A lawyer showed me her new website. It’s better than most sites out there. I, of course, hate it. That’s how I roll. I think of myself as a much less amusing Lewis Black. I hate everything, and I rarely have a kind word to say.

Keep reading. I’ll express my annoyance for your benefit and delight.

Dear lawyer who voluntarily subjected herself to my abuse,

I visited your website last night. I spent about six minutes checking it out. The fact that you kept my attention for six minutes is an excellent sign. Most visitors leave in seconds (not minutes).

While I feel like the site is better than many, it leaves me with these 10 concerns for your consideration:

1. Logo

The upper-left corner features the name of your law firm. While I’m sure that impresses your mama, it’s not important to me. I want some reassurance that I’m in the right place. I’d rather see the word “Divorce” jump out at me than your name. Use my agenda (my problem) rather than your agenda (you) to grab my attention and keep me. Of course, you may have a different agenda than me. You may have a different objective with your site. My objective is to get people to hire me. I think featuring their problem rather than my name has that effect.

2. Tagline

You’ve got a cute tagline. So what? Cute doesn’t cut it, especially if it doesn’t speak to my emotional condition (which, arguably, yours does). I’d go with “Custody, Support, Alimony, Property Division, and Divorce” over the cutesy approach. Lewis Black would scream “F*&K CUTESY,” and I would laugh. Is the tagline for you or for them? They’re in crisis. They don’t need cute. Let’s think of a tagline for the emergency room. How about “Your crisis, our concern”? Would that be better than “Bleeding? Heart Stopped? Vomiting?” Simple is better than cute. Taglines are a luxury item. Put it on the back burner.

3. You Call Yourself “Family Law”

That’s nice that other lawyers refer to you as a family law attorney. Clients, however, think family law is general law like “family doctor” is general medicine. They’re looking for a “divorce lawyer.” Is that what you do? Tell them so. Always use client words, not lawyer words. Speak in their language, and use their specific words. Speaking of words, your title tag, which is invisible, has your firm name instead of the legal problem. I’d encourage a hybrid title tag: e.g., “Legal Problem—Firm Name.”

4. Giant Picture

You’ve got a giant picture at the top of the homepage. Without going into a rant about the cliche of most lawyer website images, I’ll simply say that the picture uses up most of the space where you could actually start solving my problem so I’d trust you more. If I trust you more, I’ll give you more of my money. Trust is good, right? Ditch the picture and explain some stuff to me: help me, help me, help me.

5. Map

Down below the giant, useless, cliche image is a map to your office (in the footer, so it appears on every page of the site). Seriously? You’re going to use up one-third of the page with a map? I’ve got a map on my phone already, plus I’m NEVER coming over if you don’t build trust with me first. Put the map somewhere else and link to it. Use the space up front to help me. I’m worried about my life, not your office location.

6. List of Service Areas

The other giant use of space on the page is a list of the towns and counties you serve. Why do I need a list of more than 60 towns in the three counties? I don’t. I already know the names of the nearby towns. Could you use that space to explain the law to me? Help me calculate my child support? Could you do anything useful for me, or do you just like the sound of the names of all the towns in the area?

7. Empty Forms Library

You’ve got a “forms library” featured in the navigation bar. Unfortunately, it has no forms. Actually, that’s a good thing. You’re putting the site out there before it’s 100% finished, and for that, I congratulate you. Lawyers usually wait way too long to ship their marketing materials. I say “Ready, fire, aim” and fix it later. Your visitors will love the forms once you get them up there.

8. Reference Material

You’ve got a ton of it. There are articles, FAQs, and more. How about putting it on the front page and getting rid of the image, the tagline, and the big “Family Law” label? I’m here for answers. You’ve got answers. Why not put them where I can find them? Why not make the homepage the answer to all of my questions? What if you did something for me immediately upon arrival at your site? Maybe I’d trust you then, right? Maybe I’d love you forever?

9. Your Boring Bio

Actually, it’s not boring. It’s just that the part we read is boring. We’re only reading the first paragraph because that part is boring. You start with college. College? Really? You went to college? Who knew? If I keep reading, I find, down the page, the explanation for the tagline you’re using. If you’re going to use the tagline (and I question the wisdom of that), then put the info up front. Finally, at the end of the bio, you get interesting. How about we put that interesting stuff in the first sentence? The purpose of each word is to get us to read the next word. Use the interesting words first. Oh, and the picture: yes, you’re sharp looking in front of those law books. But you’ve got more room. How about a picture of you with your dog? How about something human? The law books reinforce the terrible cliche of the image on the homepage, so there’s that.

10. So Very Wonderful

The site is SOOOO much better than most of the lawyer crap out there. The content makes me tear up: it’s incredibly helpful. Most lawyers slap up a big business card, and you’re doing something different. You’re turning the focus from yourself to your prospective clients. Now turn it to them even more. Spend some time telling them, in their own words, what it’s like to be in their position. Help them understand that you understand. And keep doing what you’re doing: helping them, showing them you care, and building trust.

Don’t let me discourage you. You’re off and running. You’re heading in the right direction. Now go further. Keep pushing. Keep shipping. Keep putting it out there before it’s ready. You’re winning this race.

With love and kisses,

Lee

P.S. We know each other from one of my workshops. You came, you engaged, you learned, and you took action. You’re my hero. I don’t pick on the lame lawyers who do nothing but talk about what they’re going to do. They’re not worth the effort. You, my friend, are a rock star. You are worth picking apart and driving crazy with criticism. You are worth the effort.