On Making the Unsexy, Sexy.
Getting people to read about the end of the world’s a pretty tough sell. It’s not like readers don’t care. There’s just so much doom and gloom the last thing they want is another reason not to get out of bed in the morning. Add to that a million competing interests, that never-ending to-do list, and the fact anything related to sustainability is just…so…boring. Taking on such a Sisyphean task is something only the most ludicrous of authors would even consider.
(5 Rules of Ethical Journalism.)
I suppose that makes me the most ludicrous of all.
When I began my career in public good nearly 20 years ago, conversations around sustainability were pretty focused on hugging the trees. I would have loved to have been in the room when whatever marketing genius came up with the messaging still pervasive today. It’s the burnt-out hellscape of an Earth, brought to its knees by our greed, misuse of natural resources, or a nuclear winter. It’s the poor girl in some developing nation far, far away that you can save with just a few cents a day. It’s the sad polar bear on the melting ice cap, struggling to survive.
Let’s be honest, though. All those tropes are pretty easy to ignore. If I’m just one of 10 billion people on the planet, what in the world am I supposed to do to make an impact?
And just like that, we picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
For the next decade-plus, we sat like proverbial frogs in a boiling pot of water. Sure, there were plenty of loud voices screaming at us to change. But by and large, we’ve kept being the little resource-intensive piggies we’ve always been, oblivious to how different the planet is today.
Which got me thinking: What was it going to take to effectively communicate the concepts, happenings, and actions in sustainability to a less-than-receptive audience? In sitting down to write my second nonfiction book, The Great Greenwashing: How Brands, Governments, and Influencers are Lying to You, I knew my audience wasn’t the 1% of people already on the frontlines. I was writing for the 99% still ignoring the truth, sitting on the fence, or hamstrung and looking for ways to act. How could I make a very unsexy topic, like sustainability, as sexy and approachable as possible? Ultimately, it came down to three things.
#1. Make it novel.
Rachel Carson’s 1962 classic, Silent Spring, is usually heralded as the official start of the modern environmental movement. That means we’re going on over 60 years of being force-fed all kinds of information on saving the planet, fixing the climate, and sustainability. For most people, they simply assume they’ve heard it all. Because of this, what’s the point of paying attention?
The last thing I wanted to do was repackage tired old talking points. This is great because the world I work in and write about changes daily. I’m constantly discovering, learning, and applying new things. Consider, for instance, what you think is the most impactful thing one can do to save the planet. Recycling? Going vegan? Living on a kibbutz? All fair answers, but none are correct. The number one thing people can do is to have fewer, well, people.
For most readers, that can be a pretty confronting thing to think about. But the important part is that this novel concept gets people to pay attention and think.
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#2. Make it relatable.
Like politics, everything in sustainability is personal. The approach often employed by eco-activists and your quintessential greenies, though, is generally less than relatable. These poster children of the movement take an all-or-nothing stance. Buying fast fashion is bad. Eating meat is cruel. Fossil fuel companies must end.
But this is the 21st century. Only a very small segment of society is going to give up their cars, cell phones, or trips to Bali. Good luck getting someone to live off the grid. So rather than forcing an unrealistic approach on an unwilling audience, why not meet them where they are?
My own personal mantra is to simplify sustainability so that it’s as relatable as possible. If someone can only afford fast fashion or loves a hamburger, fine. What can they do in other aspects of their lives to make a positive impact? We need fossil fuels for our modern world. Until we can fully wean ourselves off of them—which is something a lot of brilliant minds are working on as we speak—how do we ensure a just transition and a personal reduction in their use?
In the traditional stance, you’ll notice a massive lack of nuance. For most readers—and those of us in the profession—it’s this missing nuance that’s the most fascinating part of all.
#3. Tone it down.
One of the comments I get most frequently from my writing is that, “It’s like having a normal conversation with someone.” That’s because I’ve simply written the same way I speak. Writing on climate change and sustainability is already rife with scientific data, jargon, and language better suited to the ivory tower of academia. All that does is put a further barrier between our critical message and our audience. The thing is, it doesn’t have to be this way. Many concepts—as is often the case—are easier to grasp when they’re put plainly. Toss in a bit of appropriately placed profanity and you’ve got a recipe for success.
Even more importantly, though, I wanted my writing to give a message of hope. I’m not talking about some wink, wink, nudge, nudge false hope, either. The realistic optimism I have comes from seeing all the positive things happening behind the scenes. From technological innovations through to businesses working hard to ensure a better future, I’ve discovered these are the stories people want to read. They’re done with horrific above-the-fold click bait, gravitating instead to reading about these champions of positive change.
Of course, none of this is the exclusive purview of writing on sustainability. Novelty, relatability, and tone of voice are critical elements in any form of storytelling. The unfortunate reality is that a lot of nonfiction writing, especially that which tries to get across difficult subjects, forgets some of the very foundations of good writing. But if the reception to The Great Greenwashing is to be believed, getting back to basics is the key to turning topics some might consider mundane or even (gasp!) unsellable into attention-grabbing fodder for a new generation of readers.
Check out John Pabon’s The Great Greenwashing here:
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