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Content Design

How I learnt to love my words and design content

As the great Alan Partridge once famously said – can I shock you?

I used to hate writing.

In fact, I was absolutely terrible at English at school and my vocabulary was pretty limited.

Over the years though, I’ve found enjoyment in writing, I’ve discovered a natural skill for stringing a few sentences together, and I’ve picked up a few big words along the way.

The thing is (between you and me), content design isn’t really about having a massive vocabulary of flowery words you can use.

Apart from the fact content designers don’t just do words, content design is about using very simple language to explain complex things, so that people with basic reading skills can understand them.

Back to school

To give you some idea of how I came to be a content designer, let me take you back to school. Well, back to my school.

I did my GCSEs at Ilkley Grammar School. Like a lot of things in Ilkley, it’s not as posh as it sounds. It’s a fairly standard high school, and not really a grammar school at all.

However, my English teacher was a lady called Mrs U (I’ll be kind and withhold her full name) but she seemed to think it was an actual grammar school. She floated around, wearing big dresses, silk scarves and pashminas, and speaking the Queen’s English with a gravelly authority. She used lots of big words, and she really liked us to use big words too.

There’s nothing wrong with that of course, but I just didn’t get it, personally. It didn’t really float my boat. It put me off English, and reading (which I still don’t do enough of).

I can pinpoint where my skills for simple writing really came to light though. One day, Mrs U set us a writing task, which I completed and handed in on time. No bother. Smashed it.

Parents evening

My Mum and Dad attended a parents evening not long afterwards. But when they saw Mrs U, she WAS NOT HAPPY.

The task I’d been set was to imagine myself as an army doctor during the first world war. I had to write to a mother to let her know her son had been killed in action. I was asked to set the scene – where the battle was, how many men were there, the number of tanks etc. You get the picture. It was an open invitation to waffle.

So, my parents sat there in front of Mrs U, and they could see my carefully crafted letter on the desk. Although upside down, they could read it. Every carefully chosen little word.

My Dad started to laugh. Then so did my Mum. And they carried on laughing until Mrs U made it clear again in no uncertain terms that she WAS NOT HAPPY.

I’d aced the letter structure – the addresses and date were all in the right place. For some reason though, Mrs U wasn’t pleased with my letter content. I’d not really followed the task properly, apparently.

My letter went something like this:

Dear Mrs Smith,

I am writing to you to tell you that your son is dead.

Ouch. Why don’t you just come out and say it, Andrew?

To be fair, I did go into more detail afterwards, but my letter was generally very short and to the point throughout.

After my parents picked themselves off the floor and composed themselves, they promised Mrs U that they’d have a stern word with me when they got home.

When they questioned me about my work, my answer was also very simple:

“I just thought that as a mother, she’d just want to know what had happened to her son. I didn’t think there was any point in talking about tanks and stuff, as she probably wouldn’t care.”

Thinking back, it appeared a career in content design was already laid out before me (and before it was even a thing).

So, this brings me on to user needs.

User needs

I didn’t know this back then, but as a content designer you need to have a clear grasp of user needs, what they are and why they’re important. You need to empathise with the people you’re designing for and put yourselves in their shoes – which is something I was clearly doing from an early age.

In user-centred design, this is why user researchers and their research is vital. You get a clear insight into what your users actually need from your services, content and digital products, and this helps you to design content that meets those needs.

If you meet user needs, generally your content is more effective and your service does what it needs to.

This is what I’d done to some degree with my letter – I’d created a user need, albeit without the research, but based on empathy and an assumption:

As a mother of a soldier

I need to know what’s happened to him

So that I can grieve or prepare for his return from war

I know my letter could’ve been delivered with a little more subtlety, so if I was doing it again now it would have been based on user research – what does a mother in that situation actually need to know from a letter like that? What language should you use?

Ignoring user needs in your service and just giving users something the organisation wants, but they don’t need, is the equivalent of when WHSmith try to sell you chocolate at the checkout when you only went in for a birthday card.

I don’t want or need chocolate. I needed a birthday card. Stop trying to sell me chocolate.

This is the basic principle in content design. Define the user needs, and design your content to meet those needs. Every. Single. Time.

Basic skills and attributes of a content designer

Despite finding out I’m good at writing simple things at an early age, I’ve had many different jobs over the years (supermarket shop assistant, administration officer working in international trade, helping to maintain public rights of way in the Yorkshire Dales National Park – and we won’t talk about my work experience at Santa Claus Land in Aviemore), but I’ve now been a digital content professional for 12 years, and I’ve built up a load of useful experience along the way.

So what basic skills and attributes do you need to be a content designer? In my opinion, no matter what your content experience, you’ll need:

Good grammar and punctuation

As we’ve established, using big words is not so important, but using good grammar and punctuation definitely is.

Most of us can use simple words. The skill comes in structuring your content using good grammar and punctuation to deliver your message as efficiently as possible. If you put a comma in the wrong place, it can give a sentence a totally different meaning to the one you intended – and then it won’t really matter what words you use.

