There’s a thoughtful Bill Virgin editorial in today’s Seattle P-I: “All those cliches aside, momentum is a real force in business”

Highlights of the column:

- A brief look at Starbucks loss of momentum, which Maija has talked about.
- How the success of momentum can result in the 3 Cs: “cockiness, complacency and carelessness.”
- Apple’s marketplace momentum and their triumvirate of design, functionality and marketing.
- Most importantly, momentum is a “self-fueling mechanism both internally (with employees) and externally (with customers and competition).”

From a creative standpoint, loss of momentum is disastrous when you’ve got a team of writers, designers and programmers hurtling away at your project. The best ideas come from riffing off of one another under tight deadlines.

I believe that a good writer is a correlator. She brings together two (or more) ideas to make new meaning. This is a huge part of my process. Lately, I get inspiration from just observing life as it happens. In fact, I’ve been thinking that I need to carry a camera with me at all times and start capturing the things that incite me and lead to ideas.

An example: last winter while I was in New England to meet with a client about their brand’s messaging strategy, I got stuck in the Manchester, NH airport due to a snowstorm. I sat there for 6 hours waiting to get out. I watched the snowplows go back and forth and I thought about what an amazing species we humans are, how our singular purpose seems to be coming up with answers to problems. And then the idea for my client’s primary messaging struck. They’re more than a solution (which is what everyone says). They’re THE answer to their customers’ problems. That sounds really simplistic, but I was able to craft their entire positioning strategy around that one moment of reflection and insight. And they loved it.

Occasionally, I dwell on trivial annoyances that come up in my work as a writer. Today I was reminded that I should welcome them as a sign of prosperity. When I took my seat on the bus I heard a high-pitched buzz. It was coming from the driver’s area and it didn’t let up. Fifteen minutes later a passenger called to the front of the bus, “Is that noise driving you crazy or what?” The driver instantly replied, “Man, I’m on the payroll. It sounds like money to me.”

As a writer, I enjoy crossword puzzles. So I was excited by Wordplay, a movie about people who do them for money and title. It aired on KCTS this week.

Wordplay features Puzzle Master Will Shortz and the team of people he relies on to help him create crossword puzzles for The New York Times, the gold standard of the crossword kingdom. The team includes puzzle players, Puzzle Constructors and Puzzle Editors.

As a writer, I took interest in the Puzzle Constructors. They construct the crossword puzzles that Shortz selects for printing in the Times every day. They work like writers work. They write to an audience. They take advantage of popular culture to provide new meaning. They write to a theme. They delight in the English language. And most importantly, they know that every word matters. Use one wrong word in a crossword puzzle and the entire puzzle is wrong. It’s like that for copy too.

It’s easy to forget that we’re writing for real people who could use a little sympathy as they hurtle through life.

Visual Thesaurus has 5 pointers on how to be more kind to your readers.

This is also a good reminder about how to improve client relationships. Be likable. Be competent. Hopefully both at the same time.

Similes. Metaphors. Analogies. Writing is making connections between dissimilar things.

Lawrence Cheek’s article on Seattle architecture and the “human scale” reminds me of good copywriting. The approach is everything. If you don’t grab the reader immediately with an emotional connection, they’re gone.

Cheek’s comparison of the entryways to the University of Washington’s Suzzallo Library versus the Rem Koolhaas designed Central Library is wonderful. I love the idea of the grand procession upward (Suzzallo) and the size of the risers, which encourage a physiological slow down. It makes one feel an emotional connection to the space they’re about to enter; it makes the person feel important.

Copy today has to do this, usually in just a few words.

So I just realized that I never concluded my project summary.

This is where I left off:

“…So 4 weeks, and 7 more rounds of copy, here we are at final brochure copy.”

A couple of things I’d like to say about this little experiment.

1. It is not normal to go 7 rounds on copy. Three is typical. Some clients, especially those who work at younger companies, take more time in working out the interpertation of their messaging. Copywriting is subjective. Sometimes clients need to see it written one way to know that’s NOT how they want to say it.

2. Four weeks is pretty standard for brochure concept and copy development. Some clients try to speed up the process but I find that hurts the final outcome. After delivery of a first draft, I recommend a minimum of 3 days before feedback. Copy needs to sink in. Then I need a minimum of three days to respond to first draft feedback. Subsequent drafts flow much faster.

3. This whole “documentation of a project” made me uncomfortable. I don’t like divulging client ticks and creative partner problems. That’s just the way it is. I’m sure there are things about myself that bug my creative partners. Plus, it’s important to me that clients feel that I’m 100% on their team. I love what I do and genuinely enjoy working at this level with clients. So I’m not going to blog about that stuff anymore. I’ll try to think of another way to detail the backstage life of the creative process because I think it is important for clients to understand that there is a real art to what creatives do, and that we need each other.

Furthermore, if it isn’t clear already, I’m a binge blogger and cannot be relied on to chronicle an experience consistently and effectively.

Some clients ask, “How did you come up with that?”

Often the best ideas come from collaborations with designers. I start any conceptual project by writing down, stream-of-consciousness style, words and phrases. I call them the Nuggets. I assume that most of them are rubbish, nevertheless, I bring the Nuggets to brainstorming sessions. Then I proceed to throw out all of my ideas to the group. Invariably, someone picks up on a Nugget that I’ve written down and it sparks a sequence of rapid-fire idea pitching. This interplay results in a solid idea that we build a concept around.

A brilliant characterization of this creative process occurs in a scene from the movie, Hustle & Flow. Three of the main characters are sitting in their makeshift recording studio talking about song lyrics. The producer, Keys, suggests that they consider something more radio friendly than “slap that ‘ho” for their hook. They start riffing on the point they’re trying to convey. DJay, the writer, eventually mumbles, “Whoop that trick.” Shelby, the keyboardist, picks up the lyric, and a hook is born. The whole exchange takes less than three minutes.

This is very similar to how headlines, taglines and conceptual directions come together in the graphic design and advertising realms. We spend a lot of time sitting around and talking.

Sometimes I really love my job.

Ok, screw it. I’m emotional. Haven’t had a new project in over a month. Big questions always come up in this situation. Can I do this? Am I good at what I do? Should I be doing this? Should I get some Prozac?

I’m still obsessed about this brand strategist who thinks I’m lazy. Why am I dwelling on this? Because I’m not lazy and I feel spited? Because it’s true, I really am lazy? Because a woman said this, perhaps a woman that I want to respect and support, and whom I’d like to respect and support me?

Over XL margaritas, which release the beast within, Bryan says, “Take the bull by the horns. Stop dwelling on this, call her up and go to lunch. Apologize and see what happens.”

Brilliant.

All this obsessing is because I’m feeling vulnerable. I have no Motive. The revenue from the projects that I could have had from them is gone. The week-to-week contact with the people is gone. The physical space is gone. I drive by 5th and Lenora and have no reason to drive around the block four times looking for a meter.

So this big part of my identity is missing.

When a customer base leaves, what happens to the brand? It evolves or dies. I must do the same.