Magic Words

Whether we realize it or not, we’re all writers. We may not write books or news articles, or call ourselves authors or journalists, but we still write. We write emails to colleagues and texts to friends. We write reports for bosses and draft slide decks for clients.

We’re also all public speakers. We may not go onstage in front of thousands of people, but we all speak in public. Whether making presentations to the company or chitchatting on a first date. Whether asking donors to make a pledge or asking the kids to clean up their rooms.

But to be better writers and speakers—to communicate with intention and care—we have to know the right words to use. It’s hard to get people to listen, to pay attention, to persuade them to do what we want. And it’s hard to motivate others, encourage creativity, and build social connections.

But the right words can help.

It’s often said that certain people have a way with words. They’re persuasive and charismatic, and it seems as though they always know the right thing to say. But are the rest of us who weren’t born that way out of luck?

Not quite.

Because being a great writer or orator isn’t something you’re born with, it’s something you can learn to do. Words have an amazing impact, and by understanding when, why, and

how they work, we can use them to increase ours.

Whether you want to use language more effectively or just understand how it works, this book will show you how.

Inferences from labels can be so strong that people are often careful to separate labels from the behaviors they describe.

In all these cases, labels involve a particular part of speech: nouns. The trait “liberal” is an adjective, but the category “a liberal” is a noun. Saying that someone “runs a lot” uses “run” as a verb, while saying someone is “a runner” turns that action (a verb) into an identity (a noun).

Changing a verb-based description (e.g., “drinks coffee”) to a noun (e.g., “is a coffee drinker”) made it seem like that person’s attitudes or preferences were more dispositional, and thus stronger and more stable. Part of someone’s identity, rather than just an attitude they happen to hold.

By taking consistent actions and avoiding inconsistent ones, we can signal to ourselves that we are the type of person we want to be.

But this is where it gets interesting, because if people want to look certain ways, then framing certain actions as opportunities to confirm desired identities can encourage them to behave accordingly.

Researchers wondered if language could help. Specifically, rather than the standard communication approach (asking people to vote), they tried something slightly different: They talked about being a voter. Again, the difference seems minuscule. Essentially adding the letter r to the end of the word “vote.” But the change worked. It boosted voter turnout by over 15 percent.

Want people to listen? Ask them to be a listener. Want them to lead? Ask them to be a leader. Want them to work harder? Encourage them to be a top performer.

Turning actions into identities, though, is just one way to apply a broader category of language. And that is the language of identity and agency.

Four more ways to harness it are to: (1) change can’ts to don’ts, (2) turn shoulds into coulds, (3) talk to yourself, and (4) know when to use “you.

Saying “I don’t,” however, suggests something quite different. When asked to complete “I don’t” statements, the type of reasons people list change dramatically. Try filling in the following statements.

I don’t eat ____________ because ____________.

I don’t buy ____________ because ____________.

I don’t ____________ because ____________.

Rather than being some temporary constraint, now the driver of saying no is something more permanent; it’s an entrenched attitude.

And rather than being external, or someone else or something else that is preventing us from doing what we want, now the locus of control is more internal. I don’t eat deep-dish pizza because I don’t like it that much. I don’t check my email every five minutes because I’d rather get some deep thinking done.

Saying “I don’t” helped people avoid temptation because it made them feel empowered. Like they were in control. Rather than something else getting in the way of something they wanted to do, they were in the driver’s seat. It was up to them. Sure, I could binge-watch, spend frivolously, or fritter time away, but I’d rather not. I’d prefer to be doing something else. And this feeling of empowerment made it easier for them to turn down temptation. After all, those goals were theirs in the first place.

In situations like these, “can’t” can be a particularly useful word. While “can’t” isn’t as effective in avoiding temptation because it suggests the driver of behavior is external, this same reason actually makes it particularly useful for turning down unwanted

requests.

Saying you can’t serve on the task force because your boss asked you to mentor a new hire, or that you can’t go beyond the agreed-upon scope because it will delay the final product distances you from the refusal. It’s not you saying no because you didn’t want to be helpful, it’s another, external thing getting in the way. You want to help, but the other thing prevents you.

Shoulds are great for resolving questions of right and wrong. Whether to lie, cheat, or steal, even if it doesn’t seem like a big deal and no one else will find out. Thinking about what one should do in these situations reminds us of our moral compass. It encourages us to think about what we “ought” to do, and in so doing, helps us choose the morally right path.

Rather than taking the default approach, or thinking about what one should do, the researchers asked them to think about what they could do instead.

