Article category “Advertising”
We’re professionals, and consultants.
I looked for it because I’ve been thinking about the increasing financial challenges of being a professional writer. It’s bad enough that the Internet has opened competition to the world. (And good luck with that.) In addition to that … or because of it, the attitude of clients has dramatically shifted to cost over quality, and it shows. The same thing happened to professional photographers when “stock” came into being.
One incident early in my career stands out as a harbinger of things to come. It was during my first Madison Ave. job as a junior copywriter, at Warwick, Welsh & Miller, an agency that came into being thanks to Seagram’s, the liquor company. Supposedly, Paul Warwick and Samuel Bronfman, the Canadian founder and owner of Seagram’s, were buddies. Mr. Bronfman advised Mr. Warwick that when Prohibition ended in the U.S., branded whiskey would be a big deal. So the agency was founded. And Seagram’s (with V.O., 7-Crown and Crown Royal, etc.) got a big jump on the competition.
One of the very best things about working at that agency was that it was also in The Seagram’s Building, a breathtaking work of Manhattan architecture designed and built by Mies van der Rohe. Warwick, Welsh & Miller was, of course, the agency of record for Seagram’s, along with Parker Brothers, the giant board game company that produced, among many others, Monopoly.
You want to pay us how much?
One day, the entire creative department was sent a memo from the creative director that said Parker Brothers was looking for new board game ideas … and if an idea we submitted was chosen we’d get $50.
I chewed on this for a while then finally went into the creative director’s office to ask, “If they produce a new board game, they stand to make millions, don’t they?” He answered, “Probably. So?” I responded, “We’re supposed to provide an idea that could produce millions for fifty bucks?”
He looked at me as if I had just landed from Mars and after a moment said, “Well, you don’t have to submit an idea.” That was not the answer I was hoping for. But it turned that variations on that answer would be the same for lots of questions that came up over the years. “They” want our finest creativity. But “they” want to pay as little as possible for it.
Hardly any company or business in existence would be profitable without writers. Writers polish a company’s image, promote its products and services, help them rise above the competition … and make gazillions. Yet, we are paid like sharecroppers. And sometimes, as Harlan Ellison so eloquently points out, they don’t want to pay us anything at all.
Writers produce annual reports that help companies sell stock … and make millions. Writers create ads that help companies sell products and services … and make millions. Writers produce scripts that help companies produce movies and TV shows … and make millions.
Think your lawyer, plumber or dentist will work on spec?
If you’re a fan of books, movies, TV shows, and great journalism, then you’re a fan of great writing. But you likely have no idea how much the creators of your favorite books or shows make. Or the fact that writers are often asked to work for free.
We’re consultants and we bill for our time, just like lawyers and other professionals. Yet we’re often asked to do things for no pay, or little pay, and we’re even expected to be happy merely for receiving “exposure.”
Exposure doesn’t pay the rent, or the dentist, or the mechanic, or the painter, or the plumber … none of whom would ever agree to work on spec, let alone anything less than their standard rate of pay.
In 2008, Lynn Wasnak wrote an article for Writers Market titled How Much Should I Charge? In that article, she wrote that advertising copywriting had a high rate of $150 per hour, and a low rate of $35 per hour, with an average of $83 per hour. Catalog copywriting was only slightly lower with a high of $150 per hour, a low of $25 per hour, and an average of $71 per hour. (Are you under-charging?)
Annual reports pay slightly better at $180 per hour at the higher levels, $45 per hour at the lower, and $92 per hour on average. Speech writing/editing for individuals or corporations was at $167 per hour on the high end, $35 per hour on the low end and $90 per hour on average. (Are you under-charging?)
The same article also appeared in Writers Digest. Both covered typical rates for many more kinds of writing and editing than I’ve mentioned here. And if you’re in Canada, you have the benefit of a national professional organization that publishes up-to-date rates: Writers.CA.
You’re a professional. Charge like one.
Ours is a solo occupation, so we often don’t know what others are charging, let alone what the going rates are, and can therefore be cheated. Being aware of the going rates – and being able to point to them – is beneficial for all of us. Otherwise we’ll be expected to provide our highly trained, thoroughly professional services for less than folks who are required to ask, “Would you like fries with that?”
Here’s my version of rather serious joke: A writer is contacted by a new client who needs an ad. The writer gets the input then goes off to create the ad. He does a rough draft, then a full first draft, then edits that, then polishes that, then puts it away for a few days. Then he takes it out and looks it over and finds more things to trim, rewrite and polish. Finally, after two weeks he contacts the client to let him know the ad is ready. The client looks it over and says, “That’s not very much copy. How long did it take you to write that?” The writer responds, “About 25 years.”
P.S. If you happen to watch the classic 1944 film Laura, you’ll hear the fictional magazine writer, Waldo Lydecker, referring to getting 50 cents per word for his articles. Good luck getting that today … 70 years later.
Guess what: our calendar is only 431 years old.
While most people using the Western/Gregorian calendar might understandably assume that our calendar is now 2,014 years old, that just ain’t so. It is in fact (as of this writing) only 431 years old, having been brought into existence in 1582 to mark the precise celebration of Easter.
Our calendar is called the Gregorian calendar because it was introduced by Pope Gregory XIII via a papal bull – a decree – signed on February 24, 1582. It was several centuries before it was adopted throughout the western world.
Pope Gregory XIII’s motivation for his reform was that the Roman Julian calendar (which had preceded it) placed the time between vernal equinoxes (a “year,” or a full rotation around the sun) at 365.25 days, when in fact it is roughly 11 minutes shorter per year. (Extremely cool math for 1582, eh?)
With the aid of Jesuit priest/astronomer Christopher Clavius (who built on the work of Aloysius Lilius/Luigi Lilio) it was determined that the 11-minute error added up to about three days every four centuries. That resulted (back in Pope Gregory XIII’s day) in the equinox occurring on March 11, and moving earlier and earlier in the Julian calendar.
You know why that irked Pope Gregory, right? The date for celebrating Easter wasn’t at all reliable. And Easter is the single most important date for the Roman Catholic Church. Yes, they wanted to peg the new calendar to the date of birth for Jesus, but that’s quite an iffy thing. No one was really certain of the year and most scholars agree that his likely birth month was actually March. But early Christians hid their celebration on December 25th (or thereabouts) when pagan festivities were already in play for the winter solstice.
Pope Gregory XIII et al calculated Easter, by the way, using the Hebrew calendar to accurately fix the date of “the last supper,” which was in fact a Passover meal that Jesus was attending with his fellow Jewish disciples. Pope Gregory XIII wanted to be sure that Easter was being celebrated on the correct date, year in and year out, so the date of “the last supper” was the starting point for the development of his new calendar.
Today, of course, we think of the calendar as a business tool rather than a way to keep track of religious events. And commerce was the main reason the Gregorian calendar was ultimately adopted. But it’s worth remembering that its origins were entirely based on setting the correct dates for religious celebrations.
Think about this: anybody who uses a computer, anywhere in the world, inevitably is following the Gregorian calendar.
Is it New Year’s everywhere?
2014 will no doubt see further globalization take hold. Our clothing, computers and customer service (alas …) can come from anywhere in the world. Our economy is clearly affected by global events and our export markets can be countries that not long ago did not even appear on our maps.
Brazil, for example, has taken a monster lead on the global stage, having moved ahead of Great Britain in 2011. So, too have Russia, India and China moved up. (Investors call them the BRIC nations and place “emerging markets” investments there.) Portugal, Italy Greece and Spain now worry the rest of the world when their economies teeter, and teeter they do.
So, bearing all that in mind, does January 1 have the same significance to all inhabitants of planet earth? How about to the Chinese or Indians? Or those who continue to follow the Hebraic and Islamic calendars, both of which are based on lunar rather than solar cycles? For the Chinese, 2013 was 4711 (or 4651 depending on their epoch starting point) and the Chinese year 4712 begins on Jan. 31, 2014.
For those following the Hebrew calendar, 2013 was 5773 and 5774. And for those using the Islamic calendar, 2013 was 1434 and 1435. India has as many calendars as it has religions, though in 1957 they settled on the Indian national calendar (Saka) to align themselves with the Gregorian calendar.
The diversity of global populations is one of the reasons that New Year’s celebrations have always struck me as a tad odd. First of all, Father Time is winning, whichever calendar you use. Every new year means that everyone is a year older. Not sure about cheering that. And, as you can tell from the preceding paragraph, the yearly cycle is hardly celebrated (or measured) the same way by all people on earth.
Perhaps some of the old Roman and pagan superstitions lurk in our Bacchanalian New Year’s celebrations. Perhaps we truly think that we and the world will be magically different when the ball drops and the calendar changes.
What do we measure when we measure time?
Clocks, watches, calendars … do they measure actual time, or the experience of the passage of time?
It seems that we “mark time” rather than inhabit it. We tick off the time we’ve used and we look forward to some future calendar event, which might be a religious holiday or vacation, and which will only arrive after we’ve marked off the appropriate amount of time.
But time, according to Albert Einstein, was an indication of our relationship to space and gravity – how fast and how far we were able to move through space. And, in a way, that’s what we’re actually measuring when we say “day, week, month and year.” A day is the spinning of the earth on its axis (creating the illusion of sun-up, sun-down). A year is the time it takes for our earth to orbit the sun completely – an elliptical journey that takes us closer to and farther from the sun, creating our seasons.
Bearing that in mind, it’s possible to see that days and years are in reality markers of time/space travel, while other calendar-based measurements are an artificial construct that in fact simply measure the passage of time as it relates to us. In other words, what we think of as time is highly subjective.
Einstein and Paul Langevin addressed that “relativity” with a theory of time (one of my favorites) that has come to be called the “twins paradox.” It goes like this: one twin leaves the earth traveling at the speed of light and returns seven years later; the other twin stays behind. For the traveling twin, only seven years have passed, so he has only aged by seven years. But for his brother, back on earth, several decades have passed and he is now elderly. How can this be? (For a practical demonstration, watch the Jodi Foster film “Contact,” from a story by Carl Sagan.)
It’s all relative.
The point is that time is not as fixed as we think it is … or as our Gregorian calendar would have us believe. In fact, time is entirely relative. So we do not measure time objectively, but rather subjectively, based on our experience of time on our planet and the calendar we’re using.
