Writing for the web can really boost your exposure, and web markets are a great way to share key information in your areas of expertise while adding to your clips. Web articles are fairly simple to write and require a similar approach to articles for standard market. However, there are also key differences you need to know to maximize your web writing effectiveness.

1) Write to a web audience. The audience for web articles is different than for print. The average web reader is surfing, not reading. He scans quickly while scrolling down the page. He wants to know immediately if he should surf on, skim your article, or print it out to read on the bus. Carefully order your article so it immediately grabs attention, and keep your paragraphs short by getting to the point quickly. Think of evening news flashes, which use soundbytes to grab your attention before leading you to the meat of the subject.

2) Write for the top one-third (of the page). Your audience may start out with surfers, so you need to grab their attention right away. Critical information should appear in the portion of the article that the average reader will immediately see on her monitor, If you can hook the reader with a catchy title and sensibly organized and punchy content in 250 words, you have a good chance she will scroll further down or click the arrow to the next page. Also, think carefully about your title; it should tell your reader exactly what she will be getting.

LESSON ONE: WHY DO YOU WANT TO BE A WRITER?

When I teach at writers’ conferences, I always begin by asking my students, “Why on earth would you want to be writers?” They chuckle, assuming that I’ve made a joke. But my question is deadly sober. Writing is so difficult, requiring such discipline, that I’m amazed when someone wants to give it a try. If a student is serious about it, if that person intends to make a living at it, the commitment of time and energy is considerable. It’s one of the most solitary professions. It’s one of the few in which you can work on something for a year (a novel, say), with no certainty that your efforts will be accepted or that you’ll get paid. On every page, confidence fights with self-doubt. Every sentence is an act of faith. Why would anybody want to do it?

The usual answer I get is, “For the satisfaction of being creative.” The students nod, relieved that this troubling line of thought is over. But in fact, the subject has barely been started. I rephrase my question, making it less threatening. “Why do you want to be writers?” This time, I tell my students I don’t want to hear about the joy of creativity. Squirms. Glances toward the ceiling. Toward the floor. Someone is honest enough to say, “I’d like to earn the kind of money Stephen King does.” Someone else chuckles. “Who wouldn’t?” We’re on our way.