This simple shift made a big difference. People who thought about what they could do came up with much better solutions. They were higher quality and three times as creative. Rather than getting bogged down in which of two imperfect options was best, asking people to think

about what they could do encouraged them to bring a different mindset to the problem.

Could” led to more innovative solutions because it encouraged divergent thinking. Thinking outside the box and without boundaries. Considering multiple approaches, encouraging new connections, and reducing the likelihood of settling for obvious answers. Rather than just seeing things for how they are, thinking in terms of “could” encourages us to see them for how they could be. To overlook the obvious and explore different ways of doing things.

Stuck on a tough problem? Want to be more creative or encourage creativity in others? Foster a could mindset. Rather than thinking about what should be done, ask what could be done instead. Doing so encourages us and others to take agency, consider new paths, and turn roadblocks into opportunities.

The same holds when asking others for advice. When asking for help, we tend to do so in a specific way: we ask people what they think we should do.

Though this makes sense in some ways, it’s not always the best approach. Asking what they think we could do will encourage them to think more broadly and give us better, more creative direction.

But when it’s happening to us, it’s hard to get that distance. We’re so caught up in the situation that we can’t think straight. Our emotions run wild and get the best of us. Attention narrows, we ruminate on the negative, and can’t seem to break free.

Giving a public speech in front of an audience that is evaluating you turns out to be one of the most powerful ways scientists can induce stress.

People usually talk to themselves in the first person. When trying to understand our feelings or sort out why we’re feeling anxious, we ask ourselves questions like “Why am I so upset?” or “What’s causing me to feel this way?” We use words like “I,” “me,” or “my” (all first-person pronouns) to refer to ourselves.

One group of people were told to stick with this standard approach. They were asked to use first-person pronouns when trying to understand their feelings and to ask themselves questions like “Why do I feel this way?” or “What are the underlying causes and reasons for my feelings?”

The other group used language to take a slightly different perspective. Rather than trying to understand their anxiety from their own vantage point, they were asked to take an outsider’s perspective. Rather than referring to themselves using “I” or “me,” they were encouraged to talk to themselves like someone else would, using words like “you,” their name, or “he” or “she” instead.

But using their first names, or words like “you,” “he,” or “she” encouraged them to think like an outsider and see the situation more positively. Rather than complaining or stressing themselves out even more, it encouraged them to provide support and advice: “Jane, you can do this. You’ve given a ton of speeches before.”

Outsider language helped speakers see things more objectively, making the situation less anxiety-inducing. They felt fewer negative emotions and appraised the situation in more positive terms. More as a challenge that they could cope with, or rise up to meet, rather than a threat that they felt unprepared for or overwhelmed by.

And the more times the word “you” is used, the more work the user has to do.

Not surprisingly, then, while “you” helps on social media by drawing attention, it hurts on customer support pages, where it can suggest the user is at fault or to blame.

Questions like “Did you feed the dog?” or “Did you check when the paperwork is due?” can feel accusatory. The intent may be benign, just a request for information, but they can easily be interpreted negatively. Who said it was my responsibility, or why wouldn’t I have taken care of it?

A subtle shift in phrasing (“Has the dog had dinner?”) is less likely to generate blowback. By focusing on the action rather than the actor, it removes any suggestion of reproach. I’m not suggesting that it’s your job, I just want to find out whether it happened so I can do it if it hasn’t.

Avoiding accusatory “you”s helps avoid placing unintended blame.

Personal pronouns take ownership. So whether we should use them or not depends on how much responsibility we want for whatever we’re talking about.

Consequently, whether to use pronouns or not depends on how we want to assign credit or blame, and how subjective or objective we want what is being said to seem.

As O’Barr had predicted, slight differences in wording changed how the witness was perceived. Speaking like a professional made the witness seem more credible. Listeners saw them as more trustworthy, competent, and convincing, and were more likely to believe what they had to say.

In the years since then, scientists have refined the exact components of “powerful” language. But at its core, the main idea remains the same. Speaking with power makes people seem confident. It makes them seem more certain, self-assured, and knowledgeable, which makes audiences more likely to listen and change their minds.

Four ways to speak with confidence are to: (1) ditch the hedges, (2) don’t hesitate, (3) turn pasts into presents, and (4) know when to express doubt.

If they use words like “might” or “could,” though, it signals more uncertainty. They think it could rain, but they’re not really sure.

Words like “might” or “could” are called hedges. They’re used to express ambiguity, caution, or indecisiveness. The same goes for words like “guess,” “speculate,” and “assume.

We hedge all the time. We note that we think something will work, that a solution could be effective, or that an alternate approach might work better. We suggest that something seems like a good course of action or that, in our opinion, something else is worth trying.