We subjectively say, “one year has passed,” “our child is two years old,” “we have a doctor’s appointment next Monday.” All of these are important, yet create a slightly false or inaccurate sense of time, an imposed sense of time, one that doesn’t matter to or affect the movement of the planets around our star, which is what calendars theoretically measure.
Think of it this way: if we were still using the Julian calendar, we’d experience time differently. The same goes if we were using lunar calendars – New Year’s day would come more often. Which is why I just can’t help remembering that the calendar we’ve all agreed to use isn’t even 500 years old, and that it has a back-dated, highly subjective starting point.
In fact, the new year did not always begin on January 1 for everyone everywhere. It depended entirely on which calendar was being used. What we now call New Year’s day is a relatively recent innovation, and an entirely subjective event.
Happy New Calendar.
New Year’s used to be celebrated on days such as the vernal or autumnal equinox – days when you can actually feel something new is coming. That’s what Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring” was all about.
No one can deny that our lives are run by calendars. They determine when we go to work and when we rest. They determine when we play and when we pray. They determine when we’re paid, and even how much. And all of that works because we all agree to it. Do we have a choice? Not really. But I’m certain if you asked any number of people what their favorite day is, the most frequent answer would be whatever day they consider the sabbath.
And all of that is why I’m not big on New Year’s resolutions. But, hey, knock yourself out.
New Year’s is supposed to be about new beginnings. January 1 strikes me as a very poor date for that. What it really means is that we’re celebrating a calendar event rather than a cyclical, natural event. It seems to come down to celebrating Happy New Calendar. I suppose that makes as much sense as anything else.
[This is a revised and updated version of a January 1, 2012 post.]
That’s what it takes for movies to work.
Without our granting movie-makers “suspension of disbelief,” we could hardly enjoy the moment when it seems that the bad guy has gotten away alone on a plane, but suddenly hears some ticking and searches for the source of the sound. He finds the bomb that the hero has planted on the plane, looks somewhat surprised, then … cut to the hero and his pals on the ground looking into the sky as the plane with the bad guy on board explodes in a very satisfying ball of flames, sparks and smoke.
We never ask, “What about the camera crew that filmed the bad guy in his last few seconds? Or the director and lighting people? Weren’t they on the plane when it blew up?”
We don’t ask because we want the story-teller to tell us a story. Because we enjoy being entertained. So we agree to suspend our disbelief for the duration of the entertainment. And we do it most often for movies since they are the most popular contemporary medium for story-telling. (If you loved the movie, read the book.)
Of course, we do it with books, too. Melville’s Moby Dick starts off as a first-person narrative – “Call me Ishmael.” – but as soon as our narrator is aboard the Pequod, he melts into the background. The first-person narrative becomes an omniscient voice, invisible, yet all-seeing, even reporting what’s inside other characters’ heads. Suspension of disbelief at work.
We’ve been doing it since long before Samuel Taylor Coleridge formally named the phenomenon of our willingness to suspend belief in 1817. It has been thus since our earliest ancestors sat around campfires, wearing animal skins, being enchanted by stories of particularly good hunts by someone who was particularly good at telling those kinds of stories – the primordial story-teller.
Not so in marketing.
In our business, we face the most cynical critics and doubters. Advertising may be story-telling, but it’s not always entertainment. (That’s the best kind of advertising, by the way, the entertaining kind, since we’ll all pay attention if it’s fun.)
Just like stories, ads have a beginning, a middle and an end. Except in ads it’s typically the setup (the problem), the solution (how a product or service solves the problem) and the close (the call to action.)
How is it that everyone approaches our stories with such skepticism while swallowing movie story lines hook, line and sinker? Yep, the answer is simple: entertainment. We happily set aside skepticism to enjoy a good movie.
No doubt if aliens landed and we offered to take them to the movies, they’d be somewhat stunned by our ability to accept all the cuts, dissolves, jumps in action and melodramatic, manipulative sound tracks. They’d likely view us with pity, consider us “children,” and wonder how on earth (so to speak) we could possibly run an entire planet.
We want to be entertained.
Is it some mass psychosis? Or simply an agreement en masse to accept the premise of a three-dimensional world on a two-dimensional screen?
The smarter ad folk made the leap some time ago to applying story-telling methods to commercials. The great ones, that ones that broke new ground, stick in our minds: “Time to make the donuts.” “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.” “Where’s the beef?” “Bud Weis Er.” “Volkswagen: the Force” “¡Yo quiero Taco Bell!”
We remember them, and we talk about them. Almost as much as movies. [Interesting side-note: Alka-Seltzer's "I can't believe I ate the whole thing" TV campaign was one of the highest-scoring in advertising history, yet sales plummeted. What happened? Chronic users thought they were being made fun of.]
Are entertaining ads and commercials sugar-coating the pill … or effective marketing? In the final analysis, our objective is to be memorable – or, to be more precise, to make our client’s product or service be the one that the target audience remembers. David Ogilvy and others called this “placing a burr in the consumer’s mind” and warned against creating ads that left people “remembering the burr, but not the sales proposition.” [e.g., Alka-Seltzer]
Tricky, isn’t it. We need to entertain to be memorable, but we also need to make sure that what’s remembered is our client’s brand. (It really is something that only professionals can do.)
Super Bowl commercials, like “Volkswagen: the Force,” are the exception to the rule. Those commercials are as much about people remembering the commercial as they are about creating broader awareness for the brand. And in fact competition is so fierce for inclusion in that most coveted of TV placements that it’s not enough to have the dough, you have to have the goods in your ad as well. After all, lots of people tune in just to watch those commercials. Imagine that.
What we learn in meetings.
Relatively early in my advertising career I was in a meeting with a client, an art director and an account executive. (No, that’s not a set up for a bar joke.) The art director and I presented the creative work for a year-long campaign, and then the account executive presented the total costs.
“Five hundred thousand dollars?” the client wailed. “I could hire ten sales people for that!”
The account executive shot right back, “Yes, you could. But how many prospects could each of those ten sales people get in front of in a whole year? One hundred? Two hundred?” I was listening as intently as the client. “This campaign will be seen by at least ten thousand people from day one and that number will grow exponentially with each exposure in your media plan.”
I was very impressed. No defensiveness about justifying the costs of advertising. No back-pedaling on what we’d presented. No offers of scaling things back. Just the facts. And the facts were enough. I’d learned a big lesson: how advertising can be more effective than feet on the street. (And, by the way, the bigger the budget the less resistance we usually encountered. Million-dollar TV buys were treated like “just another day at the office” by the big boys.)
I had learned the concepts of advertising: why ads we need to be attention-getting; why we write intriguing headlines that pull readers through the copy; why we need a pay-off at the end. But I hadn’t been exposed to the gritty facts of how to sell a campaign, or how clients sometimes look at marketing as a choice between spending money on ads versus sales people and trade shows until I started going to presentations.
I also learned, along the way, that advertising sets the stage for the sales team. If a member of the target audience saw an ad and then asked for a sales call, you had a very warm lead as opposed to an ice cube.
What we learn from each other.
These were not lessons I’d been taught along the way to becoming a copywriter. I learned them in meetings, the same way the clients learned what a good ad agency could bring to the table. Every meeting taught me something new about the client’s perspective and the purpose of advertising, as well as the smarts of the people I worked with. (People in ad agencies are some of the smartest I’ve ever met.)
I also learned how account executives could be crucial to the creative process – from making sure the creative team had all the input it needed to making sure the media plan fit the overall objectives. In some agencies, there was a cold war between creative departments and their account teams. The account teams in those agencies were treated like messengers and order takers. In the agencies where I worked account executives were as crucial to the process of achieving clients’ objectives as copy and art were. We’d even invite account executives into our offices to show them rough concepts and get feedback.
The job of creative teams is to “blue sky” ideas. We get the creative brief and the marketing strategy, then we take off. We look at what the competition is saying then we push the envelope as far as possible. It’s the job of the account team to bring us back down to earth – if necessary. As long as our work was on strategy and achieved the marketing goal, they were fine. But if the work was off-target in any way, they pointed that out. It was often incredibly helpful.
What we learn from clients.
I was part of an agency team that was invited by a client – a computer networking products wholesaler – to meet with one of his primary manufacturers. The very large, northern California maker of hubs, routers and switches (one of the top three) had set up all-day presentations of upcoming products for our mutual client. At the end of each presentation, the client asked the engineers one or both of these questions: “How will this work with the current products in the field?” or “How will this work with the last new product we were shown?” To a man, each engineer answered, “Not really sure. That’s not our department.”
The client, who rarely showed what he was thinking, finally erupted at the end of that day: “How the heck are we supposed to sell this stuff if you can’t explain to us how all the pieces work together?”
That was another incredibly valuable lesson: the client’s pre-advertising perspective. Typically, the client would present us with the products we’d be promoting and he would tell us a cohesive story about how those products made specific improvements in network performance or reliability. Clearly, our client didn’t merely invent those benefit stories – they came from the manufacturers of the products he was wholesaling. If the manufacturer hadn’t figured out how to tell a cohesive product story, our client’s sales people wouldn’t have one … and neither would we.
What we learn along the way.
Good clients ask good questions. Good ad agencies have good answers. Really good ad agencies truthfully say when they don’t have an answer and promise the client they’ll research it and come back with answers. Seeing that in action taught me that the popular truism that “all ads are b.s.” was not, in fact, based in fact. Good clients provide real benefit stories to their agencies. If they don’t know how to do that, good ad agencies know how to draw out those benefit stories in order to differentiate the client’s product or service. That was often my job, as copywriter. (It takes good input to have good output.)
As we move up the ladder in ad agencies, we become the people who answer client questions. What we learn along the way prepares us to have real answers based in fact. Because it’s our turn in the hot seat when the client asks, “Why will this work better than that?” we have to be ready with answers. That’s another critical thing we learn along the way: you don’t just prepare creative work for clients, you prepare to be challenged on the work you present.
And when we move on to becoming independents, then we have to have all the answers to all the questions. “What’s the best media for us?” “Why is an ad better than a brochure?” “Why isn’t our current brochure good enough?” “Why do we have to run ads more than once?”
