If a listener ever takes a few minutes to listen to your show, chances are, they are already interested in the topic, whatever it may be. Congratulations! They discovered you; you’ve already achieved what is probably the most difficult part, getting someone to actually “tune in” in the first place—but now you’ve got to hook them in, to seal the deal, and this is where I see all too many podcasts stumble.

First impressions are very important. If your podcast has audio that is distorted or muddy that makes it difficult to understand what is being said, or has inconsistent levels, where I’m constantly reaching for the volume control, because I have to turn it up because the voices are too low, and then when the music comes up I’m being blasted… well, you get the idea. These may be extreme examples, and maybe I’m jaded, but if your show doesn’t meet a certain level of technical production quality, people are simply going to tune out. The amazing thing about the Internet is that it gives people such an incredible variety of content they can consume, and can consume only the content they choose to… which can mean listening to or watching something else other than your podcast. The flip side of there being so much content out there is by having high quality audio (and video), you can distinguish yourself and get ahead of the pack.

With that said, just because a podcast has professional-level, high-quality production values, it does not make it a great podcast. So you’ve drawn people in, but you’re still going to have to deliver that content. But if your production sucks, they might not tune in long enough to find your content, no matter how brilliant it might be. When it becomes a chore to listen to (or watch), you’ve already lost them, and they’re probably never coming back. Will I listen to a podcast just for production quality? Heck no! But time is finite, and if it comes down to listening to one or the other, it’s going to be the better quality one. Life is just too short to suffer through poor quality production. If you as a producer don’t care or can’t be bothered to put forth some effort, why should I care enough to listen?

Now, I’m not necessarily advocating spending money to build a professional studio…God knows I’ve spent more than I probably should have, and it’s not a magic bullet. Getting high quality doesn’t have to cost a lot of money, if any at all (though judiciously spending a few bucks can go a long way). What kills me most of all is common problems that can be so easy to fix. Care enough to make an effort! Don’t make rookie mistakes; doing your due diligence as a producer, and performing some best practices can go a long way, and you don’t have to be an audio engineer or production guru to do so.

For goodness sake, enough with the plosives (popping “p”‘s, etc.), and use a good pop filter (not the same as a foam windscreen), or at least reposition the mic to talk across it, and not in to it; make sure your levels are consistent (use the Levelator), if one host is louder than the other, or the voices are quiet but when the music comes in I’m being blasted, you’re making my ears bleed; and don’t be afraid to do a little editing to tighten things up, removing painful pauses and long unnecessary tangents, because a little bit can go a long way toward professionalism—but, lay off the noise reduction, it’s noise reduction, not noise removal, and it’s not even close to a magic bullet… I could go on, but you probably get the idea.

This isn’t exclusive to podcasting, either. If you’re a blogger, for example, and your writing is filled with typos and spelling and grammatical errors, you greatly undermine your credibility.

What technical problems do you find most annoying?

As always, sound off in the comments, and if you’ve got any specific podcasting problems, let me know!

First Impressions Matter in Podcasting is a post from Steve Riekeberg

When I describe myself, you will see me list terms that list my interests, such as “podcaster,” “techie,” “gamer,” “science fiction fan,” “audio production nerd”—needless to say, I’m definitely a geek. But in a bold step, I recently added another label in to the mix: “wannabe writer.” While there are far too many to list here, I am incredibly lucky to have some amazingly creative friends, both writers and non-writers, who encourage and inspire me, especially on the Internet in the podcasting and new media space. In recent years, there have been points where I have expressed my admiration for my creative friends, and idly lamenting my lack of talent in this area, and insisted to myself (and others) “…but I’m not a writer.” I have had many creative ideas for stories to tell—”but oh, well, I’m not really a writer…” Well then, why the heck not? You are what you make yourself—so what if I haven’t been writing for years, so what if I didn’t want to be a writer back when I was a kid? No more “but.” I call shenanigans on my mind’s own insecure, self-doubting nonsense—because disbelief is the enemy.

Those who follow me on Twitter or hang out with me on IRC, you may have seen me mention my “super secret” projects. At least two of these projects—yes, I have a few secret projects, and no, I won’t say exactly how many—are, and have been, writing projects, fiction projects. Part of this “coming out” and declaring “I’m a writer!” is to give myself, through you, some measure of accountability. Today, a lot of people—some very talented, but unfortunately also many hacks—seem to like to claim to be a “writer” (fiction or non-fiction) if they can put a few sentences together. You almost can’t help roll your eyes at some people who claim to have been “writing” their “Great American Novel”—no matter how brilliant it might be—for years with little to show for it. I have the ideas, but maybe this year, I will have something to show for it. Wait, no, that’s not right. There is no “maybe”. I will, or I will not; “maybe” is a self-defeating excuse.

What I write might not be worthy of the bytes it takes up on my hard drive—and probably won’t be, at least at first. But if I don’t try, I might as well pack up all my toys, and go home, because I have already failed—and have nobody to blame but myself. To succeed, you have to first be willing to fail.

It’s time—no, past time—to come out of the creative “closet.” I am no longer simply a podcaster, techie, science fiction fan, gamer, audio production nerd. I, am Steve Riekeberg, and I am a writer.

Coming Out of the Closet is a post from Steve Riekeberg