But without our realizing it, hedging can undermine our impact, because while we’re sharing our thoughts or recommendations, by hedging, we’re simultaneously undercutting them. We’re suggesting that we’re not sure those thoughts and recommendations are worth pursuing.

That doesn’t mean we should never hedge, but it certainly means that we should use hedges more deliberately.

Sometimes we hedge on purpose. We want to signal uncertainty, that we’re not sure, or that

an outcome is unclear. And if that’s the goal, hedging can be great. But often we hedge without even realizing it. We’re so used to qualifying statements that we toss in a hedge just because. And that’s a mistake.

... “I think” or “In my opinion” limits our impact. It makes us seem less confident that others will draw the same conclusions, which makes others less likely to follow our lead.

Hedging makes people seem less confident, less powerful, and less effective, but there’s another linguistic choice that hurts even more, and that is hesitations.

Throughout the document, she had circled every time she had said “uh,” “um,” and “er.” And there were a lot of them.

The transcript had highlighted the problem.

In the weeks that followed, Lindsey worked to cull the hesitations from her presentations. She practiced what she was going to say, scripted answers to questions in advance, and paused when necessary to get back on track.

And, it worked. She used fewer ums and uhs, and her pitches got sharper. In the next month, for example, she converted almost a third more potential prospects into clients. Cutting the fillers had made Lindsey a more effective communicator.

Indeed, research finds that hesitations are even more detrimental than hedges. They make people seem less powerful and authoritative and less effective at getting across whatever they are trying to communicate.

In a meeting, for example, we think attendees will be more likely to listen if the boss says something rather than a subordinate. Or that the same idea will have more impact if a higher-status person brings it up.

And that’s partially right. Status does matter. Sometimes. When students thought they were listening to a higher-status speaker, for example, they thought that person was a stronger, more dynamic presenter.

But what the speaker said mattered a lot more. Hesitating hurt. Speakers who hesitated were seen as less intelligent, less well informed, and less qualified. Listeners thought they had less expertise, and saw them as lower status, regardless of what their title actually was.

And pausing has other benefits as well. Studies my colleagues and I conducted found that pausing led speakers to be perceived more positively. It not only gave the audience time to process what was said, it encouraged them to respond with short verbal indicators of agreement (e.g., “Yeah,” “Un-hunh,” or “Okay”), which led them to like the speaker more overall.

So rather than saying “um” or “uh,” take a second to pause. People will perceive us more positively and be more likely to follow our suggestions.

We started with books. Analyzing around a quarter of a million Amazon book reviews revealed that present tense increased impact. Saying a book “is” rather than “was” a good read or “has” rather than “had” great plot development led other people to find a review more helpful.

Even in music, though, we found the same result. Music reviews that used more present-tense verbs were more persuasive.

Said another way, present tense suggests that speakers don’t just have an opinion, they are relatively certain about it.

But in this context, it turned out that the exact opposite occurred. Expressing doubt about a contentious issue actually increased persuasion. Particularly among people who already had strong beliefs, hearing someone else wasn’t sure about their opinion encouraged them to change their mind in that direction.

Indeed, rather than being convincing, persuasive messages actually led a decent chunk of study participants to shift their opinions in the opposite direction.

This is why expressing doubt can help. Showing that we’re conflicted or uncertain makes us seem less threatening. Expressing doubt about one’s own view acknowledges that conflicting beliefs are valid, making the other side feel validated and more willing to listen. It recognizes that issues are complicated or nuanced, which increases receptiveness.

Uncertainty signals an openness to other perspectives. So particularly when issues are contentious or people are dug in, expressing a little doubt can actually be more persuasive.

While some argue that hedging will reduce the credibility of both scientists and journalists, this isn’t the case. Reporting or acknowledging study limitations actually leads readers to see both scientists and journalists as more trustworthy.

When people know something is uncertain, pretending it’s not can backfire. It comes off as overconfident or unrealistic and undermines our ability to persuade.

As long as that’s the goal, tentative language can actually be quite effective at communicating it.

Words do more than just convey facts and opinions. They signal how confident communicators are in the facts and opinions they are expressing. Consequently, words influence how we’re perceived and the impact of what we say. Want to be perceived more positively? Increase your impact?

• Ditch the hedges. When the goal is to convey confidence, avoid words and phrases like “may,” “could,” and “in my opinion,” which suggest that things, and the people saying them, are uncertain

• Use definites. Rather than hedging, use definites instead. Words like “definitely,” “clearly,” and “obviously,” which suggest whatever was said isn’t just an opinion, it’s an irrefutable truth.