I was taught quite a bit along the way. That’s why I have most of the answers to most of my clients’ questions.
The marketing automat.
With the introduction of the Mac (January 24, 1984), art direction and design changed forever. This was as big a change to civilization as the introduction of firearms. Suddenly, anyone with a Mac had a slew of tools for creating marketing and promotional materials that used to be the exclusive domain of designers and art directors.
But, to the trained eye, their work was always obvious. They were locked into a grid system, and it showed. (You can see evidence of that in this Web site, too.) The computer could only do its work within specific parameters. A blank page wasn’t really blank – it had to have defined column widths, borders and other elements that gave everything the computers produced a certain sameness.
Then something else happened. Anyone with a Mac (and not long after, anyone with a PC and the right software) could claim to be “a designer.” The automat had come to marketing and advertising. When Web sites entered the landscape – bringing design full-circle, from being created on computers to being delivered on computers – developers, coders and programmers were saying, “hey, I can do this, too.”
But they all quickly learned that technology and software could only take them so far. To be “creative” means to create something out of nothing, something captivating, fascinating, compelling. At multiple points in the creative process, one’s judgement is the critical element, not CSS (cascading style sheets), plugins, widgets or themes – those are merely the tools in the toolbox.
Our brains are the sexy thing. And our creative judgement is what sets us (writers, art directors and designers) apart from everyone else.
“Hey, I can do that.”
We are indeed in a brave new world where “design” has morphed into “build,” and “build” means software rather than the trained and educated aesthetics of true architecture.
My background is advertising. I’m a writer – not a designer or developer. But 80-90% of the business I get these days is Web sites. I need to work with designers to create those Web sites, because design is a critical element when creating a Web site. Anything “creative” needs a concept and a concept is something quite apart from “a build,” it’s a marriage of design and copy – images and words blended in such a way that a particular feeling is conveyed.
Let me say that again: a concept is a marriage of art and copy – graphics and words – to deliver a message. That goes for movies, brochures, ads, billboards … and Web sites.
The Web is strewn with ill-conceived bastard children of techies who have no clue about “design.”
(There, I’ve said it. And, yes, I feel better.)
What’s the point of all this “creative” work that we do if not to pass on a message? The message is not only key, it’s critical. It’s the reason we’re paid to do what we do. It’s why clients and corporations want marketing materials and Web sites. They want to get the message out.
So, what happens when bad or entirely missing creative judgement comes into play? The message is obscured, or perhaps buried. People – especially the target audience – may miss the message entirely. Then what? Why was the work done? Why was the money spent?
Let the buyer beware.
Sadly, this is where things get tricky. How do clients know they’ve chosen the right creative team? They often don’t until the work is done. This is no different than discovering we’ve chosen the wrong doctor. In both cases one might go through considerable physical pain and even agony before realizing that the person one has chosen has neither the skills nor the know-how to truly help us.
The best advice I can offer is: “look at the work produced by the people you’re considering and ask for references.” That’s the same approach we’d use when selecting an attorney – have they done the kind of work we need done? What’s their track record? What do their previous clients say? And creative services professionals are consultants, just like lawyers and physicians. The same rules apply, in how you choose them and pay them.
Even though technology seems to have made “amateurism” the new “creative,” don’t be fooled. Just because someone produced a YouTube video doesn’t mean they’re a film-maker. And just because someone may have produced a Web site it doesn’t mean that they’re a designer, a real designer. Our instantaneous, ubiquitous displays of amateurism have engendered the “heck, I can do this stuff” attitude. So it comes down, again, to the centuries-old caveat emptor warning – let the buyer beware.
All of this comes back to our media-centric existence. The Mac, back in 1984, led inevitably to smart-phones that have also contributed to the absurd belief that anyone can be a photographer or movie-maker. Somehow we’ve gone from a society that dreaded being invited to someone’s home to view vacation slides and films to a society that can’t get enough of watching other people’s boorish attempts at movie-making.
What it all says is that we are in an age of rampant amateurism. And I have no idea when it will change or get better. The Web is growing exponentially along with the tools we use to create messaging. Everything is in flux. It’s up to brand and marketing managers to protect their marketing by choosing true professionals. And I fervently hope that they do.
Marketing dollars predict the economy.
Few economic barometers are more accurate than marketing expenditures. During every downturn, ad agencies and independent creative consultants suffer the most. That’s because marketing and advertising budgets are the first to get cut when profits are down.
And that, in the long-run, is the worst thing that any business can do. If your competition has pulled the plug on advertising, wouldn’t that be the best time to promote and establish your brand? You can’t get bigger bang for your buck than when the competition has left the field.
But back to the topic. Nothing is as sensitive to economic conditions as marketing dollars. As soon as there’s any kind of downturn, marketing budgets are cut. It happens so often because so many companies wrongly view marketing as an optional, rather than an on-going, business expense.
Politics undermine marketing dollars.
Marketing and advertising are the life-blood of a capitalist economy. They’re how companies survive and thrive. They’re how jobs are created and how we make money flow. But they stop when the economy stops the flow of money.
During various Republican administrations, dating back dozens of years, “trickle-down economics” was the big catch phrase. It never worked. Because the wealthy seemed to believe that it would mean watching their wealth trickling away. (So short-sighted.)
The second President Bush gutted the incredibly healthy economy he inherited from President Clinton and the economy still hasn’t recovered. (Don’t get pissy – it’s a historical fact. Biggest surplus in history turned into the biggest deficit … and, no, that surplus was not thanks to Republicans. Not.)
Ever since President Obama took office in 2008, Republicans have blocked everything they possibly could that might have turned things around … and then had the gall to blame Democrats for a sluggish economy. All one has to do is look at voting records and filibusters to see who’s helping and who’s obstructing. It’s right there.
Our current state of affairs can actually be traced to California’s first actor-turned-governor. According to the Congressional Budget Office, from the time Ronald Reagan became president through 2007, income at the top 1% (adjusted for inflation) increased by 281%. Compare that to the paltry 25% increase for the middle 20% of Americans during the same 26-year period.
As mentioned above, when President Bush took office in 2001, he was handed a huge surplus by President Clinton. Bush claimed he was giving that surplus back to the American people. But guess who it actually went to … that top 1%, not to the country as a whole. Bush (Texas’ gift to the world) added more than $3 trillion to the national debt over the last decade. The result? The wealthy continue to count their money while average Americans continue to hope for some. That’s politics.
How we got into this mess.
The Reagan administration (those wonderful folks who brought us “Reaganomics”) is most closely associated with “trickle-down economics” even though the concept was around for decades before. Paul Krugman,* the Nobel prize-winning economist, wrote in The New York Times (during the second Bush years) about the runaway inequality that began under Reagan and continued under George W. Bush: “When the structure of the U.S. economy had to compete worldwide without policies respecting workers is where one should look to understand what’s wrong with today’s economy. That began under Reagan and Reagan alone. And Bush has driven that point of view to the limit and mortgaged the future for the benefit of a few in the process.”
Since the election of Ronald Reagan in 1980, the U.S. tax system has never been the same. So-called “supply side economics” – the promise that if we drastically cut taxes for the wealthiest Americans they will create jobs – simply didn’t work. It may have looked good on paper, but it never made it into reality. Another Republican, the first President Bush, George H. W. Bush, perceptively called supply side economics “voodoo economics” and talked about its weaknesses.
Here’s what supply side economics ultimately achieved: the wealthy took their tax cuts, but instead of creating jobs in the U.S. they took advantage of weak trade policies and created jobs in other countries – China, India and Pakistan. Why? To make even more profits. For every union worker in the U.S. looking for $20 dollars per hour there were people in other countries willing to do the same work for $1.
Those Americans who owned stock in those off-shoring companies were thrilled. Profits were higher than ever before. They simply never looked down to see that they had shot themselves in both feet.
What Reagan’s own say.
David Stockman, director of the Office of Management and Budget under President Ronald Reagan, wrote in a 2010 article titled Four Deformations of the Apocalypse: “The day of national reckoning has arrived. We will not have a conventional business recovery now, but rather a long hangover of debt liquidation and downsizing. Under these circumstances, it’s a pity that the modern Republican Party offers the American people an irrelevant platform of recycled Keynesianism when the old approach – balanced budgets, sound money and financial discipline – is needed more than ever.”
Currently, while U.S. companies continue to pay criminally low wages in developing countries, seeking obscene profits by avoiding paying American workers, bonuses at those companies for C-level staff are reaching record highs. It’s so obvious what would happen if those jobs were brought back to the U.S.: workers would invest their pay back into our economy. Those short-sighted, profit-centric companies not only benefit from cheap labor while hurting the U.S. economy, they also use Republican-written tax codes to add even more profits. And they actually receive tax cuts for creating jobs in other countries. (See comment above re: shooting oneself in both feet.)
Too bad it’s turned into “us” vs. “them.”
President Obama has stated he wants to end tax cuts for companies that ship jobs overseas and instead give those tax breaks to companies that create jobs in America. (The Republicans are howling. Can you hear it?)
After President Bush took office in 2001 and handed more than $3 trillion in tax cuts to his buddies, he also took us to war in two countries, Afghanistan and Iraq. The U.S. spent trillions of dollars in Iraq (which, of course, had nothing to do with 9/11) while private companies such as Halliburton reaped profits. In addition to thousands of American and Iraqi lives lost, the U.S. taxpayer had to pay the cost of both wars. That’s you and me. While jobs were scarce, the economy sucked and marketing dollars were scarcer and scarcer.
President Obama is on-track with his campaign promises to bring home troops. But if a Republican takes over the White House in the near future, they’ve made it clear that they will happily go to war with Iran. As of now, the majority of American people have spoken and made it clear that we don’t want to start another war, because the cost in both dollars and human life is just too great.
Tax breaks for the wealthy made us broke.
During the Reagan administration, the wealthy saw their tax rates drop from 70% to 28% within eight years and union workers found themselves without jobs. When the ill-advised Depository Institutions Deregulation and Monetary Control Act of 1980 was signed into law, banks found it far easier to do business … and hurt the American people in the process. Allowing big banks to merge and set their own interest rates was a rare gift. The banks and Wall Street found it far easier to make money while we, the American people, struggled.
