I recently read the late Phil Dusenberry’s book  “One Great Insight Is Worth a Thousand Good Ideas”. (If you haven’t read it, go get it. Run don’t walk.) It inspired me to get my thinking straight on what constitutes great work in ad/comm land. So I’ve taken some of his main points, mixed them with some of my thoughts and will attempt to dogmatically define what makes great work, then describe how to make it. All this with the assumption that the aim of great work is: “work that works” (i.e sells stuff). And not work that “spits on the table” or just wins awards. My goal here is a pithy manifesto that can be recited while standing on one foot. (Or stuck for a clue)

Are there universal principles of good work?

My answer is yes. And they’re timeless. (The Greeks figured all this out before you were born). At a time when marketers are defining a new era in communications by chasing technology, I think some simple (and old) truths are getting lost. People don’t talk about or share or buy things that don’t connect with their souls in some way. It has always been thus. The principles native to great TV work in the eighties are the same for, say, a social network strategy now. The human heart hasn’t changed, even if some of our behavior (and environment) has. Yes we’re more connected. Yes we’re more involved. Yes our filters are stronger. But the animal inside doesn’t care about any of this. We’ve got a million years of evolution in the bank and only ten online.

So let’s start with defining the standard. If creative work fails on any of these criteria, you haven’t got great work:

Original/Unexpected - It breaks stuff. It jams culture. It baffles the head to get to the heart. You’ve never seen it quite like this. You notice.

Insightful – The main point speaks to you. If you have a good insight, “the executions could write themselves”. And an insight can be reduced to a tagline. “If it sounds like Mark Twain wrote it, it’s probably right.” A solution must be indigenous to the problem (naturally). The category, the product/brand, the people, and the culture all must be accounted for. And you can’t arrive at a unique insight without defining the base problem first.

Simple - The work should be a study of obstinate reduction. i.e. Simple.

Well said - The insight determines the “what” and the “what” determines how the “how” manifests. Got it? Insight=what you’re saying. Creative idea=how you’re saying it.

So when you look at a piece of creative, does it meet these criteria? If it does, chances are it’s something you really like.

So how do you get there?

Case by case. Each category/brand/product has it’s own array of challenges, but you can apply a basic process to reveal them. The conversation about leveraging technology for “brand engagement” is a tactical one. A lot of work has to be done before the tactics if it’s really going to engage. In my opinion, saying: “let’s do something on the internet” is just as wrong as assuming the answer is TV.

The process (from Phil’s BBDO process):

R.A.I.S.E.

(Starts with the head)

1. Research
2. Analysis
3. Insight
4. Strategy
5. Execution

(Ends with the heart)

If this process sounds simple, that’s because it’s meant to be. What’s hard is filling in the blanks and going over the top at each stage.

The Parity Problem*

With few exceptions, mainstream advertising has to solve the problem of product parity. Most things are made so well that there’s little difference between them. Even innovations can be copied in short order. But you have to solve the parity of advertising too. (Since creativity is so vital to good work, it’s amazing this is even an issue- but it is.) Parity is the subtle force trying to pull everything down into the pit of sameness. And sameness is impotent. The best way to solve the parity problem, according to Dusenberry, is to capture both the head and the heart with insight and execution (creativity). “It’s a one-two punch. Insight is the shot to head. Execution is the shot to the gut.”

Because solving parity is such a crucial  function of advertising (if not the most crucial),  we can judge work solely on how well it solves this problem.  So let’s look at some recent(ish) work which I’ll view through lens of parity. How well it solves both product and advertising parity. If you apply this model to all the great, effective  new work out there (even viral), you realize they have something old in common.

Recent(ish) examples of what works:

Dove – Evolution (Ogilvy, Toronto)

The insight that solves product parity: All beauty products create a gap between us and the “ideal”. The head: It’s ok to be who you are.
The execution that solves communication parity: Everybody knew that models where “doctored”, but nobody showed it in this way. The heart: Holy fuck!

Burger King – The Subservient Chicken (CP+B, Boulder, CO)

The insight that solves product parity: The Head: We’re individuals.We want to customize. Show it.
The execution that solves communication parity: The Heart: This is cool, funny.

Cadbury – Gorilla (Fallon, UK)

The insight solves product parity: The Head: I’m still not sure about this one. but it could be: parity is so bad in this category, anything ridiculously different will work.
The execution solves communication parity: The Heart: I don’t even know what the fuck this is but I like it.