• Don’t hesitate. Ums and uhs are natural parts of speech, but too many of them can undermine people’s confidence in us and our message. So cut the fillers. To decrease hesitations, plan what to say in advance or pause to collect your thoughts when needed.

• Turn pasts into presents. Using the present tense can communicate confidence and increase persuasion. So to signal certainty, rather than using past tense (e.g., “I loved that book”), use present tense (e.g., “I love that book”) instead.

• Know when to express doubt. While seeming to be certain is often beneficial, if we want to show we’re open minded, receptive to opposing viewpoints, or aware of nuances, expressing doubt can help.

By harnessing the language of confidence, we can signal our expertise, showcase our

openness to opposing viewpoints, and encourage others to go along with what we’re suggesting.

So asking for advice can make us look smart because it strokes the advice giver’s ego.

Asking for advice is more effective, though, because it’s less overt. Rather than telling someone they’re great, asking them for advice shows that you hold them in high regard. That you think they’re smart and value their opinion.

Consequently, not only does asking for advice gather valuable insights, it also makes the asker seem more competent.

Instead, a better type of question to ask is one that follows up on what was just said. If someone says they’re a foodie, for example, asking them what types of food they like to eat. If someone says they’re concerned a new project isn’t working, asking them why they feel that way. And if someone says they can’t wait for the weekend, asking them what they are looking forward to.

Follow-up questions encourage conversation partners to elaborate further. To say more, provide more detail, or give more texture.

And whether talking to friends or strangers, clients or colleagues, people who ask follow-up questions are perceived more positively.

Follow-ups work because they signal responsiveness. Rather than just being polite or asking questions to change the subject, follow-up questions demonstrate that someone listened, understood, and wants to know more.

They responded to a difficult question with a related question of their own.

The key is asking a related question that shows interest. Signaling that we are seeking relevant information rather than hiding it.

If buyers directly asked about any potential issues (“The iPod doesn’t have any problems, does it?”), some sellers were relatively forthcoming. Around 60 percent of them fessed up and noted that the iPod had a history of crashing.

Questions like “What problems does it have?” do exactly that. Rather than implicitly assuming no issues, they assume there are some and want to root them out.

Indeed, when a third set of potential buyers asked “What problems does it have?,” potential sellers were much more forthcoming. Even though positive and negative assumption questions both directly asked about problems, negative assumption questions led sellers to be 50 percent more likely to fess up that problems could exist.

Questions not only solicit information, they reveal it. They reveal information about our knowledge, our assumptions, and even how assertive we’re going to be.

The more aversion there is to revealing certain information, the more important it becomes to ask questions that avoid making (positive) assumptions. Avoid presuming the absence of an issue.

The same goes when trying to get audiences to speak up. When making presentations or teaching complicated ideas, people often say things like “You don’t have any questions, do you?” But swapping that out for “What questions do you have?” will encourage more people to follow up if they don’t understand.

But it’s not enough just to be direct. We have to be direct in a way that not only shows that we’re aware that there could be negative information, but that we are assertive enough to keep looking for it until we find it.

Since then, this so-called Fast Friends technique has helped create emotional bonds between thousands of strangers. Art uses them regularly in his lectures and freshman classes to help people connect. People have applied them to help facilitate cross-race friendships and reduce prejudice. They’ve even been used to bolster trust and improve understanding between police officers and community members in cities where tensions are running high.

Developing close relationships often involves self-disclosure. Eventual friends or partners don’t start close. They start by exchanging pleasantries, making chitchat, and filling conversational space.

But what often separates relationships that evolve into something more is the ability to move past that. To go beyond the small talk and get to something deeper. To reveal things about oneself, learn things about someone else, and truly connect.

And therein lies the challenge. Deep self-disclosure requires social connection. But to get to that social connection, people need to have disclosed things about themselves previously. This catch-22 is part of the reason why the Fast Friends procedure is so effective. Rather than jumping to the heavy stuff right away, it eases people in, encouraging gradual self-disclosure.

The Fast Friends questions help. They don’t start too big, but they also don’t stay too small. They start safe and they build, becoming increasingly probing and revealing. And by requiring both parties to respond, they ensure everyone is contributing, deepening trust. The sustained, escalating, and reciprocal self-disclosure strengthens interconnectedness and can bring any two people closer together.

Start safe, then build. Deep self-disclosure requires social connection. But to get to that point, people need to feel safe first. So to deepen social relationships, or turn strangers into friends, start simple and build from there, encouraging reciprocal self-disclosure. Knowing what to ask, and when, can help us make better impressions, collect useful information, and foster more meaningful connections with those around us.

Beyond questions, though, there’s another type of magic word that deserves attention, and that is the language of concreteness.