With tax cuts and deregulation on the move, Reagan tripled the national debt, raiding the Social Security trust fund in an attempt to cover up the massive loses. As the years went on, Wall Street reform was never seriously on the table. When the economy started to pick up again in the 1990s, President Clinton raised taxes on the most wealthy, bringing in the revenue needed for the government to function. Then, in November of 1999, with a Republican-controlled House and Senate, President Clinton buckled and agreed to repeal the Glass-Steagall act that had helped keep big banks from overtaking the markets.
Less than a decade later the economy collapsed. Too much power had been left in the hands of too few. In 2010, President Obama signed the “Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act” into law. It helped consumers and began putting financial responsibility back on the big banks. The bank bail-out of 2008 angered the American people. The Wall Street reform bill put an end to future tax-payer bailouts of big banks. The passage of that bill was a start, but we need to do much more to get back to where we need to be.
Me, me, me? Or, us, us, us?
Do you like well-maintained roads kept in drivable condition? How about being able to dial 9-1-1 for police and fire protection, or an ambulance? Good public schools? Decent hospitals? Rapid emergency services? A postal service? Those are just some of the services supported by taxes. There’s a reason we pay them – taxes keep society running. Taxes keep us safe and on an even keel. (In more enlightened societies, taxes also mean no worrying about healthcare of any kind, or education, or retirement … wish I spoke Danish.)
If the Republicans have their way, they’ll cut all taxes and then blame the bankrupt government for not providing basic services … even though they know full well that it’s their greed and selfishness that’s the root cause. All those southern states crying for secession? Guess what would happen to them when they suddenly have no federal funds of any kind for any of the basic services they now take for granted.
Getting an economic balance back is the only way the economy can get back on track. Making everything about taxes is about as wrong-headed as one could be. The issue isn’t taxes, it’s people. It’s about the country. It’s about our ability to function and do the things we’re good at. It’s about having marketing dollars to spend again so that capitalism can do what it does best: provide healthy competition among competitive offerings and let the best product or service win.
(*Krugman also won the Prince of Asturias Awards, the John Bates Clark Medal, and the H. C. Recktenwald Prize in Economics.)
Tag lines tell us who you are.
Thought I’d start the first post of 2013 with one of the first principles of truly good advertising campaigns: truly good tag lines.
Lots of people think of them as an after-thought. Not me. I’m always thinking about tag lines from the first moment I start thinking about a campaign or Web site.
Headlines come and go. Tag lines hang in there through campaigns and often for years after. Headlines are a flash in the pan. Tag lines have to sum up who you are, what you offer and how you think … sometimes in as little as two words.
For example, “Think different.” (TBWA\Chiat\Day, 1997-2002.) Even though it’s been one of the most enduring tag lines of the past two decades, I’ve always been bothered by its flagrant abuse of grammar. (see Grammar matters.) Despite that intentional flaw, one has to admit that those two words (in combination with the Apple logo) have truly defined Apple since the 90s. (Yes, it’s been that long.) Even though they moved on from that tag line way back in 2002.
Copywriters, not clients.
Tag lines are also one of the most important things ad agencies bring to the party. Take military recruitment ads – perhaps the most tag line-dependent campaigns in existence. All those ultra-inspiring, “sign me up” tag lines (“Be all that you can be.” “It’s not a job. It’s an adventure.” “The few, the proud, the Marines.” “We’re looking for a few good men.”) were written by (ta-da!) copywriters, not the Army, Navy or Marines.
The same is, of course, true for every attention-getting and easy to remember tag.
What happens when clients come up with their own tag lines? Take a look at Mezzetta, a California company that makes our favorite stuffed olives, jalapeños, dill pickles, etc. Their tag line? “Don’t Forgetta Mezzetta.” (Are you reminded of the Marx Brothers? I’m reminded of the Marx Brothers.)
A tag line defines the brand.
Brand names tell us the rudimentary facts about a company or corporation: we know that Melitta makes stuff for making coffee; we know that Chevrolet makes cars and trucks, and we know that McDonald’s sells fast food. Those are the simple facts.
Add a tagline and you add an emotional message that makes those brands stand out and stick in our memories. Tag lines take the brand up a notch. (Did they cover this in Mad Men? I can’t remember.)
When Chevrolet wanted to convince people that they built really tough, reliable trucks, they did it with a tag line: “Like a rock.” (Campbell-Ewald, 1992-2004.)
When Avis wanted to take on Hertz, the number one car rental company, they did it with a tag line: “We try harder.” (Doyle Dane Bernbach, 1962-2012.)
When FedEx wanted to put its name on the map as an overnight delivery service (a breakthrough concept at the time) they did with a tag line: “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” (Ally & Gargano, 1978-1983.)
When AT&T wanted to humanize the monolithic communications company that was euphemistically called Ma Bell (since they owned and controlled everything in U.S. telecom) they did it with a tag line: “Reach out and touch someone.” (N.W. Ayer, 1979-1983.)
When GE wanted to humanize its massive research, electronics and appliance manufacturing company, that did it with a tag line: “We bring good things to life.” (BBDO, 1979-2003.)
In my opinion, none of those companies would have become what they are without those tag lines. That’s why I call them crucial. Think about this: each of those tag lines accompanied hundreds of headlines through the years. Who remembers the headlines?
Great tag lines through time.
Many of these tag lines are classics, not even used any more. But we remember them. People even borrow them to use for our own purposes. Because they’re so often so pithy and convey so much, folks find they can’t help themselves. (“Betcha can’t eat just one.” – Young & Rubicam, 1963.)
Naturally, you know that none of those companies came up with those classic tag lines. It was their brilliant ad agencies … or to be fully precise, the brilliant creative department folk at their ad agencies.
Here’s a Wikiquote list of “slogans” and a Web site that lists the results of a survey trying to list the 100 Most Influential Taglines Since 1948. (FYI, can’t stand the term “slogan.” Only folks who haven’t worked in ad agencies would use that term. Almost as bad as “jingle.”)
That list of 100 includes tag lines chosen from a field of 400 candidates. Not a list I would have put together. For example, I can’t believe the UPS “What can Brown do for you?” was actually nominated in place of their short-lived and far superior (IMHO) previous tag: “Moving at the speed of business.” (Ammirati Puris Lintas, 1995-2002)
But that’s show biz.
What are we talking about when we talk about marketing?
The meaning of “marketing” seems to become more and more confused every day. Social media hasn’t helped: mere opinions are stated as fact. (Hey, don’t give me that look. I’ve been working in advertising and marketing for more than 30 years. No mere opinions here …)
Marketing titles have also blurred the lines between marketing and sales. “Marketing Director” has come to mean nothing in particular, and everything in general – both sales and marketing in some cases, so that both the roles and functions have become confused. Pure marketing has always been about communication.
But what you’ll see in all the articles and online “marketing groups” is something disturbingly obvious: mystification and misunderstanding of the true purpose of marketing.
Marketing has always been about communication. For communication to work, it must be on strategy. That strategy must be arrived at before materials are created, and it must be communicated through compelling messaging. To be compelling, the marketing communication must be relevant to the true target audience.
If your message isn’t clear, it won’t get through.
Marketing has been pummeled as a topic. It’s even been turned into a pseudo-science. Shills are selling the secrets to marketing. Get-rich-quick gurus will gleefully guide you to wealth and happiness. Webinars promise you’ll learn everything you need to know about marketing in 90 minutes. (Ha.)
Ever wonder, “if their stuff is so good and so effective, why do they need to sell us their baloney?”
But no matter how complicated we get about it, when you boil marketing down to the bones, it will always come down to: what are you saying, and to whom.
To achieve clarity in marketing, you have to be crystal clear about what you’re communicating, and to whom. It’s not enough to generate messages. You have to know that you’re sending the right message to the right audience. You have to know – with complete certainty – what your true target audience cares most about.
No matter what you’re trying convey – no matter how complex or arcane – effective marketing requires effective communication.
1) understanding and clarifying your key message/benefit
2) understanding and clarifying your true target audience
3) defining your key competitive differentiators
4) understanding the messaging of your closest competitors
5) clearly communicating your key benefits/differentiators to your true target audience.
(Hey, this is good stuff, here. Are you getting this?)
If you’re not sure who your target audience is, you’d better find out.
Marketing only works when it’s properly targeted. Example: you’re watching a particularly bad TV show and you begin to wonder, “who watches this stuff?” The answer will appear in the next round of commercials when you’ll find out who the real target audience is. (Sometimes that’s embarrassing.) What you’re selling may have great value to a particular audience, but they need to know that you’re speaking to them.
Here’s the scary part: it’s not enough to build the ideal widget; you need to know if there’s a market out there for that new, improved product. That’s what business plans are all about. They involve research into a particular marketplace and the potential for a new item or service in that finite arena.
True marketing has always been about getting people to march into stores or pick up their phones. Today, of course, it’s more and more often about getting people onto specific Web sites. That’s not as easy to do as it sounds. If your target’s already online, then your home page is a click away, right? But, if you’re wasting their time, they won’t waste a second clicking away.
If your targets are in a car and hear a commercial, or sitting in doctor’s offices and see an ad, they’ll have to care enough to remember your Web address. Tricky. You have to give your true target audience a real reason to visit your Web site. Motivate them and they will remember your Web address.
Marketing creates awareness. Sales seals the deal.
Sales and marketing are inextricably, symbiotically connected. The ultimate job of marketing is to support sales. And the ultimate job of sales is to execute on the promise of marketing. Marketing is about driving awareness and interest. Sales is about closing the deal. They’re connected, but distinct. They need each other, but cannot do each other’s jobs.
The bottom line is that marketing is a sales aid, not a sales tool. Think of it as a support system to help bring customers and sales people together.
Marketing is also at the core of branding – it’s how we create crucial awareness about a product or service within a specific targeted audience. It’s about defining the benefits of your product or service and how best to communicate those benefits.
Marketing creates the tools that support sales. If the tools are not working, sales has to let marketing know and, together, you have to redesign those tools to end up with communication that does work.
If either marketing or sales gets the idea that they’re running the show, someone in charge needs to sit them down, straighten them out and then turn them loose to try it again.
The L.A. I grew up in is gone. Los Angeles gave me my start in P.R. and marketing. From working in the record business at Capitol and RCA Records, to pursuing a new advertising career with UCLA extension classes in marketing, my career was formed there.
