Let's Pretend: 5 Banal Straplines (thinking aloud about work)

I'm a (copy)writer who likes writing. I like discipline and form and I like the due process of bringing something to life.

Whether it's an ad., a website or an instruction manual for...erm... a gas-chamber, the methodology is always the same. I spend my entire bloody life writing and scripting things out because it's not enough for me just to have "an idea." I need to see it, feel it, and understand it. I need to look it in the eye and know exactly how it's going to behave. I'm Nadine Baggart, celebrity beauty editor of- sorry, no. Hang on that's something else...

What I'm trying to say is...erm...maybe if I made up an aphorism to explain..? How about: "If a writer wants his voice to sing, he better make sure it's breath doesn't smell."

Bollocks. That's not what I'm trying to say either.

I know what I mean...

Anyway. So I was working on something boring the other day; something pretty niche, bland and corporate. But I didn't feel it. I wasn't feeling bland and corporate (I never do). So I went back to the beginning and started to re-write it. I started to think "bland and corporate" thoughts and in no time at all everything just fell into place. Suddenly it was perfect. But why?

Well, because I bloody love writing, that's why. Even with a dismal client and boring breif, I can still find something that inspires me. You just gotta look inside yourself. Look. Here's 5 random, utterly banal straplines plucked from that piece of work. On the face of it, they're just embarrassing corporate platitudes. But to me, as I write them, they're part of a thunderous, totalitarian hollow-speak; the voice of an evil future government. To me, this is pure sci-fi, man. Ace! Look!

ORGANISING YOUR ORGANISATION

MAKING TIME FOR YOU

PROUD OF YOUR BUSINESS? SO ARE WE

BUILD YOUR IDENTITY. BUILD YOUR TEAM. BUILD YOUR BUSINESS.

THE CHOICE IS YOURS

Do you like pretending too? :-D

[Actually, reading them again, they sound like the titles of Charles Handy books]

Nice.

NOTE: This post is dedicated to pisspoorenglish who made this initial observation the other week. (Once again, thanks for your comments man - oh! and the link too. I've now returned the favour...)

So. The word "nice." You hear it a lot round here in Ad. Country, I'm afraid.

Nice. Nice, nice, nice. I'll say it again. N-I-C-E. Nice. Just. Nice. From an onomatopoeic point of view it does sound kinda insipid doesn't it, like a pensioner sneezing or something -ah! -nice. Bless you.

But nice is the ultimate in faint praise. And no-one (in their heart) likes to hear it. Because nice could always do better. Nice is not superlative; lovely, excellent, ace or incredible. Nice is...well, just nice. Except, perhaps, in the studio-jargon of the ad-man. Where, for some reason, it could mean absolutely anything at all.

Whether it's via another creative, or an agency director, at some point we've all had our work described as "nice." And depending how it's said, nice can mean everything from "fucking fantastic" to just "quite promising." And I for one(along with pisspoorenglish) am fucking sick of it. It drives me up the bloody wall. Here's why:

When I was at college my art lecturer used to circulate around the studio, pseudishly pausing from time to time to consider whatever bollocks any one of us happened to be painting/sketching at that time. With a flick of his sports-jacket, he'd suddenly stand all hipshot, left hand in his pocket, right hand on his chin. Then, waving at a random area of your canvas/drawing board, he'd mutter, "This is... interesting." Then, when you pressed him for more info, maybe by asking "What this bit?" or "Do you mean the foreshortening?" he'd sort of sigh very earnestly and just go, "Yeah. Interesting," before skulking back into the shadows and leaving you none-the-effing-wiser.

And this is the problem with "nice." Nice isn't a judgement or an opinion, or even an assessment . Nice is just a repsonse, in the same way that "interesting" was to my cock of an art teacher. Nice gives the impression of expressing a view before one has clearly been formed. And in that sense, nice is a front. But in the ad man's studio, being able to hedge your opinions is a pretty useful thing to do, not least since a lot of what goes on is (don't tell the account managers) pretty abstract anyway. But by the same token, that's surely all the more reason to be direct with people. I spent all week last week with a serial "nice" offender: "Hmm. Nice." "Oh, that's nice." "Yeah. Nice." "Nice. Yeah." "Nice... nice." And whilst it gave me an inkling that (at least some of) my work was good, I then had to second guess all the bits which might not be.

So. Can we all please stop using the word nice and just be honest with eachother. I know this job can be all farty and floaty but let's not make it any more pseudish than it already is by talking to eachother in abstract, mysterious terms. I really value and respect the opinions of everyone I've ever worked with, so -please god!-let's hear 'em.

And besides, should n't we be saving our bullshit for the clients? ;-)

Something positive for a change

I bumped into W+K's new Honda campaign yesterday. (Or was it the day before..? Maybe... I dunno...)

...Anyway, I'm gonna stick my neck out and say -deep breath - I really, really like this.