Three ways to apply it are to: (1) make people feel heard, (2) make the abstract concrete, and (3) know when it’s better to be abstract.

Using concrete language significantly increased customer satisfaction.

When employees used more concrete language, customers spent 30 percent more with the retailer in the following weeks.

But for someone to feel heard, three things have to happen. First, they have to feel like the other person paid attention to what they said. Second, they have to feel like the other person understood what they said. And third, the other person has to demonstrate that they listened.

Consequently, it’s not enough just to listen. To make people feel heard, we have to show them that we listened. We have to respond in a way that demonstrates that we attended to and understood what they said.

And this is why concrete language is so valuable. A customer service representative may have paid attention, and understood the problem, but without some outward signal of understanding, there is no way for the customer to know.

Concrete language provides that signal. Using specific, concrete language shows that rather than just going through the motions, someone went to the effort to attend to and understand what was said. Or, said differently, to listen.

Concrete language boosted customer satisfaction, and purchase, because it showed customers that employees were listening to their needs…

So while attending to and understanding needs are key facets of listening, using concrete language takes it one step further. It shows listening.

... using concrete language has a host of beneficial consequences. It holds people’s attention, encourages support, and drives desired action.

In fact, linguistic concreteness even affects parole board decisions. When prisoners apologize for their actions, those who give more concrete explanations for their transgressions are more likely to be granted parole.

But while knowledge can sometimes be a blessing, it can also be a curse. Because once people know a lot about something, it can be difficult for them to remember what it’s like not to know that much. To imagine what it’s like not having that depth of understanding.

But what we forget is that while it’s easy for us to parse, others may not feel the same way. While we have spent lots of time thinking about something, or know a lot about it, we often fail to account for the fact that others may not be in the same position.

And abstractness is the cause.

The more people learn more about something, the more they naturally start to think about it abstractly.

We need to make the abstract concrete. Whether talking to colleagues or clients, students or sales reps, patients or program managers, we need to take abstract ideas and make them real by using concrete language. Helping people understand, and act on, what we’re saying.

... check out http://textanalyzer.org/ to measure concreteness in any text.

Pitches that used more abstract language made investors think the company had more potential for growth and greater ability to scale. Abstract language also boosted the likelihood of investment, increasing the chance startups made it through the initial round of consideration for funding.

But even more surprising is the type of language that increased investment. After all, concrete language increases understanding, boosts memorability, and has a host of other benefits. So given all that, why did less concrete (more abstract) language increase funding?

The answer, it turns out, has to do with what concrete language communicates about potential. As we’ve discussed, concrete language often relates to observable aspects of items, actions, and events. Things that exist in the here and now that we can see,

touch, or feel.

Consequently, concrete language is often quite helpful. It can help people visualize what is

being said and understand complex topics. In the context of pitch language, for example, using concrete language should help potential investors understand what a company does and the immediate problems that it hopes to solve.

But when deciding whether to fund a startup, understanding isn’t the main thing investors are looking for. They’re not just trying to comprehend a business, they’re trying to forecast its

potential—not just whether it will survive but whether or not it will flourish. How likely is this business to grow in the future? Not just a little, but a lot? How easy will it be to scale up?

Rather than focusing on one niche, abstract language makes the market seem widespread. And given that larger growth potential, a company seems like a much more promising investment.

Consequently, whether it’s better to use concrete or abstract language depends on the outcome we’re trying to achieve. Want to help people understand a complex idea, feel heard, or remember what was said? Using concrete language is going to be more effective.

But if we want people to think our idea has potential, or that we’re a forward-thinking visionary, abstract language is more effective.

Abstract language also suggests that communicators are more powerful and would be better managers or leaders. Using abstract language to describe everyday activities (e.g., describing ignoring someone as “showing dislike” rather than “not saying hello”) makes people seem more focused on the big picture, and thus more powerful, dominant, and in control. Similarly, hearing someone describe a product more abstractly (i.e., “nutritious” rather than “containing lots of vitamins”) made them seem more fit to be a manager or leader.

More generally, when trying to make language either more concrete or more abstract, one helpful approach is to focus on either the how or the why.

Want to be more concrete? Focus on the how. How does a product meet consumer needs? How does a proposed new initiative address an important problem? Thinking about how something is or will be done encourages concreteness. It focuses on the feasibility and helps generate concrete descriptions.

Want to be more abstract? Focus on the why. Why does a product meet consumer needs? Why does a proposed new initiative address an important problem? Thinking about why something is good or right encourages abstractness. It focuses on its desirability and helps generate abstract descriptions.

Consequently, we need to harness the power of linguistic concreteness.