While at the record companies, I worked with the major movie studios whenever movie soundtracks required it. I got to know Hollywood pretty well. And, in many ways, Hollywood defined L.A.
I just returned from a short trip to L.A., visiting some friends I grew up with, and little was the same. First, the number of cars on the road was daunting, making it extremely difficult to get anywhere at all times. It’s certainly logical that it would be that bad since the state of California has more people living in it than the entire population of Canada … and that’s only using the official census.
More than 40 million people now live in California. And around 17 million of them are in Los Angeles. That’s one factor that has changed the character of the city. Another that’s related is the Phoenix effect: L.A. now has high humidity. When that many people are living and working in a place, running air conditioners, watering lawns, filling pools, etc., the environment has to change. The formerly dry desert environment now feels like San Francisco when the fog rolls in. Damp.
I left L.A. about 30 years ago. It’s shocking how different it has become … and how much like some of the sci-fi visions of a future Los Angeles. It’s not full-tilt Blade Runner yet, but clearly minorities and immigrants are everywhere, so the city’s accent has changed.
As a result, I’d have a hard time advising someone in Los Angeles how to manage a marketing campaign. Target marketing requires having a clear picture of audience demographics. That’s a tough call in L.A. And one of the friends I met with (who left for England when I left for New York City) said that there’s now clearly a separation between “the haves and have-nots.”
New York City has always been a melting pot. That, in many ways, has been what defined New York. Now I have to wonder if Los Angeles is heading the same way. When I left L.A., there were clear target markets: glitzy Hollywood style, upscale (or conspicuous consumption) Beverly Hills style, coastal living style, and “the valley.” Those distinctions seem to have melded and reformed while possibly being displaced by “inner city.”
According to the 2010 census, New York City has just over eight million people living there. That number swells every day with commuters, but they leave at the end of the day. Compare that to the 17 million in Los Angeles – and that’s only the official tally. That could mean 20 million or more people are there. And they never leave.
So I can only guess that marketing in L.A. is a process of “self-elimination.” You put out the message for your product or service and let the right people for your target audience find you. But even so, the level of “noise” and “clutter” that marketing has to break through seemed overwhelming.
I used to think I missed L.A. What I missed was the memories of an L.A. that is no more. What’s there now is a marketing nightmare.
Are we what we buy?
I find myself more and more frequently coming back to the remarkable visions of Philip K Dick, a science fiction author who transcended his genre. He died in 1982 at 53, long before the release of the eight major motion pictures based on his fiction. In both Blade Runner (based on Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?) and, even more so, The Minority Report, highly personalized and targeted marketing plays a significant and sinister role.
Dick foresaw a future – nearly our present – where incessant messaging became a prominent aspect of “modern” life. Now it seems his visions, like those of Jules Verne and H. G. Wells, are becoming fact. A recent NY Times article describes the use of analytics to do “predictive marketing.” [NY Times February 16, 2012, "How Companies Learn Your Secrets."]
Based on tracking our online purchases, posts and comments (and, yes, that information is available to those who want it) companies like Target can now “target” specific life events and send marketing materials to us based on those analytics. The in-depth NY Times article focuses on “the holy grail of marketing: new parents.” The concept is that when life-changing events occur – such as having a baby – shopping habits can suddenly change and consumers (us) are up for grabs.
Haven’t I seen you here before?
Apparently we (the generalized, averaged “we”) shop habitually – according to set habits that are hard to break. But during busy, disorienting times in our lives we apparently don’t care anymore where we buy certain things, just that we can get them as easily as possible. Target, and other mega-stores, hope that by tapping into our consciousness at those times, we’ll decide that we can keep on going back for other things we might not habitually buy there.
This is not merely theoretical: it’s now a proven fact. However, it is a tad insidious, and Target doesn’t want us to know they’re doing it. Once they got the gist of the NY Times writer’s intentions and subject matter, they shut down communications and prevented him from visiting their offices.
That’s because, according to the article, what they’re doing will only work if they don’t alert expectant moms and their families that they are doing it. If that happens, the fecal matter hits the air rotation device.
The article mentions one very pissed off dad storming into his local Target, demanding to see the manager, then thrusting coupons for Pampers, etc., into the poor, confused person’s hands. The man angrily said his daughter, the recipient of said coupons, was still in high school and was not pregnant. However, when the distraught manager (who had no clue about the corporate program) phoned the man a few days later to apologize again, the father sheepishly said he owed the manager an apology – he had recently learned that his young daughter was indeed pregnant.
Yes, we are being watched.
So, how did Target know when the girl’s own dad didn’t? Online postings and patterns. We are – as Philip K. Dick predicted we would be – being watched. And the people watching are looking for specific patterns and indicators in order to sell us stuff.
I don’t know about you but I’m mostly casual and often incautious when posting online. I assume I’m among friends. When we’re on forums and online groups, we respond in the moment and move on. I don’t usually think about those tweets or forum posts for any longer than it takes to type them. And I’ll bet it’s the same for you.
So are we really only what those rapid-fire posts and updates say about use? Obviously, no, we’re not, any more than Chief John Anderton was what his fellow cops thought he was when he was set up. But it seems it’s enough for desperate marketing departments.
There are, of course, more standard ways to slice and dice audiences, such as motor vehicle registration. It’s reasonably possible to predict who a person is, down to gender and age, based on the vehicle that’s registered. For example, the owner of a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle (euphemistically called a rice burner or a crotch rocket) can reliably be predicted to be a male, between 17 and 24. Certain Buicks and Toyotas can reliably predict age groups, and with the addition of car color, possibly gender. But then there’s the name on the registration. That helps.
Another method is magazine subscriptions. If you want to find a certain audience, traditional methods have been fairly reliable for a number of years. But things are changing, rapidly – both how marketing is being done as well as to whom.
Is marketing evolving or devolving?
This is a bigger deal than it may sound like. It’s not just about Target and it’s not just about selling us stuff. We may not end up running for our lives like the characters in Philip K. Dick stories, but a whole lot more about us will be available to way more people than we ever thought possible, thanks to this tracking trend.
It’s one thing to have broad-based demographics for magazines and TV shows that tell us where to place marketing dollars based on the media content, and quite another to send coupons and offers that are just a little too close for comfort, just a little too personal.
Demographics are based on the population at large, not specific individuals. And they’re typically made up of generalized data. Tracking, on the other hand, is all about us, up close and personal. Do we really want that?
The newly developed practice of “predictive analytics” (… yep, The Minority Report, again) isn’t just about understanding consumers’ shopping habits – it’s about figuring out what’s going on in our lives, and our personal habits, in order to more efficiently market to us, specifically, individually.
As stated in the New York Times article, predictive analytics is “the science of habit formation … a major field of research in neurology and psychology departments at hundreds of major medical centers and universities, as well as inside extremely well financed corporate labs.”
Feeling manipulated, yet? Feeling invaded? It will only get worse. Statisticians, scientists and mathematicians have been increasingly in demand at places like Target, Walmart and Amazon.
It’s déjà vu all over again.
There apparently are positive applications of predictive analytics and the studies of habit formation, such as turning around sports teams, improving safety records at manufacturing plants and the ability to diet effectively. But there are also those nasty, “marketing from the dark side” applications.
Am I over-reacting? Well, is this really only about selling us paper towels and laundry soap? I don’t know. We’ve come a long way in limiting the intrusiveness of advertising, perhaps too far. So “they” are fighting back. They’re having a much harder time reaching us via television and radio, or a near-impossible time. And our online reading has been eroding print media at an alarming rate.
It’s been a symbiotic relationship for nearly ten decades. Commercial magazines and newspapers, as well as radio and TV shows, still are unable to exist without advertising dollars. That’s always been the case. But our ability to zap commercials, listen to anything but radio and selectively read what we want online has precipitated tectonic changes in target marketing. Many companies are grasping at the straws of SEO and social media, but find those still-developing alternatives fall far short.
So, they’re constantly working on new tools to achieve sales quotas. As technology advances, so do marketing techniques. We can now be tracked merely by having cell phones, and GPS devices in our cars. Potential employers can see everything we’ve posted online, should they choose to. Do we really want everything we do, say and buy, as well as everywhere we go tracked at all times in the name of marketing?
Sadly, our new lifestyles based on interacting with an online world means that we may lose the great journalists for whom doing in-depth, investigative reporting paid off. Not only is the pay for providing content on Web sites abysmally bad (see my posts about content mills), the newspapers that they wrote for are disappearing.
Of course, everyone knows that television journalism has already been replaced with infotainment. It’s all about ratings, just like sitcoms, not informing the public or the journalistic integrity of Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite. Ever since the O. J. Simpson televised car chase, news has become a spectator sport.
Privacy is less and less so every day.
Our private lives used to be private. Period. No hazy edges to it. We apparently have given that up for the freedom, ease and flexibility of the Internet. As soon as we began spending so much of our time online, privacy stopped being black and white. We have to proactively tell the sites we visit and the search engines we use to not hold onto our data.
The newly developing practice of “predictive analytics” couldn’t achieve anything if it had no data to analyze. Everything we do is being tracked to create that data. GPS. Credit card purchases. Online ordering. And forums. We provide the data.
Will all this tracking become merely white noise to us? Will we simply stop noticing and carry on as if it doesn’t matter?
As of this writing, Google’s privacy policies are making a lot of news. Their purpose in tracking where we go online, which videos we watch, which businesses we visit, and even just plain searches, is not as invasive as it might sound. For the time being, they aggregate data rather than drill down to specific individuals the way Target and others are doing. Their objective is to have data to sell, not our actual e-mail addresses or other personal information. But who knows what the future holds?
Data mining is the gold rush of this era. In a way, we haven’t left “them” any choice. We’ve circumvented the standard marketing options of television, radio and print ads. Pretty much all that’s left of the classic media buy era is outdoor board. And we’ve all learned to not even notice those.
So what’s seemingly free – all that stuff we do online – does have a cost, which we pretty much suspected all along. What they want us from us in exchange for our time online is to know where we go, how long we stay there, what we buy, how often we buy it … and whether or not we’re their target market. So far it’s about selling stuff. Someday soon, though, as Dick foresaw, it could become about a whole lot more.
Our calendar is barely 430 years old.
Any marketing person with training and experience begins any assignment by looking at context and environment – perspective. I can’t help approaching New Year’s that way. While we may think our calendar is now 2,012 years old, it is in fact (as of this writing) only 429 years old, and was created not to mark the passing of 365 days of our revolution around the sun, but rather to know when to celebrate Easter.
As you likely know, the calendar we use is the Gregorian calendar, also called the Western or Christian calendar because it’s based on significant dates in the Christian bible. It was introduced by Pope Gregory XIII via a papal bull, a decree, signed on February 24, 1582, and took several centuries to be adopted throughout the western world. The motivation for the Gregorian reform was that the Roman Julian calendar placed the time between vernal equinoxes (a year) at 365.25 days, when in fact it is roughly 11 minutes shorter per year. (Pretty cool stuff for 1582, huh?)
That 11-minute error added up to about three days every four centuries, which resulted (back in Pope Gregory XIII’s day) in the equinox occurring on March 11, and moving earlier and earlier in the Julian calendar. You know what that meant, right? The date for celebrating Easter wasn’t reliable. And Easter is the single most important date for the Roman Catholic Church.
Easter, by the way, was calculated using the Hebrew calendar to accurately fix the date of “the last supper,” which was in fact a Passover meal that Jesus was attending with his disciples. Pope Gregory XIII wanted to be sure that Easter was being celebrated on the correct date, year in and year out, so the date of the last supper was the starting point for the development of his new calendar.
Today, of course, we think of the calendar as a business tool rather than a way to keep track of religious events. And commerce was the main reason the Gregorian calendar was slowly adopted over time through much of the world. But it’s worth remembering that its origins were entirely based on religious celebrations.
Think about this: anybody who uses a computer, anywhere in the world, inevitably is following the Gregorian calendar.
Is it New Year’s everywhere?
2012 may well be the year that globalization truly takes hold. We, in the U.S., have come to grips with the fact that we are no longer an island unto ourselves, dictating “what comes next.” Our clothing, computers and customer service (sadly) can come from anywhere in the world … and usually do. Our economy is clearly affected by global events and our export markets can be countries that not long ago did not even appear on our maps. Brazil has taken a monster lead on the global stage, moving ahead of Great Britain in 2011. So, too have Russia, India and China moved up. (Investors call them the BRIC nations and place “emerging markets” investments there.)
So, bearing that in mind, does January 1 have the same significance to all inhabitants of planet earth? How about to the Chinese or Indians? Or those who follow the Hebraic and Islamic calendars, which were both based on lunar rather than solar cycles? For the Chinese, 2011 was 4708 (or 4648 depending on their epoch starting point). For those following the Hebrew calendar, 2011 was 5771. And for those using the Islamic calendar, 2011 was 1433. India has as many calendars as it has religions, though in 1957 they settled on the Indian national calendar (Saka) to align themselves with the Gregorian calendar.
That diversity of global populations is one of the reasons that New Year’s celebrations have always struck me as a tad odd. First of all, Father Time is winning, whichever calendar you use. Every new year means that we’re all a year older. And the yearly cycle is hardly celebrated the same way by all people on earth. Perhaps some of the old Roman superstitions lurk in our Bacchanalian New Year’s celebrations. Perhaps we truly think that we and the world will be magically different when the ball drops and the calendar changes.
What do we measure when we measure time?
Clocks, watches, calendars … do they measure actual time, or the experience of the passage of time? It seems that we “mark time” rather than inhabit it. We tick off the time we’ve used, or lost. And we look forward to the next calendar event, such as a religious holiday or vacation, which will only arrive after we’ve marked off the appropriate amount of time.
But time, according to Albert Einstein, was an indication of our relationship to space and gravity – how fast and how far we were able to move through space. And, in a way, that’s what we measure when we say “day, week, month and year.” A day is the spinning of the earth on its axis (creating the illusion of sun up, sun down). A year is the time it takes for our earth to orbit the sun completely – an elliptical journey that takes us closer to and farther from the sun, creating our seasons. Days and years are actual markers of time/space travel, while other calendar-based measurements are an artificial construct that in fact measure simply the passage of time as it relates to us.
Einstein and Paul Langevin addressed that “relativity” with a theory of time that has come to be called the “twins paradox.” One twin leaves the earth traveling at the speed of light and returns; the other twin stays behind. For the traveling twin, only seven years have passed, so he has only aged by seven years, but for his brother back on earth several decades have passed and he is now elderly. How can this be? (For a practical demonstration, watch the Jodi Foster film “Contact,” from a story by Carl Sagan.)
It’s all relative.
My point? Time is not as fixed as we think it is, or as our Gregorian calendar would have us believe. In fact, time is entirely relative. So we do not measure time objectively, but rather subjectively, based on our experience of time on our planet and the calendar we’re using. We subjectively say, “one year has passed,” “our child is two years old,” “we have a doctor’s appointment next Monday.” All of these are important, yet create a slightly false or inaccurate sense of time, an imposed sense of time, one that doesn’t matter to or affect the movement of the planets around our star.
Think of it this way: if we were still using the Julian calendar, we’d experience time differently. The same goes if we were using lunar calendars. Which is why I just can’t help remembering that the actual calendar we use isn’t even 500 years old, and that it has a back-dated, subjective starting point.
In fact, the new year did not always begin on January 1 for everyone everywhere. It depended entirely on which calendar was being used. What we now call New Year’s day is a very recent innovation, and an entirely subjective event. New Year’s used to be celebrated on days such as the vernal or autumnal equinox – days when you can actually feel something new is coming.
New Year’s resolution? Nah, thanks anyway.
Notice that headline didn’t say “you should get what you want?” The difference is not as subtle as it may seem. If I give you what you want even when I know it’s not what you need, I’m simply laying down and letting you roll over me. That’s not helpful, and it’s not professional.
When it comes to marketing, the client is not always right. Sometimes the client needs significant guidance to avoid major marketing mis-steps. This topic is often discussed among professional marketers: do you give clients what they want, or what they need?
It’s your business. But it’s our job.
No one knows your business better than you do, certainly not us marketing folk. So you wouldn’t and shouldn’t accept it if we started telling you how to do what you do. You probably feel that way about nearly every other profession and professional – they know more about their business than others. Let them do their job.
So what happens to clients when they start spending marketing dollars? Why does it sometimes turn into “it’s my money, give me what I want”?
If you think people who fold and do your marketing exactly the way you want are treating you properly, you may be stepping into a trap. They’re not doing you any favors when they don’t stand up to you if your ideas are off the mark. You’d be far better off with designers, writers and agency folk who have the gumption to say, “we can try it your way, but we’d like to also show you how we’d rather do it, and here are the reasons why …”
To spend your marketing dollars wisely, you need wise marketers.
People who are experienced, knowledgeable and self-confident will tell clients when something they want is not a good idea from a positioning, identity or branding point of view. It’s important to listen to them. They know what so many clients don’t: you don’t create marketing for yourself. Whether you like something is hardly as beneficial as whether your target audience likes it.
Business is business. And that means it’s about profitability. Running an ad campaign or building a Web site that pleases you but does nothing for your target audience is not a good marketing approach. Marketing is both an art and a science, and its ultimate goal is to produce results. To do that, marketers slice and dice the target audience by asking tough questions: How does your product or offering solve a specific need for your target audience? How do your benefits and claims set you apart from the competition? Is your marketing message relevant to your audience’s concerns? What moves the needle for your target audience? How do you know when your marketing is working?
Sometimes the client is right.
I had a marketing professor who liked to say, “a good idea doesn’t care where it comes from.” He meant, get your ego out of the way and solve the challenge with whatever works. Sometimes clients do have good solutions for their marketing challenges. And a true professional will see that and acknowledge it. If your ideas are better than mine when it comes to your marketing, then it would be very wrong to ignore them just because they came from you. That’s tough for some people to do because they’re convinced that if all the ideas don’t come from them, they’re not “adding value.”
But there is no hard and fast rule that only the marketing folk you hire can come up with the best marketing ideas. If you have good ones, they should be used. So here’s where things get fuzzy. How do you know whether your idea is really a good one or whether your marketers are merely rolling over? That comes down to your relationship. If you know each other and trust each other, it’s not going to be a problem. I’ve often had clients improve on my ideas. And I’m happy when they do, because the end product is better for both us. It’s a better piece of marketing for them, and it’s a better sample for me.
Ultimately, we’re a team. We’re all trying to achieve a common goal. If your ideas are a mistake, it’s my duty to say so, and hopefully you’ll understand why. If your ideas are an improvement, then it’s my duty to use them … even if you are the client.
The title of this article is from Abe WalkingBear Sanchez, who posted this on LinkedIn: “Words are magic. The very idea that by making sounds we can paint pictures in the minds of others, is magic. We choose whether we practice white or black magic.” – Jack Brightnose, Cree Medicineman.
That post really made me sit up and take notice. A writer’s life is all about communication, yet how often is it about the magic? WalkingBear’s teacher knew a great deal more about what was to become my life’s occupation than I did. I’m sure I had some teachers along the way who understood what Jack Brightnose taught. But what I remember most was their individual preferences for certain authors and certain kinds of phrasing. Not the reverence for the pure power of words shown by Jack Brightnose.
The dark side is always there.
Everything we do in marketing is about communication. But everything we do often becomes so habitual that we forget about the magic of words. In the world of marketing, the ultimate objective of communication is to influence, and perhaps sell something. In many cases, such as tobacco, liquor, fashion and pharmaceuticals, that’s leaning toward black magic – designed for profit, not for the good of the public. And I’m not making judgments about tobacco, liquor, fashion and pharmaceuticals – I’m talking about how they’re sold, how the words and images are used.
This is the dark side – the black magic – from which we professionals avert our eyes when asked to write copy for things that we might never ourselves purchase, or allow anyone in our family to use. It’s always there, in the background. And it’s hard to avoid when you enter the world of business. After all, that’s why agencies are hired, to help sell stuff. And as soon as anyone is trying to sell us something, motives become questionable.
