Concrete, concrete, concrete

Concrete, concrete, concrete

As Chip and Dan Heath captured so elegantly in Made to Stick, to get your point (your story!) across you need to be concrete, always. Concreteness is one of the six elements of their SUCCESS rubric for telling “sticky” stories.

More specifically, you need to use language that speaks to the shared vocabulary of the two people who are speaking. If you have more expertise on a topic than the person to whom you’re speaking, this will feel like dumbing down your language. It’s not. It’s making sure there’s no possibility for confusion where there doesn’t need to be.

Think about it: every time we use language that is not in people’s day to day vernacular (I mean that literally: language that they use every day; concepts that are so familiar that they don’t require a second of extra thought), we are asking them to spend mental effort deciphering language rather than resonating with our story. That is wasted attention and the fault is with us for asking them to expend it.

This is not (not not not!) a question of their intelligence, this is a question of your shared vocabulary and where you want them to use up their precious, finite attention.

This means that every time you’re speaking, you’re saying “for example,” a lot.

It means, for example, that you’re not saying “ethical sourcing” when you could be saying “six year olds in factories.” You’re not saying “assess baseline data” when you could be saying “go to 10 customers’ homes and record whether or not they have corrugated tin roofs.” You’re not speaking about millions of dollars when they live and breathe crores. You’re probably never, ever talking about “paradigms.”

Instead, you are trading conceptual terms for concrete ones, exchanging categories of things (“processed cotton”) with specific and familiar examples (“thread”). You are starting with one specific, familiar item (or action) and generalizing from there, rather than staying at the conceptual level and assuming they’re smart enough to boil it down to the specific. They are, but they shouldn’t have to.

And you’re doing this in a disciplined way, time and time again, because that’s what it takes to have this become natural to you.

Live in their world, speak with their language using vocabulary that parallels their reality, not yours, and they’ll finally start hearing you.

Tap, Tap, Tap

Today I’m going to hear Dan Heath talk about his new book, Switch, which is about how to create changes in people’s behavior.   I count myself an adamant fan of their first book Made to Stick, so I’m looking forward to the talk.  Made to Stick is of the only actionable books on communications I’ve read, and I recommend it to anyone who wants to communicate, sell, interview, connect, or tell stories more effectively (yes this means you!).

Often when I’m asked to do a “how to fundraise” presentation to a small group I’ll start with the “tappers and listeners” experiment that Chip and Dan cite early on in Made to Stick.  The finding was published in the Journal of Political Economy by Dr. Elizabeth Newton, and the experiment goes like this:

Have everyone in your group pair up.  For each pair, elect one person as the “tapper” and one person as the “listener.”  The goal is to have the “listener” guess the song that the “tapper” is tapping.  All the tapper can do is tap her finger on the table in sync with the notes of the song she wants the listener to guess.  So, if the song is “Happy Birthday,” the tapper would tap: “tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-taaaaaaaaaaaap.”  (tap out “Happy Birthday” and you’ll see what I mean.)    Have each person be the tapper once and the listener once

Before everyone gets started, ask them to estimate how often the listener will guess the song correctly.  (You should do this too, right now.  Just write it down or remember your guess.  Will the listener guess right all the time? Half the time? A quarter of the time?)

Now run the experiment and see what happens.

I did this yesterday with a group and it played out like it does every time.  People laugh out loud – it’s a combination of excitement, joy, frustration and embarrassment.  And they do a terrible job guessing the songs and a terrible job guessing how good they will be at guessing the songs.

Yesterday, my group’s median guess for how often the tappers would get the song right was 25%.  In Dr. Newton’s experiment, which was much bigger, people estimated 50%.  And in fact, people in the experiment guessed right 1 in 40 times (2.5%).  In my group yesterday the group guessed right 8% of the time.

Put another way, people estimate that “listeners” are engaged in a coin toss (1 in 2), when really it’s a shot in the dark (1 in 40).

What’s going on here?

Dr. Newton’s article is titled “The Curse of Knowledge in Economic Settings: An Experimental Analysis.”  The Curse of Knowledge in this case is the song that the “tapper” has playing in her head.  As she’s tapping, she literally hears each and every note, and she just cannot imagine what it feels like to be a listener who doesn’t have that tune, who just hears “tap-tap-tap-tap” and thinks “well that could be ANYTHING!!”  The tapper and listener can’t help but get a little bit frustrated at each other.  The tapper thinks “well c’mon, this shouldn’t be so hard,” because she hears the notes accompanying the taps; and the listener wants to please the tapper and wants to get it right but just isn’t getting enough information.

