A client recently groused about his negotiations for a book contract with a 
major publishing house. He had conducted extensive interviews with some of the top, second-generation CEOs of well-known U.S. family owned businesses. His book concept was fresh. The publishing house loved his proposal. And offered him a book contract.
Negotiations stalled when the publisher balked at the idea of the author making the final decision about the book title. Most publishers will not let a first-time author dictate the title of his or her book, of course. But our client had a fresh, evocative title. The publishing house was worried about SEO. They preferred titles with the search friendly word succession. Yet, the majority of the books will be sold in bulk through our client’s channels. Not through one-offs via search. One of the main reasons the publisher gave our client a contract was because of his channels.
The only value traditional book publishers bring to the table these days is their role as mere importers of printed materials. They are baffled: what makes a book succeed? They want writers with “platforms” (e.g., 250,000 Twitter followers). I found the publisher’s insistence on an SEO-driven title absurd.
Death of an SEO Word
The word succession is a dead word. It’s dead because the private wealth sector has murdered the word through overuse. In recent years, a cottage industry of small consulting firms specializing in family business succession has sprung up. The word succession is like the word leadership or management or branding. Ubiquitous and, therefore, meaningless.
So, the question remains: do you put the word succession in the title because Google will index the word and give you better search rankings? Or do you come up with a fresh, evocative title that intrigues your audience and promises much more? And maybe put succession in the subtitle or not at all?
If you’re a rule follower (and trying to sell SEO services), you’ll choose SEO over fresh. And you’ll rant about stupid Luddite writers. The SEO Gestapo will add words to the titles, articles, or subheds when the Luddites are not looking. It’s all about clicks, the secret SEO police say, “Clicks, clicks, and clicks!”
For the Gestapo, content marketing is about appeasing The Machine. The Machine is Omniscient. The Machine is All Knowing. And, of course, Mercurial. At any time, The Machine can change her algorithm. And all those who make their living in obeisance to The Machine then scramble to figure out the new search math and how to please her once again.
Mother Google, another name for The Machine, cannot be pleased, of course. The masses all use the same techniques to attempt to bow to The Machine. For example, if the masses are writing about succession, then succession is the word of the masses. And, ipso facto, the word becomes useless unless you pay The Machine for rankings (SEM).
The Machine Can’t Love You Back
The Machine is worthy of worship, no doubt. She is god, after all. She rules the Digital Universe. For now.
But the Machine is not human. The Machine can’t subscribe to your email alerts (at least not as a real human being). The Machine can’t retweet your post. The Machine can’t follow you on Twitter. The Machine won’t forward an article or post it to your data feed on Facebook. The Machine can’t really make anything go viral unless a human reads the content or gazes upon the image and sends it on.
The Machine is, basically, plumbing. Okay, maybe smart plumbing.
Stuffing keywords into a sentence (or a title or a subhead) for SEO is the best way to train people to ignore you. Even if you get a click, you’ll only get it once if the content is so damn predictable. SEO makes content dreary and forgettable.
The Stuff that Does the Best Is the Best
Imagine if the opening sentence of Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms included the book’s bank of keywords, such as World War I, ambulance driver, Italy, hospitals, and love. Yes, I know that digital content isn’t long form (ergo, books), but fresh, engaging blogs and articles begin when writers are forced to find new ways to say something old. That’s the exact opposite of being forced to write something creative with only eight possible words.
Nicholas Thompson, an editor with the New Yorker, recently wrote, “There’s a certain randomness, or at least unpredictability, to Web traffic. You’re never absolutely certain that a blog post will take off until it does. But as I look back at the year’s most read posts, I again realize something wonderful about the Internet: for the most part, the stuff that does the best is the best.”
It takes hard work to create the best.
So stop writing for The Machine. Write for humans. Spend more time choosing fresh words and crafting great sentences. Write first for impact, and then figure out your SEO tactics. Work through your Mother Google issues on your therapist’s couch. Not within your content.