On Being Territorial

So Cosmo, let’s talk about… being territorial.

Advertising is one of those industries where your job title doesn’t properly indicate the beginning and ending to your responsibilities. Whereas, oh I don’t know, the job title of “fluffer” means you’ll be strictly dealing with fluffing responsibilities, the job title of designer or copywriter means you’ll be forced to wear many hats (and in an industry often far sleazier than the fluffer’s).

But despite the idea that we’re all working together to create something we all hope will be good, there is a certain sensitivity that comes with making suggestions to a department that is outside of your responsibilities. Though the various responsibilities within an agency involve positions like account manager, designer, copywriter, strategist, etc., the fact is that these titles are not hard and fast (get the fluffer!). There is a lot of crossover when it comes to creating an ad, and not all of it is welcome.

A copywriter who goes to a designer with layout revisions may often be met with a, “Yeah, cool idea, Fakespeare. I’ll get right on that.” Followed by them promptly turning around to add more stuff to their “cute sloths” pin board.

This will make you angry, but not as angry as when those damn account managers decide to weigh in on YOUR copy. “Oh, Mr. Account Guy doesn’t think my headline is all that funny. I must’ve missed the day where he went to school for 4 years to become a writer.”

And this is basically how it goes in this crazy world of advertising. The simple fact is, most people are open to constructive criticism from the right sources. If you’re well thought out, and your critiques often make sense, they’ll be considered by those not in your department. If they’re often silly or hard to understand from a logic standpoint, you’ll be dismissed or bitched about when you leave the room or get off of the conference call.

The key to overcoming territorial people is to not impose your will upon them. Your critiques should be considered suggestions, not directives. Nobody likes to be told what to do, especially from a jerkass like you. You need to also respect the fact that these people are in their positions because they have this skill set that you do not. If you just look at the work without realizing that someone else put thought and effort into it, you become the worst thing in the world: a client.

In short, there will be those who love the feedback, those who don’t, and those who will give you feedback whether you want it or not. Remember that the object of every project we do is to produce the best piece of work possible, not to soothe your ego. Respecting people’s work and opinions doesn’t mean hiding your thoughts, or accepting all of theirs, but it does mean being tactful and intelligent. Luckily, these two qualities absolutely define you 😉

Welcome to advertising.

 

 

 

 

 

The Inevitability of Becoming Jaded

So Cosmo, let’s talk about… the inevitability of becoming jaded (and no, I’m not talking about the smash single by American mega-band Aerosmith).

Work in advertising for more than five minutes and you’ll notice that there’s a certain attitudinal affliction that seems to run rampant within anyone else who has worked in advertising for more than five minutes. It’s a little something I (and apparently the English dictionary) like to call, being jaded.

How people become jaded can be summed up in this manner:

Have you ever had a friend within your group, let’s call him, oh I don’t know, Cosmo. And every time you invite this Cosmo to hang out, he says no. Every time. So eventually you just say, F that douche, I’m not going to invite him to do anything anymore. Guess what, you now know what it’s like to be a creative in advertising.

Cosmo is the client. Fucker.

Your invites are the ideas.

Your eventual decision to stop inviting him is your spirit dying.

Guess what? There’s really no way around this. When every one idea that gets through, six million die a slow, painful death, you’re going to at some point give in and just go through the motions. I mean, why not? No matter what you propose, it’s going to get rejected, changed, or mangled to the point where it barely reflects your original idea. And if the client does love it, they won’t have the budget or stomach for it.

So you say, OK, I’ll just do what I have to do to get by. Project after project of the client whittling your creative ideas down to the totally boring and expected has left you delivering just that. That’s when the client goes, “Hey, goober, what’s the deal here? This stuff is boring and expected. I want fun. I want exciting. I want so far out of the box that this idea will rise up, slap me in the face, and then kick me in the taint!” That’s when the tittering begins (mostly because I wanted to use the word tittering).

You get excited. You go to work, busting your hump to come up with that one taint-slapping idea that’ll really rock their socks. Their socks! The very socks they’re wearing! Your spirit is invigorated. You start to believe that something truly amazing could happen here. And this lasts right up until you present the idea, whereupon the client loves it… and promptly gets to work whittling it down to something totally boring and expected. But hey, they really appreciate the work and all the great thinking.

Cosmo (you, not the douche who doesn’t want to go anywhere), nobody will fault you for becoming jaded. Everyone expects it, in fact. But that doesn’t mean you need to let it own you. The most important thing is that first round of creative, because that’s the round where you get to be you. If that round is great, you’ve done your job. You have almost no control about where it goes from there, but if you can be satisfied with what you’ve presented to the client, you’ve done your job for the day. Don’t mail it in, and don’t let clients stop you from trying to do great things.

Or you could just jump over to the client side and break spirits the way Steven Seagal breaks arms. In fact, do that.

Nobody Reads the Copy

So Cosmo, let’s talk about… how nobody reads the copy.

Remember how in the last blog I told you not to devalue your work? Yet another reason why you shouldn’t is for the mere fact that others will devalue it for you. Yes, at some point in your career someone will tell you that what you’re doing doesn’t matter because, “…nobody reads the copy anyway.”

This attitude emanates from the fact that when people see an ad, the first thing they do is notice the design. The aesthetics of said ad are designed to attract attention (crazy, right?), so naturally it should be the first thing that gets noticed, and most likely focused upon.

Copy also takes a backseat to design in terms of people’s vision of what is considered “creative.” You will correct many people in your career who say things like, “Copy and creative are on the call.” No, copy IS creative, and yes, I am a bit mad about it, and yes, you kids better get off my porch.

The fact is, nobody reads the copy right up until they do. For something that people claim they don’t read or isn’t important, it’s amazing how many facts and offers and basic details about a product/offer/benefit are found within the copy. It’s a little number I like to refer to as 100%. But because most people can type out a sentence, but can’t actually design an ad, they think designers are magical unicorns and copywriters are the stable boys. BULLSHIT. Copywriters are unicorns, too, it’s just that we piss puns instead of glitter. Sue us.

Don’t take this kind of crap from people, especially people in the industry who are supposed to be smart enough to understand the role copy plays within an ad or a website. And if this attitude persists, fill the copy up with slurs and other private information about the dumbass that said nobody reads the copy. They’ll find out quick that more people read it than they think.

Oh, So You’re Not a Real Writer

So Cosmo, let’s talk about… being a real writer.

At some point in your career you will have a conversation that sounds something like this:

Person: “What do you do?”
You: “I’m a copywriter.”
Person: “What’s that?”
You: “I write ads.”
Person: “Oh, so you’re not a real writer.”
You: “Well I’m real and a writer, so I guess I’m a real writer?”
Person: “I’m going to talk to someone else now.”

Here’s the deal, when people think of “writers”, they’re usually thinking of authors or screenwriters. Those are real writers. As someone who writes stuff whose sole purpose is to sell a product or service, your contributions to the world will not be viewed as art, which is what real writers produce.

To this I say, BULLSHIT.

Almost everything you do in your career will feature all the elements, foundations, and principles that every writer uses. Things like show don’t tell and using every word to push the story forward are two of the most important rules every good writer, be they copy, screen, or other.

Your product and your target audience are your characters.

Your idea is your plot.

Your copy tells the story of this product and how it can improve the lives of those it’s intended for. Your ad must set up a problem and resolve it in a way that compels someone to take action. Don’t see a lot of sitcoms doing that.

You’re lucky if you have 60 words to tell this complete story, and you have about 6 words to pique someone’s interest enough for them to read it all. That freaking Game of Thrones nerd takes 60 words just to tell you what someone is wearing.

In any given day you’ll have to write in the voice of a child, a new mother, a retiree, an extreme athlete, a doctor, a lawyer, an immigrant, a dog owner with a lisp.

You’ll have to be edgy, strong, funny, clever, sarcastic, serious, approachable, fun, friendly.

And you’ll have to do all these things and be all these things every single day. Think that’s easy? Don’t ever accept the idea that you’re not a real writer.

Here’s why it matters: you have a talent. You are paid for this talent because not everyone can do what you do. By accepting the fact that you’re not a real writer, you’re devaluing your talent, and your contributions to an agency and an industry that relies on your wit and your skills. Don’t ever do that. I’ll punch you in the face if you do that.

But if you’re ever unsure about your status as a real writer, just remember that 2 Broke Girls is written by “real writers.” Hmmm… maybe being a real writer isn’t that good of a deal after all.

Welcome to advertising.