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Popping up on a podcast can be great publicity for you or your company. It implies you’re a go-to expert with something to say.

The truth can be a little less flattering. Broadcast producers have a lot of time to fill, and aren’t always too fussy who they fill it with. 

But you can play that to your advantage. Building a relationship with a radio station or podcast producer is win-win. In a newsroom environment, producers want to get hold of reliable people, fast. If yours is the phone number they know will be picked up, they’ll keep ringing it. And you’ll keep getting the free publicity.

During my years at the BBC, both in TV and radio, I was often struck by how anxious guests were before the mic went live. It was perfectly understandable — I was in my comfort zone, and they most certainly were out of theirs.

More recently, as a communications and media consultant, I’ve been helping clients build their confidence during broadcast interviews.

So a few weeks ago, I popped along to BBC Radio Sussex to record an interview with Will Flockton, a Senior Radio Producer. What, I asked, was his advice for nervous radio guests?
His answers are, I hope, very reassuring.  Here they are in person …

… and here’s my summary.

Q1: What’s the process? Let’s say a researcher has rung me and asked me to do an interview the following morning on Zoom or on my phone. We agree a time for them to call me during their programme. Am I live the moment the phone rings?

A1: Almost certainly not. I can’t speak for independent radio, which may have even fewer staff, but in a BBC environment you are likely to be called by the producer a couple of minutes before you go on air. This will give them a chance to check your details, and will give you a chance to ask about the interview ahead. You will then be ‘patched through’ to the live studio, where you will hear the presenter introducing your item. Only then will you be ‘live.’

Q2: How do I know the presenter won’t be trying to trip me up?
A2: Because that’s not the presenter’s job. If your role is to be an expert on a topic, the presenter will want to get the best out of you, and will try to guide you to the best answers for the audience. If you are being interviewed because you are ‘accountable’ — for example, defending a position as a local councillor or MP, or a company that’s let a customer down — then the presenter may take a different approach, being more challenging and putting alternative points of view. But the BBC’s rules on this (known as “Fair Dealing”) mean that the interview will be rigorous, it must also be fair.

Q3: Is it okay for me to give the presenter a list of questions I’m prepared to answer?
A3: No. A broadcast interview is a conversation, and conversations need to flow. It is reasonable, though, to ask the producer (or researcher who may have called you the previous day to fix the interview) for a broad area of topics. The Fair Dealing rules apply here too — it wouldn’t be fair to invite you on to talk about a new service, and then spring on you the fact that a caller is on the line who’s been let down by that service. You would have a right to make a formal complaint if this were to happen.

Q4: Is it okay for me to plug my company or service?
A4: This is more of a grey area. Broadcast producers understand that if you are, for example, a solicitor coming on air to talk about a new development in the law, the commercial benefit to you is that a listener may make a note of your name and firm. So it’s fine to mention your firm in one or two answers, and maybe even refer to your website (especially if you are running a campaign.) But don’t do it too often, or it can become offputting. And do bear in mind that the presenter is likely to remind the audience of your name, and where you come from, at the end of the interview too. Treat it like a networking event — you want people to know who you are and what you do, but you do want to be subtle about it!

Q5: Is it better to do a podcast or radio interview from home (over phone or Zoom), or to come into the studio itself?
Q5: Without question, it’s better to come into the studio itself. Firstly, the sound quality will be far better for the listener (and don’t underestimate the importance of this — I’ve had to abandon listening to many podcasts because it’s simply too exhausting to listen to a crackly phone line for minutes on end.) Second, the conversation will be much more natural and free-flowing, benefiting from eye contact and warmth. And finally — by being face-to-face, you’ll be building a much stronger relationship with that station and that producer.

And as we all know in business — it’s all about the relationships.

So if you’re faced with a sudden interview situation and are a bit nervous – give me a call.  I won’t charge for a few nerve-calming minutes of advice … I’d much rather build a relationship of trust with you.

Happy Broadcasting!

It’s come to be known as the defining moment of the 1997 General Election — the sight of a Conservative grandee, tipped as the next leader, losing his own seat to a wide-eyed Labour novice in Enfield Southgate.

The phrase ‘were you up for Portillo?’ refers to the fact that it happened at 3.07am.

I know this, because the BBC have helpfully posted the entire overnight election programme on Iplayer, and, being an election junky, I’ve watched the lot. (You can find it too if you go to Iplayer and search for ‘Election 97’)

To save you scrolling through the entire thing, you can see that Portillo Moment here. (Or it’s at 5’07 on the timeline if you go to Iplayer itself.)

