So… how do you write like a human?

Craving lemon drizzle cake yet?

If not, you might want to read part 1.

Being patient-centric isn’t a one-size-fits-all ethos. A GP wouldn’t dish out the same prescription for every patient they see, right? The approach has to be tailored each time – we’re all unique, with different challenges, experiences and perspectives. And let’s be honest, my emotions can change like the wind (girlfriend enthusiastically nods). This is because I’m human, we all are, so my needs, as well as everyone else’s, can change all the time.

Practice makes perfect

We all need different things at different points in our life, and that doesn’t stop when we’re patients. Our needs shift across the various stages of treatment or a disease, whether before, during or after. Seems simple to say it out loud. But that’s why proper patient engagement needs to be practiced consistently:

1. Patients’ needs are evolving
2. Content needs to evolve with them
3. We have to keep listening, repeatedly, and acting on what we hear patients say and what patients do

In other words, don’t keep referring to that one patient you might have engaged with in 2015, in a therapy area completely different to the one you’re talking about. Listen to as many people as you can, over and over again. Do, re, mi, A, B, C, look at steps 1, 2, 3 (if you didn’t get that, listen to the Jackson 5, please).

As I said in part 1: to get emotion out, you need to put emotion in. And it’s probably about time I told you exactly how I’ve learnt to do that. I’ll use one of my recent projects as an example.

Now, pretend you’re a medical writer (unless you actually are one; then don’t pretend, just carry on)

MY BRIEF:* write some books for people with cancer (never define someone by their condition) that are different to the usual clinical handouts given to patients. The books should be written in a peer voice, feel like someone who has been there before, and empower them throughout their cancer experience.

*Very, very simplified summary of the brief.

MY THOUGHTS (with a medical writer brain first, human second):

• It’s a translation task: translate complex science into layman’s terms (what even is a ‘layman’? It’s a term from the 15^th century referring to a person who is not a member of the clergy. If you didn’t learn anything else from this article, at least you’ve learnt that)
• Present all (I mean ALL) of the science: why cancer develops, how it develops, what it looks like, what is a cell, what is a ribosome (because this is obviously what people need to hear…)
• Say the problems I want to address: tell the patient we want them to feel empowered (spoiler: it doesn’t work like that). “Talk to your doctor if you need more help”, “Don’t forget to keep taking your medicine, adherence is important” (does saying adhere to a medicine ever solve the adherence problem?)

THE RESULT: a solid draft. Bland. Corporate. Did it tell the patient what they actually wanted to know? A bit, maybe. But the most important question to ask yourself, and key to this writing process – something I’ve learnt thanks to our wonderful patient experience strategist, Holly – did it really put the patient at the centre? Did it capture their true experience? No, it didn’t. It’s like the lemon drizzle cake all over again.

Everything makes sense in hindsight. The team had spent a year talking and listening to patients before we even started writing, which was great.  But when I was briefed later down the line, all the insight and research was there, I just hadn’t connected with it yet.

A tip from Holly

One of the best pieces of advice I was given by Holly was to rewrite that whole draft like I was texting a friend. Open up a new version and write it quickly. Strip everything right back. This allowed me to step outside of my medical writer comfort zone, show up as a human, and absorb the patient insight as if was listening to a loved one. In the end, the result was vastly different, because I had connected with what I was reading and writing.

Then we asked the patients for their input again, because otherwise how would we know if the content had resonated with the people it matters to most? It meant that every element of these books – the tone, the words, and the look and feel were crafted together, with the people who were living the experience.

5 key principles for ‘proper good’ patient writing

Admittedly, I’m still hitting bumps in the road. My medical writer brain can start to creep back in. I’m drafting Book 3 now, and Holly does a stellar job of keeping me on track “you sound a bit corporate, Amy”. But along the way, I’ve come to lean on the following principles for ‘properly meaningful’ and authentic patient writing:

1. Listen, listen and listen again, until you connect

Listen, read, and absorb as much as you can. The patient experience isn’t static; it’s constantly moving and changing, so keep actively listening. Do what you can to connect with the person and listen in the way you’d want to be listened to. You’ll realise you’re ‘getting it’ when you let out an audible sigh at some of the really tough things a person may be going through, or even a chuckle at a lighter moment.

2. Reddit threads are your best friend

I love Reddit threads. They’re a great source of raw, unfiltered and honest thoughts and feelings. As writers, we’re used to drafting a sentence, then re-drafting it, then sending it for review, then amending it, then amending it some more… But spending a few minutes reading these threads is great for taking your brain out of ‘work mode’ (human first, medical writer second). On one project, for example, I searched about the long-term side effects of chemotherapy, and I learnt a whole lot more than what I did on official websites. That way, my writing was tailored to what patients were really experiencing, not just what a medical leaflet said they were, and I could point them to useful advice from people who’ve been there before.

3. Keep asking, is the patient at the centre?

You have to really think about it. Does this capture what the patient is feeling, fearing, or wondering? Not just what we want to explain. Does it answer the questions a patient will likely have in this moment? Or is it answering the question we think they have? Does the language enable the patient to recognise themselves? Are we showing empathy, warmth, and compassion through our words? Does this help the patient feel confident to advocate for themselves? Do they feel empowered?

4. Show up like you’re showing up for a friend

Write like you’re writing for a friend. Put as much care, warmth, and empathy in everything you write, as you would if you were texting a friend (just leave out any emojis and LOLs).

5. Tell patients what the doctor might not tell them

No one wants to be bombarded with information. So, with the volume of information out there, along with everything a patient might have already been told, tell them something useful. Tell them what the doctor might have missed. For example, on this project, the official websites said that “if you have surgery, you’ll be in some discomfort, you’ll be in hospital for a week and then recovering at home for another 3 weeks”. Does this answer the thoughts you’d be having or worrying about when having surgery? As a human, you’d likely want to know what it’s like to have surgery in a hospital. Why you should take a nightie instead of pyjamas because it’ll be more comfortable with a catheter; how it’s handy to bring your own teabags, as you’ll get offered a lot of hot drinks (Yorkshire tea only, please). And what about the pain you might feel when you wake up? What are the bleeping noises? Who are all the new faces? That you’ll usually have a lot of gas after this kind of surgery, too!

The difference between traditional medical writing and patient writing

For me, the difference between traditional medical writing and patient writing isn’t about better research, having heaps of experience, or shouting that you’re patient-centric. It’s about letting go of the boundaries and leaning into who you are. It requires a different presence, not just a better technique. It’s all about human connection.

Don’t show up on a page like you’re opening your laptop at 9am on a Monday morning, tired, and about to get your ducks in a row. Show up like my Nan does for me: “Hiya love” [insert hug here] “Do you want a brew and a slice of cake?”

If you want to know more, or just a slice of cake and a chat, get in touch with one of our humans at PX+CX.*

*Lemon drizzle cake available at Amy’s Nan’s discretion.