Monday
The 'Sample of One' Problem
Such as Lawns.
“Uh, lawns?” we said. (What next? Flypaper?) “What about them?”
The editor sighed. (Jeez. These reporters must all be city kids.) “I was tossing a Frisbee with my kids on Sunday, and it hit me. Lawns are the center of the suburban experience. There’s so much to say about them. But I leave the digging (heh heh) to you.”
The Lawns story was written (thankfully, not by me). And rewritten. And heavily edited. And rewritten. And re-edited. It seemed that no approach to this topic could give life to the springy, bright green Unformed Thought in that editor’s mind.
When a rather dull story about lawns and their care was finally published, the editor disowned it. Not what he wanted. (Whatever that was.)
Most of us tend to think that just because we were bowled over by something, everyone else will be equally smitten. Even when we can’t seem to explain what was so great about it.
The opposite holds true, too: If I don’t like it, no one will like it. (Even if I can't really tell you what's wrong with it.)
A good friend of mine calls this the “sample of one” problem. It has a way of dominating the conversation and stomping on reason and practicality.
>If the target audience of a website is 11-year-olds, should it matter if the 40-year-old who is designing the site doesn’t find it compelling?
>If a client keeps rejecting prototypes for a new project simply because they don't "feel right," does this demonstrate a discriminating mind at work or the actions of an insecure person overly worried about keeping her job?
>If a copywriter who hates jargon removes all the technical words from a project description, will it be appropriate for its target audience of specialists?
The moral of this story is twofold:
1) If we feel strongly about something (pro or con), we need to be able to articulate clear-cut reasons.
2) These reasons need to make sense within the context of this specific project and its intended users.
Thursday
We're Supposed To Have (Informed) Opinions: An Imaginary Dialogue
Me: If our client wants an approach we feel is inappropriate, we’ll have to tell them that this is not in their best interest.
Designer: Oh, no, we should never dictate to them. We need to listen to what they want.
Me: Sure, it’s our job to listen, and listen carefully. But we’ve been hired for our expertise. So often, clients know (or think they know) what they want, but they don’t understand what their audience needs. So we must explain — in a friendly way — why a different approach is better suited to the project.
Designer: We can’t afford to offend them. They call the shots.
Me: Look, all we can do is present our point of view. In the end, they can get whatever they want — if not from us, then from someone else they hire. But we need to consider ourselves as consultants, not simply as order-takers.
***
I don’t know whether this is a personality issue or a professional niche issue (do other copywriters feel the same way?), but I often find designers to be extremely hesitant to stand up to their clients.
Much has been written in recent years about a key shift in the world of graphic design from “making” to “thinking.” Not that there isn’t a lot of thinking involved in making. But many in the profession have called for a renewed emphasis on the designer as conceptual thinker, engaging his or her client on a macro level. To my mind, this means acting like a consultant.
And if we are to be treated as consultants, we must act as such from our very first client meeting. If the client has already pegged us as merely obedient servants, we’ve lost our professional leverage.
Designers will stand up for client-proposed infringements of specific design rules. If the client doesn’t understand why an extra two pages can’t be added to a catalogue, the designer can fold sheets of paper to show why the minimum additional page-count must be four. If the client wants to clutter a website home page with numerous bits and pieces of information, the designer will explain why this is ill-advised.
But when it’s a matter of discussing how people are likely to perceive something — when we move into a realm with no set rules (or no rules that have been learned in design class) — opinions tend to be withheld or muted.
I believe that this is a form of misplaced deference. Let's be judicious and thoughtful. Let's base our opinions on solid experience. Let's be matter-of-fact, never dictatorial. But for heaven's sake, let's speak up!
© Cathy Curtis 2010
Wednesday
"Collaborate? But We Hired You To Do It!"
You have a zillion demands on your time. That’s why you’ve hired a communications expert to handle the marketing materials you need. If you and your team weren’t so busy, you’d be writing these things yourselves.
Somewhere on your desktop is the questionnaire your expert sent you weeks ago. Now she is asking you to sit down with her for a couple of hours that you simply can’t spare.