But watching the rest of the coverage, three things struck me forcefully that might prove useful tips for anybody who’s anxious about appearing in the media, or addressing a large audience in a crowded venue.

 

1. If you’re on the ropes, keep your answers short.

Several hours before his defeat, Michael Portillo was at the BBC’s Television Centre. It was 10.20pm — far too early for any actual results, but a sacrificial lamb was required to respond to the ominous Exit Poll, and Mr Portillo had stepped up. Jeremy Paxman was asking the questions. Here’s the first minute of the exchange.

PAXMAN: “Are you going to miss the Ministerial Limo?”

PORTILLO: “As Brain Mawhinny said, I think we will wait for the real results”.

PAXMAN: “But on the basis of these Exit Polls, you aren’t in with a prayer, you’re going down to the worst defeat in 150 years …”

PORTILLO: “I still think it’s reasonable that we should wait for the real results, rather than speculate on the theory. We’re going to have a theory, and a fact tonight. So why don’t we wait for the fact.”

PAXMAN: “What do you think was the biggest mistake in the campaign?”

PORTILLO: “I think the biggest mistake was Tony Blair telling fibs about Pensions.”

PAXMAN: “And what was your own biggest mistake in the Party?”

PORTILLO: “I think that the thing the Party needs to reflect upon, is that it has done itself no good by showing its divisions. I think that’s what we need to reflect upon.”

Do you notice, as I did, how short Mr Portillo’s answers are? The first is four seconds. The next is ten. The third is five seconds. And the fourth comes in at just over eight.

Too many interviewees, when on the defensive, resort to ‘talking the clock down’ — reaching for a stock set of facts and statements, quite possibly repeated several times already, blending into one long ramble. The guaranteed result is that the audience will be irritated, and the interviewer will have plenty of time to compose a powerful follow up question. Both Rishi Sunak and Keir Starmer have demonstrated this in recent weeks with wearying regularity.

But by keeping his answers so short, Portillo ensures that the journalist is having to do a lot of quick thinking, too.
With someone as skilled as Jeremy Paxman, it’s a fair contest. But if you are being interviewed by someone less experienced — who may themselves be nervous — deploying the short answer technique could mean the interviewer runs out of ideas before you’ve had to resort to a rehearsed and inauthentic ramble.

Trust me, I have been that reporter — looking and sounding confident, perhaps, but in the early days, dreading the short answer that would test me to the full.

 

2. If you’re addressing your tribe, look at them. All of them.

Three hours later, Tony Blair had won his Sedgefield Seat, and was aware that a landslide awaited him in Downing Street. You may love him or loathe him for what came to pass over the next ten years, but few would deny his skill at communicating with an audience.

Watching his acceptance speech in County Durham before flying down to London for the rally at the Festival Hall, I was struck by a technique he used on stage that can be so powerful, but so often overlooked by a nervous speaker.
The Audience Scan.

You can see it here.

Tony Blair doesn’t simply glance around a bit. As he thanks his supporters, and outlines his plans, he looks left, he looks right, he tilts his head forward. He doesn’t simply move his eyes, he moves his head and neck.

He is a leader of his tribe, determined to make as many people in the room as possible feel that he’s looked them in the eye.

If you’re addressing your tribe, even if relying on a script or notes, be confident enough with your material to look up regularly. And once you’ve looked up, look around. Look all around. Exaggerate it a bit. Your audience will notice the eye contact far more than what’s coming out of your mouth.

 

3. However bad things are turning out, empathy is good

Not only did Michael Portillo have to stand on stage at the nation watched aghast. He then had to listen to the man who had humiliated him deliver his victory speech — and respond.
But he does this with empathy and grace.

He says that he thinks Stephen Twigg will be a very good MP, and that he wishes him well. He goes on to wish the new government well. He describes the unfolding drama as “a truly terrible night for the Conservatives”. And he ends with a line of black humour: “One thing I will not miss … will be answering the questions about the leadership!”

Who knows what moments Election Night 2024 will deliver. I’ll be keeping an eye out for them on another all-nighter, and maybe composing a new blog post in my head as I go.

However you cast your vote, I hope you enjoy the broadcast spectacle that lies ahead — and that it perhaps helps you when you face a big broadcast moment of your own.

Were you, like me, unable to take your eyes off the glistening suit, drips racing down the lapels, the Prime Minister’s forehead sparkling as he fumbled through his soggy announcement of the 2024 General Election? 