• Make people feel heard. Want to show someone you’re listening? Be concrete. Give specific details that show we paid attention and understood.

• Be concrete. Don’t just pick things that sound good, use words that listeners can see in their minds. It’s a lot easier to imagine a red sportscar than ideation.

• Focus on the How. Thinking about the nuts and bolts of how something will happen, and focusing on specific actions, makes things concrete.

But while concrete language is often useful, if our goal is to come off as powerful, or make something seem like it has growth potential, using abstract language is better. In those cases:

• Focus on the why. Thinking about the reasoning behind something helps things stay high level and communicate that big picture.

The study revealed that mistakes themselves are neither good nor bad. Their impact hinges on the broader context. When incompetent people made mistakes, it just reinforced other’s already negative impressions. It was more of the same.

When competent people made mistakes, though, it had the opposite effect. Successful people are hard to identify with. They seem so perfect that it’s hard to connect. And that’s why mistakes can help. Because when otherwise competent people make a mistake once in a while, it humanizes them. It makes them more real, which makes them more likable.

The pratfall effect shows that imperfections can be an asset. But it’s actually just one example of a much larger phenomenon. And that is the value of employing emotion. Four ways to do that are to: (1) build a roller coaster, (2) mix up moments, (3) consider the context, and (4) activate uncertainty.

Indeed, when we analyzed the movies, we found that those which interspersed highly positive moments with strongly negative ones were more successful. Movies that repeatedly traversed from the lowest of emotional lows to the highest of emotional highs, and back again, were liked more.

As long as someone is already perceived as competent, acknowledging mistakes can be beneficial.

The slip-up, though, should be relatively minor. Spilling something on one’s jacket or making a small mistake can make people more relatable. A mistake that is more central to the job at hand will likely be viewed more negatively.

Highlighting the hurdles—moving from lows to highs and back again—and mixing up moments—leveraging emotional volatility—can help turn any story into a great one.

The same goes for a car. If someone says it’s fun to drive, or looks amazing, their opinion is based more on feelings. If they say it’s well built or gets good gas mileage, feelings are playing less of a role.

Restaurants with more emotional reviews get more reservations, movies with more emotional reviews do better at the box office, and books with more emotional reviews sell more copies. Using emotional language suggests people have stronger attitudes, which may lead their experiences to have a bigger effect on others.

But rather than always being persuasive, whether emotional language encourages action depends on is the type of thing we’re trying to persuade people about.

Utilitarian things are often more cognitive or instrumental in nature, purchased to fill a need.

... emotional language had different effects in these two types of domains.

As mentioned, for hedonic things (music, movies, and novels), emotional language increased impact. Emotional reviews were more helpful and made consumers more interested in making a purchase…

For utilitarian products, however, the opposite occurred. For razors, emotionality backfired. Emotional reviews were less helpful, made people less willing to purchase whatever was reviewed.

Because while emotionality is good for hedonic things, it’s bad for more utilitarian ones. When picking and using hedonic products and services, emotion is a deciding factor. People want sports cars to be exciting, movies to be enjoyable, and vacations to be fun. So when emotional words are used to describe hedonic things, people think they’ll like those things more. But when picking and using utilitarian products and services, evoking emotion isn’t really the goal.

When marketing a product, service, or experience, for example, is it more hedonic or more utilitarian? Are people buying it for pleasure or enjoyment, or more functional or practical reasons? If it’s more about enjoyment, emotional words like “awesome” and “beautiful” fit really well. Saying a movie is “heartwarming,” a destination is “inspiring,” or a meditation app is “fantastic” not only suggests those things are good but does so in a way that encourages purchase and action.

If the product, service, or experience is more about practical functionality, however, those same positive words may backfire. Less emotional words like “brilliant,” “flawless,” and “perfect” will be more persuasive. Calling a dictation app “brilliant” rather than “awesome,” for example, should encourage purchase and use.

For things like résumés and job applications, most evaluators have a utilitarian outlook. Like buying a product to fill a need, they’re looking for people who can solve a problem or add value.

But although people often think it makes sense to jump into addressing the issue at hand, that’s not actually the best course of action. When we analyzed hundreds of problem-solving conversations, we found that connecting first was key, starting with warmer, more emotional language before diving into addressing the issues.

Relationship building (or maintenance) helps set the stage for whatever comes next. It strengthens social connection and builds rapport. Consequently, warm, emotional language is particularly useful at the beginning of a conversation.

Being nice is good, but eventually decisions need to be made and problems need to be solved.