If you look at work through this lens, you can suddenly explain why you loved that new campiagn. It probably had an insight, solved the parity problem(s), and was immaculately expressed and executed.

*To me, this is where Dusenberry’s book shines. We’re all familiar with this problem, but Phil gives it a new very useful perspective.

- All quotes are Phil’s Dusenberry’s. RIP.

Next: Digital Natives: How they’re different. Why they’re the same.

Jack Neary doesn’t think so, but it is on “life support”.

On January 5, I mused whether the role of the copywriter in advertising has truly diminished. My curiosity led to investigation and I decided to pose the question to those more qualified to answer than I. So I asked Black Bag (a talent consultancy for creatives) founder and CEO Heidi Ehlers as part of her “Ask Heidi” feature on Black Bag online.

Her deep industry connections gave her an open line to the top of the advertising pyramid and her response was this: “I’ve asked Jack Neary, Executive Vice President/Executive Creative Director, BBDO Worldwide, to answer this question. Jack and I have had conversations on this topic in the past, and he, for one, is a writer/Creative Director whom many have reverently referred to as a writer’s writer.”

Why? He chalks it up to demand.

• “Few creative directors want it any more.”

• “Therefore the wordsmith’s craft is seldom celebrated, rarely taught, and, therefore, almost never practised.”

• “Today’s media culture is not a culture of words. Writing, great or otherwise, has become less important.”

• “The heightened, often mindless lust for Cannes Lions has led to more visual, less verbal work because pictures generally do better than words with a cosmopolitan jury.  That is why the visual pun rose to such prominence in the last 15 years.”

But (and thank god there is one):

• “None of this means words can no longer be a vital part of a creative person’s arsenal of persuasion.”

• “Great writing is still preferred over poor writing, at least by a few of us. The right words can still make the heart soar, touch the soul, and elevate the argument.”

• “Mark me, when fortunes turn and our P&L allows me to hire again I will always offer the job to the writer who can over the writer who can’t.”

Great response.

Just a thought: The traditional role of copywriter was always: wordsmith, strategic thinker and concept developer. But if the craft isn’t as important (“digital natives” are busy mutating the language), strategy is now the charge of planners, and art directors can concept… it looks dark.

Still. If we think of our business, in part, as story telling, then I think there will always be a place for those who can spin them. And who better than a writer?

Thanks to both Heidi Ehlers and Jack Neary for shedding some light.

PS. And no, I don’t see the irony in paraphrasing Jack’s well crafted response with bullets.

Anyone who works in advertising knows this trick. It’s the ethically fuzzy practice of reverse engineering.

Here’s how it works:

A lot of agencies have boring clients that won’t publish award winning work. (Or mediocre teams who can’t produce it.) So the “creative” team, who would sell their mom for awards, will make spec ads and try to sell them- similar to what new kids do to crack into the industry. Sometimes an agency will even mandate this to make some awards noise to attract new biz.

And sometimes they “borrow” inspiration from a seemingly obscure corner of art or pop-culture. In this example, some photography originally done for a French soft-porn rag. They take the grain of the idea, or the whole fucking execution, stick a logo on it and try to sell it to a client. That’s why it’s reverse engineering.

Step 1: Get (borrow) cool idea.
Step 2: Apply idea to previously undetermined brand X.

Voila! Instant “podium wobbler”.

Case in point: “Lego for adults.”

But what’s missing? Well, other than even a hint of creativity, any chance that this ad would actually work. (Even if Lego for Adults actually existed). At best it does nothing. At worst it sprays a little smut over a brand that stands for imagination and kids toys. It’s a poignant example of what happens when reverse engineering starts to….reveal itself. It becomes an irrelevant piece of fluff without any kind of insight – for that you need to reverse, reverse engineer.

I’m not against getting inspiration wherever possible, but I am against lazy BS. Fortunately, lazy, derivative work doesn’t usually win awards.

Even in a downturn, you can always find jobs in advertising. Art directors, digital artists, digital directors, digital graphics design directors.

But where are all copywriter jobs?

I’m not naive enough to think that the job boards are the key to career success in advertising. In fact most jobs are won the old fashion way: BJs and connections.

But to me, the boards are at least a barometer. And that barometer says: “We don’t need copywriters, we have keyboards.”

I guess that explains why I see a lot of typing out there – but not much writing.

I recently returned from a copywriting contract in Greece. Being in a foreign country for a few months lets you sink into a place. 