It was clear immediately that the chatter on the news channels later that evening, and the headlines the following morning, would not be about what the Prime Minister actually had to say.  

It would be about the rain, and the racket from a notorious protester taking delight in ruining a national moment for the country. 

Jeremy Vine, on his BBC Radio Two phone in, summed it up most brutally.  “Without wishing to be unkind” he said, “the PM’s election campaign crashed on take-off!”

The speech was a case-study in the manner of the delivery masking the message.   

And if you’re a business leader, with a lectern to face and (whisper it) a pounding heart, here are three things that you can learn from Rishi’s misfortune. 

 

1.  It really is all about the Optics.  When they change the story, you need to change the script.  

 

“Optics” is one of those words used in communications that I often try to avoid, but on this occasion it can’t be avoided.  The Prime Minister’s people will have had their head in their hands as they watched the disaster unfold — their man fighting the rain, and fighting the protester’s selfish  din.  

The answer in this situation is for the person delivering the speech to acknowledge when the ‘optics’ have taken over.   Had Mr Sunak paused, smiled, and asked for an umbrella, we would all have understood.  Had he looked askance, tilted his head, and said ‘can you hear me at the back?’, he would have gained our sympathy. 

But by simply ploughing on, Sunak created an image of a man a world apart from the rest of us, afraid to divert from the programme, lacking the courage to go off script and look the nation in the eye.  It’s not a good look for a leader.

2.   If you sound bored, how will the audience feel?

 

Rishi Sunak’s announcement followed a frenzy of speculation that had been mounting all day.  News crews had been frantically despatched to Downing Street, scaffolding rigged, bulletin running orders cleared.  

So when the black door of Downing Street finally swung open and the Prime Minister appeared, we were all anticipating a moment of some drama.  

But listen to the way Mr Sunak begins his speech.   Straight in — no pause for effect, no scanning of the media before him, no relishing of the moment.  He just begins to read the words printed on paper in front of him, delivering it with all the passion of an overworked Deputy Headteacher announcing the date of the next Parents’ Evening to their staff. 

There is much to be said for measured, reflective leadership.  We’ve all seen in recent years how perilous excitable leadership can be.  But when the lectern is being put into place and you’re about to share some exciting news with your people, you need to sound excited, too. 

One suggestion I make to any of my more subdued clients is that if they feel they’ve got the energy about right, they’ll need to up it by about ten percent.   They’ll feel they’re overdoing it, but their audience won’t. 

3.  Deploy our Possessive Pronouns … and we all know what they are, don’t we? 

 

It’s a great shame that Rishi Sunak’s speech will be remembered for the rain and the racket, because its structure revealed skilful use a device which any leader needs to have in their toolkit. 

In the first two minutes of his speech, the Prime Minister’s used the words ‘our’, ‘us’, and ‘we’, twelve times.  (And when using the word ‘we’, he was referring to the nation, not the Conservative Party.)

He used the words ‘you’ and ‘your’ eleven times. 

Sir Keir Starmer’s speech in response (delivered cozily indoors and flanked by optically pleasing Union Flags) took a similar approach.  

In the same timeframe, the Leader of the Opposition used ‘our’, ‘us’ and ‘we’ seven times, and ‘you’ and ‘your’ a further seven times. 

I used a transcript to check.  You can find it here.

It’s an early lesson for anyone developing their skills as a public speaker. 

These little words drive your message direct into the arms and mind of your audience.  They truly connect.

An early tip I learnt on this circuit is to aim to halve the number of times you say ‘I’ in your opening comments, and double the amount of times you say ‘you.’ 

Thankfully, I’ve never had to contend with driving rain or unwelcome sound pollution when I’ve taken to the lectern.  But I hope these thoughts will help you if you ever do.  

Are you one of those senior people who knows that one day you, or your company, might find yourselves at the eye of a media storm?   A well paid member of the C-suite, perhaps, or someone paid to handle the media on the C-suite’s behalf?   

If so, I hope these observations on the recent Post Office scandal might help you decide on your own approach if that difficult day comes.

(It’s a fairly long read, but I hope an arresting one that it might be worth hanging onto.   You never know when the storm is going to break about your head.)

My observations are based on what I’ve witnessed as a BBC News journalist — and, more recently, on my experience as a media trainer helping companies work with journalists.

The Post Office Scandal offers us three approaches you could choose.  But I’ll suggest there’s a fourth that might work better.