Empathy

We are the voice of the user within an organisation. We have a duty to give our users that voice in a world where organisational requirements or ‘the brand’ are often the priority. If users can’t speak for themselves to say “that’s not what we need”, we have to do it for them.

You can back your case up with user research and data, but it also needs to come from the heart – if you truly believe the user needs you’re designing for and have some empathy for your users, it really helps put your case forwards more easily and passionately, and people are more likely to sit up and listen to you.

Ability to understand and explain complex information

To explain complex information in a very simple way, you need to be able to understand that information yourself first. If you can’t, how can you explain it to others?

You can do this by doing some more research on the subject, or just by asking a subject matter expert (SME) to explain it in simple terms. Use their explanation as the content – it might be you can also work with an SME on a simple version by pair writing.

Thick skin

I’ll be very honest, it’s still a bit of a battle out there for user-centred designers, and we’re a long way off from winning. But we are getting there.

As a content designer, your work will constantly be pulled apart, re-written by those who think they know better, or even just ignored completely. But remember, it’s not their fault. We’re trying to overturn decades of doing things in a certain way, and it takes time and patience to get people to understand why.

If we want people to really understand user-centred design, the best way is to just keep doing it – and gather all the research and data you can to back it up. The more evidence you have to support your work, the easier it is to try and help people understand what we’re doing and why.

Then there are content crits, where your work can be constructively criticised by colleagues. Crits are really important for sharing best practice and getting feedback on your work in progress.

There’ll be times your patience will be tested, but if you don’t take it personally, it just makes you stronger and it makes your content better. No pain, no gain.

Social, communication and negotiation skills

You’ll need to talk to a lot of people – product owners, business analysts, researchers, delivery managers, users, senior stakeholders, subject matter experts, communication experts etc.

If you can’t hold a conversation with these people to get your point across effectively, and negotiate changes to content based on user needs and research, then a content design role probably isn’t for you. It’s not for the faint-hearted, and you need to be strong and stand your ground.

You’ll need to be able to communicate effectively with a lot of different people generally. As you move into more senior roles, this becomes even more important and more common – as a Senior Content Designer, I’ve spent a lot of time talking to people just to try and get the job done before I can even make a start.

I don’t want to come across as negative here, I’m just trying to give you a realistic view. If I’ve given the impression it’s a hard role, that’s because it is. But it’s also massively rewarding and there’s a huge community out there who you can lean on for support and advice.

If you’re a content person who likes a challenge, then it’s well worth jumping into content design.

I’ve enjoyed the challenge in my first 6 months here at DWP Digital. Though I hear you ask “What have you been working on since you started?”.

Letters. Obviously.

Categories
Weeknotes

Into the final ‪straight

It’s my final week at Sky next week, and I’m starting to reflect on my time here as I shuffle towards the exit door.

Sky is a remarkable company, and I can honestly say I’ve never been so well looked after as an employee in such a huge organisation.

I’ll leave next Friday with some great memories, as well as some frustrating ones. But I won’t dwell on those. Generally, it’s been brilliant.

I’m looking forward to my new challenge at DWP Digital and I’ve pulled this blog into working order so I can start blogging about my work there. I’m a big fan of the transparency being displayed across government digital and how collaborative everyone is. I’m looking forward to getting stuck in.

So you’ll hear much more from me about my adventures in Content Design soon.

But until then, there’s some admin to take care of and some leaving beers to drink next week.

Categories
Writing

Some people don’t think Brass Bands are cool – and that really brasses me off

During my early years at school, I did what most kids do at some stage and I began to learn to play an instrument. For reasons I cannot fully recall, I chose one of the loudest and, for my parents, probably the most irritating instruments I could – the trumpet. It’s a bit hazy, but I think I’d seen Dizzy Gillespie on a video in a music lesson, with his bent trumpet and his massive cheeks and thought, ‘that’s the instrument for me’.

It was always quite satisfying being called out of dull maths lessons at Ilkley Grammar School to go for my weekly tutorial with Mr Anderson, my affable Scottish peripatetic teacher.  Each week, as I left the classroom I always felt I was being judged by my fellow pupils – I could sense the mirth amongst them as I dashed off to puff out my chubby cheeks, whilst creating a similar sort of noise to that I now hear regularly emanating from within the dark recesses of the toilet cubicles at work. Initially undaunted, I soldiered on and I even managed to persuade one of my best friends at the time to take up the instrument too – the appropriately named Jonathan Blower.

After I’d mastered the basics and spent some time playing in a Wind Band at the local Saturday morning music centre, my Dad, Jonathan and I answered an advert and joined Otley Brass Band. My Dad was handed an Eb bass to learn and Jonny and I were handed what looked like trumpets shrunk in the wash, but which we quickly knew to recognise as a cornet. There are no trumpets in brass bands you see. After a year or so of regular rehearsals, gigs at park bandstands and village summer fetes, the cracks started to appear. Jonny became interested in the dark art of percussion and slowly masterminded his move from 3rd cornet to band percussionist. He then spectacularly failed to show up for a gig one Sunday and we never saw him at the band again. He later auditioned for the job as drummer in Britpop band ‘The Seahorses’. He didn’t get the gig but he’s played the drums in various bands since, so he probably made the right move to be fair.