This is so elegant it makes me sick. Some beautifully executed art-direction (across the whole campaign, actually) that Goldilocks herself would've been proud of (ie. not too hard, not too soft, but juuust right), coupled with an absolutely bullet-proof concept, makes this a blinder. My mate Bobby is well dazzled.

Although I suspect the idea of "problem solving" may have been lifted straight from their breif, it's an undeniably smart piece of work. You may disagree. However, the thing that I really love, and the thing that really interests me about this, is the notion of making the ads problems (albeit very simple ones) in themselves. Being passive isn't an option. Their form requires us to actively participate in them. It's not just an ad anymore. It's an object and an interface; the kind of content usually held back for a website or viral.

I'd love to see more of this kind of thing. In a world where we're all increasingly switching to digital it's good to see something that's playful and engaging that doesn't mean sitting infront of a bloody computer.

(Of course, there's still the obligatory, accompanying web-campaign for all those agoraphobics out there...)

CopyWrongs #1

Ladies and gentlemen, my I welcome you all to this, the inaugural presentation of the (tentatively titled) Thomas Guygax Award for Crimes Against English and CopyWronging (I'll think of something more snappy for next time).

And this week's winner is.... the Night Hotel NY website.

Then so shall it be, indeed. So, congratulations to the Night Hotel for buggering up your words. "An excercise of Modern Gothic Gotham," eh? Sorry, mate. Never heard of him... Did we mention the black and white? The contrast? The white? The black? A spectrum! And a contrast? "Some things only happen at NIGHT." Yes. Like sleeping. No mention of any beds though. Hmmm. Come on, love. Let's try somewhere else. I can't speak German.

Not So Innocent

I've indirectly well-kind-of a bit not-really-Yer-Honour had a pop or two at Innocent drinks already on here. Well today I'm making a stand. No more mincing of words.

As of today:

Innocent. Drinks. Can. Fuck. Right. Off. In fact they can fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck right off (that's 19 fucking fucks for every fucking grape in their fucking autistic, facile fucking products).

It's very easy and obvious for me to say their "innovative" branding and marketing is far from innocent and considerably less naive than it purports to be. But that isn't my gripe. On the contrary, I find their strategy and direction genuinely commendable. Their brand guru, "Dan The Man From Innocent" is almost as famous as the drinks themselves, and his increasing resemblance to a member of R. Crumb's Fabulous Furry Freak Bros. is surely testament to the incredible dedication he has to this (faux hippy) image*.

No, what I'm moaning about is purely as a writer. Innocent's tone of voice - a kind of cross between H.A.L from 2001 and Kurt Vonnegut condescending a child - makes my blood boil. Not least because I increasingly hear/see it everywhere; those smug, hollow words, presently being uttered by Johnny Ball. Johnny Fucking Ball, I tell thee! It's not right! Please god, stop labouring the banality of those products. It just sounds fucking weird! (Am I being too sensitive? I probably am aren't I.)

*Sorry Dan, I'm just being -shall we say- burlesque; I'm playing for laughs. I don't hate you or your beard. In fact, your beard has nothing to do with market saturation at all. Please smack my wrists.

Poetry 2

Ok then. So, as promised yesterday, here's my sonnet based on (da-dada-dah!) the Everest Windows January sale. For those of you interested enough, this is an English sonnet rather than an Italian one, and no, it isn't written in iambic pentameter.


I think I now know why people don't use poetry in advertising: because writing this made me feel like one of those people who send their work into Countdown for Whitely/Lynam to read out; some retired headmaster, conceitedly sucking a Werther's Original as Vorderman applaudes his futile observations about Giles Brandreth's jumpers or something. Sorry folks, but poetry makes you feel faded and very, very beige indeed.

No more after this. I promise.
Enjoy (although I doubt it).


Everest windows keep out the cold,
For those in their maturity
But we don’t just make them for the old.
Cos’ they’re great for your security.

Tailor made to your design,
Hand-crafted and made specific,
We fit and finish to combine
A service that’s terrific.

Stained and leaded, plain or wood
There aint no compromise on style,
Our sliding sashes look just as good,
UPVC is so versatile!

So come my friends and let Everest prevail!
You'll save 40% in our January Sale!

(Holy fucking Christ, kill me now..!)

Poetry

As I wandered lonely as a cloud the other day I started thinking about poetry. Why isn't there more if it out there in Advertising Land?

See, I’ve never written rhymes or verse,
because I think they’re rubbish.
I’ve never had any patience for all that
bloody four-lined bollocks.

This is not a poem though,
as well it might appear…
Testing, testing, 1,2,3...
See. I’m just rubbish at it.

B
R
I
N

G
B
A
C

K
A
C
R

O
S
T
I

C
S

That’s what I say!

Maybe they're just too hard to write; too elliptical and indirect. But there's something compelling about the form; the economy and the discipline. Limericks and haikus are snappy enough and those BBC DAB radio Xmas poems were great. Maybe I'll try and write a sonnet about a double-glazing special offer or a mortgage brokers or something... watch this space...