1   The “Head in Sand, Fingers in Ears” Approach 

Fujitsu’s homepage: “Nothing to see here”

This has been demonstrated spectacularly by Fujitsu, the company whose software is now known to have caused the bugs that created the misery at the heart of the story.  

On January 9, I scanned their website to see what their response to this was. 

Their homepage simply didn’t mention it.  ‘NOTHING TO SEE HERE’ was the overall impression. 

Instead, a picture of a lighthouse and a declaration of a Vision for 2030. 

I tried their News pages.  I clicked a link to their Press Releases.  Surely, I thought, there’d be something? 

The latest Press Release, on any topic at all, was July 2022, celebrating a Gold Award at a Customer Experience event. 

I called their Press Officer.  (At least he’d had the courage to put a phone number on the page.)   He picked up.   We had an amicable chat, and he explained to me that the company’s policy was simply not to comment publicly — although he would issue a brief statement ‘on request.’ 

Within four minutes, he’d sent it to me.  I repeat it in full: 

The current Post Office Horizon IT statutory Inquiry is examining complex events stretching back over 20 years to understand who knew what, when, and what they did with that knowledge. The Inquiry has reinforced the devastating impact on postmasters’ lives and that of their families, and Fujitsu has apologised for its role in their suffering. Fujitsu is fully committed to supporting the Inquiry in order to understand what happened and to learn from it. Out of respect for the Inquiry process, it would be inappropriate for Fujitsu to comment further at this time.”

My thoughts, as a journalist-turned-media trainer? 

The ‘head in sand’ approach is very high risk.  It suggests indifference bordering on contempt. From a business point of view, it is also likely to put new clients off — as they assess whether your company is even in touch with reality.  Issuing a brief statement available only on request to reporters who can track down a Press Officer’s details — albeit one that does acknowledge the crisis and demonstrates empathy— becomes almost meaningless. 


2   The Head Visible, Body in Sand approach

You have to click a lot of links to find it

This is demonstrated by the Post Office. 

Again, I was curious to see what they put about this on their website on the same day, as the media storm swirled around them and Downing Street started to notice. 

Once again, I was led a merry dance trying to find anything.  

No mention of anything newsworthy at all on the homepage.  Instead, a handy guide to returning your Christmas presents. 

Determined, I scrolled down, spotting a link to the ‘Corporate Website’. 

Clicking on this — aha! — fourth from the right, a tab that actually acknowledged what had happened … ‘The Horizon IT Scandal.’

Beyond this lay another link to a web-article acknowledging the ITV programme that had finally brought all this bursting into the open.

This article is entitled: “A Response to Mr Bates v The Post Office”, and claims that the current Chief Executive welcomed the programme. 

And within this link — I could barely believe my eyes — a video message from him, filmed before the programme had been broadcast, but clearly acknowledging its power and that it needed to be taken seriously. 

My Thoughts, as a Journalist turned Media Trainer? 

If you’re going to make the ‘head visible’, and go to the trouble of recording a message with the CEO, put it front and centre. 

By hiding it so deep within your website, you give the impression that you want the credit for recording an empathetic message from a kind sounding leader — without having the courage to put it in front of the widest possible audience. 


3  The “Hands Up, I Get It” Approach 

“Sorry” makes the front page

This was demonstrated by the former Chief Executive of the Post Office, Paula Vennells, after several days of relentless pressure. 

Her name was mud in the tabloids, more than a million people had signed a petition to have her CBE removed, and the Prime Minister was by now comfortable stating publicly he felt it should be considered.

There was no video message on YouTube or appearance on in front of news cameras, but — after several days in hiding — there was this statement issued to all media.   It was the next day’s front page news for the press. 

“I have so far maintained my silence as I considered it inappropriate to comment publicly while the Inquiry remains ongoing and before I have provided my oral evidence.

“I am, however, aware of the calls from sub-postmasters and others to return my CBE.

“I have listened and I confirm that I return my CBE with immediate effect.

“I am truly sorry for the devastation caused to the sub-postmasters and their families, whose lives were torn apart by being wrongly accused and wrongly prosecuted as a result of the Horizon system.

“I now intend to continue to focus on assisting the Inquiry and will not make any further public comment until it has concluded.”

My Thoughts, as a Journalist turned Media Trainer?

This demonstrates that hiding behind the excuse that “a public inquiry is underway” will no longer wash.

