Archive for the ‘hughtrain’ Category

March 11, 2013 (4 weeks ago)

So what comes after advertising (9 years later)?

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Back in the early blog­ging days of 2004, I wrote a little online rant called “The Hugh­train Mani­festo”, influen­ced by all the stuff I was rea­ding at the time: Tom Peters, Seth Godin, Mark Earls, The Clue­train Mani­festo etc.

The ques­tion I was asking then was, “What comes after adver­ti­sing?” If this new Inter­net thingy meant all old-media bets were off, what would become of the Industry that drove 90% of the latter?

My ans­wer (at least to myself) came in Part Four:

“The har­dest part of a CEO’s job is sha­ring his enthu­siasm with his collea­gues, espe­cially when a lot of them are making one-fiftieth of what he is. Selling the com­pany to the gene­ral public is a piece of cake com­pa­red to selling it to the actual peo­ple who work for it. The future of adver­ti­sing is internal.”

In other words, inter­nal com­mu­ni­ca­tion desig­ned to create real cul­tu­ral change. Arti­cu­la­ting Mark Earls’ “Purpose-Idea”. All that posi­tive dis­rup­tion for pen­nies on the dollar… com­pa­red to what you get from con­ven­tio­nal ad campaigns.

The logic being that, if you can change your own cul­ture, then you can change the cul­ture of others around you. And if you can do that, you would have a huge com­pe­ti­tive advan­tage over the other guys.

Cul­ture mat­ters. Cul­tu­ral change is big busi­ness, and get­ting big­ger by the day. It’s a huge oppor­tu­nity for adver­ti­sing folk; let’s hope some of them actually take it.

January 25, 2013

“The New Certainties”: Minimalism, Motivational Speakers & Looking For New Stuff To Believe In etc.

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[The “Hugh­train” car­toon, 2004]

I’ve been seeing a pat­tern emer­ging. Here are some of the main ingredients:

1. That Marfa, Texas, one of the great Mini­ma­list shri­nes in Ame­rica is now a popu­lar hips­ter des­ti­na­tion spot.

2. One of my my favo­rite movies of recent years, Jiro Dreams of Sushi, which I’ve been raving about for months, is a big hit in the docu­men­tary world. It’s also a fil­mic love poem to Mini­ma­lism (Hey, the direc­tor used Phi­lip Glass and Max Rich­ter for the film score, I rest my case).

3. Blogs about sim­ple living and Mini­ma­lism seem to be really trendy these days, mini­ma­list blog­gers like Zen Habits con­que­ring the world.

4. “The Mini­ma­list” is one of the most popu­lar the­mes on Tumblr.

5. The con­ti­nuing rise of Wes­ter­ni­zed Eas­tern thought: Buddhism, medi­ta­tion, Yoga, Zen etc (I’m a big Alan Watts fan, but that’s another story).

6. The other thing I’ve noti­ced is “Per­so­nal Coaches” and “Moti­va­tio­nal Spea­kers” seem to be everywhere. Whether we’re tal­king Anthony Rob­bins or Bren­don Burchard… or the new job title out there, “spea­ke­rauthor” (Peo­ple known mostly for wri­ting books, but make most of their money doing public spea­king: Tom Peters, Mal­colm Glad­well etc.) Then you also need all the more tech­noc­ra­tic, busi­nesss­peak con­sul­tant man­da­rin types out there as well… Like I said, they’re everywhere, it seems to be an inc­rea­singly boo­ming industry.

7. That there seem to be more TED spea­kers tal­king about how won­der­ful Atheism is, than there are TED spea­kers telling peo­ple how won­der­ful Chris­tia­nity or Judaism or Islam is.

8. The gro­wing idea that the Inter­net is now a reli­gion.

9. The gro­wing idea that “Jedi” is now a religion.

10. The gro­wing idea that Apple is a religion.

11. The finan­cial and poli­ti­cal implosion/impasse/dog’s din­ner that is Wes­tern Europe/The Euro/The E.U..

12. U.S. Fis­cal Cliffs.

13. Envi­ron­men­tal and ani­mal rights activists.

14. Bur­ning Man.

15. Kicks­tar­ter.

16. Cha­rity Water.

I could go on.…

What does this tell me?

That we’re loo­king for new stuff to believe in.

That though the world is get­ting more and more com­plex, the old ans­wers (Do what you’re told, buy a lot of stuff, obsess about THESE cele­bri­ties, worship THESE gods/THIS God, watch this trashy Rea­lity TV, watch these crappy movies, read these crappy bes­tse­llers, lis­ten to this crappy music, believe these poli­ti­cians etc.) aren’t wor­king for us as well as they used to.

So we’re sim­plif­ying. We’re rene­wing. We’re clea­ring the decks. We’re doing a bit of spi­ri­tual Spring clea­ning. We’re loo­king for new stuff to believe in. We’re loo­king for NEW CERTAINTIES.

Just like the “Hugh­train” car­toon above implies, we have an infi­nite need for it.

Sure, we like our old cer­tain­ties (Mom’s coo­king, a favo­rite pair of old jeans, small-town folksy ways, old school good man­ners, Ronald Rea­gan, old Jimmy Ste­wart movies at Christ­mas time etc), we are gene­ti­cally pro­gram­med to seek out not only the new, but the NEW CERTAINTIES.

So I guess the next the ques­tion is, what “New Cer­tain­ties” is your work brin­ging to the world?

If you don’t know, maybe best to find out… it’s where the real fun and action is to be found these days.

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May 6, 2012

Happy gapingvoid Birthday! My Blog Turns Eleven…

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Over the wee­kend, gapingvoid.com tur­ned ele­ven years old.

I won’t dwell on it too much, other than to say,

1. Yes, it has been an ama­zing trip,

2. Thank you very much for all the love over the years and,

3. Loo­king back, I con­si­der “Per­so­nal Faves” (2001) to be the best thing on it that I ever wrote. Writ­ten as I was set­ting the blog up, it set the tone for what came after– “How To Crea­tive”, “The Hugh­train”, “Evil Plans”, “Free­dom Is Blog­ging”, then the actual gaping­void busi­ness itself, the “cube gre­na­des” and the great team of peo­ple I work with etc– it all came from that. And I  honestly, honestly doubt that I would had come this far without it:

When I first lived in Manhat­tan in Decem­ber, 1997 I got into the habit of dood­ling on the back of busi­ness cards, just to give me something to do while sit­ting at the bar. The for­mat stuck.

All I had when I first got to Manhat­tan were 2 suit­ca­ses, a cou­ple of card­board boxes full of stuff, a reser­va­tion at the YMCA, and a 10-day free­lance copyw­ri­ting gig at a Mid­town adver­ti­sing agency.

My life for the next cou­ple of weeks was going to work, wal­king around the city, and stag­ge­ring back to the YMCA once the bars clo­sed. Lots of alcohol and cof­fee shops. Lot of weird peo­ple. Being hit five times a day by this strange desire to laugh, sing and cry simul­ta­neously. At times like these, there’s a lot to be said for an art form that fits easily inside your coat pocket.

[…]

An artist is quite a f*****-up thing to be, and to be honest I’m not sure if I would recom­mend it to any­body. Still, in my collec­tion there are a cou­ple of exam­ples that, in some sick and twis­ted way, make the whole thing seem worthwhile. For the first five minu­tes, at least…

Any­way, for those who hadn’t seen it before, I thought it was worth sha­ring [Here’s the link again]. Again, thanks for all the love, and God­bless. Now I have some more car­toons to draw. Rock on.

October 16, 2010

the hughtrain mkii

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THE HUGHTRAIN MkII

1. The mar­ket for something to believe in is infi­nite. We are here to find mea­ning. We are here to help other peo­ple do the same. Everything else is secon­dary. We humans want to believe in our own spe­cies. And we want peo­ple, com­pa­nies and pro­ducts in our lives that make it easier to do so. That is human nature.

2. The most impor­tant word in mar­ke­ting is “com­pli­city”. It’s not enough for the cus­to­mer to love your pro­duct. They have to love your pro­cess as well.

3. Your cus­to­mers are beco­ming smar­ter about your mar­ket a lot fas­ter than you are. Thanks to the inter­net, your cus­to­mers are able to talk to each other. They are able to find bet­ter infor­ma­tion about your pro­duct than you are able of willing to give them, much quic­ker than you are capa­ble of giving them. The con­ver­sa­tion will hap­pen with or without you, you’re bet­ter off joi­ning in.

4. The pri­mary job of an adver­ti­ser is not to com­mu­ni­cate bene­fit, but to com­mu­ni­cate con­vic­tion. It’s not about what you have; it’s about why it matters.

5. A company’s pri­mary role is to func­tion as an “idea ampli­fier”. A company’s pri­mary role is not to make or do stuff. Making and doing are mere subsets.

6. The future of adver­ti­sing is inter­nal. The har­dest part of a CEO’s job is sha­ring his enthu­siasm with his collea­gues, espe­cially when a lot of them are making one-fiftieth of what he is. Selling the com­pany to the gene­ral public is a piece of cake com­pa­red to selling it to the actual peo­ple who work for it.

7. Your job is no lon­ger about selling. Your job is about firing off as many synap­ses in your customer’s brain as pos­si­ble. The more synap­ses that are fired off, the more dopa­mi­nes are relea­sed. Dopa­mi­nes are seriously addic­tive. The more dopa­mi­nes you release, the more the cus­to­mer will come back for more. Your cus­to­mer thinks he is coming back to you for sane, ratio­nal, value-driven rea­sons. He is wrong. He is coming back to feed.

8. Good-bye, Mes­sa­ges. Hello, Social Ges­ture. A well-executed mar­ke­ting cam­paign is an act of love.

9. Con­trol the con­ver­sa­tion by impro­ving the con­ver­sa­tion. Choo­sing to have a “smar­ter con­ver­sa­tion” with the mar­ket is not a mar­ke­ting deci­sion; it’s a moral decision.

10. The more porous the mem­brane that sepa­ra­tes your busi­ness from your mar­ket, the easier it is for both par­ties to be in align­ment. And the more porous the mem­brane, the easier it is to fix non-alignment.

[Ori­gi­nally published Novem­ber, 2006]

May 8, 2009

on finding “meaningful work”

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Back in Octo­ber, I wrote a rela­ti­vely can­did blog post, “Note to My ‘Tribe’: Where are we hea­ded, Anyway?”

And as our mutual friend, Seth says, every tribe needs a leader:

The next fron­tier of mar­ke­ting is in lea­ding groups of peo­ple who are wor­king together to get somewhere.

I con­cur. So I’m gues­sing that “Lea­der” job now falls down to me.
Don’t get too exci­ted. I’m not Gandhi, I’m just a car­too­nist in West Texas with a few crazy ideas up my sleeve. I find the pros­pect of lea­ding a “tribe” a bit daun­ting, to be honest.
Lea­dership does not exist in a vacuum, you need somewhere to actually lead your tribe to. Moses had the Land of Milk & Honey. MLK had The Pro­mi­sed Land. Tho­mas Jef­fer­son had the newly-formed Uni­ted Sta­tes. Putin has a strong and proud Rus­sia. Doc Searls has The Clue­train. Steve Clay­ton and his friends within Mic­ro­soft have The Blue Mons­ter.
Me? I have no idea. Like I said, I’m just a car­too­nist…
The good news is, to lead a tribe you don’t neces­sa­rily have to have a pro­mi­sed land, a uto­pian vision, or a new world order to lead a tribe. You simply need what my other great mar­ke­ting friend, Mark Earls calls “The Purpose-Idea”, which as a bona fide Social Object, is THE REASON why peo­ple are joi­ning together in the first place.
I’ve been telling my clients for years now, if you’re going to have a follo­wing, a com­mu­nity, a “tribe”, it can’t just be about you and your lovely pro­duct. It’s got to be about something higher than, and beyond… your­self.
What is true for them is, yes, also true for me. Like I told my good friend, James Gover­nor on Twit­ter the other day,

If I’m to lead a “Tribe”, it needs to be for MUCH bet­ter rea­sons than “Please buy my litho­graphs, they’re very nice etc.”

Or my ori­gi­nal dra­wings. Or my book. Or my con­sul­ting ser­vi­ces. Or my spea­king gigs. Or whatever.

I’m happy to report, Seth left a very kind remark in the com­ments:

Ask us something hard, Hugh!
Your mis­sion is clear. You are lea­ding us where we want to go. You are pushing us to demand the pos­si­ble, not to accept the sta­tus quo. In an extraor­di­na­rily direct and pas­sio­nate way, you push your­self (and us) to look at what we do honestly and to remove the bullshit and get down to what mat­ters.
That’s where I want to go, anyway.

When I was eigh­teen, just after I had finished my final exams at high school, I went out and got my first real job. Trai­nee bar­ten­der at Whigham’s Wine Bar, Edin­burgh, Scot­land. I loved that job; I kept it every sum­mer for four years. The guy who hired me, Nick Hen­der­son, was a great man.
Since then I have been on the same, unen­ding quest: To find “Mea­ning­ful Work”.
“Mea­ning­ful” is like “Crea­tive”; its defi­ni­tion is a sub­jec­tive call. I can’t tell you what’s mea­ning­ful to you. Nor can you do the same with me. All we can do is agree that somewhere deep within all of us, the hun­ger to find it is real.
My blog for the last eight years has been a mish-mash of all sorts of dif­fe­rent things. Car­toons. Selling prints. Mar­ke­ting 2.0. The Glo­bal Mic­ro­brand. “Crea­ti­vity”.
Wha­te­ver. No mat­ter what topic I was blethe­ring on about that day, this blog has always been dri­ven by the same thing that has always dri­ven me. Fin­ding mea­ning­ful work.
I’ve come close to fin­ding it a cou­ple of times. It’s never easy. It’s always elu­sive. I often wish that weren’t the case, but it is. Sorry.
[P.S. The best way to sup­port what I’m doing is to sign up to my “Crazy, Deran­ged Fools” News­let­ter. Thanks!]

 

April 9, 2009

the survival dance and the sacred dance

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A friend just emai­led me this excerpt from “Soul Dance”, by Bill Plot­kin. I liked it so much, I thought I’d share it with y’all. It cer­tainly reso­na­tes with my current day job. Bri­lliant.

The Sur­vi­val Dance and The Sac­red Dance
Har­ley Swift Deer, a Native Ame­ri­can teacher, says that each of us has a sur­vi­val dance and a sac­red dance, but the sur­vi­val dance must come first. Our sur­vi­val dance, a foun­da­tio­nal com­po­nent of self-reliance, is what we do for a living — our way of sup­por­ting our­sel­ves phy­si­cally and eco­no­mi­cally. For most peo­ple, this means a paid job. For mem­bers of a reli­gious com­mu­nity like a monas­tery, it means social or spi­ri­tual labors that con­tri­bute to the community’s well-being. For others, it means crea­ting a home and rai­sing chil­dren, fin­ding a patron for one’s art, or living as a hun­ter or gathe­rer. Every­body has to have a sur­vi­val dance. Fin­ding and crea­ting one is our first task upon lea­ving our parents’ or guar­dians’ home.
Once you have your sur­vi­val dance esta­blished, you can wan­der, inwardly and out­wardly, searching for clues to your sac­red dance, the work you were born to do. This work may have no rela­tion to your job. Your sac­red dance sparks your grea­test ful­fill­ment and extends your truest ser­vice to others. You know you’ve found it when there’s little else you’d rather be doing. Get­ting paid for it is super­fluous. You would gladly pay others, if neces­sary, for the oppor­tu­nity.
Hence, the impor­tance of self-reliance, not merely the eco­no­mic kind implied by a sur­vi­val dance but also of the social, psycho­lo­gi­cal, and spi­ri­tual kind. To find your sac­red dance, after all, you will need to take sig­ni­fi­cant risks. You might need to move against the grain of your family and friends. By honing psycho­lo­gi­cal self-reliance, you will find it easier to keep focu­sed on your goals in the face of resis­tance or incom­prehen­sion, ini­tial fai­lure or set­backs, or eco­no­mic or orga­ni­za­tio­nal obs­tac­les. And spi­ri­tual self-reliance will main­tain your con­nec­tion with the dee­pest truths and what you’ve lear­ned about how the world works.
Swift Deer says that once you dis­co­ver your sac­red dance and learn effec­tive ways of embod­ying it, the world will sup­port you in doing just that.
What your soul wants is what the world also wants (and needs). Your human com­mu­nity will say yes to your soul work and will, in effect, pay you to do it. Gra­dually, your sac­red dance beco­mes what you do and your for­mer sur­vi­val dance is no lon­ger need. Now you have only one dance as the world sup­ports you to do what is most ful­fi­lling for you. How do you get there? The first step is crea­ting a foun­da­tion of self-reliance: a sur­vi­val dance of inte­grity that allows you to be in the world in a good way — a way that is psycho­lo­gi­cally sus­tai­ning, eco­no­mi­cally ade­quate, socially res­pon­si­ble, and envi­ron­men­tally sound. Cul­ti­va­ting right live­lihood, as the Buddhist call it, is essen­tial trai­ning and foun­da­tion for your soul work; it’s not a step that can be skipped.

[Bonus Link:] “The Sex & Cash Theory”, gaping­void, 2004.

April 7, 2009

art, the kinetic quality and social objects

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Vinny Warren, a highly res­pec­ted Crea­tive Direc­tor in Chi­cago [He wrote the Bud­wei­ser “Whas­sup” ad cam­paign] has kindly hung his new “Blue­train” print in a key focal point of his agency, the con­fe­rence room. He blogs about it here.

Fresh from the fra­ming store, it’s one of just 85 sig­ned Hugh Mac­Leod prints from the first in a series of limi­ted edi­tion prints he’s doing. This was always my favo­rite car­toon of his. I used to have a b/w prin­tout of it on my office wall. It pretty much sums up how I feel gene­rally. And I love the wildly opti­mis­tic yet utterly truth­ful tone. The text reads: THE MARKET FOR SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN IS INFINITE.

This adver­ti­sing con­nec­tion got me thin­king about something I pos­ted back in February, 2004, during the tail end of my own adver­ti­sing career, called “The Kine­tic Quality”:

“The Kine­tic Qua­lity”: All pro­ducts are infor­ma­tion. The mole­cu­les are secondary.

The future of brands is inte­rac­tion, not com­mo­dity. It’s not something you buy, but something you pati­ci­pate in.

i.e. a brand is not a thing, but a place.
[…]
In the old days, the three most impor­tant words in adver­ti­sing were “Uni­que Selling Pro­po­si­tion”. To me, the three most impor­tant words are “By Inte­rac­ting With…”

–By inte­rac­ting with Ger­ber, she beco­mes a better-informed mom.
–By inte­rac­ting with The Wall Street Jour­nal, she beco­mes more tuned into the world of capi­ta­lism.
–By inte­rac­ting with Apple, she brings her entre­pre­neu­rial dreams clo­ser to rea­lity.
–By inte­rac­ting with McDonald’s, her busy sche­dule is made slightly easier by avoi­ding a lot of fuss over lunch.
–By inte­rac­ting with Rals­ton Purina, she beco­mes more attached to her canine friend.
–By inte­rac­ting with your brand, she becomes…?

A good brand is a two-way con­ver­sa­tion.
What we blog­gers know about the nature of infor­ma­tion (a great deal) can be applied far beyond our usual diet of media, poli­tics and jour­na­lism. Because all pro­ducts are infor­ma­tion. All pro­ducts are ideas. The mole­cu­les are secondary.

Back when I wrote that, I was an adver­ti­sing crea­tive i.e. selling other people’s stuff. Now I’m selling my own stuff i.e. my prints. And the same rules still apply:

–By inte­rac­ting with gaping­void, Vinny Warren [or whoe­ver] becomes…?

The short ans­wer is, roughly: “Bet­ter able to arti­cu­late his own world­view to him­self and to peo­ple around him.“
That’s the idea, at least. Which of course, is THE WHOLE PURPOSE of art in the first place: Self-expression through third-party “Social Objects”.
Anyone who’s ever owned an iPhone or a Har­ley David­son will know exactly what I’m tal­king about…
[Sign up to the gaping­void “Crazy, Deran­ged Fools” News­let­ter here.]

 

March 20, 2009

what do middle seats on airplanes and the current recession have in common?

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1. One of my pet pee­ves when tra­ve­ling [and I tra­vel quite a bit these days] is when I get assig­ned to the middle seat on an air­plane.
We all know why; we all know middle seats are uncom­for­ta­ble and nasty. We all know that they basi­cally suck.
Sure, the good air­line folk will tell me, they’ve already boo­ked all the win­dow and aisle seats. They’ve only got middle seats left. Sorry etc.
Which always makes me think to myself, “Those middle seats shouldn’t be on the air­plane in the first place”.
Middle seats are, to me, a pro­duct of a dif­fe­rent era. They were inven­ted when the first long dis­tance jet air­li­ners came around, the Boeing 707, the VC-10 etc etc. Before that they just had ais­les and win­dows.
Thirty or forty years ago, air­pla­nes were desig­ned before the air­line industry was dere­gu­la­ted, when air tra­vel was REALLY expen­sive. When peo­ple had far fewer choi­ces.
Jet Blue currently buys long, skinny air­pla­nes to make get­ting rid of the middle seat eco­no­mi­cally via­ble. But they’re a new air­line. Older, lar­ger, more esta­blished air­li­nes are still behol­den to their old, fat air­pla­nes, stuf­fed to the brim with middle seats.
It won’t hap­pen over­night, but there will come a time when offe­ring your air­line cus­to­mers a middle seat will be tan­ta­mount to eco­no­mic sui­cide.
Because peo­ple simply don’t want middle seats. They never did. And they’ll gladly take their busi­ness over to someone who doesn’t have them on offer.
This middle-seat-free day arri­ving will great news for us cus­to­mers, of course. But not if you’re “Middle Seat Guy”.
2. Middle Seat Guy is the guy at the air­line whose job it is to figure out the middle seats– how many of them they can cram onto a plane, and how to sell middle seats as effi­ciently as pos­si­ble [to peo­ple who never wan­ted them to begin with].
Sud­denly, he’s out of a job. Peo­ple aren’t buying midd­les seats any­more, sud­denly the world has no more use for his ser­vi­ces. He’s at home; he’s bit­ter, he feels per­so­nally betra­yed by the air­line who emplo­yed him for twenty years. His life sucks and he’s hit­ting the bottle before noon etc.
Whether we’re tal­king about air­li­nes or any other kind of busi­ness, the fact is, the Inter­net has made it MUCH har­der to sell your cus­to­mers metapho­ri­cal “Middle Seats”. And the punish­ment for trying to get away with it keeps on get­ting more swift and severe.
3. No, we don’t want to give you $7500.00 in order to help you pay off your six-figure stu­dent loans from Law School. We’d much rather down­load something off the inter­net that does the same job for $99.99.
No, we don’t want be inte­rrup­ted by you, so you can show us your well-crafted, multi-million dollar mar­ke­ting mes­sage about how won­der­ful your client’s auto­mo­bi­les are. We’d much rather get the skinny from an online forum.
No, we don’t want to buy your gene­ric, cardboard-tasting, mass-produced coo­kies from the local con­ve­nience store; we’d rather order some online from this Trap­pist Monk Weirdo Lum­ber­jack in Alaska, who makes by-hand-in-tiny-batches THE MOST AMAZING coo­kies ever.
No, we don’t want to buy your $25 bottle of nasty, Cali­fo­nian vine­gar. We’d rather buy this great little $10 Aus­tra­lian red that this cool wine blog­ger tur­ned us on to.
4. The only time I really watch TV is when I’m sta­ying in a hotel room, like I was last wee­kend while visi­ting Aus­tin for SXSW. Usually I just turn on CNN, and lis­ten to the pun­dits blether on. Back­ground noise. Fairly mind­less stuff.
It was quite a dis­con­nect for me to hear the guys on CNN yap­ping end­lessly on about THE RECESSION, in con­trast to all the groovy cats I met at SXSW, who told me how their busi­nes­ses were boo­ming. It was like two alter­nate uni­ver­ses colli­ding. Which one was the real one?
To anyone rea­ding this who has lost their job to the reces­sion recently, first let me say how sorry I am to hear that. I lost my job during the last reces­sion, and I know how rot­ten it can be. I utterly sym­pathize.
That being said, while I’m watching CNN I keep asking myself the same ques­tion. What per­cen­tage of these reces­sion vic­tims were just plain, ran­domly unlucky, and how many were in the busi­ness of selling metapho­ri­cal “Middle Seats” before they got laid off?
I don’t know what’s going to hap­pen in this reces­sion in the long run. I do know, howe­ver, that a lot of Middle Seat Guys, i.e. those who currently make their living via “The Igno­rance Pre­mium”, are going to be sud­denly out of work, with ZERO idea about what to do next. I hope that doesn’t inc­lude you.
[Sign up to gapingvoid’s “Crazy, Deran­ged Fools” Newsletter…]

 

February 4, 2009

introducing futilemarketing.com

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I just bought the URL, www.futilemarketing.com.
I’m not plan­ning on tur­ning it into another web­site, nor am I pla­ning to launch a new busi­ness called “Futile Mar­ke­ting”. It’s just a name I very much wan­ted to own.
Why? Because “Futi­lity”, as a mar­ke­ting stra­tegy, is an idea that’s currently fas­ci­na­ting me.
Con­ven­tio­nal Wis­dom dic­ta­tes, if you’re trying to mar­ket something, the last thing you want your mar­ke­ting cam­paign to be is “An Act of Futi­lity”.
But… are you REALLY sure about that?
I was thin­king recently how most of the stuff I’m most proud of, star­ted off as acts of futi­lity.
–Dra­wing car­toons on the back of busi­ness cards star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Get­ting an English tai­lor to blog in the hope of selling more $5,000 suits star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Launching a natio­nal UK super­mar­ket wine via the blo­gosphere star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Get­ting Mic­ro­soft to re-think about who they are using nothing but a sin­gle car­toon star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Choo­sing a highly irri­ta­ting pup­pet to launch a major new French wine star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Con­vin­cing one of the most res­pec­ted publishers in the world to turn a blog post into a hard­co­ver book star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
Get­ting West Texas cow­boys to start drin­king South Afri­can wine star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
And if you think about it, the world is full of other, simi­lar exam­ples.
–Get­ting peo­ple to pay $4 for a cup of cof­fee star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Get­ting peo­ple to give up their hor­ses en masse in exchange for an inter­nal com­bus­tion engine star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Get­ting peo­ple to pay for soft­ware without any hard­ware attached to it star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Buil­ding a multi-million dollar cot­tage industry using nothing but blog adver­ti­sing star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Wri­ting a children’s book about wizards in an Edin­burgh cof­fee shop star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Trying to halt the Nazi inva­sion using nothing but Spit­fi­res star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Stop­ping the lar­gest army the world had ever seen with just a small pha­lanx of 300 Spar­tans star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Trying to blow up the Death Star using nothing but thirty X-Wing figh­ters star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
–Con­vin­cing the USA to elect an African-American as their Pre­si­dent star­ted off as an act of futi­lity.
Are you thin­king what I’m thinking…?

December 6, 2008

dell: create or die

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[This car­toon I drew this mor­ning pretty much sums it up…]
For the last six months or so, I’ve been trying to get my head around Dell. Trying to see what they’re good at, what they’re not so good at, and seeing if there’s a way that maybe, just maybe, I could help them in some small way become a bet­ter com­pany.
But it’s been a somewhat arduous pro­cess. Pro­gress has been slow. Not because anyone’s done anything wrong– on their side or mine– it’s just a big nut I’m trying to crack here. Rome wasn’t built in a day.
Today I had a bit of an EUREKA! moment.
I like Dell. They are good friends of mine. They’ve been good clients to me. Big Kudos all round. They have a lot of good qua­li­ties. For example:

They’re very good at being effi­cient.
They are very nice peo­ple, for the most part.
They have a very tena­cious streak to them.
They seem to frown on what they con­si­der to be need­less extra­va­gance. They’re fru­gal.
They’re very prac­ti­cally min­ded. They like num­bers, they don’t like get­ting too exci­ted about all this airy-fairy, new-age mar­ke­ting pixie dust.
They are dri­ven to cons­tantly create great pro­ducts.
They are dri­ven to cons­tantly create a bet­ter com­pany and cul­ture. They figure that if they don’t keep rai­sing the bar, some­body else will do it for them.

Nothing I have seen there with my own two eyes would lead me to believe other­wise. All well and good.
But one word I’m going to keep of the list: “Crea­tive”.
Of course Dell has tons of crea­tive peo­ple wor­king for them. Of course they’re always “crea­ting” great stuff. Of course there’s huge reser­voirs of crea­tive capi­tal, tee­ming away in those large glass buil­ding of theirs.
But if I ran­domly asked you to make a list of the world’s top ten most “Crea­tive” com­pa­nies, would Dell make it on to the list? I’m gues­sing, for most peo­ple rea­ding this, they simply wouldn’t.
Yes. I hap­pen think this is a SERIOUSLY huge pro­blem.
What needs to hap­pen for Dell to be a more “Crea­tive” com­pany? What would need to change in order to get Dell onto that Top Ten List? What EXACTLY is invol­ved?
The good news is, this is a huge oppor­tu­nity. For both Dell, myself, and any­body else who actually cares about this kind of stuff.
Man, I’m exci­ted now. Rock on.

December 4, 2008

hugh’s new secret evil plan: fine art prints

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1. Some­time in the next few weeks I shall be relea­sing my first big, pro­per edi­tion of sig­ned, fine-art litho­graphs.
2. These will not be spon­so­red “social objects” from Stormhoek, Mic­ro­soft or wha­te­ver. These will be for sale. Cash. Moo­lah. Via this blog. No galle­ries.
3. They will be high qua­lity. Very high qua­lity.
4. I plan on using color for the first one, maybe black and white in the future– though I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet.
5. It’ll be an edi­tion of 85 prints. I’m not plan­ning on selling them all. I want to hold on to some of them, for posterity’s sake.
6. They’ll all be sig­ned and num­be­red by hand, by me.
7. I plan to be blog­ging a lot about the whole pro­cess in the next few weeks. As with any new adven­ture, a lot of stuff still needs to be figu­red out long-term– I hope by tal­king about it with every­body, it’ll help me make bet­ter artis­tic deci­sions.
8. Though my work covers a lot of dif­fe­rent the­mes and emo­tio­nal sta­tes, for this first one I’ll be focu­sing more on the business-culture, Hugh­train sen­si­bi­lity. I want the print to be the kind of thing you’d want to hang up in your office.
9. This is not some groovy little side pro­ject for me. This enter­prise is going to be a major part of my life over the next few years. Just let­ting you know.
10. We’ll be prin­ting them up in mid-January. If you want to get in early, I’m going to make 20 prints avai­la­ble; you can pre-order one before the prin­ting date for $175. Just ping me an e-mail. After they are prin­ted the price goes up, to around the $250 – 300 range.
11. Thanks Again.
[Update:] Just got back from din­ner. Tired. So far I have 24 requests for the 20 pre-orders. Looks like I may have to disap­point 4 peo­ple. Long day. Going to bed. Will talk in the mor­ning. Thanks, Everybody!

December 1, 2008

“purpose-ideas are articulated via social objects, not messages”

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[Close-up of Desert­Ma­nahat­tan. India Ink on Can­vas… gor­geous. Click on image to enlarge etc.]
Let me say it one more time: “Purpose-Ideas are arti­cu­la­ted via Social Objects, not Mes­sa­ges.“

Click on the links in the above sen­tence to see what I’m tal­king about [espe­cially Link Num­ber Three].
Mark Earls says the future of adver­ti­sing is not in mes­sa­ges. Which means if you’re currently in adver­ti­sing, you’ll be asking your­self, what IS the post-message future? At the moment, you get paid to craft mes­sa­ges. So what will you craft in their place?
Short ans­wer: Social Ges­tu­res.
As I’m fond of repea­ting, Social Ges­tu­res beget Social Objects.
Exactly.

November 26, 2008

stormhoek in the west texas desert

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1. A few weeks back I men­tio­ned that I was back wor­king with Stormhoek, the South Afri­can wine.
2. I men­tio­ned that I had pain­ted a bill­board:

“Stormhoek. Made in South Africa. Drunk in West Texas.”

3. I men­tio­ned that there was no mar­ke­ting bud­get to speak of, and that also I lived in West Texas, so with these limi­ta­tions we were going to have to impro­vise.

4. Watch the video here to see the story begin to unfold…

November 21, 2008

marketing as transformation

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Back in 2004, I came up with pro­bably my favo­rite marketing-related insight ever:

“THE MARKET FOR SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN IS INFINITE.”
We are here to find mea­ning. We are here to help other peo­ple do the same. Everything else is secon­dary.
We humans want to believe in our own spe­cies. And we want peo­ple, com­pa­nies and pro­ducts in our lives that make it easier to do so. That is human nature.

It was a real EUREKA! moment for me. Mea­ning. A-HA! That’s what we are always going to be willing to pay for. And somehow, even in a small way, your pro­duct has to be alig­ned with your customer’s never-ending search to find mea­ning in his or her own life.
Why does most mar­ke­ting fail, or at least, create unsa­tis­fac­tory results? Because most mar­ke­ting is obli­vious to this real human drive to find mea­ning.
Ins­tead, most mar­ke­ting appeals to rather tri­vial aspects of human exis­tence. Your bum will look sma­ller with this pro­duct. Your shoul­ders will look big­ger with this pro­duct. Your friends will be impres­sed if they see you using our pro­duct. Your living room will smell nicer with this pro­duct. You’ll save $13.42 if you use our pro­duct, ins­tead of their pro­duct. Yada, yada, yada…
But as we know, that’s not why we really buy most pro­ducts. Like I said in 2006:

If peo­ple like buying your pro­duct, it’s because its story helps fill in the narra­tive gaps in their own lives.
Human beings need to tell sto­ries. His­to­ri­cally, it’s the quic­kest way we have for trans­mit­ting use­ful infor­ma­tion to other mem­bers of our spe­cies. Sto­ries are not just nice things to have, they are essen­tial sur­vi­val tools.
And yes, the sto­ries we tell our­sel­ves are just as impor­tant than the sto­ries we tell other peo­ple.
Ergo, mar­ke­ting is not about selling. Mar­ke­ting is figu­ring out where your pro­duct stands in rela­tion to per­so­nal narra­tive.
So where does your pro­duct fit into other people’s narra­tive? How does telling your story become a sur­vi­val tool for other peo­ple? If you don’t know, you have a mar­ke­ting pro­blem.
Narra­tive gaps. It’s all about the narra­tive gaps.

We find mea­ning, we fill in the narra­tive gaps, when we trans­form our­sel­ves. When we trans­form from unem­plo­yed sin­gle mother to world’s richest woman [Like what hap­pe­ned to Harry Potter’s JK Row­ling]. When we go from a size-12 dress to a size-6 dress. When we land our first real job pro­mo­tion. When we go from sin­gle horny guy to hap­pily married father of six. This need to cons­tantly trans­form our­sel­ves, from one state of being to another, never goes away. We are fluid crea­tu­res. We crave re-invention like we crave food or sex. And when we lose the capa­city to trans­form our­sel­ves, when we get stuck in a rut, is when life’s mea­ning starts to dry up.
Fine, I hear you say, that’s great if you’re selling “trans­for­ma­tive” stuff like exer­cise equip­ment or Tony Rob­bins semi­nars, but what about more pro­saic pro­ducts, like snacks or tooth­paste?
Sim­ple: Then your pro­duct exists in con­text of a much big­ger story– your custumer’s. Like being an extra in a much big­ger movie. Or a sin­gle sen­tence in a much big­ger book.
It’s OK to play a minor role. As social ani­mals, we are hap­piest when we feel we belong to something much lar­ger than our­sel­ves. A faith. A move­ment. A tribe. A noble calling. A Purpose-Idea.
And what is true for peo­ple, is also true for pro­ducts. They too are hap­piest when they belong to something much lar­ger than them­sel­ves. A faith. A move­ment. A tribe. A noble calling. A Purpose-Idea.
The peo­ple who ins­pire us the most are the peo­ple who aim higher than the limi­ta­tions impo­sed upon them. Triumph over adver­sity; it’s the oldest story in the world.
The pro­ducts that ins­pire us the most are the ones that also aim higher than the limi­ta­tions impo­sed upon them. Triumph over adver­sity; it’s the oldest story in the world.
So what’s your story going to be?

[Bonus Link:] Harold Jarche left a neat quote in the com­ments. From Neal Stephenson’s Anathem, page 414:

“So I loo­ked with fas­ci­na­tion at those peo­ple in their mobes [cars], and tried to fathom what it would be like. Thou­sands of years ago, the work that peo­ple did had been bro­ken down into jobs that were the same every day, in orga­ni­za­tions where peo­ple were interchan­gea­ble parts. All of the story had been bled out of their lives. That was how it had to be; it was how you got a pro­duc­tive eco­nomy. But it would be easy to see a will at work behind this: not exactly an evil will, but a sel­fish will. The peo­ple who’d made the sys­tem thus were jea­lous, not of money and not of power but of story. If their emplo­yees came home at day’s end with inte­res­ting sto­ries to tell, it meant that something had gone wrong: a blac­kout, a strike, a spree killing. The Powers That Be would not suf­fer others to be in sto­ries of their own unless they were fake sto­ries that had been made up to moti­vate them.”

November 19, 2008

cluetrain was right.

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[“Edges 7″. Part of The Edges Series. Click on image to enlarge etc.]
My buddy over at Dell, Richard Binham­mer left me some food for thought in the com­ments sec­tion of my latest Dell-related blog post. Worth chec­king out.
Richard points out that yes, although Dell is best known for its “Effi­cien­cies” i.e lowe­ring the cost of making and selling com­pu­ters to peo­ple, he per­so­nally thinks there’s another pri­mary drive of Dell which he feels often gets over­loo­ked: “Get­ting clo­ser to the customer”.

That direct con­nec­tion with cus­to­mers con­tri­bu­ted to the impe­tus for much our invol­ve­ment with blogs, Ideas­torm, Twitter…and so much more.

Well, as we all know, human beings don’t scale. Micahel Dell can’t have a friendly game of golf with EVERY PERSON who wants to buy a $450 lap­top. Maybe if your com­pany is buying 25,000 ser­vers off him glo­bally next year, he’ll free some time up in his diary, but…
Doc Searls bri­lliantly quip­ped in the Clue­train, “Mar­kets are Con­ver­sa­tions”. But mar­kets are also about get­ting stuff done. Often by lots of peo­ple at the same time. In the real world. Har­der than it looks.
I take Doc’s use of “Con­ver­sa­tion” pri­ma­rily as a metaphor. Take it too lite­rally and the metaphor starts losing its power. Reli­gious metaphors often run up against the same pro­blem: Vir­gins have babies, really? Gosh, I did not know that! Wow, dead peo­ple rising from the grave after three days? Cool, where can I get some?
That being said, for large com­pa­nies like Dell there is a sweet spot in here somewhere– a place that allows your com­pany to “con­verse” like a human being, that lets you [within rea­son] get clo­ser to the cus­to­mer, while still allo­wing you to scale. It’s devi­lishly hard to get there, though. If it were easy, case stu­dies wouldn’t be so thin on the ground as they currently are.
The good news is [and from my first-hand obser­va­tion, Dell have also found this to be the case], that “Mar­ke­tings­peak” doesn’t work very well on the inter­net. That acting like a drone doesn’t work very well, either. That human beings res­pond far bet­ter to other human beings on the inter­net, than they do to face­less, cor­po­rate spo­kes­men. And as more and more of large busi­nes­ses’ com­mu­ni­ca­tion moves to direct, two-way online con­ver­sa­tions with their their end-users, com­pa­nies will have no choice BUT to act inc­rea­singly human.
And this inc­rea­singly human voice won’t just affect the mar­ke­ting, it’ll affect the entire orga­ni­za­tion. For the bet­ter, I believe.
Sure, cor­po­rate con­ver­sa­tion may never scale to the level of inti­macy some of my cra­zier blog­ger friends hope to live to see. That being said, today there’s still a tre­men­dously large oppor­tu­nity for the peo­ple who can lead the way, who can, like the car­toon above implies, keep pushing the edges. That’s why Dell inte­rests me. Same with Mic­ro­soft. As far as big com­pa­nies are con­cer­ned, in this depart­ment, they’re lea­ding the pack.
[Afterthought:] None of this is anything new to those who read the Clue­train in the early days, of course. What plea­ses me is, how Clue­train is gra­dually being pro­ved right over time. And I remem­ber vividly how, in our hearts, we all wan­ted it so BADLY to be right, even if proof was somewhat lac­king, all those years ago.
[Bonus Link: My old adver­ti­sing buddy, David Carl­son, who now lives out in Viet­nam, wri­tes an inte­res­ting and upbeat blog post about atten­ding Bar­camp Saigon.]

November 12, 2008

hugh’s big blue monster/social object page etc

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In my pre­vious post to this one, “Blue Mons­ter: Why Social Objects Are The Future Of Mar­ke­ting”, I’ve just upda­ted it with some re-postings of some of my favo­rite old blog post con­nec­ted with Social Objects and Blue Mons­ters.
A wee bit of a read– just under 8,000 words.
In its current form it’s a bit messy, but what the hell, this is the same way that How To Be Crea­tive and Hugh­train star­ted out. I may have to tidy it up later, but it’ll do for now. Enjoy.

November 9, 2008

blue monster: why social objects are the future of marketing

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As a mar­ke­ting blog­ger, I get asked a lot, “What is the future of mar­ke­ting?“
I always ans­wer the same: “The Blue Mons­ter”.
What’s The Blue Mons­ter?
A Blue Mons­ter is a Social Object that arti­cu­la­tes a Purpose-Idea.
What’s a Social Object? What’s a Purpose-Idea?
Sit your­self down, pour your­self another glass of whisky. This might take a while to explain…

1. THE BLUE MONSTER BACKSTORY
In the late 1990’s I was living in New York, wor­king as a mid-level copyw­ri­ter at a mid-size adver­ti­sing agency, when for wha­te­ver rea­son I star­ted dra­wing car­toons exc­lu­si­vely on the back of busi­ness cards, just to give me something to do while sit­ting at the bar. Like I wrote on my blog:

All I had when I first got to Manhat­tan were 2 suit­ca­ses, a cou­ple of card­board boxes full of stuff, a reser­va­tion at the YMCA, and a 10-day free­lance copyw­ri­ting gig at a Mid­town adver­ti­sing agency.
My life for the next cou­ple of weeks was going to work, wal­king around the city, and stag­ge­ring back to the YMCA once the bars clo­sed. Lots of alcohol and cof­fee shops. Lot of weird peo­ple. Being hit five times a day by this strange desire to laugh, sing and cry simul­ta­neously. At times like these, there’s a lot to be said for an art form that fits easily inside your coat poc­ket.
The free­lance gig tur­ned into a per­ma­nent job. I sta­yed. The first month in New York for a new­co­mer has this cer­tain ama­zing magic about it that is indesc­ri­ba­ble. Incan­des­cent luci­dity. Howe­ver long you stay in New York, you pretty much spend the rest of your time there trying to recap­ture that fee­ling. Cha­sing Manhat­tan Dra­gon. I sup­pose the whole point of the cards ini­tially was to somehow get that buzz onto paper.

I star­ted my blog, gapingvoid.com in 2001. I was back living in the Uni­ted King­dom, where I grew up and where my mother and sis­ter still lived.
By this time I had accu­mu­la­ted a cou­ple of thou­sand business-card car­toons, and just star­ted pos­ting them on a semi-daily basis.
Fast For­ward to 2006. By this time my blog is pretty well known– one of the lar­gest in Europe-getting over a million uni­que visi­tors a month. My car­toons are all over the inter­net, it seems, espe­cially around the tech blog­ger scene.
It’s around this time that I meet Steve Clay­ton, at one of the many “Geek Din­ners” that have begun sprou­ting around the Lon­don tech scene.
Steve works for Mic­ro­soft, at the time he was run­ning the UK Part­ner Group [I could tell you what that actually means, but that would take too long. Suf­fice to say, he’s one very cle­ver and talen­ted chap­pie].
Steve’s not the first “Mic­ro­sof­tie” I’d met before, but he was the first one I got on really well with. Over the next few months, we start seeing each other around a lot. He’s a really super nice guy, highly inte­lli­gent, and fun to hang out with. Good times all round.
Early on, he tells me something that really struck with me: “I could be making a lot more money, and taking a lot less social grief if I wor­ked somewhere else. But I choose not to, simply because at Mic­ro­soft, you get to work on some REALLY cool stuff, soo­ner than anywhere else.”
Why was that so inte­res­ting to me? Because I had heard that very same rea­son cited to me by EVERY sin­gle Mic­ro­soft emplo­yee I had ever met up until that time. Secondly, like every other Mic­ro­soft emplo­yee I had ever met before, Steve was a really nice, open, fun guy. He did not typify the ste­reotype “Evil Borg Hive Mem­ber” that Mic­ro­sof­tees were often accu­sed of being.
I pon­de­red this for a while. Why did these folk work at Mic­ro­soft? It wasn’t the money, it wasn’t the social kudos. Something else was moti­va­ting them
So in Octo­ber, 2006 I pos­ted a car­toon on my blog that tried to express this drive, at least to myself. It went on to be called “The Blue Mons­ter”:
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[“The Blue Mons­ter”. First blog­ged in Octo­ber, 2006.]
I pos­ted it in high-resolution, the idea being that peo­ple at Mic­ro­soft who liked the idea, could down­load it and print it out poster-style, if they wan­ted. Like I said on my blog:

I just desig­ned this pos­ter for my bud­dies over at Mic­ro­soft [you know who you are]. Feel free to down­load the high-res ver­sion by clic­king on the image, and print it out onto — pos­ters, t-shirts etc.
The head­line works on a lot of dif­fe­rent levels:

Mic­ro­soft telling its poten­tial cus­to­mers to change the world or go home.
Mic­ro­soft telling its emplo­yees to change the world or go home.
Mic­ro­soft emplo­yees telling their collea­gues to change the world or go home.
Every­body else telling Mic­ro­soft to change the world or go home.
Ever­yone else telling their collea­gues to change the world or go home.
And so forth.

Mic­ro­soft has seventy thousand-odd emplo­yees, a huge per­cen­tage them very deter­mi­ned to change the world, and often suc­cee­ding. And millions of cus­to­mers with the same idea.
Basi­cally, Mic­ro­soft is in the world-changing busi­ness. If they ever lose that, they might as well all go home.
I chose the mons­ter image simply because I always thought there is something won­der­fully demo­nic about wan­ting to change the world. It can be a force for the good, of course, if used wisely. It’s cer­tainly a very loa­ded part of the human con­di­tion, but I sup­pose that’s what makes it compelling.

What hap­pe­ned next was quite extraor­di­nary. Steve saw the car­toon, and really liked it. He imme­dia­tely star­ted using the image in his e-mail sig­na­ture. He sta­red tal­king about the car­toon on his blog. Next thing you know, other folk inside Mic­ro­soft start doing the same. The “idea-virus” is unleashed.
Today, if you’re ever invi­ted onto the Mic­ro­soft cam­pus in Red­mond, Washing­ton, if you walk around the offi­ces, chan­ces are you’ll see the Blue Mons­ter pos­ter, han­ging on somebody’s wall. Or you might very well see someone with a Blue Mons­ter stic­ker on their lap­top, wea­ring a Blue Mons­ter t-shirt, or han­ding you their busi­ness card with the Blue Mons­ter on the back. Though the Blue Mons­ter wasn’t crea­ted by Mic­ro­soft, for many peo­ple wor­king there, it seems to arti­cu­late why they work there. It’s also been writ­ten about in the UK Natio­nal Media, as well as count­less tech blogs.
It’s not that every­body inside Mic­ro­soft “gets” The Blue Mons­ter. It’s never been offi­cially endor­sed by them. But the ones who do get ito, REALLY get it. For them, it’s a cult object. It repre­sents the con­ver­sa­tion they INDIVIDUALLY wish to be having with the world about their com­pany and tech­no­logy in gene­ral, not what the cor­po­rate “Brand Police” ups­tairs want to be having with the world. They may be loyal emplo­yees of Mic­ro­soft, but they’re also indi­vi­duals. Somehow The Blue Mons­ter allows them to express both roles at the same time, allows them to navi­gate the blurry lines that sepa­rate the two.
I was just pla­ying around with a car­toon idea at the time, not really expec­ting too much to come from it. I never expec­ted the idea to get as big and well-known as it did. Life is full of sur­pri­ses.
As the months went by and I star­ted to see The Blue Mons­ter story gro­wing and gro­wing, I had another insight: The Blue Mons­ter wasn’t a one-off. The Blue Mons­ter repre­sen­ted a fun­da­men­tal shift in how mar­ke­ting will be con­duc­ted in the future.
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[One of the dra­wings I did for Seth Godin’s latest book, “The Dip”.]
[UPDATE:] In order to help me order my thoughts, I deci­ded to put all my favo­rite social object posts onto a sin­gle blog page below. Enjoy.]
[From “KULA”: June 15th, 2007]
The Guardian’s Kevin Ander­son [who also atten­ded last night’s scree­ning] has a nice synop­sis of Jaiku Foun­der, Jyri Engstrom’s “Social Objects” idea.

Something about sites like Flickr that you will be using these sites for years to come.

The sites that work are built around social objects.

[…] MyS­pace. What is the real focal object? Music. Once they lose that focus, it is in trou­ble.
How does one build a use­ful ser­vice around social objects? Five key prin­ci­ples.
1. You should be able to define the social object your ser­vice is built around.
2. Define your verbs that your users per­form on the objects. For ins­tance, eBay has buy and sell but­tons. It’s clear what the site is for.
3. How can peo­ple share the objects?
4. Turn invi­ta­tions into gifts.
5. Charge the publishers, not the spec­ta­tors. He lear­ned this from Joi Ito. There will be a day when peo­ple don’t pay to down­load or con­sume music but the oppor­tu­nity to publish their play­lists online.

Besi­des being a web 2.0 entre­pre­neur, Jyri is an anth­ro­po­lo­gist. So at the Lon­don Jaiku geek din­ner last Tues­day, I asked him about the con­nec­tion bet­ween Social Objects and its corre­la­tion with Malinowski’s “Kula” [Mali­nowski was the father of modern Anth­ro­po­logy, by the way]. Jyri rep­son­ded that this was very much the case. So much so, in fact, that one of his great friends and men­tors, the afo­re­men­tio­ned Joi Ito bought an island in Second Life and named it “Kula”.
Kula. Social Ojects. Objects of Socia­bi­lity. Call it what you will, I think so much of what we’re trying to unders­tand about the web, the future, and yes, MARKETING, stems from this very pro­found insight from Mali­nowski in the early 20th Cen­tury, that good folk like Jyri and Joi are now hel­ping to shed new light on.
[Bonus Link:] Video of Jyri’s talk on Social Objects at the geek din­ner. One of the best talks I’ve heard for a while.
[Starbuck’s Cof­fee Cup: June, 2007]
Somewhere along the line I figu­red out the easiest pro­ducts to mar­ket are objects with “Socia­bi­lity” baked-in. Pro­ducts that allow peo­ple to have “con­ver­sa­tions” with other folk. Seth Godin calls this qua­lity “remar­ka­blilty”.
For exam­ple: A street beg­gar hol­ding out an ordi­nary paper cup cup won’t start a con­ver­sa­tion. A street beg­gar hol­ding out a Star­bucks cup will. I know this to be true, because it hap­pe­ned to me and a friend the other day, as we were wal­king down the street and a guy asked us for some spare change. After­wards, as we were com­men­ting about the rather sad para­dox of a home­less guy plying his trade with a “luxury” cof­fee cup, my friend said, “Star­bucks should be paying that guy.“
Actually, my friend is wrong. Starbuck’s doesn’t need to be paying the home­less guy. Because Star­bucks crea­ted a social object out of a paper cup, the home­less guy does their mar­ke­ting for free, whether he knows it or not.
Although I sus­pect he does. I sus­pect somewhere along the line the poor chap figu­red out that hol­ding out a Star­bucks cup gets him more atten­tion [and spare change] than an ordi­nary cup. And sud­denly we’re seeing social reci­pro­city bet­ween a home­less per­son and a large cor­po­ra­tion, without money ever chan­ging hands. Wha­te­ver your views are on the plight of home­less peo­ple, this is “Indi­rect Mar­ke­ting” at its finest.
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[Octo­ber, 2007:]Anyone who has heard me speak publicly lately will know that I’m currently very focu­sed on the “Social Object” idea, which I was tur­ned onto by Jaiku’s Jyri Enges­trom. Here’s some more thoughts on the sub­ject, in no par­ti­cu­lar order.
1. The term, “Social Object” can be a bit heady for some peo­ple. So often I’ll use the term, “Sha­ring Device” ins­tead.
2. Social Net­works are built around Social Objects, not vice versa. The lat­ter act as “nodes”. The nodes appear before the net­work does.
3. Gran­ted, the net­work is more power­ful than the node. But the net­work needs the node, like flo­wers need sun­light.
4. My ove­rall mar­ke­ting the­sis inva­riably asks the ques­tion, “If your pro­duct is not a Social Object, why are you in busi­ness?“
5. Yes­ter­day at the Dar­den talk I explai­ned why geeks have become so impor­tant to mar­ke­ting. My defi­ni­tion of a geek is, “Some­body who socia­li­zes via objects.” When you think about it, we’re all geeks. Because we’re all enthu­sias­tic about something outside our­sel­ves. For me, it’s mar­ke­ting and car­too­ning. for others, it could be cellpho­nes or Scotch Whisky or Apple com­pu­ters or NASCAR or the Bos­ton Red Sox or Buddhism. All these act as Social Objects within a social net­work of peo­ple who care pas­sio­na­tely about the stuff. Wha­te­ver industry you are in, there’s some­body who is gee­ked out about your pro­duct cate­gory. They are using your pro­duct [or a competitor’s pro­duct] as a Social Object. If you don’t unders­tand how the geeks are socia­li­zing– con­nec­ting to other peo­ple– via your pro­duct, then you don’t actually have a mar­ke­ting plan. Heck, you pro­bably don’t have a via­ble busi­ness plan.
6. The Apple iPhone is the best exam­ple of Social Object I can think of. At least, it is when I’m trying to explain it to some­body unfa­mi­liar with the con­cept.
7. The Social Object idea is not roc­ket science.
8. How do you turn a pro­duct into a Social Object? Ans­wer: Social Ges­tu­res. And lots of them.
9. Pro­ducts, and the ideas that spawn them, go viral when peo­ple can share them like gifts. Exam­ple: gmail invi­tes in the early days.
10. Social Object can be abs­tract, digi­tal, mole­cu­lar etc.
11. The inte­res­ting thing about the Social Object is the not the object itself, but the con­ver­sa­tions that hap­pen around them. The Blue Mons­ter is a good exam­ple of this. It’s not the car­toon that’s inte­res­ting, it’s the con­ver­sa­tuons that hap­pen around it that’s inte­res­ting.
12. Ditto with a bottle of wine.
13. Once I get tal­king about mar­ke­ting, it’s hard for me to go more than 3 minu­tes without saying the words, “Social Object”.
14. The most impor­tant word on the inter­net is not “Search”. The most impor­tant word on the inter­net is “Share”. Sha­ring is the dri­ver. Sha­ring is the DNA. We use Social Objects to share our­sel­ves with other peo­ple. We’re pri­ma­tes. we like to groom each other. It’s in our nature.
15. I believe Social Objects are the future of mar­ke­ting.
[“Social Ges­tu­res beget Social Objects”: Nove­me­ber, 2007]
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Chris Sch­roe­der riffs on my whole “Social Object” mar­ke­ting sch­tick with this very salient thought:

If your com­pany wants to suc­ceed, it needs to have a social object mar­ke­ting plan.

Amen to that. But note what Chris also says:

I don’t know about you, but when some­body walks by with an iPhone, I notice. If I see a kid stroll by me in some limi­ted edi­tion Nikes, that regis­ters with me too.

The­rein lies the rub. The Social Object idea is easy to get if your pro­duct is highly remar­ka­ble, highly socia­ble. An iPhone or the latest pair of Nike’s are both fine exam­ples of this.
But I can already hear your inner MBA saying, “Yeah, but what if you don’t work for Nike or Apple? What if your pro­duct is boring home loans, auto insu­rance or… [the list of boring pro­ducts is pretty long].
My stan­dard ans­wer to that is, “Social Ges­tu­res beget Social Objects.“
Which is another way of saying, maybe the way you relate to some­body as a human being plays a part in all this. Maybe desc­ri­bing the pro­duct as “boring” is just one more bullshit lie we tell our­sel­ves in order to make the world seem less com­pli­ca­ted and scary. Hey, my pro­duct is inhe­rently dull and boring, the­re­fore I get to be inhe­rently dull and boring, too. Hoo­ray!
Nowa­days, thanks to folk like Nike, we think of snea­kers as “non-boring” brands. This wasn’t true when I was a kid. Back then snea­kers were those bloody awful $3 plim­solls we wore in Phys Ed. But it took com­pa­nies like Nike and Adi­das to come along and by shear force of will, raise the level of con­ver­sa­tion in the snea­ker depart­ment, before snea­kers became bona fide glo­bal social objects, bona fide glo­bal powerhouse brands.
The deci­sion to raise the level of con­ver­sa­tion isn’t eco­no­mic. Nor is it an inte­llec­tual deci­sion. It’s a moral deci­sion. But whether you have the sto­mach for it is up to you.
Like I told Tho­mas almost 3 years ago re. English bes­poke tai­lo­ring, “Own the con­ver­sa­tion by impro­ving the con­ver­sa­tion.” And hey, it wor­ked. His sales went up 300% in 6 months.
It wasn’t the change in pro­duct that made Tho­mas’ suits Social Objects. It was chan­ging the way he tal­ked to peo­ple. The same applies to Stormhoek, which 3 years ago was an $8 bottle of South Afri­can wine nobody had ever heard of. Con­ver­sa­tion. Mat­ters.
So all you cor­po­rate MBAs out there, here’s a little tip. When you plan­ning on how to embrace the brave new world of Web 2.0, the first ques­tion you ask your­self should not be “What tools do I use?“
Blogs, RSS, You­Tube, Twit­ter, Face­book– it doesn’t mat­ter.
The first ques­tion you should REALLY ask your­self is:
“How do I want to change the way I talk to peo­ple?“
And hope­fully the rest should follow.
Think about it.
[Bonus Link: For a more aca­de­mic take on social objects, check out this post from Anth­ro­po­lo­gist, Jyri Enges­trom.]

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[From “So What’s All This New Mar­ke­ting Stuff, Any­way?”: Decem­ber, 2007] Some peo­ple call it “The New Mar­ke­ting”. Some peo­ple call it “Mar­ke­ting 2.0″. Wha­te­ver name you care to give it, I get asked about it a lot. Here are some ran­dom thoughts, in no par­ti­cu­lar order.
1. “The New Mar­ke­ting” came about because of two uns­top­pa­ble for­ces: [A] The inven­tion of the inter­net and [B] the begin­ning of the demise of what Seth Godin calls the “TV-Industrial Com­plex”. Thanks to the inter­net, as Clay Shirky famously sta­ted in 2004, “the cost and dif­fi­culty of publishing abso­lu­tely anything, by anyone, into a glo­bal medium, just got a whole lot lower. And the effects of that inc­rea­sed pool of poten­tial pro­du­cers is going to be vast.” While this was going on, large com­pa­nies found out that peo­ple were star­ting to ignore their ads. We have too many choi­ces, too many good choi­ces, and we’ve got­ten too good at igno­ring mes­sa­ges.
2. Seth Godin is quite rightly the world’s most res­pec­ted wri­ter on mar­ke­ting. That being said, a lot of peo­ple haven’t heard of Mark Earls yet. They’re both friends of mine, so I don’t want to com­pare them too much. Seth is a mas­ter of taking com­pli­ca­ted ideas and pre­sen­ting them in a way that any Ave­rage Joe can unders­tand. Mark is more of a Mar­ke­ting Geek’s geek. His stuff makes uncom­for­ta­ble rea­ding for anyone in mar­ke­ting who hasn’t been stretching him­self lately.
3. The most impor­tant asset in The New Mar­ke­ting is “having something worth tal­king about”. This makes cer­tain mar­ke­ting peo­ple squea­mish. A lot of us grew up in an era of flashy com­mer­cials for rather unins­pi­ring pro­ducts, and something in our DNA makes us believe that’s the pro­per way to go about things.
4. If I had one big insight from the last year, is how The New Mar­ke­ting has everything to do with how your pro­duct or ser­vice acts as a “Social Object”. Kudos to Jyri Enges­trom for tur­ning me on to it.
5. My second big insight from this year was lear­ning that, even with a fairly every­day pro­duct, you can create social objects simply by using your pro­ducts to make social ges­tu­res. That’s what we did with Stormhoek. The mes­sage wasn’t, “Here’s why you should buy our wine”. The mes­sage was, “We think you’re kinda cool, and we like what you’re doing. We’d like to be part of it, somehow.” And much to everyone’s sur­prise, it wor­ked rather well.
6. Blogs were the big story for 2005. You­Tube for 2006. Face­book for 2007. What’s the big story for 2008? I have no idea. Nor do I think it mat­ters. For the big story, really, is always going to be the same. Web­si­tes comes and go, but “Cheap, Easy, Glo­bal, Hyper­lin­ked Media” will be with us fore­ver, save for Nuc­lear Holo­caust.
7. A lot of what fuels The New Mar­ke­ting is quite simply, the most impor­tant word in the English Lan­guage: “Love”. It’s hard to get someone to read your web­site if you’re not pas­sio­nate about your sub­ject mat­ter.
8. I’m trying to train myself to avoid “Mic­ros­mo­sis” i.e. mis­ta­king of a mic­ro­cosm for the entire cos­mos. If you got all your news from blogs, you’d be for­gi­ven for thin­king that there are just two phone com­pa­nies– Apple and Nokia. But Sony, Moto­rola, LG and Sam­sung sell a lot of pho­nes, too. Just not to our friends.
9. My Defi­ni­tion of “Web 3.0″: Lear­ning how to use the web pro­perly without it taking over your life. I’m not hol­ding my breath.
10. Why is it so hard to explain The New Mar­ke­ting to large com­pa­nies? Because the peo­ple who work there are simply not pre­pa­red to relin­quish the idea of con­trol. Live by metrics, die by metrics etc.
11. I find all this more inte­res­ting when I don’t take it too seriously. Like all things inter­net, it’s far too easy to get carried away.
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[From
“Social Objects For Begin­ners”: Decem­ber, 2007] As y’all will know, I’m fond of tal­king about “Social Objects” and how they per­tain to “Mar­ke­ting 2.0″. Even so, some peo­ple still get con­fu­sed by what a Social Object actually is. So I wrote the follo­wing to cla­rify some more:
The Social Object, in a nutshell, is the rea­son two peo­ple are tal­king to each other, as oppo­sed to tal­king to some­body else. Human beings are social ani­mals. We like to socia­lize. But if think about it, there needs to be a rea­son for it to hap­pen in the first place. That rea­son, that “node” in the social net­work, is what we call the Social Object.
Exam­ple A. You and your friend, Joe like to go bow­ling every Tues­day. The bow­ling is the Social Object.
Exam­ple B. You and your friend, Lee are huge Star Wars fans. Even though you never plan to do so, you two tend to geek out about Darth Vader and X-Wing figh­ters every time you meet. Star Wars is the Social Object.
Exam­ple C. You’ve pop­ped into your local bar for a drink after work. At the bar there’s some ran­dom dude, sen­ding a text on this neat-looking cellphone you’ve never seen before. So you go up to him and ask him about the phone. The ran­dom dude just LOVES his new phone, so has no trou­ble with telling a stran­ger about his new phone for hours on end. Next thing you know, you two are hit­ting it off and you offer to buy him a beer. You spend the rest of the next hour gee­king out about the new phone, till it’s time for you to leave and go dine with your wife. The cellphone was the social object.
Exam­ple D. You’re a horny young guy at a party, in search of a mate. You see a hot young woman across the room. You go up and intro­duce your­self. You do not start the con­ver­sa­tion by saying, “Here’s a list of all the girls I’ve gone to bed with, and some recent bank sta­te­ments sho­wing you how much money I make. Would you like to go to bed with me?” No, something more subtle hap­pens. Basi­cally, like all sin­gle men with an agenda, you ram­ble on like a yutz for ten minu­tes, making small talk. Until she men­tions the name of her favo­rite author, Saul Bellow. Halle­luiah! As it turns out, Saul Bellow hap­pens to be YOUR FAVORITE AUTHOR as well [No, seriously. He really is. You’re not making it up just to look good.]. Next thing you know, you two are totally enve­lo­ped in this deep and mea­ning­ful con­ver­sa­tion about Saul Bellow. “Seize The Day”, “Her­zog”, “Him With His Foot In His Mouth” and “Humbolt’s Gift”, eat your heart out. And as you two share a late-night cab back to her place, you’re thin­king about how Saul Bellow is the Social Object here.
Exam­ple E. You’re an attrac­tive young woman, married to a very suc­cess­ful Hedge Fund Mana­ger in New York’s Upper East Side. Because your hus­band does so well, you don’t actually have to hold down a job for a living. But you still ear­ned a Cum Laude from Dart­mouth, so you need to keep your brain occu­pied. So you and your other Hedge Fund Wife friends get together and orga­nise this very swish Cha­rity Ball at the Ritz Car­le­ton. You’ve gues­sed it; the Cha­rity Ball is the Social Object.
Exam­ple F. After a year of per­so­nal trauma, you decide that yes, indeed, Jesus Christ is your Per­so­nal Saviour. You’ve already joi­ned a Bible rea­ding class and star­ted atten­ding church every Sun­day. Next thing you know, you’ve made a lot of new friends in your new con­gre­ga­tion. Sud­denly you are awash with a whole new pile of Social Objects. Jesus, Church, The Bible, the Church Pic­nics, the choir rehear­sals, the Christ­mas fund drive, the coo­kies and cof­fee after the 11 o’clock ser­vice, yes, all of them are Social Objects for you and new friends to share.
Exam­ple G. You’ve been married for less than a year, and already your first child is born. In the last year, you and your spouse have acqui­red three beau­ti­ful new Social Objects: The marriage, the first­born, and your own new family. It’s what life’s all about.
There. I’ve given you seven exam­ples. But I could give THOUSANDS more. But there’s no need to. The thing to remem­ber is, Human beings do not socia­lize in a com­ple­tely ran­dom way. There’s a tan­gi­ble rea­son for us being together, that ties us together. Again, that rea­son is called the Social Object. Social Net­works form around Social Objects, not the other way around.
Another thing to remem­ber is the world of Social Objects can have many layers. As with any com­plex crea­ture, there can be more than one rea­son for us to be together. So any­body currently dating a cute girl who’s into not just Saul Bellow, but also into bow­ling and cellpho­nes and Star Wars and swish Cha­rity Balls as well, will know what I mean.
The final thing to remem­ber is that, Social Objects by them­sel­ves don’t mat­ter in the grand scheme of things. Sure, it’s nice han­ging out with Lee tal­king about Star Wars. But if Star Wars had never exis­ted, you’d pro­bably still enjoy each other’s com­pany for other rea­sons, if they hap­pe­ned to pre­sent them­sel­ves. Human beings mat­ter. Being with other human beings mat­ter. And since the dawn of time until the end of time, we use wha­te­ver tools we have at hand to make it hap­pen.
[Afterthought:] As I’m fond of saying, nothing about Social Objects is roc­ket science. Then again, there’s nothing about “Love” that is roc­ket science, either. That doesn’t mean it can’t mess with your head. Rock on.
[Link:] Mark Earls has some nice thoughts on this, as well. “Things change because of peo­ple inte­rac­ting with other peo­ple, rather than tech­no­logy or design really doing things to peo­ple.“
[N.B. “Social Objects” is a term I did not coin myself, but was tur­ned onto by the anth­ro­pol­gist and Jaiku foun­der, Jyri Enges­trom.]
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[From “Why The Social Object Is The Future Of Mar­ke­ting”: January, 2008]From my pre­vious post:

The Social Object, in a nutshell, is the rea­son two peo­ple are tal­king to each other, as oppo­sed to tal­king to some­body else. Human beings are social ani­mals. We like to socia­lize. But if think about it, there needs to be a rea­son for it to hap­pen in the first place. That rea­son, that “node” in the social net­work, is what we call the Social Object.

 

I’ve often gone on record with the sta­te­ment, “Social Objects are the future of mar­ke­ting”. This post will attempt to explain further why i believe that.
THE BAD OLD DAYS: MARKETING IN THE AGE OF HYPER-CLUTTER.
We have just come through a hundred-year long era, called the “Mass Era”.
Mass Media and Mass Pro­duc­tion came of age at the same time. We try to sepa­rate the two, and we can­not.
A few deca­des ago, the local car dea­lers in town gave you a choice of four or five models. Now your choice is in the many dozens. There are well over a dozen varie­ties of Coca Cola. And thou­sands of dif­fe­rent drink com­bos you can buy at any Star­bucks on any given day.
I can sing you jin­gles for Nestle cho­co­late bars, from com­mer­cials I haven’t seen in over twenty years. That’s how clut­te­red my mind is. And yours is pro­bably not that dif­fe­rent.
Why would any sane per­son think that swim­ming in a pollu­ted sea of com­mer­cial mes­sa­ges was fun for peo­ple? Mes­sa­ges are not infor­ma­tion.
In this hyper-cluttered lands­cape the mediocre mar­ke­ter will say, “I know! Let’s add another item of clut­ter to the cul­tu­ral land­fill! Lets inc­rease the noise-to-signal ratio!!!”
And then he won­ders why it doesn’t work.
It doesn’t work because we’re igno­ring you now. You had our atten­tion for a while, but as you know, it was more a cul­tu­ral acci­dent than anything you really had any true con­trol over.
The world has moved on, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Your boss also sus­pects this may be the case, but thank­fully for your career, he hasn’t brought it up in a mee­ting. Yet.
THEN ALONG CAME THE INTERNET…
I can’t help won­de­ring if the inter­net coming along at the same time as the Hyper-Clutter Era reaching cri­ti­cal mass was a his­to­ri­cal acci­dent, or did the inter­net evolve as fast as it did in order to cir­cum­vent the Hyper-Clutter? I’m gues­sing the lat­ter. If the pur­ve­yors of one-way con­ver­sa­tions had offe­red something more sus­tai­na­ble and satisf­ying, maybe our need to “talk to real human beings” again would not have been so pro­noun­ced.
Now, when you buy something, you don’t phone up the com­pany and order a brochure. You go onto Goo­gle and check out what other peo­ple– peo­ple like your­self– are saying about the pro­duct. In terms of com­mu­ni­ca­tion, the com­pany no lon­ger has first-mover advan­tage. They don’t ask your com­pany for the brochure until your pro­duct has already jum­ped through a series of hoops that SIMPLY WERE NOT there twenty years ago.
YOU NO LONGER CONTROL THE CONVERSATION. THEN AGAIN, MAYBE YOU NEVER DID.
Human beings are much bet­ter at recog­ni­zing the linear, rather than recog­ni­zing the ran­dom and expo­nen­tial.
1 Oh No! There’s a sabre-tooth tiger hea­ding my way!
2. Run!
That is linear. Our cave­man ances­tors found it a most use­ful qua­lity.
We run an ad. Sales go up. So taking the Cave­man cue, we frame it in a linear fashion to explain to our­sel­ves the cause and effect.
“Peo­ple liked our ad so much, they drop­ped what they were doing, sped down to Wal-Mart and bought our pro­duct!”
If only.
What hap­pe­ned was pro­bably more ran­dom. You saw an ad for Brand X. A few days later you’re having cof­fee over at your friend, Pam’s house. She has Brand X on her kitchen coun­ter.
“I saw that ad for it the other day,” you say. “Is the stuff any good?”
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s not bad.”
So the next time you’re in the super­mar­ket, you see the pro­duct, and buy it. Ker-chiing.
The ad didn’t make the sale. Your friend made the sale, not the ad. The ad merely star­ted a con­ver­sa­tion.
This is what they call “Word-Of-Mouth”. When it works, it works very, very well. The main pro­blem is, it rarely does. The mar­ke­ter has little con­trol of the out­come.
But the marketer’s boss doesn’t want to hear it. The mar­ke­ter wants to tell his boss this, even less. So we cons­truct mytho­lo­gies to dis­guise the fear. Dis­guise the unk­nown. Dis­guise the ran­dom, in the world where UNCERTAINTY AND RANDOMNESS MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO TAKE OVER THE MATRIX. EVER.
YOU AND PAM, HAVING COFFEE.
Pam just sold you a box of Brand X. Pam doesn’t work for Brand X, Pam gets no com­mis­sion from Brand X, so why did she make the sale, inad­ver­tently, or other­wise?
Go back to what I said in my last post about Social Objects:

The final thing to remem­ber is that, Social Objects by them­sel­ves don’t mat­ter in the grand scheme of things. Sure, it’s nice han­ging out with Lee tal­king about Star Wars. But if Star Wars had never exis­ted, you’d pro­bably still enjoy each other’s com­pany for other rea­sons, if they hap­pe­ned to pre­sent them­sel­ves. Human beings mat­ter. Being with other human beings mat­ter. And since the dawn of time until the end of time, we use wha­te­ver tools we have at hand to make it happen.

When you and Pam met for cof­fee, you inte­rac­ted with each other in the con­text of what anth­ro­po­lo­gists call “Object-Centerd Socia­lity”. In other words, you did not socia­lize in a vacuum, you socia­li­zed around objects, you socia­li­zed around things. You tal­ked about the Cubs game last week. You tal­ked about how Billy was doing in Third Grade. You tal­ked about this great movie you just saw. You tal­ked about great Pam’s cof­fee was. And yes, you tal­ked, howe­ver briefly, about Brand X. All these things you tal­ked about, an anth­ro­po­lo­gist would call “Social Objects”. And the thing is, you came over just to chew the fat with Pam. Tal­king about Billy or the movie or the Cubs game was not part of any pre-agenda. You could’ve tal­ked about other things– books, records, home fur­nishings, it doesn’t mat­ter– and you would’ve enjo­yed your cof­fee with Pam just as much.
Yes, a lot of socia­li­zing is ran­dom. Ergo, yes, a lot of mar­ke­ting is also ran­dom.
SO WHERE DOES SOCIAL OBJECTS FIT IN, FROM NOW ON?
From now on you won’t have the TV Com­mer­cials to rely on to start your con­ver­sa­tions. Peo­ple are igno­ring you. Mass media has simply got­ten too expen­sive. The only way your pro­duct is going to spread is by word of mouth. The only way it’s going to get word of mouth is if there is something in it for the per­son tal­king about it.
The per­son you want tal­king about is not doing it for the money. She’ll only talk about it if it ser­ves as a Social Object. A “hook” to move the con­ver­sa­tion along. A hook she can use it as a way to relate to her fellow human beings.
THE BAD NEWS IS, MOST PRODUCTS ARE BORING. THE GOOD NEWS IS, MOST WORD-OF-MOUTH IS BORING.
If you’re an ave­rage mar­ke­ter, chan­ces are that Alas! you don’t sell Mer­ce­des’ or Apple iPods for a living. You pro­bably sell some fairly pro­saic, uti­li­ta­rian pro­duct. Like Brand X.
Obviously, if your pro­duct is more conversation-worthy, like a Mer­ce­des or an iPod, your job will be easier. Nice work if you can get it.
But let’s face it, ave­rage peo­ple are never going to sit down and have a deep and mea­ning­ful con­ver­sa­tion about Brand X. But hey, maybe over cof­fee, a cou­ple of little soon-forgotten sen­ten­ces from some­body like Pam, is enough to make the sale.
I’m fond of saying, “If your pro­duct is not a Social Object, why are you in busi­ness?”
But of course, as Pam just pro­ved, your pro­duct, Brand X, IS INDEED a social object. Just maybe your team needs to hone its thin­king a little bit.
[Bonus Link from Jyri Enges­trom:] “Why some social net­work ser­vi­ces work and others don’t — Or: the case for object-centered socia­lity.“
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[From “The Social Mar­ker– The Social Object on Ste­roids etc.” January, 2008] You all will be fami­liar with my wri­tings on Social Objects by now.

The Social Object, in a nutshell, is the rea­son two peo­ple are tal­king to each other, as oppo­sed to tal­king to some­body else. Human beings are social ani­mals. We like to socia­lize. But if think about it, there needs to be a rea­son for it to hap­pen in the first place. That rea­son, that “node” in the social net­work, is what we call the Social Object.

Inc­rea­singly I’ve been using a term, “Social Mar­ker” to desc­ribe a cer­tain type of Social Object. I’ve found it espe­cially use­ful for explai­ning cer­tain ideas to mar­ke­ting folk.
When two peo­ple meet, the first thing they try to do is place each other in con­text. A social con­text. So they insert some hints into the conversation:

“I used to know your Uncle Bob.“
“I work at Saatchi & Saatchi’s.
“I’ve been rea­ding Mal­colm Glad­well for years.“
“I’m a mem­ber of Soho House.“
“I was rea­ding Doc Searls’ blog the other day.“
“I was college room­ma­tes with your ex-girlfriend.“
“I was sam­pling some fine Islay sin­gle malts the other eve­ning.“
“I bought some Ver­sace shirts from Barney’s last week.“
“You’re a Red Sox fan too?“
“I think Andy Warhol is ove­rra­ted.“
“I think Led Zep­pe­lin is unde­rra­ted.“
“I was having din­ner with some guys from Gold­man Sachs.“
“My wife thinks the Upper West Side is really good for schools.“
“San Tro­pez is too expen­sive in February.”

Let’s say, for sake of argu­ment, that you never heard of me before, but I knew all about you. And let’s say, for exam­ple, you were also the world’s grea­test Bos­ton Red Sox fan. And let’s say I saw you in a cof­fee shop. And let’s say I went over to your table, like a stal­ker [You don’t know me from Adam, remem­ber].
And let’s say the first thing out of mouth was a short list of five names:
“Carl Yastr­zemski. Carl­ton Fisk. Rico Petro­ce­lli. Fred Lynn. Dwight Evans.“
Yes, gran­ted, that would be pretty strange beha­vior. That being said, because you knew every sin­gle fac­toid about the 1975 World Series there was to know, you would know exactly who and what I was tal­king about. Right away, you would know that we sha­red a con­text, even though I had only given you five names and nothing else. Which would make you more likely to invite me to sit down at your table and start a con­ver­sa­tion.
Every ecosys­tem has its own, uni­que set of social mar­kers– nouns that serve as social shorthand, stuff you use to let other peo­ple know ASAP that you know what you’re tal­king about, that you are a fellow “citi­zen” in a cer­tain space.
When I visit San Fran­cisco I am always sur­pri­sed how often the name of my friend, Robert Sco­ble comes up in ran­dom con­ver­sa­tion, unpromp­ted by myself. Why is that? Why is he so well known? Is his blog REALLY that good? Is he REALLY that smart and inte­res­ting?
Well, I could give a whole stack of rea­sons to explain why I think Robert’s suc­cess is well-deserved. But one major rea­son that his blog’s traf­fic is so high, and his name so well-known, is that his per­so­nal brand has somehow mana­ged to become a Social Mar­ker inside the Sili­con Valley ecosys­tem. The same could also be said for Mike Arring­ton, Loic Le Meur or Mark Zuc­ker­berg. Drop­ping their names into ran­dom con­ver­sa­tions allows peo­ple to quickly and effi­ciently con­tex­tua­lize them­sel­ves.
Something simi­lar hap­pe­ned to me a cou­ple of years ago. A artist friend of mine was hit­ting on a girl, another artist, in a bar in New York’s Lower East Side. For wha­te­ver rea­son, the sub­ject of “Art and the Inter­net” came up. So my friend star­ted telling the girl about this other friend of his, this guy living over in England, who drew these weird little car­toons on the back of busi­ness cards…
“That is SO uno­ri­gi­nal,” the girl inte­rrupts, rolling her eye­balls. “Who does he think he is, Hugh Mac­Leod?“
Heh. Small world. Yes. She was using me as a Social Mar­ker.
Social Mar­kers are a prime form of social shorthand, that peo­ple use to STAKE OUT the ecosys­tem they’re occup­ying. So why do I find this such a use­ful term for mar­ke­ters? Because obviously, if your pro­duct is a Social Mar­ker in your industry ecosys­tem [the way the iPhone is in the mobile world, or Star­bucks is in the cof­fee world, or Ama­zon is the book world, or Goo­gle is in the search world, or Whole Foods is in the super­mar­ket world, or Vir­gin is in the air­line world, or English Cut in the bes­poke world etc etc] you will have an AMAZING com­pe­ti­tive advan­tage to call your own.
And if the pro­duct your com­pany makes is not a Social Mar­ker, I guess the first ques­tion would be, “Why the hell not?” Quit your job and start over.
[Update:] Neal makes a really good point in the com­ments: Really inte­res­ting thought, Hugh, but bad pro­ducts could also be a social mar­ker — “ah, yes, I was rip­ped off by that buil­ding com­pany too” or “oh — you’ll be disap­poin­ted by that mobile phone as well”. I’d sug­gest there’s also a varia­ble here about posi­tive v nega­tive that you should think about before quit­ting that job :)
[Bonus Link] US News & World Report: “Selling in a Post-Meatball Era– The quest for ‘social objects’ that create their own Web buzz.” Seth Godin in a great inter­view to plug his new book, Meat­ball Sun­dae. “Social Object” given a small men­tion etc.
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[From “Free Car­toons As Social Objects”: May, 2008] When I first star­ted put­ting up car­toons onto gaping­void in 2001, they were in a small, 400-pixel-wide for­mat, just like the “Love Let­ter” car­toon you see above.
Then about 2 years ago, I star­ted pos­ting them in high-resolution, like the “Dino­saur” car­toon below [Click on the image and the high-res ver­sion will pop up].
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This meant peo­ple could actually down­load the ima­ges and start using them for their own stuff. Like I said in my licen­sing terms,

Hey, if you want to put the work up on your web­site, blog, or stick it on paper, t-shirts, busi­ness cards, stic­kers, home­made gree­ting cards, Power­point sli­des, or wha­te­ver, as far as I’m con­cer­ned, as long as it’s just for your own per­so­nal use, as long as you’re not trying to make money off it directly, and you’re giving me due attri­bu­tion, I’m totally cool with the idea.

As a “Social Object”, a car­toon that one can actually print out and hang on their cube wall, or put on a t-shirt, a busi­ness card etc is far more power­ful and use­ful than say, YET ONE MORE IMAGE you can find on the inter­net and e-mail en masse to your friends.
i.e. The car­toon itself hasn’t chan­ged, but the inte­rac­tion bet­ween it and the “End User” is sud­denly far more mea­ning­ful.
So of course, the next layman’s ques­tion is, “Yes, but… how do you mone­tize it?“
And of course, the ans­wer is, “Indi­rectly”.
For exam­ple, in Octo­ber, 2006 I post the Mic­ro­soft Blue Mons­ter car­toon. Within a few months Mic­ro­soft is somehow paying me a lot of money to do other dra­wings for them. Without the for­mer, the lat­ter would never have hap­pe­ned. And without the lat­ter, Sun Mic­rosys­tems would never have approached me. Everything feeds into everything else. Exactly.
In other words, I don’t create the online car­toons as “pro­ducts” to be sold. I create the car­toons as “Social Objects”, i.e. “Sha­ring Devi­ces” that help me to build rela­tionships with.
As with all things, the REAL value comes from the human rela­tionships that are built AROUND the social object, not the object in itself.

I’ll quote my friend, Mark Earls one more time. This is from his second book, “Herd”:

“Cova is surely right to sug­gest that much of modern con­su­mer beha­viour is social in nature. We do it not just in a social con­text (tan­gi­ble and imme­dia­tely pre­sent or over dis­tan­ces) but for social rea­sons — that is the object or acti­vity is the means for a group or tribe to form or inte­ract. This also echoes a lot of what Dou­glas Atkin desc­ri­bes in his study of cult brands — brands which have deve­lo­ped a cult sta­tus (like Apple, and Ford’s bes­tse­lling pic­kup) seem to serve an underl­ying social need within each indi­vi­dual (just as reli­gious cults do): a need to belong. The real draw is pro­bably not the brand but… other people.”

And I’ll also ask my favo­rite ques­tion, one more time: If your pro­duct is not a “Social Object”, how on earth do you manage to stay in business?

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(Car­toon taken from The Hugh­train etc.)
Like I said in my inter­view with Mark Earls, The Blue Mons­ter is a “Purpose-Idea”. As Mark, the man who first coi­ned the term explains it:

Put really simply, the Purpose-Idea is the “What For?” of a busi­ness, or any kind of com­mu­nity. What exists to change (or pro­tect) in the world, why emplo­yees get out of bed in the mor­ning, what dif­fe­rence the busi­ness seeks to make on behalf of cus­to­mers and emplo­yees and ever­yone else? BTW this is not “mis­sion, vision, values” terri­tory — it’s about real dri­ves, pas­sions and beliefs. The stuff that men in suits tend to get emba­rras­sed about because it’s per­so­nal. But it’s the stuff that makes the dif­fe­rence bet­ween suc­cess and fai­lure, because this kind of stuff brings folk together in all aspects of human life.

Real dri­ves, pas­sions and beliefs. Exactly.
The Blue Mons­ter line, “Change The World Or Go Home” is not roc­ket science or lite­rary bri­lliance. It just arti­cu­la­tes a sim­ple belief, a sim­ple pas­sion, a sim­ple drive THAT ALREADY EXISTED, long before The Blue Mons­ter ever came on to the scene. That’s all it was ever meant to do.
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[The Mic­ro­soft Blue Mons­ter etc.]
Whether you agree or disa­gree with it doesn’t mat­ter, the impor­tant bit is that peo­ple within Mic­ro­soft believe it. Unlike a con­ven­tio­nal ad cam­paign, it’s not about you. It’s about them.
Why is something like this poten­tially valua­ble to a busi­ness? Simply put, if you believe something pas­sio­na­tely enough, for long enough, arti­cu­late it well enough, and your actions are alig­ned, cre­di­ble and con­sis­tent with your belief for long enough, it’s just a mat­ter of time before other peo­ple start belie­ving it, too. And next thing you know, you have an inte­res­ting con­ver­sa­tion going on, both inside and outside the com­pany. And as Doc Searls famously said, “Mar­kets are con­ver­sa­tions”. Ker-Chiing.
Again, none of this is roc­ket science. Tal­king to peo­ple never is.
When peo­ple ask me what exactly is a Blue Mons­ter, I tell them, it’s not neces­sa­rily a car­toon. It’s simply a social object that allows one to more easily arti­cu­late the Purpose-Idea. No more, no less.
I’ve been asking myself for years, what comes after con­ven­tio­nal, Madison-Avenue-style adver­ti­sing, now that we live in a post-TV, post-advertising, post-message world? “Crea­ting Blue Mons­ters” is the clo­sest I’ve ever come to fin­ding an actual ans­wer.
Besi­des dra­wing the car­toons, hel­ping other com­pa­nies create Blue Mons­ters is how I intend to spend the remain­der of my career.
Car­toons and Blue Mons­ters. I really do have the world’s grea­test job. Rock on.
[To Be Continued.…]

November 6, 2008

the cocktail party rule

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True Story: A friend of mine, call her “Jane”, is a really good cor­po­rate blog­ger. Really good. She’s won awards. Her work has been fea­tu­red in the mains­tream media. She’s a pio­neer. She’s a rocks­tar.
Any­way, last week one of her company’s major com­pe­ti­tors star­ted their own blog, basi­cally trying to emu­late Jane‘s work, or perhaps more impor­tantly, Jane‘s suc­cess.
What did Jane do? She was cool about it. On her blog she wrote them a “Wel­come to the neigh­borhood” post. “Good luck with your new blog­ging adven­ture” etc. Oh, and she also prai­sed one of her competitor’s pro­ducts, which truth be told, is a really good pro­duct for that industry.
Well, no soo­ner had she pos­ted it, than one of the senior suits wrote a group email to every­body, bera­ting her for “Adver­ti­sing one of our competitor’s pro­ducts, ins­tead of tal­king about our own exce­llent pro­ducts”.
Sigh. What the poor suit doesn’t rea­lize, of course, is that on a basic, pri­mal level, how you talk about your com­pe­ti­tion actually says a lot more about you, than tal­king about your­self ever will.
I call this The Cock­tail Party Rule– what’s true at cock­tail par­ties is also true in mar­ke­ting: “If you want to be boring, talk about your­self. If you want to be inte­res­ting, talk about something other than your­self.“
If you have the cojo­nes to actually say “Nice job!” in public to some­body in the same busi­ness as you, it means you’re pro­bably secure enough about your own sch­tick. It means you’re not exactly worried about your own pro­duct. And peo­ple can tell. Ani­mals can smell fear, or the lack the­reof.
I’ve seen this hap­pen in the art world, many times. It’s the great artists who are the big­gest fans of other great artists. It’s the hacks and no-hopers who go around calling the great artists “ove­rra­ted”.
Jane explai­ned her actions to the suit, and the logic behind them, the suit grum­bled a bit, then con­ce­ded. Cri­sis aver­ted.
Nothing I haven’t seen before. It’s human nature to want the bene­fits of this brave new world of ours, without wan­ting it to have to actually exist, without having to do anything dif­fe­rently them­sel­ves. At least at first. Edu­ca­tion is expensive.

November 1, 2008

creating blue monsters: “social objects” that articulate the purpose-idea

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zzzzzz7654122.jpg
(Car­toon taken from The Hugh­train etc.)
Like I said in my inter­view with Mark Earls, The Blue Mons­ter is a “Purpose-Idea”. As Mark, the man who first coi­ned the term explains it:

Put really simply, the Purpose-Idea is the “What For?” of a busi­ness, or any kind of com­mu­nity. What exists to change (or pro­tect) in the world, why emplo­yees get out of bed in the mor­ning, what dif­fe­rence the busi­ness seeks to make on behalf of cus­to­mers and emplo­yees and ever­yone else? BTW this is not “mis­sion, vision, values” terri­tory — it’s about real dri­ves, pas­sions and beliefs. The stuff that men in suits tend to get emba­rras­sed about because it’s per­so­nal. But it’s the stuff that makes the dif­fe­rence bet­ween suc­cess and fai­lure, because this kind of stuff brings folk together in all aspects of human life.

Real dri­ves, pas­sions and beliefs. Exactly.
The Blue Mons­ter line, “Change The World Or Go Home” is not roc­ket science or lite­rary bri­lliance. It just arti­cu­la­tes a sim­ple belief, a sim­ple pas­sion, a sim­ple drive THAT ALREADY EXISTED, long before The Blue Mons­ter ever came on to the scene. That’s all it was ever meant to do.
msbizcard999aaa.jpg
[The Mic­ro­soft Blue Mons­ter etc.]
Whether you agree or disa­gree with it doesn’t mat­ter, the impor­tant bit is that peo­ple within Mic­ro­soft believe it. Unlike a con­ven­tio­nal ad cam­paign, it’s not about you. It’s about them.
Why is something like this poten­tially valua­ble to a busi­ness? Simply put, if you believe something pas­sio­na­tely enough, for long enough, arti­cu­late it well enough, and your actions are alig­ned, cre­di­ble and con­sis­tent with your belief for long enough, it’s just a mat­ter of time before other peo­ple start belie­ving it, too. And next thing you know, you have an inte­res­ting con­ver­sa­tion going on, both inside and outside the com­pany. And as Doc Searls famously said, “Mar­kets are con­ver­sa­tions”. Ker-Chiing.
Again, none of this is roc­ket science. Tal­king to peo­ple never is.
When peo­ple ask me what exactly is a Blue Mons­ter, I tell them, it’s not neces­sa­rily a car­toon. It’s simply a social object that allows one to more easily arti­cu­late the Purpose-Idea. No more, no less.
I’ve been asking myself for years, what comes after con­ven­tio­nal, Madison-Avenue-style adver­ti­sing, now that we live in a post-TV, post-advertising, post-message world? “Crea­ting Blue Mons­ters” is the clo­sest I’ve ever come to fin­ding an actual ans­wer.
Besi­des dra­wing the car­toons, hel­ping other com­pa­nies create Blue Mons­ters is how I intend to spend the remain­der of my career.
Car­toons and Blue Mons­ters. I really do have the world’s grea­test job. Rock on.
[More Blue Mons­ter back­ground rea­ding here.]

 

October 31, 2008

mass marketing and the heroic, lone individual

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From my recent ‘Ten Ques­tions’ with Mark Earls:

7. In “Crea­tive Age”, you des­tro­yed a very sac­red cow of the agency world, The Brand. With your second book, “Herd”, you suc­cess­fully went after an equally mas­sive agency sac­red cow: The Idea of Con­su­mer as “Heroic Indi­vi­dual” [Embo­died by cul­tu­ral icons like The Marl­boro Man, or the exis­ten­tial ath­lete wea­ring Nike’s]. Your mes­sage see­med to be, actually guys, we’re social ani­mals. We’re social pri­ma­tes; we behave more like chimps and gori­llas, more than we behave like lone, cigarette-smoking cow­boys. Care to explain the idea further?
[Mark’s Ans­wer:] Again to sim­plify: Human beings are to inde­pen­dent action, what cats are to swim­ming. We can do it if we really have to, but mostly we don’t… Ins­tead, we do what we do because of what those around us are doing (Wha­te­ver our minds and our cul­tu­res tell us).
So if you want to change what I’m doing, don’t try to per­suade me– don’t try to make me– do anything. Ins­tead, enlist the help of my friends…
But not cru­dely (as in “Recom­men­da­tion”). That’s just per­sua­sion by another name: another “Push” tac­tic. I’m con­vin­ced the ans­wer lies in crea­ting “Pull” (i.e. Social) forces.

When I wrote that ques­tion for Mark, I’d been thin­king a lot about the “Heroic, Lone Indi­vi­dual” sch­tick in mass media, par­ti­cu­larly with mass mar­ke­ting.
Most mass-market mes­sa­ges are con­su­med alone. Most of the ones we see are so unre­mar­ka­ble– think of a late-night TV com­mer­cial for a local car dea­ler, for exam­ple– they’re not Social Objects, they don’t warrant us doing the social, they don’t warrant us sha­ring them with peo­ple. Sure, we can gather in groups around the TV and be watching the same com­mer­cial, but the com­mer­cial is not genui­nely addres­sing us as a group. It’s trying trying to pick us off, one by one.
Ergo, the world of mass mar­ke­ting is basi­cally a lonely place. Which makes the Marl­boro Man- think riding the range with no other peo­ple for miles around– or the exis­ten­tial ath­lete– think Tiger Woods, about to make the ama­zing putt– the per­fect citi­zen for it.
Then along comes the inter­net. Along comes inte­rac­tive. Along comes “sha­ring”. Along comes media that actually crea­tes real social beha­vior, as oppo­sed to just trying to create idea­li­zed, thea­tri­cal ver­sions of it..
Sud­denly Mr. Lone­some Heroic seems a bit out of place.

October 17, 2008

note to my “tribe”: where are we all headed, anyway?

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Crys­tal from Ohio sent me this pic­ture last night. Appa­rently she liked one of my car­toons so much, she went ahead and got it made into a tat­too. Thanks, Crys­tal! That’s a huge com­pli­ment.
This is the second time I’ve seen this hap­pen with my work. The first time was with the Mic­ro­soft Blue Mons­ter.
BMtattoo2.jpg
So if peo­ple per­ma­nently embe­llishing their own human skin with my work is anything to go by, it seems my “Tribe” is buil­ding (with all these thou­sands of peo­ple seeing my work online every week, I sup­pose it’s to be expec­ted).
And as our mutual friend, Seth says, every tribe needs a leader:

The next fron­tier of mar­ke­ting is in lea­ding groups of peo­ple who are wor­king together to get somewhere.

I con­cur. So I’m gues­sing that “Lea­der” job now falls down to me.
Don’t get too exci­ted. I’m not Gandhi, I’m just a car­too­nist in West Texas with a few crazy ideas up my sleeve. I find the pros­pect of lea­ding a “tribe” a bit daun­ting, to be honest.
Lea­dership does not exist in a vacuum, you need somewhere to actually lead your tribe to. Moses had the Land of Milk & Honey. MLK had The Pro­mi­sed Land. Tho­mas Jef­fer­son had the newly-formed Uni­ted Sta­tes. Putin has a strong and proud Rus­sia. Doc Searls has The Clue­train. Steve Clay­ton and his friends within Mic­ro­soft have The Blue Mons­ter.
Me? I have no idea. Like I said, I’m just a car­too­nist…
The good news is, to lead a tribe you don’t neces­sa­rily have to have a pro­mi­sed land, a uto­pian vision, or a new world order to lead a tribe. You simply need what my other great mar­ke­ting friend, Mark Earls calls “The Purpose-Idea”, which as a bona fide Social Object, is THE REASON why peo­ple are joi­ning together in the first place.
I’ve been telling my clients for years now, if you’re going to have a follo­wing, a com­mu­nity, a “tribe”, it can’t just be about you and your lovely pro­duct. It’s got to be about something higher than, and beyond… your­self.
What is true for them is, yes, also true for me. Like I told my good friend, James Gover­nor on Twit­ter the other day,

If I’m to lead a “Tribe”, it needs to be for MUCH bet­ter rea­sons than “Please buy my litho­graphs, they’re very nice etc.”

Or my ori­gi­nal dra­wings. Or my book. Or my con­sul­ting ser­vi­ces. Or my spea­king gigs. Or wha­te­ver.
So WHAT IS my Purpose-Idea, beyond get­ting peo­ple to read my car­toons and hire me for the occa­sio­nal paid work? In spite of all the advice I’m always giving to other peo­ple, I’m not always 100% sure, myself.
Yes, it’s still a work in pro­gress, though I DO know that doing what I can to help other peo­ple and com­pa­nies learn “How To Be Crea­tive” figu­res hea­vily in the equation.

October 15, 2008

“crofting” as a metaphor for the new world of work?

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Recently I wrote about “crof­ting”, which has always had a big influence on my life.

My pater­nal grand­father was a Scot­tish High­land “crof­ter”. He lived on a “croft” i.e. a very small hol­ding of land, where he rai­sed sheep and grew pota­toes. I used to spend my sum­mers there as a boy. We were very close.
Crof­ting is a good life, but not a very finan­cially rewar­ding one. It’s very self-sufficient, though. The inte­res­ting thing for me loo­king back, is that crof­ters never did “just one thing”. Every day they had something else going on. One day it might be sheep. The next it might be a job wor­king on the roads for the local coun­cil. I knew one crof­ter who drove the mail van. Another who ran the local post office. They would do their jobs, but after work they’d still have their sheep, cows and pota­toes to attend to.
As my dad is fond of remin­ding me, I seem to have inhe­ri­ted the crof­ting men­ta­lity. I DON’T like waking up in the mor­ning and doing the same thing every day. I LIKE having all these dif­fe­rent balls in the air– car­too­ning, pain­ting, con­sul­ting, wri­ting, mar­ke­ting, blog­ging etc. Sure, part of me would like nothing bet­ter than just “reti­ring to the desert and making pain­tings”, but another part of me likes all the run­ning around in dif­fe­rent direc­tions. And all this run­ning around DOES get tiring, I can tell you that. Some­ti­mes I LOVE the fee­ling of being cons­tantly overwhel­med. Other times I utterly des­pise it.

Since that post I’ve got­ten more than a few emails, with peo­ple basi­cally saying, “Thank you for coming up with a term that totally desc­ri­bes my life!“
The tra­di­tio­nal High­land crof­ter is quickly beco­ming a thing of the past. As my uncle, a crof­ter like his father before him, recently quip­ped, “We just farm manila enve­lo­pes now” [Rural sub­si­dies from the Euro­pean bureauc­rats tend to arrive in manila enve­lo­pes]. But as the Big­Corp job-for-life also beco­mes more and more a thing of the past, expect to see more “Crof­ters” out there, even if like me, it’s no lon­ger sheep and pota­toes we’re selling. I think it’s a sweet little term that con­veys a lot, espe­cially to those of us who seem to have a built-in aver­sion to sala­ried posi­tions in other people’s com­pa­nies. You?
[Bonus Link: Pro­bably the most well-known book on Scot­tish crof­ting. “The Crof­ter & The Laird” by John McPhee.]

 

October 8, 2008

“tribes”: ten questions for seth godin

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10 Ques­tions For Seth Godin
My friend and men­tor, Seth Godin has a new book out, “Tri­bes”. As has become a regu­lar gaping­void tra­di­tion, to cele­brate the launch I e-mailed Seth 10 ques­tions, which he kindly ans­we­red below. Rock on.