Porn for Copywriters: B.S Johnson's "The Unfortunates".

B.S Johnson has to be one of the most underated British writers of the last 100 years.

Why?

Ok. You see that slash in middle of "form/content"? Well, radical formal experimentation (which became Johnson's trademark) sits right on top of it and it. And radical formal experimentation swings around on "form/content" like a drunk on a scaffhold, scaring the children and generally behaving like a prick.

Big Modernists like Joyce and Beckett alienated a lot of readers with their high-mindedness. Burroughs' essays and theories read better than any of his cut-up novels, whilst Perec and many other OuLiPo writers simply became known for their virtuosity. BSJ on the other hand didn't just experiment. He innovated by realising that the evolution of writing lay not in it's content or structure, but in its presentation. Burroughs never shut-up moaning about the physical confines of the novel. BSJ escaped them in one effortess stroke by embracing... design. Yep, that's right folks. Design: that old sworn enemy of the writer. Fonts, layouts, even holes cut in pages found their place in Johnson's work and these devices were integral parts in the very architecture of his novels, elevating them from merely prose or content to physical objects and artifacts. Unfortnately as a result, his work fell out of print (or should I say production) for many years. But In 2004, the nice people at Picador published a B.S Johnson Omnibus (which I can't recommend enough) as well as "reproducing" some of his more important works. Among these is The Unfortunates, which until yesterday I'd never seen a copy of. And what a lovely thing it is too. Here's a sniff:


It looks just like a book but wait...

...It's actually a box. Inside: a neat pile of unbound pages and some crucial instructions...

Isn't that kinky, eh? Form and content all loved-up and hand in hand. Sigh...

Modern Copywriting: 101

Modern copywriting, eh. You know the kind. The kind that uses short sentences. Like this. And where we always use a Royal We. Like that. And where we're always happy you're just like us.

We're all about being plain and simple. We're matter-of-fact and honest. We don't need to shout. This isn't the voice of irony. We're just here to help. Because reading things like this is fun.

We've made lots of friends recently. On the sides of drinks cartons and on TV. People think we're great. But we've been around for ages. We're familiar and faithful and much, much older than you'd think. You'd probably love to know where we came from, wouldn't you. Would you like me to tell you?

I'm sorry Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that...

somethig what i found in the news paper on satday

Here's a great little article that was tucked away in The Guardian's Review section over the weekend:

http://books.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,,2227650,00.html

Dealing with the subject of obscure words, author James Meek (no relation to Joe I understand), makes some fantastic points about language in general. Although paraphrasing to buggery, he takes the good old fashioned Asistotelian, ontological viewpoint, reminding us of the need for a hierarchy of diction; clear, concise, humdrum language for everyday clarity and technical, exotic, downright weird words for "distinction". And this mixture is essential. Not just to enrich but also to engage. (At that point I came over all twat-headed and dug out my battered copy [aren't they all?] of Plato's Republic to re-read his cave allegory, breifly re-living all my undergraduate semiotics, word/image courses like some tedious old shit). Anyway, post-nostalgia, I finished the article which went on to quote Sir Ernest Gower's The Complete Plain Words. I've never read it but maybe I should. Not only is it one of those ace little 1950's era Penguin paperpacks, it also (evidently) makes the point that "ostentatiously avoiding long words can be as annoying to readers as over-using them."

I'll drink (Innocent) to that.

Warm-Up Act

If you're reading this blog so close to its inception, chances are you've been invited/asked/told/ordered/advised to do so. So, thanks for dropping by and sorry there isn't more here to hold your attention. We're still in the embryonic stages I'm afraid, so I'll have to insist on laboratory conditions for the time being: white coats are over by the door, as are your safety goggles. Come, let's make our way over to the microscope for a closer look. (If one of you would be kind enough to get the light)...

Ok. So. I know it doesn't look like much, squirming on the slide like this at X100 magnification. So far, there are no distinguishing features. There's a little picture and a profile and a silly name. It looks, acts, behaves much like any other (yawning, boring) blog. And in some ways I guess it's redundant; eclipsed and out-done by the billion and how-ever-many ad and design blogs, spaces, e-rants and web-wanks already out there. So to be honest, I just couldn't see the point of having one. But as I peer into the eyepiece now and see my blog wriggling, headless, limbless and blind, I'm already beginning to imagine what it might grow into. To be (uncharacteristically) poe-faced for a second, a blog is simply about communication. And as someone who (whenever I can) makes a living out of communication, I figured it'd be good practise to have somewhere to, well, practise; somewhere to experiment and reflect. Likewise, an agency MD once contended with me that copywriting is simply a poor man's creative writing. Hopefully I can disprove that once and for all.

So, my little zygotic bloglet. Let us plant you in Mother Internet's artificial womb and see what happens. I have high hopes for you. And if it all goes tits-up, no matter. I can always destroy the evidence in the incinerator...