What’s the Big Idea? Part II

Okay, here’s my quick-start guide on how to do a decent bit of advertising. Your results may vary.

1. Have an idea. Preferably a good one. Resist the temptation to do a Yakov Smirnoff testimonial. “You mean I can get [insert product] for [insert price]? What a country!” It’ll work, but you’ll have to shoot your spot in Branson. I’ve done this. Learn from my pain.

2. Make your idea entertaining. Remember, no one cares what you’re saying. No one wants to see it. No one is hanging around just waiting to bothered with your ad. Unless you’re writing for SportsCenter. Lucky bastard.

3. Don’t do one that the client is guaranteed to like. Because you’ll hate it and they’ll buy it. If you’re so new to the business that you don't already know this, you’re still young enough to get out. Go. Go on. Git.

4. Communicate one message. One. Not one main message with a bunch of sub points. If you have to use the word “and,” you’ve probably crossed the line.

There’s more, but I can see you’re already bored. Fine, go get your freak on at YouTube.com and call it a lunch hour.

Fox

What’s the Big Idea?

I'm tired of ideas. More precisely, I’m tired of everyone in the advertising food chain constantly extolling each other to "come up with the next big idea." Not because I’m against big ideas. You come up with something truly revolutionary -- like a way to filter out any reference to Rosie O’Donnell from the internet -- and I’ll be the first in line to shake your hand and offer a small, cash gratuity. My problem (in this case) is that 99.9% of advertising is complete tripe. So instead of concentrating on the next big thing, maybe we should all focus our collective attention on doing the same old same old a little bit differently.

As in, better.

I’ll give my theories on how to do this later. Right now I've got some eBay auctions to snipe.

Fox

SmilingJackasses.com

Alternate title:
How Lifestyle Photography is Stealing My Soul - Part I

If you're in advertising (how to tell: you've ever uttered/heard "Our client-partner wants to leverage the synergies of this campaign in a targeted, opt-in e-blast" and only thrown up a little bit of your morning Frappaccino®), you know what lifestyle photography is. If not, here's a brief lesson:

How to identify lifestyle photography in two easy, yet redundant, steps:

1. Look at a print ad

2. Does the person in the ad make you think, "Why is that jackass smiling?"

If you answer "yes," then you're witnessing the unholy glory that is lifestyle photography. Formerly the purview of royalty-free stock photo houses and back-alley freelancers, lifestyle photography has now seeped into every corner of advertising and into all manner of brands. Almost every web banner ad you see has a lifestyle image, assuming it isn't trying to get you to shoot Osama. Why? I don't know. Maybe an attractive piece of talent is supposed to distract me from the heartbreak of psoriasis or the realization that my office cubicle is probably littered with X10 wireless surveillance cameras installed by my junior writers.

This blog makes her happy. Doesn't it make you happy, too?

Or maybe the people who demanded such me-too fare are just stupid or lazy or both. Here’s a hint: I know your product is supposed to make me happier. I don’t need Mindy from the local non-union agency flashing her bleached chompers at me to get the point.

Enough for now.

Fox

To Flush or Flesh.

Memo to all junior AE's and assorted new biz wonks: The phrase is not "we need to flush out these ideas." It's "we need to flesh out these ideas." As in, take some basic concepts and hang a little meat on their bones. The only time it may ever be acceptable to flush out some ideas is in a brainstorming session when you're, theoretically, attempting to flush the ideas out of hiding. Like flushing quail from their roosts. Or a Kennedy from a bar. While I seriously doubt you mean it that way, I'll go ahead an give you the benefit of the doubt.

And while we're at it, asking a client "are you sure you really want it that way?" does not qualify as pushing back.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled billing.

Fox

The AdHole cometh.

Welcome to the long-gestating, yet still ill-conceived, AdHole. A sporadic diatribe about advertising, pop culture, media, politics, religion, wanton jackassery and the collision of all the above. Before I broach the AdHole's first subject, a bit about the author. Which would be me:

I'm a dude.

Okay, for more background info you can check out http://jasonfox.net/bioTableNew03.html. On with the words you won't read anyway.

Today's topic: "I'm not a writer..." "Well, I am. So shut your hole."

Possibly the most common complaint amongst advertising creatives, aside from a profound lack of donuts and Frappuccinos®, is being treated as vendor as opposed to a professional. (Note that I say "professional" and not "marketing partner." Feel-good, jargony, wonk-speak should be left for insecure, jargon-spouting wonks.) Writers, such as myself, and art directors are Professional Creative Individuals. You, Mr. or Ms. Client, hire us via the agency because, for whatever reason, you believe we know what we're doing. So pipe down. If you don't like a concept, that's cool, that's fine, we can handle it. But once you buy off on a concept, cut us some slack. When looking at a layout, think about all the things that work, not the two things that you think your boss might question. And ask yourself this: If I make this change, will it make the ad better or just more to my liking? If it's the latter, move on. As my former AD partner Paul once said, "You're not the target. Would you like to talk about Ayn Rand?" Same goes for creative directors. And account people. And other creatives. Point out flaws in strategy all day long. But if you're picking apart my colon usage, then maybe your own colon needs a little cleansing.

Here's the deal: You may have written on your high school paper. You might even have majored in journalism. Maybe your sense of color came in quite handy when painting the guest bathroom. Fine. If you can proffer comments based on these experiences in an intelligent manner, bring 'em on. We can cope with discourse. But for the love of Sasquatch don't act like your hobby and our professions are the same thing. Everybody is NOT a writer. Everybody is NOT an art director.

The point is, most of us know what we're doing. Some of us have been doing it for a long time for a lot of people at bigger companies than yours. (Sassy!) So please, just assume we know what we're doing. And we promise to grant you the same courtesy.

Sorry to start the blogging off on such a banal rant, but I didn't want to bust out of the expected blog mold too quickly out of the gate.

Fox