Clearly free will was taught by Native Americans. Our choices define us. If we choose to profit by using words to convince people to buy our stuff, stuff we know can harm people, we have chosen black magic. But somehow that has been completely forgotten. The idea of profit as justification has wedged itself between white and black magic like some form of religious indulgence. In modern society, the profit motive excuses the intentional use of black magic.
Communication makes us human… sometimes.
What struck me when I read what Jack Brightnose had taught WalkingBear was how little respect is left for the magic that is communication. It’s virtually the only thing that sets us apart from the world of beasts. Sure, we have clothing and automobiles and iWhatevers, but would we have any of those things without the ability to form and understand words? Clearly not. We’d still be among the beasts, with bodies covered in hair, as we foraged and hunted for food and shelter.
Words lifted us out of that prehistoric life. Words gave us the lives we have today. It’s a little disheartening, though, to think that in only a few thousand years we went from “In the beginning was the word …” to sitcoms. No doubt that particular road to hell was paved with a loss of respect for the magical power of words. Instead, the shine of silver and gold became the lure, and the use of words to get the booty became the meaning of the words, not the magic inherent in communication.
So choices had to be made and we made them. Landing and keeping jobs became the new hunting and gathering. And we’re often asked to make tough choices as a result. The words used to force us into those choices are definitely not white magic. If only it were easier simply to walk away.
Can’t forget why we communicate.
Am I undergoing some sort of religious awakening? Nah. I’ve simply been reawakened to why I first fell in love with words when I was a boy. WalkingBear’s post reminded me of that. I’m sure the magic was what attracted anyone who chose to live as a writer. But being reminded that there’s always a choice between white and black magic is the real awakening.
In an almost indefinable way, I think that Jon Stewart’s Daily Show gets its mojo from calling people on their misuse of communication. He calls out liars and connivers and deceivers. He pulls back the curtain to reveal that The Great Oz is in fact a fake. And we all instantly recognize the truth of the revelations. We laugh, but recognize that what we laugh at is tragic. His show reminds us that we’ve learned to ignore the deceptions, because they’ve become standard operating procedure. We don’t pay attention, until our attention is drawn to the deceptions.
The Internet has both exponentially increased communication and brought it down in ways we could never have imagined. Not long after the explosion of the Web onto our psyches, it became obvious that sites (early on given the ludicrous euphemism “portals”) were only of value if they provided relevant information. Content (could there be a more demeaning term for writing and communication?) became critical. Site owners became desperate. So “content writers” were born, largely manipulators of existing content into mash-ups. Most of them are rank amateurs, often linguistically challenged, who are apparently happy to make a few dollars per day.
Here’s another fascinating quote that goes beyond marketing: “All poetry begins as self-expression. But if I only write for myself, who’s going to want to read what I’ve written except me? I tell my students that, at some point, writing stops being self-expression and starts being communication, or it fails. Whether you read me or not, I’m writing for you.” – David Kirby [Kirby’s “Thirteen Things I Hate About Poetry,” in Lit from Within: Contemporary Masters on the Art & Craft of Writing].
That was from a post by Erika Dreifus who has a blog and newsletter titled “Practicing Writing.” And it’s about the other side of what Jack Brightnose taught: in order for words to be magical, we have to remember that we’re not using them for ourselves alone – we’re using them to communicate, to paint pictures in the minds of others.
Can the answer be in a book?
There was a rather interesting question posed on a LinkedIn group: “What ‘must-have’ copywriting book do you recommend?”
That seemed to imply that reading a book on copywriting could allow anyone so inclined to become one. Nothing could be more misleading. Of course, if the question was meant to learn how to become a better copywriter, then it’s slightly more possible. But it’s still the same answer: copywriting is a craft, like any other, which will only improve with continual, ceaseless practice and experience.
You really have to want it.
I’ve never known anyone who woke up one day and decided they had to be a copywriter. To want that, you’d have to desperately want to earn your living crafting finite messages in an enormously competitive field. You’d have to want to perfect the use of language, metaphor, euphemism, vernacular – all of it – so that what you write might not only stop readers, viewers, listeners and visitors, but might also convince them to focus on your message. You’d also simultaneously have to be far subtler than the morning news.
Screaming headlines do not make any of us more interested in marketing messages. To be universally appealing, copy must be clever, enticing and compelling. And if you’re targeting a very specific audience, you also have to be unerringly relevant.
So before you count on a book to guide you into this parallel universe to diamond cutting, you damn well better have some relevant life experience – as a reader and writer – before jumping into these shark-infested waters.
Further, no book on “copywriting” will get you a job. Only your samples will. And you’ve got to have the chops to get there.
Catch 22, again.
With a nod to Joseph Heller, copywriting is one of those professions in which you can’t get a job until you’ve had one. No, that wasn’t a typo. You have to have extraordinarily impressive samples of the craft to even be considered for a job. The wormhole we’ve all found is to create a portfolio of spec samples until we have actual, produced ads to show.
To pass on the very sage advice I was given when I was starting out: “only do samples of things you really love so that that will come through in the writing, and get a young art director to help you so that you both have samples to show.”
I took that advice to heart and created a pre-job campaign for my favorite Indian restaurant. If they ever did much advertising, they certainly would never have done the full-page, four-color ads I created for them. But they were great ads, in all humility, because they were fun. The first headline in the campaign was “There’s no such thing as curry powder in India.” Which is true, and educational. I had fun doing the sample ads, and people had fun reading them.
It took several months of working on my spec book along with willing art directors to get to the point when I actually landed my first ad agency job, on “Madison Ave.” In advertising, you’re only as good as your last campaign. That’s why everyone’s portfolio is worth its weight in Au (http://bit.ly/lM7nWn). So like many others I knew, I had duplicate portfolios in case one was lost. Why would a portfolio be lost? Because advertising headhunters were forever shuttling them around to various agencies looking for copywriters and art directors.
And that’s another fact of life about advertising: to grow your portfolio, you often have to keep changing jobs. (My first assignments were on Seagram’s 7-Crown and Crown Royal, and Schaefer beer. All booze, all the time. I needed a change after a year of that.)
The book I recommended.
So was there a single book that everyone agreed on? Ha. Every single answer was different. And each showed the author’s background, preferences and proclivities. Nearly all advertising books are either memoirs, which don’t help neophytes get past square one, or self-advertisements, which are equally unhelpful.
That’s why my recommendation was: “Get yourself a copy of Strunk & White’s The Elements of Style.”
No book can ever guide one into how to write – the most any book can do is describe what it”s like to write. You really have to work and work and work. You have to find your voice, play with tone and style, and ultimately just keep doing it. Inevitably, as you do, questions of grammar and style will come up. The NY Times Manual of Style and Usage is great, along with the Chicago Manual of Style and the AP Stylebook. But for something small, handy and wholly reliable, I most often turn to the The Elements of Style.
One of my jobs is teaching effective story-telling to businesses.
Stand in my shoes for a few minutes and here’s what you’d see when a copywriter meets with new clients for the first time. We’re warmly greeted, offered coffee or water, then told in great detail about the product or service this new client wants to market. They’re truly excited about their offering and believe all we have to do is tell the world it exists and sales will tumble like the falls at Niagara.
But frequently they’ve missed a critical step: placing themselves in the minds of their target audience.
The effective use of narrative means, most of all, knowing (a) who your audience is and (b) knowing what they want to hear. This is a tough hurdle for many clients. This is the moment when they’re faced with a hard fact: we are not running ads for them. In fact, anyone who does an ad strictly based on pleasing the client is wasting the client’s money. (Dear Client, you run ads for your target audience, not for yourself.)
For example, a headline that pleases your client may bore the pants off your true target audience. Just because they think ‘thermal wrapping cloth’ is better than a moon landing doesn’t mean the people who actually need it will be as excited by it. You have to find out why it will interest them.
So here’s where the science and methodology of copywriting comes in. You have to understand both who will be most interested in what you’re writing about, and why. You have to become familiar with the specific marketplace and understand what the competition is saying and selling. You have to do a lot of homework before you even start writing.
If you are selling a product or service that’s custom-made for college-educated women between the ages of 24 and 54, you have to know what they read, what they watch, what they listen to, and – most of all – what matters to them. By understanding the kinds of books, magazines, newspapers and broadcast media they care about, you can target both your media buys and your messaging to grab their attention. And that is ultimately the objective of all marketing.
Think about it this way: you know you won’t get the same audiences reading Car & Driver and Vogue. Use the right medium to reach the right audience with the right story.
Crafting the story: the real work in writing.
Many professional copywriters have had the experience of telling someone what we do only to have that person say, “oh, you write jingles?”
No, we don’t write jingles. (The days of jingles are long gone.) We craft stories. We make new cars sound impossibly enticing. We help you believe that new watch is something you can’t live without. We convince you that this new beverage will change your life. Etc. Are we lying? No, we’re doing our jobs through the effective use of narrative to promote products and services for our clients to the most appropriate target audience.
For narrative in marketing to be truly effective, it can seldom be just about the product or service. It must also be about a very specific target audience. E.g., if we happen to be writing about a high-end Mercedes-Benz, we have to understand the mindset of the people who could afford one and might want one. We have to know something of what their lives are like. And we have to do the very same thing for everything we write about. We have to understand the specific demographic for each specific product or service.
Take high-tech. The typical audience for high-tech products, such as computer networks and data centers, are people who are highly knowledgeable about their industry and profession. So you aren’t going to win points writing for them as if you’re describing a vacation in the Bahamas. Telling them their life will be “a walk on the beach” with this super-duper new wireless router will sound, to them, like someone’s trying to sell them the Brooklyn bridge.
Believability is key to effective narrative. And to be believable, you have to be knowledgeable about both your product and its true target audience. In the case of the high-tech example, the story you tell has to sound like a day in the life of an IT manager, or CTO. And that’s never a walk on the beach.
Everything is part of the narrative.
Every part of every marketing effort – down to the way ads, marketing materials and Web sites are designed – should be there to support the narrative. And a key part of that narrative should be a call to action. It can be a soft sell or a hard sell, but it ought to be included as part of the story.
I’ve had the unfortunate experience of being paired with designers who thought that how something looks is far more important than the lowly message. Fortunately, I’ve also had the experience of working with true professionals who understand that everything we do is about communication. We’re telling a story in words and pictures.
