for your title: one is your career title (how you describe yourself at parties); the other is your job title (what your business card says).
To illustrate: have you ever heard of the guy known as the “Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs”? Here’s a hint: you know him by his job (rather than career) title: the “National Security Advisor.”
Sadly, when it comes to social media, most people conflate these two appellations. As a result, they miss an invaluable opportunity to optimize their brand in search results — not only on LinkedIn, but also in Google.
Because looking good on paper is not the same thing as being good.
When hiring a professor, nearly every college uses commonly agreed-upon criteria. Among these, perhaps the most important is whether the applicant has a graduate degree.
On one hand, credentials are a critical part of a school’s brand. Given that students are coughing up an arm and a leg for today’s tuition, it’s helpful when a school can boast that “every single one of our faculty holds an advanced degree.” Indeed, this percentage contributes to a school’s ranking.
This argument makes sense, especially from a marketing perspective. Yet it’s less compelling when applied to adjunct, rather than tenure-track, professors — i.e., those who teach as a sideline. We adjuncts typically have another job that pays the bills; we don’t teach for the money, but because we love doing it.
As you may know, I teach business writing at the University of Maryland at College Park. And, as you may have guessed from JonathanRickPresentations.com, most of my classes are driven by PowerPoint.
Why, then, are most of my slide decks not online, I wondered recently? After all, there’s a website called SlideShare. The honest answer: laziness.
Here, then, are a couple of my class workshops (they’re short :):
1. How to Articulate a Winning Elevator Pitch
Many thanks to Sloane Shearman, who attended my writing workshop yesterday at the Institute for Humane Studies, for drawing this nifty cartoon: