December 20, 2011 Tara

Everyone knows the magical tale of Charlotte’s Web, how Charlotte the well-mannered spider saves Wilbur the naive pig from inevitable slaughter by basically creating a branding campaign for him – weaving headlines like Terrific, Radiant, and Humble, into her barn door web.

The web words kind of freak out the farmer and his family and eventually the whole community, but it saves Wilbur’s neck. I always thought it was odd that the pig got all the attention instead of the spider. Charlotte was the one that captured his personality, crafted it and shared it with the world.  Of course, if this were a modern-day tale, evil government scientists would capture Charlotte, take her to an underground facility in New Mexico and do all sorts of experiments on her, like make her weave code for the military. Then the little girl and that sleazy rat and Wilbur would have to bust her out – all in 3D of course.

The other day as I was visiting my seven-year-old’s class, and I saw a collection of their most recent art project displayed along the hall. They were handmade webs, with a single word in the center that each student felt best described them.  I thought this was such a clever project. And it made me think, if a spider can write (granted a fictional one, but humor me here) and a seven-year old can evaluate their own best trait, shouldn’t the rest of us brave up and get more confident with sharing our written word?

Five Writing Skills A Spider Can Teach Us
I argue that Charlotte’s web campaign was a bit old-school. Kind of the equivalent to headlines on a bus bench.  “Terrific” was a bit generic.  It’s like saying “quality” or “great customer service.” “Radiant” was a bit of a reach. I think there is a definite brand disconnect there. Wilbur was a friendly, charming, little firecracker of a pig, but “radiant” always seemed odd to me, considering he wallowed in mud.  He was also a bit precocious, so I don’t know if “Humble” quite fit the bill either.

But, criticizing Charlotte’s Web is making me feel a little uncomfortable, like in a second I’m going to bust into that class and tell those kids that Charlotte dies at the end. Oops, spoiler alert.

Honestly, though, isn’t it the criticism that keeps so many of us from expressing ourselves through writing? Well, that and the drudgery of proofreading.  So whether you’re taking a crack at writing your own creative copy for the first time, or finally steeling your nerve to start that blog, or even just crafting a few perfectly phrased bullets to defend your work, present your ideas or (gulp) even save your own little firecracker of a neck – think of that little spider-that-could.

5 Writing Skills A Spider Can Teach Us:
• Editing. Sometimes you don’t have to say a lot.
• The power of one unique word.
• The importance of being authentic (okay, I think she could have tried harder on this one).
• Surprising people with a skill you didn’t know you had by just trying.
• Taking your worst critic (be it a talking rat, but most likely yourself) with a grain of salt.

Want more reasons to write, read our featured newsletter Gaahhh! Don’t Make Me Write!

And tell us, what are your favorite single words? Someone mentioned “jaunty” last week. Surprise us with your “Radiance.” 

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December 15, 2011 Tara

Wayne Geyer is a Dallas, Texas copywriter and speaker who is all about teaching designers, art directors, and basically any creative professionals that consider themselves only “visual” – to write. Wayne is speaking our language, for sure. In fact, our Braid December newsletter, Gaahhh! Don’t Make Me Write! is about mine and Kathleen’s personal experience with how writing can shape your career and get your ideas more enthusiastically approved. In fact, even if you aren’t technically paid to be creative, I truly believe almost everyone can benefit professionally from becoming a better writer.

Wayne was nice enough to answer a few Q&A’s with us.  And if you’re vibing on what he’s laying down, check out his upcoming seminar, Write More Good: Copywriting for Visual Thinkers, where he teaches participants how to bridge the gap between strategy and creative, distill any creative challenge down to five words or fewer, and write their way “out of a wet paper bag.” read more >

Q: Wayne, how did you come to be a copywriter who encourages designers to write?

A: I have a BFA in Advertising Art. In reality, it’s a graphic design degree. But in my first few years of working, I was “the designer who writes.” Then, I started my own business—and chose to focus exclusively on copywriting. Along the way, I found that I still needed to solve my clients’ communication problems before I could effectively write compelling copy.

In my daily work with designers and art directors, I found that many of them were trained in “portfolio” programs aimed at teaching formal design. For lots of reasons, they were missing a writing component in their education. Suddenly, they found themselves in the working world—having to create concepts and even write simple copy to support their work. Some of them viewed writing as intimidating—but others didn’t even consider it a part of the design process.

So I started teaching “copywriting” at my alma mater the way I thought it would be most helpful to graphic designers. I wanted to give “visual thinkers” some tools and techniques to bring more strategy and communication to their work. And because I’m a graphic designer too, I can speak to the unique issues a “non-writer” faces when he or she looks at a blank sheet of paper.

Today, I help people who draw... learn how to write:  So they can kick ass for their clients and get paid more for it. I’m on a mission to elevate our industry—and to save graphic designers from being viewed as commodities.

Q. Why do you think visual creative professionals should get more comfortable with creative writing?

The term “visual communication” is limiting: it only refers to the media we use or the “things” we make: graphic design, advertising, brochures, websites or whatever. In reality, we’re just as responsible for the words as the layout and the pictures. So we’re more than “visual communicators.” We’re brand communicators. We control content. And we need to understand how words, stories, messaging and writing work in unison with imagery to create meaning and contribute to understanding.

Q. Do you think there are misconceptions in the industry that have created this “division of roles” between writing and design?

Well, it’s a fact that some of us are more “verbal” and others are more “visual.” And the industry has traditionally liked putting people in pigeonholes based on their skills. But then I see something like Braid’s recent post and it feels better to me. I, too, like to think we’re all “creative.” Or more specifically, we’re all communicators.

I picture a brainstorming session where those different personalities work together to define a clear message and a creative concept. At the end of that meeting, one person opens the Adobe Creative Suite, another starts typing in Word, and still others go back to managing schedules or planning a media strategy. Along the way, I see them looking over each other’s shoulders and sharing ideas in the interest of strengthening the communication. The perception is that we work in silos. Sometimes that’s also the reality. But I think many of us believe in the power of collaboration.

Q. What are the most common barriers you’ve encountered that discourage the overlap?

Individual skills or tendencies aside, the structure of traditional ad agencies and design shops doesn’t help. In his book, Designers Don’t Read, Austin Howe suggests that today’s most desirable “creatives” and “creative agencies” aren’t “art directors,” “designers” or “copywriters,” but actually those who possess the kind of strategic thinking skills required to see the bigger picture.

There’s another challenge, and it lives at the college level. There are plenty of designers out there who basically just learned about grids and got proficient in Photoshop. Some of those people will enter the marketplace to find they’re very small fish in a very big pond—and they’ll struggle. I think it’s because they weren’t exposed to storytelling, concept, or messaging.

Q. What has surprised you most about your copywriting seminars?

At my workshop in September, one of the participants said, “I fell in love with design all over again.” It was so powerful, I was actually taken aback. She had been stuck in a rut (and who hasn’t), and she was reminded that design isn’t just about making things. It’s a process—a journey. She got immersed in the client and the story. She asked questions, and allowed herself to be surprised by the answers. She focused less on “what” she was going to make, and instead tried to understand “why.”

Part of it had to do with getting away from the daily grind of meetings and deadlines and familiarity. But I like to think that in trying a different approach, she gave herself the tools to discover a completely unique solution.  There have been plenty of other surprises, but this one blew me away. She fell in love with design all over again. And I had a little bit to do with that.

Q. If you had to share just one tip to get a "non-writer" more confident with writing, what would it be?

Ask yourselves this question: “What does my audience need to hear?” It’s been one of my favorite tools for almost 20 years. First, it focuses your attention on the most important thing — the audience. Then, it demands some laser focus. What do they need to hear—not just “what do the client (or I) want to tell them?” If you can filter all of the noise down to a clear, singular answer to that simple question, you’ve solved the communication problem. After that, it’s simply a matter of translating that message in an interesting and memorable way.

You can get more than just one tip at Wayne Geyer’s seminar, Write More Good. And, of course, we want to know how you rate your writing confidence. Do you hate to write, are you just shy about it or do you want to write more?

December 15, 2011 Tara Street

Braid Newsletter Gaaah Don't Make Me Write

When I was in high school I was in this competitive writing class that we had to audition to get into, called Aegis. We wrote one painstakingly elaborate essay, oh, every month – like about Chaucer. Sometimes we wrote creative stories. And sometimes we’d win national awards from judges like Garrison Keillor. Of course we had this amazing professor that inspired greatness, Dr. Ballard, and she was tough, too. It was all very Dead Poets Society. Except in suburbia not some picturesque New England prep school. And, no one died.

But man, there were nights before a paper was due that I thought I would die. I just hated getting started. I’d procrastinate, staying up watching TV dramas with my mom on the couch. Then I’d eventually slide off the couch and moan “gaaaahhhh wwwwhhhyyyy” as I would drag myself across the carpet over to the living room computer desk. Did I mentioned no one actually died? Anyhow, once my mom went to bed, these dramatics ended since I had no audience.

I never had any problem with my other extra efforts. Like band. Just practice your flute for fifteen minutes and you’ll probably get second, if not first chair, since most people don’t practice.  Art? Okay, I really loved art. I would draw and draw and draw as a kid so it wasn’t like practicing, it was like playing. No dramatics required.

But writing? That was hard. Is hard. The blank page. The false starts. The doubling back. The deleting. The “oohh gaahhh!” I feel myself slowing as I type right now just thinking about it.  And here’s the thing, the less you do it, the more rusty you get. Like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz, just frozen there with his axe in mid air.

But once Dorothy oils him up (hmmm, nope, I’m not deleting that one) that Tin Man really gets his axe swinging. He declares he has no heart, but the irony of The Wizard of Oz is that all the characters have a surplus of what they’re each searching for, already inside them. See, that smarty-pants class of mine paid off after all – unless that’s not actually ironic. No, wait, yes. I’m pretty sure that’s ironic.

So my point is, you have a surplus of something inside you, too.  And whatever your profession, and as painful as it might be, if you don’t find some way to communicate it (and communicate it well) you’ll never really hit the stride of all you can do.

Remember how I said art was so easy for me? Well, guess what my college major was? Art. My dad was soooo excited. And I can say with certainty that’s sarcasm right there. And my first job? No, not selling pencils out of a cup on the street corner, like dad feared. I was hired as an art director. Basically I was just banking on what I was naturally good at.  Case in point, I got dropped from the college marching band the second year. Apparently those flute players practice more than fifteen minutes.

Anyway, what happened for me about a few years into being paid to design, was I found that if I wrote, too – be it my own headline or a logical creative rationale to send along with the piece – all my visual solutions became so much more complete, my concepts made way more sense and my work was more enthusiastically approved by my creative director, my account executive and eventually the clients.  It clicked for me. Eventually.

Copy vs. Design which is mightier?
Is the pen mightier than the paintbrush? Wielding one like you know what you’re doing will do make you exponentially more effective in getting across your ideas (and getting them approved.)

Author Dan Roam is all about “Vivid Thinking” – that the verbal or written should always be paired with visuals, even though it’s a way of creating and sharing ideas that isn’t always comfortable for people that don’t think they can draw (we made a video about it here).

So I asked Dan (okay, we’re not on a casual first-name basis, but we’ve corresponded ya’ll) what he thought about encouraging creative professionals, like designers, who do rely on the visual and are comfortable with pictures – to write more. Here’s his response (sans drawing) but I know he could just as effectively doodle this idea and it would really rock your world:

“By hot-wiring our years of verbal training and grammar, we can make any verbal idea clear through adding the visual. And, of course, for those creatives among us, the opposite is even more true!

‘Creatives’ do ourselves a grave disservice when it comes time to ‘sell’ our big idea: we don't provide the words.  The stereotype is that hard-core business people think of we who draw as slightly-wacky softies with our heads in the clouds. Sadly, they are partly right – and it’s our own fault.

If we want to sell our ideas, we're going to have to meet each other half-way.”

Roam (Dan to his friends, and to people like me who are pesky enough to email him for a comment) recommends using Vivid Grammar to link the right pictures to the words, which he explains in his most recent bestseller, Blah Blah Blah: What To Do When Words Don’t Work.

“Although the emphasis on my book is converting words to pictures, the opposite is also true:

1) ‘Creatives’ draw out or map out our idea.

2) We end up with a multi-layered pictures.