Meanwhile I’d started to find what I thought at the time were more interesting things than brass music and brass bands to keep me occupied with – mainly football, girls and pop music. You see, brass bands, the cornet, parp parp parp – it just wasn’t cool. So when Mr Anderson asked me if I’d like to audition to join the Hammonds Sauceworks Junior Band (one of the leading bands in the country at the time – apparently I was good enough) I politely declined and soon after I stopped playing altogether.

Turning down that opportunity has proved to be one of the most regretful decisions I’ve ever made.

Several years went by. I got a normal job, I got married and I bought a house. I also started to go to beer festivals where I heard several brass bands playing. I soon realised, partially through a haze of ale, that the sound from a full strength brass band is simply breath-taking and quintessentially the sound of Yorkshire. There really is nothing more beautiful when it all clicks. Some of the best bands in the country (Black Dyke Band for example) now travel the World on tour. I’d missed an amazing opportunity to do something brilliant. I’ll never know if I would have been good enough to play with the very best now though.

Then I heard that my local brass band, Skipton Brass, were looking for new members. They were close to folding after almost 140 years due to dwindling numbers. Armed with that sense of nagging regret, a determination to pick up where I left off and my ‘A Tune a Day for Trumpet or Cornet – Book 1’, I contacted them and soon found myself in the crypt of Christ Church for a rehearsal, once again with a loaned cornet in my nervously shaking hands. It came back to me as if it was merely days since I’d last played, not the best part of 13 years.

Since then I’ve found myself surrounded by a bunch of fantastic people and I’m now a member of the band committee as we try to re-establish ourselves as one of the best in Yorkshire. We’re also trying to place ourselves once again at the heart of the local community as most brass bands once were, especially in the colliery towns. We’ve attracted a few established players, though the main problem we are finding is we just can’t find enough younger people who want to join us. It seems that in some areas, despite the efforts of people in the public eye such as Sue Perkins in her 2010 BBC programme ‘A Band for Britain’, asking a young person to join a brass band is about as popular as asking Grimethorpe to host the next AGM of the Margaret Thatcher Appreciation Society.

I really want to help change the perception some people have of brass bands as stuffy, outdated organisations that young people shouldn’t associate themselves with. What worries me the most is that some of the younger members of our band are now at the age that I was when I lost interest.  All I can say to them and anyone else in their shoes is – brass banding is cool. It’s sociable, it’s a really good laugh, you’re learning a skill not many people have and most importantly you’re helping keep a tradition alive – which I defy anyone not to gain a sense of satisfaction from.

Thankfully we are close to securing the future of the band with the launch of a development band which we hope will raise the profile of brass banding amongst the young people of the area, nurture future generations of brass banders, and also give adults the chance to learn a new skill, or like myself – come back to something they gave up a long time ago.

Making music of any genre is something which everyone should at least try and do at some stage in life. So don’t listen to what other people at school, college or work say – if you enjoy it please keep doing it, because if you give it up one day you may regret it. I know I do, but I’m trying my best to rectify that and I don’t really care what anyone else thinks.

Categories
Writing

Cracking Cheese Gromit

Over the weekend I spent a couple of wonderful hours at the home of the famous Yorkshire delicacy, Wensleydale cheese.

The Wensleydale Creamery sits in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales town of Hawes (in Wensleydale in case you were wondering). The creamery is more than just a cheese factory though, and the newly rebuilt visitor centre draws in tourists from all over the World, no doubt very much prompted by the success of Nick Park’s cheese loving creation, Wallace.

Visitors can take a tour of the creamery, where you get a history of how this famous cheese came into existence and also watch the experts making the stuff behind glass windows – like a cheesy aquarium.

The best part of the experience for me though is the cheese shop. Once you’ve battled your way through the avalanches of overpriced Wallace and Gromit merchandise (£59.99 for a small model of their moon rocket – ouch!), you stumble upon an oasis of cheese – a refrigerated room containing the full selection of Wensleydale Creamery’s excellent dairy products.

The best part of this area is the opportunity to taste the produce. Working your way around the U shaped room, you can sample some rather generous chunks of many of their cheeses, including smoked Wensleydale, Wensleydale and ginger, Wensleydale and pineapple, Wensleydale and apricot, and my personal favourite, Wensleydale with onion and chive. I’m sure you’re not supposed to, but I imagine you could easily graze in here for a while and not need any lunch.

It’s actually impossible to leave without buying some of these delicious cheeses to stuff your face with at home – well it was for me anyway. I could easily spend a fortune in here and end up hideously fat after eating blocks of cheese for each meal for a month.

We topped all this off with a lovely meal in the Creamery restaurant, Calvert’s. As you might imagine, the menu was quite heavily cheese based. After the cheese marathon we’d just enjoyed in the cheese room, we didn’t have room for a starter, but the gammon steak topped with melted Wensleydale and grilled tomatoes was superb. Washed down with a pint of Black Sheep ale, I couldn’t have been happier.

All in all, this was a grand day out, a cracking trip, but after all that cheese I think I might now be wearing the wrong trousers….