Paula Vennells finally had the grace to admit that too much harm had been done for her to remain silent.  She displays an element of empathy.  She doesn’t hide behind bland words, but chooses to use strong ones: ‘devastation’, ‘torn apart’ and, the biggie, ‘sorry’.

I have little sympathy for Mrs Vennells.  But I do respect her wisdom in having the courage to come out of hiding.  It meant, of course, that she remained in the news spotlight — but she had taken some control of that spotlight, and that, in my judgment, reflected well on her.


If you’ve read this far, you may be shouting at me — “but John, my company pays lawyers vast sums and they tell me in no uncertain terms that I should not to say a word in a situation like this.”

I think the time has come to suggest that perhaps such certainty from lawyers is part of the problem.

It creates the culture of control, paralysis and fear that may have got Fujitsu and the Post Office in this mess in the first place.

Yes, the legal stakes are indeed high right now for many managers at Fujitsu and the Post Office.  Criminal convictions are being breathlessly discussed in the media.  It’s never a good look when your crisis leads to emergency legislation in Parliament.

As I write, I have in the corner of my eye the Public Inquiry hearings, now broadcast live on the BBC News website.

So let me end with an example of a Japanese company that did take a different approach when the stakes, too, were very high indeed.

Toyota takes a bow ©NBC

In 2010, Toyota had to recall 8.5 million cars, because of potentially fatal defects.

Here’s what the President, Akio Toyoda, did, albeit after some dithering.

He apologised to customers, and to the US Congress.   (It’s reported that he offered his condolences to the families of those who may have died or been injured as a result of those defects, though I haven’t been able to confirm this for myself.)

He bowed before news cameras.

And an ad campaign was created, admitting the company he led hadn’t lived up to its safety standards, and explaining how those issues would be fixed.

There’s still time for Fujitsu and the Post Office to take this “we are to blame, actually” approach.

It takes courage.

But perhaps it’s time for their managers to now face the fear and show that courage.

It’s what their victims have been doing for more than twenty years.

 

People lie at the heart of storytelling, and it’s been like that since the dawn of time.   The Bible and Koran are surely testament to that.   I made that case in my Newsroom Secret of 2 October, and suggested how you needed to find real people, AKA real case-studies, in order to tell powerful stories in your business.  

But the most powerful storytelling in business involves three other ingredients, too.  Happily, I’ve contrived it so they all begin with P.   

Pictures — Place — and Peril. 

Pictures …

© Google Maps

What made you click on the link to this article?  I’ll bet it was because that photo of the launderette made you just a little bit curious. 

If you’re scanning a news website, or even a good old fashioned newspaper, what draws you to read a particular story?  I bet it’s always the picture.  

The most inspiring news editor I worked with in TV News was always crystal clear — the most important part of our 28 minute news bulletin were the pictures we chose for the opening sixty seconds of headlines.   I could have crafted the most skilful script to sum the story up, but it was the pictures that compelled an audience to stay tuned.

Let’s translate this to your business.  You’re launching a new service.  It’s a bit boring, but it’s important and you’re damn proud of it.  

The temptation is to simply write about it, and leave it there.  Resist that temptation.   Instead, think hard about what image you could use to draw the person to read the words you’re going to write.  I did it just now when I sat down to write these paragraphs.  I forced myself to think — what’s the picture going to be? 

This article is about the art of ‘storytelling.’  That’s potentially quite dull.  But by associating it with a picture of a man standing outside a launderette, it seems I’ve drawn you in. 

Place …

Of course, Google Maps could have simply used a headshot of their launderette owner.  

But they haven’t, have they?  

We see him framed fairly small in shot, surrounded by his authentic launderette.  It’s clearly a real business owner, in a real street, facing a real business challenge.  

So here’s an idea.  You’re proud of your latest product.  Let’s say it’s a garden swing-seat. You’ve had loads of great testimonials.  They’re all on your website.  But think how much more powerful they could be if they showed a real customer of yours, enjoying that swing seat in their garden.

Sounds absurd?  I’m not so sure it is nowadays.  You don’t need to send along a photographer.  Just ask your client/customer if they’d be happy to send you a snap.   It may take a bit of persuasion, and you will get a few knock-backs, but you only need one or two to create that sense of trust and authenticity for a visitor looking at it on your website.   You’ll have created an emotional connection.  You’ll have drawn them in.  They’ll want to find out more.

That’s the power of storytelling. 