And that is where less emotional, more cognitive language becomes important. Indeed, when customer service agents used more emotional language at the beginning of conversations, and more cognitive language in the middle, customers were more satisfied with the interaction and purchased more afterward.

Don’t just solve. And don’t just connect.

Connect, then solve.

The same goes for presentation gimmicks. Sometimes they get a laugh or get people to look up from their laptops, but they don’t really get people to deeply engage with the material. They grab attention but they don’t hold it.

In these, and similar situations, the distinction between attracting and holding attention is key. Senders don’t just want recipients to open their emails, they want them to read them.

The more emotional language an article used, the more likely audiences were to keep reading.

Anxiety is uncertain. It usually involves doubt, ambiguity, or insecurity. Not knowing what will happen and being scared that it might be bad.

It turns out that these differences in certainty have an important impact on sustained attention. Looking across thousands of pieces of content, we found that uncertain emotions encouraged engagement…

Uncertainty led readers to stick around to resolve what they didn’t know.

Second, emotional language is a powerful tool to increase engagement.

... sustaining attention is less about making people feel good or bad, and more about opening up a curiosity gap that makes them want to learn more. Uncertain emotions, or uncertain language more generally, keeps people engaged.

• Highlight the hurdles. As long as we’re already seen as competent, revealing past shortcomings can make people like us more, not less.

• Build a roller coaster. The best stories blend highs and lows. So to increase engagement, know when to go negative. Talking about all the failures along the way makes the successes evermore sweet.

• Mix up moments. The same intuition applies to moments as well. Smooth rides are easy, but not the most engaging, so to hold people’s attention, mix it up a bit.

• Consider the context. When trying to persuade, it’s not just enough to say something positive. Emotional language can help in hedonic domains like movies and vacations, but backfire in more utilitarian domains like job applications or software.

• Connect, then solve. Solving problems requires understanding people. So rather than jumping into solutions, connect with the person first. Starting with warmer, more emotional language helps set things up for the more cognitive, problem-solving discussions that come later.

• Activate uncertainty. The right words can make any topic or presentation more captivating. Evoking uncertain emotions (e.g., surprise) will keep people engaged.

6: HARNESS SIMILARITY (AND DIFFERENCE)

“They found that people’s behavior on the site could be broken into two distinct stages. When users first joined, they were relatively flexible. They learned the language of the community and started using it themselves, adopting whatever conventions others were using at the time.

But after that initial period of accommodation, users entered a more conservative phase. They stopped adapting new words and phrases and their language calcified. The community and its norms kept moving forward, but older users no longer moved with it.

Because rather than suggesting that some words are good and others are bad, it highlights the importance of linguistic similarity. In this case, people whose language matched the group’s tended to be more likely to stick around.

Understanding whether people are going to keep contributing to an online community, though, is only one of the many things distance helps explain. And to harness its power we need to know (1) when to signal similarity, (2) when to be different, and (3) how to plot the right progression.

Employees whose linguistic style was more similar to their coworkers’ were three times more likely to be promoted. They received better performance evaluations and higher bonuses…

Indeed, people with a dissimilar linguistic style weren’t so fortunate. They were four times more likely to be fired…

Adaptability, in turn, helped explain success.

Linguistic similarity even helped distinguish between employees who stayed at the firm and those who left to pursue better options. Not because they got fired, but because they were offered something better elsewhere. These folks assimilated early on, but at some point, their language started to diverge. While clearly capable of adapting, eventually they stopped trying, foreshadowing their intention to quit.

Using similar language can facilitate conversation, make people feel connected, and increase their perception that they are part of the same tribe. All of which can increase liking, trust, and a variety of positive downstream outcomes.

It turned out that atypical songs were more successful. A country song about girls and cars, for example, tended to do pretty well, but one that was about more atypical themes like dance moves or street cred was even more likely to be a hit. The more differentiated a song’s lyrics were from its genre, the more popular it tended to be.

Difference drove success.

Call it country trap, hick-hop, or anything else you want, but “Old Town Road” is clearly atypical. This genre-flouting, boundary-busting tune defies classification. Too rap to be a country tune and too country to be a rap song, it blends conventions to create something new and different.

But while the song itself is atypical, the reason for its success was far from it. In fact, its success was downright predictable. Its unusual nature was exactly why it became a hit.

Using similar language seems to pay off at the office, but using different language makes songs more successful. So when is similarity good and when is difference better?

But at its core, the difference is really about what similarity and difference evoke or connote, and which is better in the particular context being considered.

Linguistic similarity has a number of benefits. Using similar language often requires listening to what someone else said, so, not surprisingly, it is associated with everything from better dates to more successful negotiations.