I love having people do this together because it is simple, fun and visceral.  You can tell people a million times to explain things simply, to use narrative, to tell stories, to avoid jargon…and you won’t get half the effect you have after they’ve played this 5- minute game.

It’s easy to remember what it feels like to be both a tapper and a listener and from there you can begin to understand how your own knowledge, expertise and experience are hampering your ability to explain yourself, your story, what your organization does, the change you hope to see in the world.

The next time you’re telling your story and you see a blank, smiling face across the table, take a moment to think: what does this sound like without the accompanying music?


add to : Add to Blinkslist : add to furl : Digg it : add to ma.gnolia : Stumble It! : add to simpy : seed the vine : : : TailRank : post to facebook

Pattern (mis)recognition

I’m just finishing Chip and Dan Heath’s new book, Switch, which I bought right away because I thought Made to Stick was one of the most actionable books I’ve ever seen about effective communications.  A few years after reading Made to Stick, I still recommend it far and wide.

Made to Stick is one of those books whose entire arc grabs you and informs your thinking from that day forward.  I’m not sure Stick hits that bar, but it has a lot of good stuff in it, and I found at least one gem that I think may be the most important reminder I’ve gotten in a while about how to make sense of the world.  It’s called fundamental attribution error, which describes our tendency consistently to reach incorrect conclusions about the meaning of the data / information we’re getting.

A story to explain the concept: a group of schoolkids that was struggling academically was divided into two groups for a few hours of once-a-week instruction over a six week period.  One group received normal tutoring and traditional instruction in the subject areas in which they were struggling; another group was exposed to a curriculum that focused on the mind as a pliable “muscle” that could be strengthened through hard work and study, and on the concept that intelligence wasn’t fixed.  Group 1 was taught stuff, group 2 was taught that they could be taught stuff.

Put another way: group 2 was taught that the data they’d received about their academic performance (that they didn’t do well in school) did not mean that they were irrevocably poor students.  And guess what?  Test scores from this second group – after just a few hours of these sessions spread out over a little more than a month – soon beat the pants off those of group 1.

I think of fundamental attribution error as the story we build around the data we are given.  In the simple, obvious case: I push the elevator button a bunch of times, and the elevator comes.  The attribution error is thinking that the more I push the button, the more quickly the elevator comes.

Elevator-pushing is a blunt example.  But life is full of more subtle, trickier situations.  Say I’m meeting someone for the first time and she seems distracted and disengaged.  If I’m nervous about the conversation, my attitudes about the information I’m receiving (she’s not looking me in the eye, she seems distracted) informs the story I tell myself about her actions (which is by definition not the same thing as her actions).  This story can be objective and positive (“I’m noticing that she’s distracted.”) or it can morph into a stream of fear-induced thoughts: “she doesn’t like me” or “she’s not interested in what I’m saying.”  More often than not where you end up will be somewhere between these two extremes.

Chip and Dan Heath remind us in Switch that humans are typically awful at distinguishing real from imagined patterns; that we over-attribute actions to people’s personalities and attitudes rather than to situations; and that the biases we bring into situations play an overwhelming role in how we process the information we receive.

Our outlook – about ourselves, our own self-image, how we think people act and process information – is the superstructure upon which we hang the tidbits and facts that accumulate throughout our days.  They allow us to make sense of the complexity of the world around us, but they also can reinforce patterns that are completely of our own making.   This is why acting fearless, positive, open and present is just about the most powerful strategy for having positive interactions and learning appropriately from things you hear from others.

I’m beginning to believe that HOW we make sense of information – which more often than not is about us, our attitudes and biases and fears – is the most fundamental determinant of our experiences of and success in the world.  Put another way, recognizing where we consistently reach wrong conclusions is the first, giant step towards breaking out of these patterns.

The data – how people act and react; what they think of us; what they hope to achieve themselves – is usually quite benign, and the signal (real information) to noise (our story about the data) ratio is often pretty low.

Separating out what we see from what we tell ourselves allows us a glimpse of real, honest truths.

add to : Add to Blinkslist : add to furl : Digg it : add to ma.gnolia : Stumble It! : add to simpy : seed the vine : : : TailRank : post to facebook