Not convinced?  Here’s an example from Wilverley.com, a company that actually makes garden swingseat, delightfully known as The Idler.  (Full disclosure: it’s run by my sister-in-law.)  Plenty of photos of swingseats, of course … but the one that connects with me emotionally is the shot of Denise from Oxfordshire, dozing with her cat …

© Wilverley Idler

Peril …

There’s not much peril in the swing-seat business. 

Or is there?   

What if you’ve looked at a few swingseats that just didn’t feel comfortable, or that were too cumbersome to pack away, or go mouldy when it rains?   Part of the Wilverley Idler’s storytelling is that some rival swingseats might have those flaws … they hint at this peril in their copy.  

The picture of our launderette owner implies that customers might have been turning up too late to collect their garments — but thanks to Google Maps, that’s a problem solved!

So here’s an example to end on, from a government department gearing us all up for Brexit a couple of years ago.

Here, with one image and 31 words, is storytelling that ticks all my “Ps”.

© UK Government

There’s a real person in it.

He appears to be in a real place, a proper warehouse.  There’s no soft-focus drag and drop from Shutterstock here. 

And there’s a sense of Peril — new rules are coming, but if you visit our website we can help you sort them out. 

So next time you’re wondering where the stories lie in your business … picture real people, with a peril resolved, in an authentic place … and your business may live happily ever after.

Recognise those two little waifs in this lovely picture (©Sarah Frank) ?

Of course you do.   It’s Hansel and Gretel, trotting off to meet their fate in a big black cauldron in the kitchen of a cottage cunningly constructed of candy sticks and gingerbread. 

So what is it about this story — or any other fairy story — that means you remember it from all those years ago? 

It’s my journalistic belief that all good stories — whether in a children’s book, a news bulletin or a business website — depend upon four principles.  Happily, they all begin with P.   

Let me share some thoughts on the first P — leaving you more able to tell stories in your business, and communicate so much more powerfully with your clients, your customers, your staff and your stakeholders.

(And in my next three short articles, I’ll share thoughts on the others.  Spoiler Alert — I don’t like to be a tease — they are:  Pictures … Place … and Peril!)

So.  The first P stands for … People 

People relate to people.   People do business with People.  People make the world go around.   Whichever cliche you choose, it’s living, breathing, blood-pumping people who lie at the heart of all the greatest stories.  

Stories from our childhood bed.  Stories from the Bible or Koran.  Stories from history.  And yes, stories from the news. 

The first impulse of any journalist when tasked with telling a story about, say, hospital waiting lists is … to find a person who’s on one. 

If it’s a really complicated story about data protection regulations, the reporter will be off to track down the victim of a breach.  

A local campaign to cut the speed limit on a country road?  Look!  That journalist’s already on the phone to the organiser asking to speak to the person who had the accident that triggered the campaign.  

Let’s apply that to your business. 

You run a cloud-based web solutions software firm?  Hmm, not much of a story there yet.  But what about the person who founded it?   What drove her to do so?  How much risk did she take to get there?  How many hours has she put in?  There’s the beginning of your story. 

You’ve just launched a new product that (whisper it) is a bit similar to your rival’s?  Where’s the story that will make it different?   Track down the person who designed/built/prototyped (you fill in the gap) your product.   How proud were they when they nailed it!  Tell their story.  Own that story.  

Let’s say your audience is internal — it’s your 75 staff, who you just know are going to be bored rigid by the new Health and Safety protocols you’re about to announce.  You know what to do.  Find someone whose working life will be safer as a result.  Tell that story.  Then share the details of those protocols. 

It’s not self-indulgent.  It’s not vain.  But it does require effort.  

There’s another word that journalists use for these people at the heart of their storytelling.  It’s a word you know and use all the time too. 

Case-studies. 

So if it helps to change your mindset, replace the la-de-da phrase ‘story telling’ with the in-your-face phrase ‘case-study hunting’ … and you’re on the way to engaging much more powerfully with your audiences.   

You don’t need two doomed children in a deep dark forest to capture your audience with a good story. 

Five Newsroom Secrets - to help you feel more confident recording warm video messages!

My free to download, video illustrated guide that will give you the confidence to record more video messages — whether for your website, your staff or your clients.    Because video builds trust — and in the age of the smartphone … ‘we’re all broadcasters now!’

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If you find these forms a bit annoying, just give me a call on 07850 188620 or 01273 606246 — I always like to chat about how I might be able to help.  Or just send an email to john@johnyoungmedia.co.uk — letting me know what you have in mind, and we can take it from there.  If you do like the forms, don’t forget to put something in each box marked with a *.




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