A key aspect of any design is where your eye is led. Really good designers understand that. They know that when you open a magazine to your client’s ad your eye should be led through it to the ultimate objective, whether that’s branding or a bold call to action. And when you open your client’s Web site it should be easy to follow how its constructed and how to get where you most want to get within that site.
When the opposite is true, when an ad or Web page is a jumbled mess of graphics that simply confuse the eye, the narrative falls apart. There is no story when there’s merely confusion. Lots of “off the shelf” Web sites create an impression of cohesiveness, but that will quickly dissipate if you’re left scratching your head, wondering, “what exactly are they trying to say here?”
The narrative must grab a viewer or visitor, it must pull you through, and it must leave you with a better understanding of the product or service as a result. That’s the job of story-telling in marketing. Now that you know, you’ll start to see when it works … and when it doesn’t. And you, too, will know the importance of story-telling in marketing.
I know, I know. Sounds like a “duh?” question but, really and truly, it’s not. While everyone will immediately tell you they’re selling their product or service in their ads, my question is “how?”
If your ad is all about price, then you’re selling on cost. That’s kind of like the burger wars. You know, when McDonald’s does their $1 menus? Do you really want to go there against your competition? Selling on price means you have to be willing to duke it out to the end.
Sometimes that can mean undercutting your profit … all your profit. I managed a record store long ago and far away in Santa Monica. It was a single retail location, but the owner wanted to draw people in with a loss-leader. So he’d run a full-page newspaper ad for the latest Stones, or Bowie or whoever album at cost … his cost. The problem was, Tower Records paid a much lower cost for their total volume so they always undercut my old boss. That was a battle he couldn’t win. (And a lesson I never forgot.)
If your ad is all about a limited time offer, that’s kind of like a price ad, but with a limited lifetime. Not good. That’s a sign of a desperate retailer or service provider trying to convince folks that “now’s the time to shop at Crazy Crandall’s.” Now, not only are you trying to woo folks from your competitors with some price incentive, you’re telling them that they only have to care for the next week, or month, or whatever. That message usually goes directly to the delete file.
If your ad is about longevity, how long you’ve been in business, you’re getting warmer, but you’re still not delivering the goods. A message that tells people how long you’ve been in business is a feel-good message, especially for the business, but it doesn’t necessarily convince your true target audience why they should come to you. How you’ve stayed in business for that long is closer to what matters. Have you done it by being better than anyone else? Have you done it because yours is the only business of its kind in your area? Have you done it because you always treat people better? As in fairer and as in no-hassle returns? If that’s the case, that’s starting to look like the real deal.
Sell on benefits and you’re selling for the longterm.
An endless number of businesses have learned the hard way that conveying the benefits of doing business with you is the only way to get and hold onto new customers. Price is not a benefit – it’s too temporary and fraught with sand-traps. If the price is too good to believe, most folks don’t believe it. Meaning they don’t think they’re really getting quality goods or services when it’s “that cheap.”
Short-time promotions also only excite a certain kind of audience – the kind that’s only ever looking for bargains. Do you really want them on your mailing list? They’ll only come in when you’re having a super sale, so you’ll start thinking you always have to have them.
Selling on benefits is the only to have both loyal customers and customers who help you sell by convincing others that yours is the business to go to. Sell on quality, reliability, trustworthiness and fairness and then you can charge enough to make some profit and still grow your target audience.
Quality. Reliability. Trustworthiness. Fairness.
Those are not promises, they’re benefits. If you focus your advertising budget and message on those benefits, you’ll develop a loyal following of repeat customers.
Some years ago the packaged goods companies dug their own sand-traps: they started doing promotions. What happened as a result was not the simple blip in sales they’d hoped for. Instead, they had created a new kind of consumer: the kind that only bought their particular soap, or soup, or frozen goody when it went on sale. The “stocking-up while it’s on sale” approach to shopping changed everything, and the packaged goods companies were never able to go back to “the way things were.”
The “big box” stores were the natural evolution of that approach to shopping. They took the promotion from an occasional event to an all-year deal. And the packaged goods companies will never able to go back to “the way things were.”
The message here is simple: sell on benefits and deliver on the benefits. In today’s excessively price-conscious marketplace, it’s the only way to make your advertising dollars pay off – both now and in the future.
The message matters most.
Can we exist without communication? I think not. Can we prosper without communication? I’m sure not. Who produces the communications that help us prosper? You guessed it, writers.
No matter what the product or service, no matter where in the world, in order for commerce to take place, there must be communication. Communication is the keystone of commerce. From the days of merchants rolling carts through villages, shouting their wares, to the half-time commercials during Super Bowl games, communication is key to making the sale.
Everyone knows that. No one gives it a second thought. But where would companies be without written communication? Where would the global economy be without written communication?
Our entire economy – indeed the economy of the majority of the world – is based upon competition. The message is frequently “why our product is better,” “how our product improves things,” “why you’ll be happier with our product.”
On this first morning of this new year, I sing the praises of the creators of the messages that make the world go ’round.
The writers craft the message.
Could Coke be Coke without the commercials and ads that proclaim its unique benefits? Could Mac be the rising star in the computing world without the commercials and ads that inform us why we should choose their offering over a PC?
Would we even be seeing and hearing those commercials and ads without TV, radio and print media? And would we even have those forms of “information and entertainment” without the writers who create the content?
When the Web was born, its progenitors announced, “content is king.” And you know who creates content …
You could justifiably ask, is there too much of everything these days … too many messages, too many puerile shows, too much competition for our eyes and ears? Yes, indeed, but again I say that thanks to writers we have the choice of what to watch, what to listen to … and what to buy. Communication informs us of our choices.
We vote with our choices, and in doing so we guide what the future brings us. If there are way too many ‘reality TV’ shows, it’s our own fault. We’ve chosen to watch them and reward their advertisers. What we have in the way of choices reflects the choices that have already been made.
It all starts with communication.
I worked on the introduction of the Sony Mavica – one of the very first commercially available digital cameras. It cost between $5,000 and $10,000, and when I asked my Sony clients, “who will be the target audience for this amazing device,” they answered, “probably just the national news media.” They had no idea what they’d helped spawn. Digital photography had been introduced to the masses. Sony also brought about digital music, as well as CDs as a medium, and look where that’s gone.
Sony knew, as every major manufacturer knows, that inventing something – however spectacular – is hardly enough. You have to get the word out. And who does that? Yep, the writers. We ask the key questions and put down the key answers so that the most appropriate target audience will get the most relevant message.
Marketing is about communication, not sales.
Sales comes after the message. First you have to inform, then you can seek the sale. But forget the sale if the message isn’t clear and compelling. That’s what we do. We’re the writers. We craft the message, and we do our damnedest to make it clear and compelling. We form the communication. We get the word out.
Without writers, companies wouldn’t be known, their products wouldn’t be known and their futures would be uncertain. The better the writer, the better the result.
It all starts with the message, the communication. Everything follows from there. Everything. And that, folks, is what it means to be a marketing writer.
What are you talking about when you talk about branding?
Branding has been the marketing buzzword du jour since the 1990s. However, a great many people use it without understanding its true meaning.
In most cases, when people use the term branding, they’re really talking about USP – the Unique Selling Proposition. That concept was first presented to the advertising and ad agency client world in the 1940s by Rosser Reeves who worked at Ted Bates & Company, one of the biggest ad agencies in the world. It changed how ad agencies approached the business of advertising, as well as how ads themselves were created from then on.
The USP (which every agency claimed to create in their own version) was about finding and focusing on the unique benefit of the product or service that one was advertising. You couldn’t just say, “XYZ is the better detergent,” you had to say “why XYZ is the better detergent.”
The big bang.
USP was the real big bang in advertising. It changed everything and even helped ad agencies develop their reason for being. Clients often couldn’t come up with a USP on their own. Agencies, through diligence and in-depth research, could. The whole idea was to get to the point of differentiation that could be perceived as a benefit by consumers and customers.
One famous example was the initial positioning for Chivas Regal in the U.S. It was, ultimately, just another blended, 12-year-old whiskey from Scotland. The story goes that the agency of record at the time had trouble creating a true USP, so they finally asked, “what does the most expensive blended whiskey cost?” The client responded, “$12.98.” So the agency replied, “Fine, we’ll price it at $12.99 and use ‘it costs more but it’s worth it’ as the basis of our campaign – luxury, indulgence, prestige. Bang. There’s your USP.”
That’s my understanding of how 12-year-old Chivas came to be perceived as “a really fine whiskey” – it was positioning based on a pricing strategy. Similarly, Volvo became “the safe car” even though it was never the safest. (That distinction could likely have gone to Saab or Mercedes.) It was a self-fulfilling prophecy since Scali, McCabe, Sloves’ positioning it as “the safe car” (an extension of their “durability” campaign) meant that people who drove safely preferred buying Volvos, so insurance companies noticed that Volvos had better accident records … which was really not about the car but about how its owners drove.
The branding differentiation.
Branding is not something completely new and different, as many folks believe. It builds on and expands the concept of USP. What branding has added to that proposition is that you must “consistently say the same thing to all people all the time.” What does that mean? It means that a company or organization must recognize that they have an internal as well as external audience. Whatever the USP is, it must be stated first to the internal audience (your entire staff) so that everyone is passing on the very same message to the external audience (your target audience).
It may not sound like a big deal when you break it down, but it has value. I have seen more than one company roll out an advertising campaign or promotion without letting the troops know it was coming. What do you get when that happens? People answering the phones saying, “huh?” Not good.
The consistency dictum.
Branding also dictates that everything – from business cards to stationery to signs to ads – be identical. And that raises the game somewhat that was started with USP. Every message (according to branding gurus) that comes out of an organization, in any way, needs to look the same and sound the same. That, in a nutshell, is branding. The really good agencies have always done that instinctively – now it’s a rule.
I’ve always though that “branding” was created by someone who decided they needed a new tool to compete with ad agencies. There are certainly some smart and sensible ideas behind the branding concept, but it’s not enough – on its own – to build the kinds of great campaigns that USP has consistently brought us. Think Volkswagen, Absolut, Nike. Those were all based on the concept of USP.
Bottom line: branding is the cart, not the horse. You have to start with a USP in order to end up with truly effective branding.