3) We then look to the "Vivid Grammar Graph" to see what verbal parts
of speech we need to convert the underlying essence of those images
into verbal phrases.

4) We add captions to our image (either literally on the page or keep
them in mind for when we talk) -- and as we unroll out image, we
recite those captions.

5) As we present, we watch as the business-folk understand us -- not
because we threw our drawing away, but because they now get to HEAR
what we are thinking as they also SEE it.

6) Presto: Instant Vivid Idea!”

Dan Roam Blah Blah Blah quote
Was it “presto!” for me? Well, it wasn’t easy at first. I had to steel myself up for it. I had to remind myself that I was a writer. That no client presentation would ever be as tough as turning in a paper to Dr. Ballard, and that deciphering a complicated brief would never be as brain-numbing as reading Chaucer in actual Middle English.  I had just gotten rusty.  “Oil caaann! Oil caaann!”

So if this idea of integrating writing into your skills tool belt (even if you’re not a creative professional) makes you grimace – relax Tin Man, or your face will stick like that. There are different levels of writing confidence, discomfort and then just plain fear.

Here are some ideas to help you get (I’m not going to say oiled-up) just de-rusted:

1. You Are a Writer. Do you write creative copy, press releases, speeches, presentations, grant applications, the company blog? Well, thanks for playing, but you already write. In this choose-your-own-adventure, I would direct you to our Draw More In Meetings article so you can rest your verbal talent (and crutch) for just a second, start doodling more, and getting other people on your idea page.

2. You Hate Writing. Okay, well, read on. If you’ve made it this far, there’s something about my point that intrigues you. I challenge you to consider just one of the ways below to integrate writing into your profession. I promise, it will make you smarter, and the effort won’t go unappreciated. Think of it as 15 minutes of band practice. Hardly anyone else is doing it, so you’re gonna look good if you just put in a little extra.

3. You’re a Recreational Writer.  Do you write lovely letters to your friends and family? Do you pride yourself on witty Tweets and Facebook posts that strike a perfect balance of humor and friendliness. Do you craft your work emails carefully? Do you write some amazingly articulate memos? Do you have a personal blog, or often think about starting a blog about cooking, fashion, your pets, your comic book collection, your kids?  

This is how my branding partner, Kathleen, started writing, by the way. Her life and style blog has helped her infuse writing into her working life. She is first and foremost an amazing art director and designer, but she uses writing to help support her work. That means every time she presents visual work she also writes by:
- backing it up with strategy and rationale copy points
- going beyond just presenting a desing by “making it real’ and describing and showing examples of how that design solution can be applied going forward

And while Kathleen would not ever introduce herself as a writer she writes content in her own style every day by:
- writing her own copy for her designs, when it makes sense
- writing presentations for public speaking,
- and writing blog posts for our business website

All because her personal blog has de-rustified her writing skills.

4. You’re a Hidden Writer. Did you write in school but quit in the real world? Were you in debate or drama? Often times readers are just writers who haven’t had the chance or it just hasn’t occurred to them to pick up the pen themselves. Did you read all the Little House on The Prairie books in third grade? Did you read every Stephen King novel before you graduated high school? Did you know every Quentin Tarantino monologue by memory in college? If this seems familiar, you are a writer at heart.

This was me. And still is in some ways. I still don’t think of myself as a writer in the traditional sense, but as a storyteller. Mostly because I can’t break the bad habits of using too many ellipses, parentheses and made up hyphenated words, and not being diligent enough about proofreading. But I have learned to embrace my style by:

- turning anything I write into a story (going for either tears, laughs or goosebumps)
- weaving logic into every creative solution (for the people who didn’t get goosebumpy)
- using writing to help round out the “back-end” of any visual (it’s like added-value)
- writing to continue to learn and position myself as an expert
- writing to define my personal brand (which surprise, surprise, is “a storyteller”)

If you glean just one takeaway as a hidden creative writer, it’s to have courage. Say “ohh gaahhh,” for about five minutes, then drag yourself across the carpet, pull yourself up to the computer, suck it up and just write.  And swing that axe just a little bit every day.

By Tara Street
Notetaking obsessed. Storyteller of her sideshow family.
And the "left braid" of Braid Creative & Consulting.

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