Writing an event description people finish reading

Answer four questions in the first three lines: what physically happens, who it is for, where and when, and what it costs. Everything else can follow. Most descriptions open with atmosphere and bury the practical detail, which is why readers leave before finding out whether the event suits them.

What a reader is actually doing

Somebody arriving at your listing is not reading. They are scanning, for about eight seconds, deciding whether this is worth reading.

In those eight seconds they want to know four things: what this is, whether it is for them, whether they could physically get there, and roughly what it costs. Answer all four and you have a reader. Answer none and the rest of the page is decoration.

Most descriptions spend the first paragraph on tone. Join us for an unforgettable evening celebrating creativity in our community. That sentence contains none of the four answers and it is where the reader leaves.

The four questions

The right column is not wrong exactly. It is empty. Every phrase in it could describe almost any event, which means it tells a reader nothing they can act on.

Write what happens, not how it will feel

The strongest opening line describes the room. A reader should be able to picture themselves in it and the two hours they will spend there.

Twelve people around a table, learning to make a sourdough starter, taking one home. Compare that with an immersive workshop exploring the art of fermentation. The first is a thing that happens and the second is a description of a category.

Telling people how they will feel is also a promise you cannot keep. Unforgettable and inspiring set an expectation that the actual evening then has to clear, and a plainly described evening that turns out to be good exceeds expectations rather than falling short of them.

Name the audience narrowly

Organizers write everyone welcome because they do not want to exclude anybody. It has the opposite effect, because nobody recognises themselves in it.

Naming a specific audience attracts more people, not fewer. If you say this is for people who have never done this before and are slightly nervous about it, the person who is exactly that books immediately, and nobody else is actually turned away.

It also does useful filtering. An event that is honest about what it is gets attendees who wanted that, which is how you end up with a room that works.

Answer the hesitations

The reason somebody does not book is rarely that they disliked the event. It is usually an unanswered practical worry, and each one you resolve recovers a few people.

• Do I need experience? Say plainly whether beginners are fine, because plenty of people assume they are not.
• Do I need to bring anything? The most common reason for hesitating on a workshop, and a one-line answer.
• Will I know anyone? Saying most people come alone removes a real barrier for a lot of readers.
• How do I get there and how long does it take? Nearest station, parking, and a finish time so people can plan the journey home.

None of these are exciting to write and all of them convert better than another sentence about atmosphere.

Be honest about what is not confirmed

If the venue is not fixed, name the area rather than writing venue to be announced. An area is a real commitment somebody can judge. To be announced reads as uncertainty about whether the event exists at all.

The same applies to a conditional listing. Saying plainly that you need forty reservations by a date, and that nobody is charged otherwise, is reassuring rather than off-putting. It tells a reader the terms before they enter card details, which is the thing that earns the reservation.

Avoid scarcity framing that is not true. Only nine spots left, on an event that is not confirmed, is the specific claim that generates complaints.

Images

A photograph of the actual room beats a designed graphic almost every time, because it answers a question the reader has rather than decorating the page.

A phone picture of the real space, or of a previous edition with people in it, is worth more than a polished image of somewhere else. Stock photography is worse than no image at all, because a reader who recognises it stops believing the rest of the page.

The title does more work than the description

Most people see your title without ever reaching the description, in a list of other events, in a message, in a search result. It is doing most of the selling and it usually gets the least attention.

A good title says what the thing is in words somebody would actually use. Sourdough for beginners, one evening beats Fermentation Fundamentals, and it beats a clever name with no information attached.

• Put the useful noun first. Somebody scanning a list reads the first two or three words and no more.
• Avoid names that need explaining. A title requiring the description to make sense of it has already failed for anyone who did not open it.
• Skip the exclamation and the ellipsis. Neither adds information and both read as trying too hard.
• Include the thing people would search for. If they would type comedy night, the words comedy night should appear.

Test it by sending only the title to somebody who knows nothing about the event and asking what they think it is. If they get it right, it is working. If they ask, rewrite it before touching anything else.

What a good description cannot do

A structure that works

One line on what physically happens. One on who it is for. Practical details as a short list rather than a paragraph. Then anything else you want to say, for the people who are already interested.

Read it back as a stranger. If the first three lines do not make the event make sense, nothing further down will rescue it, and that ten minutes is the highest-return work available on the whole listing.