Here’s what I noticed:

1 – Greeks are more social than we are

2 – They’re not obsessed with consumption (save food)

3 – They’re obsessed with mobile tech – old Greek matriarchs can be seen with two cellphones

4 – The Euro has killed them – their economy is in much bigger shit than ours

5 – They work less and play more (See 4)

6 – They have a strong cultural brand – duh – which gives them a sharp cultural identity – hmm

7 – Instant frappes are all the rage. (I don’t know)

8 – I felt more alive when I was there.

9 – The food isn’t that great

10 – Santorini is that great

11 – Even while there, I knew I’d feel nostalgic for Greece when I wasn’t. I was right.

Real success is taken not stolen.

Coming up with ideas has made me slightly schizophrenic by (I think/hope) necessity.

I’m divided in two.  

Dionysus is the creative – Apollo the critic.

Dionysus says:

Unleash the beast 

Let go 

Don’t think so hard 

Be stupid 

Get into the god hole 

Be a kid

Get out of the way 

Be real

Dream a dream 

Laugh 

Think with your gut 

Feel

Open a vein 

Play

Leap faithfully

Be Free

Apollo says:

That sucks. Get the fuck back to work.

I know quite a few people in advertising who, quite often, like to put little packets of white powder into their nose.

Snowblindedness in this industry is always a “which came first” question: Is it the industry driven pressure or did the predisposed come ready to snort?

I myself had a snowblind experience this weekend and I can tell you this: it was a real bad fucking trip. Leaving to go home from my friend’s northern-ish cottage on Sunday, the weather didn’t look good and the forecast sited squalls and road closures in the area. So my entourage decided that this would be a splendid time to set out. With my car heading a two-car convoy, we decided to brave it (stupid it), passing a couple of very straight, poorly art directed, not so clever ads in the form of “highway closed” signs. Everything was swell until a massive squall moved in and I could see NOTHING.  Without exaggeration my windows may have well been painted solid white. (And apparently if you’re caught in a squall, there’s a school of thought that says you shouldn’t stop dead.)

So that’s exactly what I did.

I figured that if had no evidence that I was driving on a road, nor would I know whether I was driving head-on into traffic. So I stopped. I had forewarned the person following me that this is precisely what I would do if I could no longer see. Unfortunately, I hadn’t mentioned this to the dude in the pick-up who rammed into the back of my friend’s car who, in turn, gave mine a peck on the ass. But this isn’t the worst part. By far. Now all three of us, we dum-dums three,  are locked in a mortal static freeze in the middle of a road with zero visibility.

Yay.

Everyone just sat there for a few minutes in shock and waited for what we surely thought was the next hammer drop: The truck on the other side who goes into the squall but doesn’t stop until they’ve slammed us sitting ducks clean into the snowbank. But after checking to see if everyone was OK while trying to swallow my panic at our sheer vulnerability at this point, we managed to cobble together a plan that brought an ambulance to the scene in about 15 minutes. And after the ambulance got stuck in the snow and had to call an ambulance, we made it to the hospital unscathed. No one was hurt.

Everyone we spoke to (emerg staff, cops, misc. old coots) thought it prudent to mention that we were lucky to be alive. Gee, thanks! I think the frozen pee in my pants already mentioned that. 

Worst. Trip. Ever.  I’m totally off that shit.

I’ve always been lucky in that I remember my dreams. I can remember my netherworld episodes as much as any waking memories. And except for the odd reoccurring theme, every single one of them is unique. All combining unlikely concepts that make for very crazy theatre. Two thumbs up, brain, on creativity.

But here’s what bugs me:

With this tap into the infinite god hole, why should I ever dry up when I’m consciously trying to get ideas? What part of me shuts it off? And how do I shut off the shut off? I want to go behind the curtain on demand, right now *snaps fingers* pronto. There’s all kinds of techniques to try to get past this: directed reverie, 100 mph thinking (Tom Monahan), bags of drugs etc. But nothing seems to get as deep as dream. I think the most promising technique is lucid dreaming (mastering the art of conscious dream control) but that can be just as elusive as sitting down and having a really good idea.

TBC.

My virgin post is about an upside down Super Bowl. One that saw a decent game and lousy (for the most part) ads. Ads with animals.  I saw beavers, horses, dogs, lizards, wombats, pigeons, etc. The whole fucking zoo. I can’t help but think this is somehow client driven.  This obsession with fur and scales. They group well I imagine. Who doesn’t love pigeons? “Chester” for NFL.com was the only one that hit me with anything. Good story. No pigeons.