Differentiation is also linked to creativity and memorability. Creative people’s thoughts tend to jump among different ideas, and slogans and movie quotes that are phrased more distinctively…

Overall, then, similarity and difference can both be good and bad. Similarity feels familiar and safe but can also be boring. Difference can be exciting and stimulating but can also be risky.

When considering new music, however, people like stimulation, so difference is better. Atypical movies are also more successful, and the same may be true for other cultural products, like musicals. One reason Hamilton was such a big hit was that its style diverged from what theatergoers were used to.

The British linguist J. R. Firth once noted, “You shall know a word by the company it keeps.” Said another way, you can learn a lot about what words mean and the relationships among them by looking at the contexts they show up in and the words that surround them.

Building on this idea, a technique called word embedding uses the relationships among words to plot them on a multidimensional space.

Overall, we found that speed was good. Books, movies, and TV shows with faster plot progression were liked more than their slower-moving counterparts.

Just as atypical lyrics make songs more interesting to listen to, a faster plot progression makes a story more stimulating. Rather than just plodding along, moving faster between more differentiated topics and ideas is more exciting, which leads audiences to react more favorably.

In addition, we found that within stories, there were times when plots should move faster and times when they should move more slowly. At the beginning of a book or movie, the canvas is blank. An audience doesn’t know who the characters are, what the setting is, or how everything relates. So the beginning of a story sets the stage, building a base or jumping-off point for the rest of the narrative.

Starting slowly is key. It takes time for the audience members to digest the characters, their relationships, and everything else, so a plot that moves too quickly at the outset may confuse them.

... early on, speed was detrimental. Audiences reacted more favorably to stories that moved more slowly initially.

Indeed, as stories advance, the effect of speed reverses. Though audiences liked stories that moved slowly initially, eventually a faster plot progression was preferred, so much so that toward the end of stories, those that moved faster were liked more.

The speed of stories matters, but whether faster or slower is better depends on the point in the narrative. The best plots start slowly, but once everyone is on board, they pick up steam, building excitement and engagement along the way.

If the goal is to entertain, speed is good. Moving faster helps keep an audience stimulated and engaged. But the beginning of a piece should be slower to make sure everyone is on board, and then the story can move more quickly as things progress.

If the goal is to inform, however, a different trajectory may be better. Indeed, when we looked at the success of academic papers, which are more about informing than about entertaining, speed was detrimental. Though moving more quickly among related ideas makes content

more stimulating, it’s also more difficult to follow. So particularly when presenting complex ideas, if your goal is to inform, slow may be the way to go.

... language is like a fingerprint. It leaves behind traces or signals of the person or people who created it.

Because beyond telling us things about specific people, language also reveals things about society more broadly. The biases and beliefs that shape how we see the world.

Hiring and promotion, for example, particularly for leadership roles, usually depend on how competent someone seems.

Each one is an opportunity to build public trust in police or erode it, to strengthen the bridge with the community or undermine it.

While both sides obviously play a role, the words officers use are critical. They can communicate respect and understanding or contempt and disregard. They can calm a worried motorist down or make them more anxious.

And the difference wasn’t driven by just a couple of rogue officers. Among hundreds of officers, whether White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, or other, the pattern persisted: Black motorists were treated with less respect.

The Stanford study raises a host of important questions. It’s easy to call police officers racist or point to this as evidence that the police are out to get African Americans. And that is certainly one way to see the results.

But the truth is likely both subtler and more complex.

Some individual officers may be racist. And given the broader actions of individual officers in particular high-profile cases, this is almost certainly the case.

But regardless, even if it isn’t intentional, a much larger portion of officers are treating White and Black people differently. Most officers likely mean well and are simply doing the best they can in difficult situations. But whether they realize it or not and whether they mean to or not, the words they use differ. And this makes the underlying problem even more challenging to solve.

For another set of students, the researchers worded the praise slightly differently. Rather than praising the person, or telling them how smart they were, the researchers praised the process, or how hard they were working (“You must have worked hard at these problems”).

But those two or three words made a big difference. Rather than hurting their motivation, praising the students’ process, or how hard they had worked, encouraged them to keep going.

Telling someone they’re smart, good at math, or a great presenter implies that their performance depends on a stable trait. If they did well on a test, they have that trait, but if they did badly, well, they’re just out of luck. They don’t have what it takes and there’s not much they can do to change it.

But rephrasing that feedback as process praise is more likely to have the intended effect. Telling someone they did well, or did a good job on a test or presentation, focuses less on stable traits and more on the particular instance at hand. Which means if things don’t go so well once in a while, it’s not a mark of failure or lack of ability. It’s just a misstep and a reminder to work harder next time around.