Having a writing partner by your side is helpful.
Having an entire committee on your back? Not so much.
Approval from clients or colleagues isn't a bad thing. It's a fact of life for most of us.
The problem comes when suggestions become unreasonable: when they strip all intent or personality out of a message or piece.
Or when input becomes too heavy-handed.
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Leonardo emailed recently to tell me about his co-worker who had internally floated the draft of an exec's Twitter bio.
(Leonardo isn't his real name. I invited him into my Writer's Witness Protection Program to conceal his identity. Comes with a new passport and Ted Lasso mustache.)
He likes his job, Leonardo said. But the problem is that everything the Marketing team produces is written by the entire group. Everything is written by committee.
The Twitter bio, for example. It should've been straightforward … but nosiree, Ted: The feedback was swift and harsh.
Everyone had an opinion. Everyone scrambled to voice it. “You'd think she was defending a thesis in our team meeting, haha!” he wrote.
Even through email (and his voice distorted to protect his identity) … I felt the pain in his “haha.”
How can we avoid Writing By Committee?
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I call this kind of writing Hot Dog Writing: Extruded through so many Messaging Machines and Opinionators and Cogitators that you can't tell what it was originally made of. (Snouts? Intestines? Who knows?)
If your writing is subject to colleague or client approvals (“The Committee”), here's some advice to make the process useful (and permanently unplug that Hot Dog Messaging Machine):
The biggest problems with The Committee often spring from a lack of clarity on the Big 3. That leaves members of The Committee reviewing a piece without context and giving feedback on something they personally like or dislike. (“I don't like that word.”)
Agreeing on a set of writing and voice guidelines before any work begins will keep everyone on the same page (literally).
You might need to remind The Committee of your guide's specifics, especially if they aren't routinely tumbling on the mat with your brand voice as much as you are.
Include the bones of the piece—but also the heart, lungs, central nervous system: the overall approach. Anecdotes. Stories. Examples. Ideas. Data you'll reference. Experts, influencers you'll quote.
It can be ugly. A real monster. That's okay.
The key organs are there, even if patched together, Frankenstein-style.
You set the terms: Who reviews what sections? What specifically do you need from each?
For example: The Client or Marketing VP reviews the overall strategy. Legal gets a say in anything touchy related to compliance. Brand weighs in on overall approach. Your subject-matter expert reads through the technicalities of that complex thing you're writing about on page 2. Keep PR in the loop. (Because that's always a good thing to do.)
You let them know the hard deadline when the reviews need to be in: by end-of-day Wednesday, say.
Not New Year's Eve.
No exceptions.
State it right up front: “Here's the plan, Committee Colleagues …”
You might say: “I'll take your comments and incorporate them according to our tone-of-voice guidelines and strategy for this piece.”
(But maybe with a bit more warmth and good humor. That sentence sounds like I'm the stressed-out event planner trying to arrange enough boxed lunches for that Writing-By-Committee Festival. You can do better.)
Doing so reinforces your expertise. It also fortifies the role of you—the brave and heroic writer (also good-looking)—as the ultimate owner of the piece.
After all: It's YOUR bottom on the line!
It also kicks to the curb any arguments over specific word choice or phrasing.
Which for most of us is the most painful and heartbreaking part of Hot Dog Writing.
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