Resisting clickbait-y titles

On generating interest without misrepresenting our work's true purpose.

Titles aren’t my thing. Ask any editor I’ve ever worked with, and they’ll probably tell you titles are my weakest link.

Part of the problem is that title formats are a constantly moving target. While SEO best practices change relatively often, character limits, capitalization rules, and style guidelines differ from publication to publication or platform to platform. This is mainly a logistics issue, and it’s one that’s relatively easy to solve. (I love you, editors with easily-accessible style guides.)

The other part of the problem involves something far more elusive: generating interest.

There are billions of people online. Some of them are sharing their own work, some of them are seeking out that work, and some of them are doing both. With that in mind, it makes complete sense that we’re eager to make our work stand out from all the noise. Even those of us who preach community over competition would like people to notice and enjoy our work. And that’s okay!

But when the desire for attention is left alone long enough, it can evolve into insincerity. We’ve all been on a niche website, YouTube, or the miserable disaster that is Snapchat Spotlight and been drawn in by a flashy title, only to find out that the real thing isn’t nearly as interesting or one-sided as it sounded. Not only are we let down by the actual material behind that title, but we feel duped by the title’s author—and we’re probably less likely to trust them or their publication. They’ve successfully swapped in short-term engagement for long-term trust.

So how do we ensure people notice and become interested in our work without relying on clickbait? While I’m certainly not an expert in this area—and would love to hear others’ strategies in the comments—I’ve come to lean on the following questions when titling my professional work, personal essays, and fiction:

• If people only take one bite of information from this piece, what should that bite be? (Another way to think of this: What core idea is this piece trying to convey?)

• What do I want to shout from the rooftops when I think of this piece?

• If people want to learn more about this topic, what are they most likely to ask their friends or search for on Google?

• What theme lies at the center of this piece?

• Is my working title relying too heavily on readers’ emotions?

The best titles pique curiosity without inciting fear, rage, or false hope. They invite the reader to learn, whether it’s about a topic they’re already interested in or one their values mesh well with. Trying to circumvent those interests and values by masking or falsifying the work’s true purpose only makes the work—and its creator—appear less reliable.

Real quick, before I release you to develop beautiful and truthful titles for your work: This doesn’t mean your title has to be boring. For all its faults, Betches does a brilliant job of making honest titles that are packed with personality. Check out these gems:

They’re fun, they match the publication’s overall tone, and they don’t rely on flashy, all-or-nothing verbiage that exaggerates what their respective pieces are actually about. What more could we want?

It’s natural to want people to find and appreciate our work, especially when the world is chock-full of other work that might be compared with our own. But sheer engagement isn’t everything, and it’s arguably more important to build trust with our audiences than it is to beguile them.

What’s been inspiring me lately:

✰ All of the incredible poets who performed at this week’s Ghost Poetry Show in Phoenix, AZ. I genuinely could not believe the amount of talent that flooded Tuesday’s stage. Everyone who performed not only inspired me with their material, but also encouraged me to be unafraid of sharing my whole heart with the world.

✰ The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year by Margaret Renkl.* If there was a question before about my insatiable hunger for nature-focused creative nonfiction, it’s gone now. Renkl’s book is so rich with meaning, beautiful prose, and gorgeous illustrations (by her brother!!!) that I wanted to indulge in it with short, small bites, like a delicate flourless chocolate cake.

*I’ll be making an effort to provide the Bookshop.org link for books from now on, rather than the publisher’s link. Few people buy directly from publishers, and I cringe at the thought that someone might buy one of my recommendations on Amazon. If you’re purchasing a book online and your local bookstore doesn’t offer shipping, please use Bookshop.org to support the world’s indie bookstores. Amazon doesn’t need your money, but bookstores do.