Why can’t she just use the business synopsis you sent her?
Because nothing takes the place of having you talk about your business.
> First, the writer needs to listen to you. Listen for the big ideas that drive your approach. Listen for the assumptions that underlie the big ideas.
> Then she needs to ask follow-up questions. It’s the only way to elicit the key information you’re leaving out simply because you know your work so well.
> She may also ask you to collaborate on a creative brief. One of the best ways to capture the way you actually view your company is play a consultant’s version of 20 Questions. Except that this isn’t a game — it’s a way of unlocking powerful differentiators you may never have thought about or expressed.
What you gain
A good writer will take you beyond your insider’s perspective to help you understand how your company is viewed by people with no vested interest in it.
Your materials will avoid overused marketing-speak, the kind that today’s customer just tunes out.
Instead, your materials will reflect your company’s uniqueness and communicate urgently to your target market.
And the few hours you’ve spent answering questions — even the ones that seemed off-the-wall at the time — will prove to be well worth the effort.
©Cathy Curtis 2010
"I Know What Marketing Materials I Need . . . Or Do I?"
Maybe your organization has been around for awhile and has outgrown the marketing materials that were created to get you off the ground. Or perhaps your company is new, has a new focus, or is trying to establish a new client base. Before giving you a quote for your request, an experienced marketing writer will ask you several questions:
Why do you need it?
> What purpose will it serve?
> What do you use now for this purpose?
> Why do you think your current materials aren’t delivering for you?
Who is your target audience?
> Is there a secondary audience?
> What do you want the target audience to do?
How will the piece will be used?
> Will this piece be presented in person, or will it be mailed or e-mailed, and/or posted on your website?
> If it is presented in person, will other materials also be reviewed? What information is contained in these materials?
> How do you intend to follow up?
> If you’re planning a printed piece, how many years to you expect to use it?
How will the piece fit into your overall marketing strategy?
> Do you have a website? Are you happy with it? Why, or why not?
> How does this piece fit with the content on your website and your other marketing efforts?
Based on your responses, the marketing writer may:
Ask you to collaborate with her (and possibly a graphic designer) on a creative brief — a document that will serve as a guidepost for the content, tone and format of your new marketing piece. The creative brief will allow you, your team and your marketing writer to understand what makes your organization unique.
Agree with your assessment of your marketing needs and send you a proposal.
Propose a piece that may be in a different format — or contain more, less, or other content — and explain her rationale.
What you gain
This process will let you better understand how your new marketing piece will work for you — how it will specifically address the needs and interests of your target audience while expressing your organization’s mission, goals and personality.
©Cathy Curtis 2010
Why Facts Are Sexy
Nobody knows your company better than you do. And after sweating through the early days, building a team and a client base to make your mark in a competitive industry, you’ve got a story to tell.
But does anyone really care?
Think about your own behavior when searching for something online. All you want are facts that will help you decide whether a particular product or service is right for you.
Not mission statements. Not boastful adjectives. Not the kind of meaningless promises (“We deliver operational excellence”) that clutter so many websites.
The fact is, if you can’t find the specific facts you need, you’re outta there. Well, the same goes for potential clients looking at your website. It’s not about you. It’s about them.
But don’t you need to tell people you’re the best in your market? Sure. But not in so many words. It’s not about telling — it’s about showing.
That’s because facts are sexy.
Consider the difference between saying, “We offer exceptional customer service” and “Here’s what our customers are saying about our customer service.”
Or between “We’re proud of our safety culture” and “We were certified in 2009 by Recognized Agency for 5,000 man hours without a certifiable accident.”
So what kind of facts can tell your story?
> Statements by actual customers
> Case histories
> Videos that demonstrate how to use your products
> Videos that illustrate your production process
> Statistics compiled by an independent entity
> Certifications and awards from recognized sources
In short: verifiable information.
Stick with those alluring facts of yours. The ones that will create an instant bond with your market. The ones that will cause your customer to ignore the empty promises of your competitors and go with you.
©Cathy Curtis 2010