Joe OviedoThis week, on a YouTube planning call, we were reviewing ideas for a few early videos. One was about productivity and the guilt that can creep in when you try to rest. We could talk about the pressure to make good use of your time, the tasks you bring home in your head, or the feeling that you should always be doing something else.
Each was worth a conversation. The trouble was that we hadn't decided which conversation we wanted to have in the video.
We agreed to change the order: settle on a title and thumbnail before writing each script. I liked that because it forced us to answer a question that's expensive to leave until the end: What does someone expect to find when they choose this video?
The scene that changes the script
Consider two ways to present the same idea: “Rest and productivity” and “Why do I feel guilty when I rest?”
With the first, I could talk about almost anything: planning my week, building habits, or setting boundaries at work. With the second, I have to picture someone in a specific moment. They've shut their laptop and finally have some time to themselves, but they're still going over everything they didn't finish.
That's where I'd start. “You're done working. Nobody's asking you for anything. So why does it feel like you've left something undone?” Now I can decide which explanation helps, which example makes the feeling recognizable, and which ideas belong in another video.
I'd do the same with the thumbnail. One option would be a closed laptop with the words “Something's still undone.” The title names the question; the image shows the moment it comes up. Together they do more than if the thumbnail simply repeats the title.
What I want to settle before we turn on the camera
I like to read the title, then say the opening out loud. It's easy to hear when they belong to different videos.
Sometimes the opening takes too long to get there. Someone clicked on a specific question and, thirty seconds in, we're still introducing ourselves. Sometimes the title is the problem: it sounds good but promises more than the video can deliver. Helping someone recognize where the guilt comes from is useful. We don't have to promise to make it disappear in ten minutes.
This also helps when working with an expert. They might say, “We need to explain three more things for this to make sense.” They may be right. My job is to ask which of those things the viewer needs in this video. A narrow explanation can still be rigorous. Knowing what we're trying to clarify makes it easier to keep the rigor without turning the video into a whole class.
One decision that saves the team work
If the writer, presenter, and editor all get “Let's make a video about productivity,” they can each do good work and still make three different things. At the end someone asks what to call it, when changing direction is already costly.
Agreeing on the promise early gives them something to work from. The writer knows which question to answer. The presenter can choose the clearest example. The editor can tell when a good tangent deserves room and when it distracts.
The title can change. You might find a clearer phrase or a better scene while recording. What I want to avoid is discovering in the final review that we never agreed on what we were making.
I came away from that call with a question I want to ask more often: If someone clicks because of this title, what would make them feel they chose well?
When I can answer in one sentence, I know where to start the script. When I have five answers, there's probably a series there. The first decision is which one deserves the first video.
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