As writers, we sometimes get the feeling that our work is “off.” We may be unsure of certain paragraphs or feel like the paper is not coming together the way we want it to. Despite reading it over and over and being assured of proper grammar and logical thought progression, we might just feel like we missed the mark.
The next time you feel this way, consider taking another (and perhaps more intentional) look at your audience. Your audience is simply the intended reader(s) of your paper. On the surface, this seems like a simple question to answer: maybe your audience is your professor, or a job recruiter. But identifying your audience is only half the battle–the other half involves identifying how your audience thinks. This can help you in three ways:
- Prevents you from feeling you are writing into the void
- Increases the likelihood your message is accepted
- Focuses the scope of your paper
I break down my audience’s thought process into two categories: inherent and practical. Inherent thought includes what the audience already knows and how it naturally processes information, including biases, vocabulary, and prior knowledge. For example, an audience of medical doctors is going to process information much differently than and audience of high school students. These two audiences will not know the same words, will not find the same things interesting, and will be predisposed to different opinions.
Let’s continue with this example and pretend I’m giving a TedTalk to a group of medical doctors and later to a group of high schoolers. My message is the same for each group: prevent teen smoking, for example. But how I relay this message changes. To the doctors, I will emphasize the negative effect smoking has on our physical health. I will use specific medical terms, and discuss how a physician might support a patient in their efforts to stop smoking. But for the teenage audience, I might dispel beliefs that “smoking is cool.” I would also educate on the negative impacts of smoking on physical health, but by showing instances of it in their peers. I could close by providing a resource for teens who want to quit smoking.
While the main point of each talk remains the same, these are two very different discussions. I must make an effort to understand the opinions of each group before I begin speaking; doctors, for instance, already agree that smoking is bad for you, but perhaps could be educated on some more physical warning signs. Teenagers might disagree with this statement outright, so I have to spend some time to get them on my side.
Now imagine these two talks as separate essays. Think of the words, the paragraphs. How do the thesis statements differ? The doctors’: Teens who smoke regularly exhibit signs of rapid tooth decay, which, studies have found, is also an early symptom of unhealthy lungs; if caught early enough, teens who quit at the onset of tooth decay can reverse damage to their lungs. The teens’: Though it might feel like much more, only 12% of your friends smoke cigarettes regularly; those who do smoke regularly are much more likely to have trouble breathing for the rest of their lives. Same point made differently. Each of these essays will focus on different topics, contain vastly different information, and even be tonally different.
The second type of audience thought is practical. Understanding how your audience is practically thinking requires an understanding of when, how, and where the audience is reading your paper. Is your reader sitting at a desk reading your paper in silence? How many other versions of your paper are they reading? If they have a stack of other papers, they might be skimming. Perhaps they’re reading in spare moments, and prone to interruption. Do you think they even want to be reading your essay?
The discussion of practical thought isn’t meant to scare you, but rather to make you realize that readers are human. And humans are not always completely focused or completely invested. Or maybe they are, but they’ve already read one hundred other papers, and, in that context, your essay just didn’t stand out.
If you’re writing a personal statement for grad school, for example, you’ve got to be aware that your audience has read at least a dozen others that day. They may be short on time, and are not going to hang on to your every word. You’ve got to be punchy to get their attention. And that essay for your lecture-style history class–is your thesis and supporting evidence as original and you think they are when put up against one hundred other papers?
Understanding the practical thought of my audience shapes how I deliver my message. In my doctor-teen smoking example, the doctors’ TedTalk can be a patient, academic discussion. I’m assuming that most people are there because they’re interested in the topic. But for the teenage audience, I might want some more energy. Is my audience really interested in listening to me preach about smoking? Were they forced to attend? Are they sitting next to their friends; if so, is there a lot of talking during my presentation? Maybe I’ll want to use a microphone to cut over the noise.
Overall, applying practical thought to your paper leads often to practical solutions: the recruiter will be skimming my cover letter, so I will add more paragraph breaks. The professor is reading one hundred other papers, so I will write a unique hook.
Finally, it is worth noting that with different audiences you’ll want to cultivate different reactions. I want doctors to help teens stop smoking. I want teens to begin the process of quitting on their own. I want my professor to take the time to understand my essay and give me a good grade. I want that job recruiter to believe I am qualified and offer me an interview. These reactions stem from how well you relay your call to action throughout your work. Once you identify your call to action, then you can begin to mine knowledge of the audience to see it done.
