My first Galaxus post would fail the editorial review today
16/9/2026
Translation: machine translated
Pictures: Ramon Schneider
Ten years ago, I published my first Galaxus article about quirky crowdfunding projects. It loses focus, judges too quickly, and ends with a call to purchase. Using three mistakes, I show what I do differently when writing today.
"So, go for it!" These three words end my first article for Galaxus. Today, this sentence would be torn to shreds by the editorial team at the very latest. Ten years ago, it still passed.
On September 1, 2016, I started as an intern at Galaxus. I had just finished my studies and had never worked in journalism before. Two weeks later, "The 4 most bizarre crowdfunding projects" went online.
I barely remember how it came to be. I don't even know if the idea was mine. I wanted to do something and grabbed a topic at random. Crowdfunding sounded good enough.
Today, the text doesn't trigger pure embarrassment in me, though. The look back is too nostalgic for that. We were just building the editorial team and didn't yet know what role editorial content could play in an online shop. So we experimented and saw what worked – and what didn't.
After a few paragraphs, the nostalgia is over. The text is long and says surprisingly little. Three mistakes stand out in particular.
Mistake 1: The missing common thread
After four bizarre projects, the article would have been finished. My younger self saw it differently. Without warning, six products from our shop follow, and then three more Kickstarter recommendations. The four projects in the title turn into thirteen. Why? I don't remember. Clickbait by today's standards – and not even particularly good clickbait at that.
The article wants to be a list, a showcase, and a buying guide all at once. A list doesn't need a grand thesis, but it should keep its own promise. This one doesn't. There is hardly any connection between the parts. A conclusion is missing.
Today, I would stick to four absurd campaigns. Or five: readers love odd-numbered lists. The shop products and recommendations would be cut. Instead, I would use all four examples to explore the same question: Why are people willing to fund even obvious nonsense?
My lead used to look like this:
On Kickstarter, people invest their money in all sorts of things. Here is a selection of 4 bizarre projects that tried to be successful via crowdfunding. In addition, we present 3 projects that are worth spending money on.
Today, I would phrase it like this:
A man raises 55,000 dollars because he wants to make potato salad. Another has a pilot write a question in the sky. Four crowdfunding projects show how readily the internet funds even the most absurd ideas.
That would make it clear what it's about after three sentences. My lead back then needed significantly more words for that and still promised two different articles.
Mistake 2: I judge instead of researching
My working method at the time is most evident in the Fidget Cube. "What can it do? Nothing. What is it good for? No idea." That's a punchline. It's not an explanation.
Does it actually help? And does it need its own plastic cube for that? Those would have been the exciting questions. I didn't ask any of them. Instead, I declared the product useless right away.
I am also imprecise with the numbers. I write that the manufacturer "took in" more than four million dollars and "sold" over a quarter of a million cubes. Yet the campaign was still running. The four million were pledges, not revenue. Where the number of sold cubes comes from cannot be traced in the text either.
Today, I would describe the product first, clearly separate the terms, and verify every number. The paragraph could look like this:
On six sides, the Fidget Cube offers switches, buttons, wheels, and a small joystick for restless hands. According to the developers, it is supposed to help people channel their nervousness and concentrate better. Whether it needs its own cube for that remains questionable. The demand is there, however: more than four million dollars have already been pledged, even though the campaign is still running for over a month.
I remain skeptical, but the skepticism doesn't replace the facts; it complements them. In the end, nearly 155,000 backers pledged a total of 6.47 million dollars. This is confirmed by the project page and a Forbes report from that time. So much for "What can it do? Nothing."
Mistake 3: I suddenly become a salesperson
Even more problematic than the change of topic is the tone. I present several crowdfunding products as convincing innovations. I also praise the waterjet cutter and the camera remote control. I haven't tested any of these products.
With the last gadget, I abandon all journalistic restraint and directly urge the readership to buy.
Precisely because I write for a retailer, I must clearly separate analysis and sales. I can find a product exciting, practical, or worth the money. Then I have to explain how I arrived at this judgment. Summarizing a Kickstarter page and then calling for a purchase is not enough.
Today, the text would be sent back
The requirements and processes were different back then. Many rules that are taken for granted today only emerged over time. Today, two different people read every text before it goes online. In the first round, we check content, structure, and story. My old article would probably have come back with the question: What are you actually trying to tell here?
After that, a second person checks spelling, sentence structure, and clarity. They would, among other things, mark the missing hyphens in "Crowdfunding-Projekte," "VPN-Router," and "Kamera-Fernbedienung."
When proofreading this retrospective, my colleague Stefanie Lechthaler asked me exactly the same question. She was right: this text, too, initially wanted to do too much at once. Ten years later, I still need that question. The difference is that today it comes before publication.
It's not just me who has changed. The editorial team has grown from four to over thirty people in these ten years. Our standards and processes have developed along with the team. That doesn't make our texts perfect. But before an idea goes online, we must be able to explain what we want to tell with it.
The author isn't entirely a stranger to me
Nevertheless, I recognize myself in the old article. Strange products still interest me. I continue to write directly, like short sentences, and enjoy expressing a clear opinion. Even the joy of a 55,000-dollar potato salad has remained.
What is different today: I research first and then set the punchline. Before I start writing, I ask myself: What is the actual story? Which facts support my judgment? What can I leave out? That would have done my first article good.
Would I publish it again today? No. But I don't want to delete it either. It shows me how I wrote back then and what happens today between a spontaneous idea and publication.
To the question "What are you actually trying to tell here?" I probably would have answered ten years ago: I just wanted to do something. Today, that wouldn't be enough for me. The question is still the same after ten years. Today, I have to answer it before the text goes online.
What would you do differently today with your work from ten years ago?
Header image: Ramon Schneider
I get paid to play with toys all day.
Background information
Interesting facts about products, behind-the-scenes looks at manufacturers and deep-dives on interesting people.
Show allThese articles might also interest you
Show all
These articles might also interest you
2 comments
later