Many years ago, a friend of mine used to show horses.

Horse shows are competitive. There’s usually not a huge difference in the performance and talent between the winners and the losers. But, my friend was very successful and he won a lot. And, I mean a lot.

He had a process.

He arrived at the show early and settled his horses in. Then, he found out who was going to be judging his events and what other events they were also judging. Then, he sat, sometimes for hours, and watched those judges work. He saw, first-hand, what they were looking for that day, what they rewarded, and what they dismissed or weren’t impressed by.

In his events, he then adjusted his and his horses’ performances to fit the judge that day. He might not have agreed with them about what constituted a winner or how something should be done, but by working to their biases and understanding what they wanted, he won more than he lost.

By doing his research each time—not just assuming he knew what the judges wanted—he gained an advantage over his fellow competitors who often didn’t arrive until minutes before their events.

My friend’s process reminds me a lot of writing, and communications in general.

One of the basic tenets of communication is to know your audience. You have to know who you’re talking to. In my friend’s case, his audience was the show judge. He made sure he understood his audience before he communicated his message. He invited them to select him because he was showing them that he had what they wanted.

Knowing your audience is something every communications professional understands. It’s common sense. Every writer knows this instinctively.

But how many of us take ‘know your audience’ for granted? How many of us are like the riders that didn’t win? They assume things about their audience—or, worse, never even give them a thought—until they’re being judged by them.

If you don’t know what your audience wants or needs, how can you expect them to listen to you or accept what you’re telling them? Tailor your message to your audience and you’ll win more than you lose.

Why is writing so hard sometimes?

I’ve written all sorts of things over the years: emails, responses to enquiries, reports, web content, plans, procedures, technical documentation, reviews, proposals, business cases, tender documents, advertising copy, blog posts, flash fiction, short fiction, long fiction…

You name it, I’ve probably written something that looks very much like it.

I never had a problem with writing until I resigned from my job a few years ago and began to work for myself. I only had myself to answer to. Finally, I could write what I wanted to write. I had ideas. I knew what I wanted to write. I had time.

Little did I know at the time, but my boss was awful and so indecisive.

I suddenly found myself staring at a blank page every day and not being able to start. I knew what I wanted to write but I couldn’t get any traction. Then I’d start with a couple of words and continue in fits and starts. It was no longer the smooth confident writing that I’d been doing all my life.

What was going on?

After weeks and way too much self-doubt and chocolate, the epiphany finally hit me like that time someone threw a water bottle at my head. The reason it was suddenly so hard to write was that I didn’t know who I was trying to talk to.

How do you have a conversation with someone if you know nothing about them? It becomes one of those awkward “strangers stuck with each other at a party”, right? You flail around looking for topics and the right words. You default to talking about the weather as if it’s interesting. You get out of there as quickly as you can.

Knowing even one tiny thing about who you’re talking to—such as where they’re from, which friend or interest you have in common, or if they have a cat—makes it so much easier to start a conversation. You can get a big foot in the door and understand how to talk to them.

It sounds cliché, but ‘know your audience’ really is the key to effective communication.

Use that key to unlock that door and the writing is so much easier.

Don’t assume you know me because you met me once.

My horsey friend never assumed the same person would judge in the same way every time. Everyone has their quirks and preferences, but they might be having a bad day and be picky about something trivial. They might have gone to a seminar last week and are now looking for something they wouldn’t have noticed a month ago.

None of us is the same person forever and at all times. Our mood, what’s going on around us, and what’s important changes minute to minute, day to day, month to month, year to year.

If you’re writing for an audience that you’ve written for before, don’t assume they haven’t changed since your last piece. Try to confirm your assumptions or find out what’s changed since you last spoke to them.

What’s going on in the world that wasn’t happening last time? What changes have occurred in their lives since the last conversation you had? Do they have new pain points that weren’t there yesterday? Is something no longer an issue for them? Do they now hate something they loved last month? Do you need to change the way you speak to them, use different words, or ask them to do something in a different way?

Your assumptions might be right, but they could equally be wrong. Run an eye over them and double-check before you start, just to be sure.

Oh no, I don’t know who the judges are!

I’ve entered some short story competitions over the years, but I never got closer than the long-list for a long time.

I was trying to work out how to improve my chances and I tried to apply my friend’s method to my competition entries. The problem was that the judges’ names were not always made public, so I didn’t know who they were. I couldn’t watch them work and tailor my story accordingly.

But what I could do was read and analyse previous winning entries and non-winning entries, which was almost like watching story judges work. What did the winners have in common and how were they different from the non-winners? What was rewarded and what was discarded?

Yes, I had to assume some things about my audience even though I said earlier that you shouldn’t. If you have no other information to work from, you have to look at similarities with other people. You’ll find patterns if you look.

I didn’t rely just on audience assumptions, though. I also looked closer at each competition brief to work out what the point of it was, what they were likely looking for, and how I could tailor my story to fit that brief. I was after the context and what would make them more likely to buy what I was selling.

With my next entry, I won 2nd place and a substantial cash prize. Not 1^st but closer than I’d ever been before and nicely rewarding, particularly the dopamine hit that came with it.

It wasn’t too much later that 1st place did arrive, accompanied by some very nice comments from readers I’ve never met but who I appreciate more than ever now.

If you really can’t research your specific audience, look at similar audiences, find the patterns, and make sure you know the context of this particular piece of writing.

‘Know your audience’ is important to more than just writing.

Knowing your audience applies to more than just communications and words on a page.

It’s important to just about everything we produce that we want to share with others, particularly if we want someone to do something in response. You need to know your audience for writing, website design, performances, competitions, events, fundraising proposals, business models and ideas, and more.

So, learn from my winning friend just like I did.

Make a conscious effort to understand your audience before you appear in front of them. Give them every reason to pick you.