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1. For the bene­fit of gaping­void rea­ders not yet fami­liar with your work [all 14 of them], let’s get the main sch­piel over and done with: From your pers­pec­tive, what is “Tri­bes” about?
It explains why top-down, buzz-driven media is the past, not the future.
The world has always been orga­ni­zed into tri­bes, groups of peo­ple who want to (need to) con­nect with each other, with a lea­der and with a move­ment. The pro­ducts, ser­vi­ces and ideas that are gai­ning currency fas­ter than ever are ones that are built on a tribe.
Barack Obama has one, John McCain tried to co-opt one. Arianna Huf­fing­ton has built the most popu­lar blog in the world around one. Har­ley David­son and Apple are tita­nic brands for the very same rea­son. They sell a chance to join a group that mat­ters.
The punch­line is that the only way to lead a tribe is to lead it. And that means that mar­ke­ting is now about lea­dership, about cha­llen­ging the sta­tus quo and about con­nec­ting peo­ple who can actually make a dif­fe­rence. If you can’t do that, don’t launch your site, your pro­duct, your non-profit or your career.
I’d argue that you unders­tand how to tap into this need, Hugh. Lots of peo­ple don’t like your work – screw them, we don’t like them any­way. The peo­ple who do like, who find that it reso­na­tes… it’s likely that we’ll like each other. You lead us to a place we want to go.
2. Your semi­nal bes­tse­ller from a few years ago, “Pur­ple Cow”, made the asser­tion that “Ever­yone is a Mar­ke­ter”. Though this would now be con­si­de­red pretty stan­dard doc­trine for mar­ke­ting geeks Everywhere, at the time I remem­ber it see­ming a pretty radi­cal, new, cha­llen­ging thought. In Tri­bes, it seems to me you’ve upped the ante by asser­ting that “Ever­yone is a Lea­der”. Care to ela­bo­rate?
Sure. The idea that ever­yone is a mar­ke­ter is still hard for a sur­pri­singly large num­ber of orga­ni­za­tions. Non pro­fits (most of them) don’t see the world that way. Neither do tra­di­tio­nal fac­to­ries or many other busi­nes­ses. But it’s so clearly true, I don’t even have to out­line here how the pro­duct is the mar­ke­ting, how the ser­vice is the mar­ke­ting, how every human being who touches something is doing mar­ke­ting.
Well, if we go a giant step for­ward and rea­lize that it is for and about the tribe, that tri­bes – con­nec­ted, moti­va­ted groups of peo­ple – are the engi­nes of growth, then it seems clear to me that what mar­ke­ting means today is lea­dership. If you’re boring or staid, no one will follow you. Why would they?
3. Anyone who knows you would con­si­der you a lea­der, in your own uni­que way. And the same could be said for a lot of the peo­ple you per­so­nally hang out with. But it seems to me that this book was not writ­ten for those type of folk, but for peo­ple who have yet to really con­si­der them­sel­ves as lea­dership mate­rial. It seems to me that the main thrust of the book is about trying to get them to make the leap from “Follo­wer” to “Lea­der”. Is there any truth in that?
Ever­yone isn’t going to be a lea­der. But ever­yone isn’t going to be suc­cess­ful, either.
Suc­cess is now the domain of peo­ple who lead. That doesn’t mean they’re in charge, it doesn’t mean they are the CEO, it merely means that for a group, even a small group, they show the way, they spread ideas, they make change. Those peo­ple are the only suc­cess­ful peo­ple we’ve got.
So the cha­llenge is: your choice.
4. As you well know, I’m fas­ci­na­ted with mar­ke­ting, both for myself and for my clients. Loo­king over my work from the last cou­ple of years, I inc­rea­singly see mar­ke­ting [by that I mean, GOOD mar­ke­ting] as a func­tion of LANGUAGE and NARRATIVE. In other words, the art of mar­ke­ting is figu­ring out a way to talk to peo­ple in the mar­ket in a man­ner they SIMPLY HAVE NOT been tal­ked to before. And then when I’m rea­ding your book, I keep thin­king that, SO MUCH of being a lea­der is simply pro­vi­ding peo­ple with a good narra­tive to explain their actions. In other words, it’s far easier to lead if [A] You’ve got a great story that’s easy for you to share and [B], more impor­tantly, you have a good story that is EASY for other peo­ple to share.
So much tra­di­tio­nal mar­ke­ting is built around the idea of “Merit” i.e. good qua­lity, good pri­ces etc. But the older I get, I keep asking myself, “What’s the story here? What’s the REAL story that peo­ple are GENUINELY going to want to tell other peo­ple?” Do you see Story­te­lling as a form of Lea­dership? How about vice versa?

In All Mar­ke­ters Are Liars, my point was that peo­ple buy sto­ries, not stuff, and it’s sto­ries that spread, not stuff. An iPod made by Gar­min wouldn’t be an iPod, would it? It’s the story and the affect and the whole aura that makes it worth $200.
I think you’ve hit the issue on the head. Lea­ders tell sto­ries. Gandhi or King or Che or yes, Rush Lim­baugh. They tell sto­ries. The sto­ries mat­ter and the words mat­ter. Of course OF COURSE the pro­duct has to live up to the story, the ser­vice has to be there, the story has to be true. But no story, not idea, no mar­ke­ting.
5. We all have dif­fe­rent things that moti­vate us, that gets us out of bed in the mor­ning. Some peo­ple want money, some peo­ple want power, some peo­ple want fame and applause. You seem very dri­ven “To Affect Change”, both on an indi­vi­dual level, and collec­ti­vely within com­pa­nies. Where does that drive come from? Were you born with it, or has it just grown with you over the years? Is it something that is still cons­tantly evol­ving? If so, how?
It used to be a curse, but now I’m get­ting used to it.
I’m pretty impa­tient with things that are as they are ins­tead of as they could be. I’m impa­tient with peo­ple who grum­ble and settle and then get old and die. I’m ener­gi­zed by peo­ple who see things dif­fe­rently and make chan­ges hap­pen. We’re all so lucky, what a sin to waste it.
6. When I finished rea­ding “Tri­bes” I was both stun­ned and deligh­ted in equal mea­sure to see my name cited in the Ack­now­led­ge­ments sec­tion as an influence in the crea­tion of the book [Thanks!]:

“Years ago, Hugh Mac­Leod, the world’s most popu­lar ins­pi­ra­tio­nal busi­ness car­too­nist (who knew you could do that for a living?), drew a car­toon (his most popu­lar one ever) with the cap­tion, ‘The mar­ket for something to believe in is infi­nite’- as soon as I read it, I knew I wan­ted to write a book about that idea.”

Well, I cer­tainly have some ideas about what that car­toon means to me, though I’d be curious to hear your indi­vi­dual take on it. What it says to you, per­so­nally. Thoughts?
That was the second title I had in mind for the book. And I was going to inc­lude the image itself, but then it sho­wed up all over the web and so…
The point imho is this: You can’t drink any more bott­led water than you already do. Or buy more wine. Or more tea. You can’t wear more than one pair of shoes at a time. You can’t get two mas­sa­ges at once…
So, what grows? What do mar­ke­ters sell that sca­les?
I’ll tell you what: Belief. Belon­ging. Mat­te­ring. Making a dif­fe­rence. Tri­bes. We have an unli­mi­ted need for this.
7. Your books and blog posts seem to have one thing in com­mon, they seem to be get­ting shor­ter and shor­ter with every pas­sing year. I have no pro­blem with that; I think peo­ple genui­nely pre­fer short reads, over long ones. For peo­ple aspi­ring to publish their own books one day, what advice would you give them re. deci­ding on a book’s length?
Try to write a book or a blog post that can’t pos­sibly be any shor­ter than it is.
8. I think aspi­ring wri­ters have a lot of roman­tic illu­sions about “The life of an author”, which have little to do with the actual hard-nose rea­lity of the publishing busi­ness. What do you think are the har­dest les­sons for a first-time author to learn?
Books are sou­ve­nirs that hold ideas. Ideas are free. If no one knows about your idea, you fail. If your idea doesn’t spread, you fail. If your idea spreads but no one wants to own the sou­ve­nir edi­tion, you fail.
Book publishers don’t make authors suc­cess­ful (cla­ri­fi­ca­tion: 175,000 new authors a year, 300 become suc­cess­ful because of publishers). Authors make them­sel­ves suc­cess­ful by ear­ning the pri­vi­lege of having a plat­form, by crea­ting ideas that spread, and yes, by buil­ding a tribe. (Harry Pot­ter anyone?)
9. You’re a busy guy. Besi­des wri­ting books, you have paid spea­king gigs, your blog to keep up, and your various start-ups and busi­nes­ses to manage. When do you find time to write the actual books? Do you have a regu­lar set time for wor­king on it [first thing in the mor­ning, say], or do you just somehow find the time whe­ne­ver?
I don’t set out to write books. I don’t make time for them. They just force them­sel­ves on me. If I resist, the idea makes me mise­ra­ble until I write it down.
I can go three or six months or lon­ger with nothing, and then an entire book just sort of appears. If I have to grind it out, I’m not going to write it. That’s not true for ever­yone, but that’s what works for me.
10. You’ve been publishing your books for about a decade now. Obviously, in that time period there’s been a lot of chan­ges in the world. But for the sake of sim­pli­city, let’s narrow the field down a bit, to the “Pur­ple Cow”, new-marketing world you’ve been hap­pily resi­ding in. What’s the big­gest change you’ve seen in this brave new world, since Pur­ple Cow and Idea­Vi­rus first hit the books­to­res?
There’s no doubt that the big­gest change is that most smart peo­ple now rea­lize that the world has chan­ged.
When I star­ted, I was wor­king in a sta­tus quo, sta­tic world, where the future was expec­ted to be just like the past, but a little slee­ker.
Now, chaos is the new nor­mal. That makes it easier to sell an idea but a lot har­der to sound like a crackpot.

August 28, 2008

the farmer’s market

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[“Edges 3″. Part of “The Edges” Series. Click on image to enlarge etc.]
Alpine, Texas. A lot of my friends in this town work in the cons­truc­tion busi­ness; a lot of for­mer big-city peo­ple are moving into the area these days, mostly trying to get away from the urban sprawl. So that’s where a lot of the local well-paid jobs are. As a result, kno­wing what I know, a lot of my friends end up pic­king my brains for mar­ke­ting advice, which I’m happy to give them.
What I usually do is start out by telling them about the local Alpine farmer’s mar­ket, which hap­pens here every Satur­day.
Our farmer’s mar­ket has one main pro­blem: This isn’t far­ming country. This is high moun­tain desert. This is ranching country. Peo­ple har­vest cattle and oil round these parts; they don’t do so well with legu­mes.
The peo­ple selling the pro­duce for the most part are local ama­teur gar­de­ners, who pri­ma­rily grow what they need for them­sel­ves, then sell on wha­te­ver sur­plus they have to folk like me, for a little extra cash.
What does this mean? It means you have to get there early, because the mar­ket opens at 8.30 in the mor­ning and is COMPLETELY sold out within 45 minu­tes.
Whole Foods? For­get it. You really have to drive to Mid­land, 150 miles away to get anything clo­sely resem­bling what you’re used to in the big cities. The local super­mar­kets do what they can, I’m told they’re a hell of a lot bet­ter than they used to be, but… there’s still a long way to go.
There’s something so inte­res­ting to me, that in this modern, over-supplied world, the supply for something most of us edu­ca­ted, blog-reading types take for gran­ted– high qua­lity food– falls so short of actual demand. There’s plenty of peo­ple in this town who’d gladly spend more money on qua­lity food if some enter­pri­sing per­son would set them up, so why isn’t it hap­pe­ning?
I’m opti­mis­tic. I believe it’s just mat­ter of time before the afo­re­men­tio­ned enter­pri­sing per­son spots the gla­ringly obvious gap in the mar­ket, and actually does something about it. This is Texas, after all. Sit­ting on your ass doesn’t get you too far in these parts. Stuff tends to hap­pen if there’s enough peo­ple willing to pay for it.
So I tell my cons­truc­tion friends, well, what’s true in the local food mar­ket is also true in the cons­truc­tion mar­ket. There’s a lot of peo­ple from the big cities moving in with a lot of money in their poc­kets, com­pa­red to what the locals are used to making. And they’re used to a cer­tain level of ser­vice which a lot of the time, THEY ARE SIMPLY NOT GETTING. The cons­truc­tion per­son who can ACTUALLY unders­tand and ACTUALLY cater to their ACTUAL needs will win. The cons­truc­tion per­son who still wants to do it same-old-same-old will have a much har­der time of things.
Then kno­wing this, the only ques­tion that remains is, which cons­truc­tion per­son are you going to be? The Trail­bla­zer, or the Same-Old-Same-Old? Only you can ans­wer that.

August 23, 2008

the ticket off the treadmill

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It’s been almost two years since my “Glo­bal Mic­ro­brand Rant”:

Frankly, it beats the hell out of com­mu­ting every mor­ning to the cor­po­rate glass box in the big city, something I did for many years. Just so I could make enough money to help me for­get that I have to com­mute every mor­ning to the cor­po­rate glass box in the big city.
There are thou­sands of rea­sons why peo­ple write blogs. But it seems to me the big­gest rea­son that dri­ves the blog­gers I read the most is, we’re all loo­king for our own per­so­nal glo­bal mic­ro­brand. That is the prize. That is the tic­ket off the tread­mill. And I don’t think it’s a bad one to aim for.

Though a lot of the per­so­nal details have chan­ged since then, it still holds up pretty well.
That’s one of the main rea­sons I star­ted this web­site, back in the day. I saw it as a tic­ket off the tread­mill. Not exactly sure how it all hap­pe­ned, but for the most part, my evil plan wor­ked.
I’ve noti­ced that buil­ding a Glo­bal Mic­ro­brand, whether you’re a tech con­sul­tant or a maker of hand-built gui­tars, is a lot like lear­ning how to teach one­self to be a car­too­nist i.e. you need the same three basic ingre­dients: Talent, sta­mina and dis­ci­pline.
Like any good Kung Fu mas­ter will tell you– There are no sec­rets. There is no magic for­mula. Just a lot of hard work.

July 22, 2008

why i’m writing a book, revisited

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For the last cou­ple of days I’ve been pin­ging back and forth with my book edi­tor over at Pen­guin, Jef­frey Kra­mes. We’re about to work through the final draft.
From what I’ve been told, the hard­back ver­sion of “How To Be Crea­tive” is coming out around Valentine’s day, 2009, give or take a few weeks.
This harks me back to a blog entry I did in Octo­ber, 2004, entit­led “Why I’m Wri­ting A Book”.

I’m wri­ting a book. It’s an expan­sion on a web post I published this sum­mer called “How To Be Crea­tive”.
(NB: The Book Out­line is here)
The pre­mise is very sim­ple:

“So you want to be more crea­tive, in art, in busi­ness, wha­te­ver. Here are some tips that have wor­ked for me over the years.”

I didn’t really have a rea­son for wri­ting it at the time. It was simply one of those lists of everything you wish you had known 10 years pre­viously but didn’t, but had you done so it would have saved you a bunch of time and trou­ble. Edu­ca­tion is expen­sive.
It star­ted off short and sim­ple, but then I star­ted adding little para­graphs to it, explai­ning it all the bet­ter. Then I star­ted adding wee car­toons to it. The whole thing star­ted to grow. And grow.
In the end the list was seen (and is still seen) by a lot of peo­ple. Folk star­ted telling other folk about it. It went viral. After a few weeks of crazy traf­fic the book idea star­ted coming to me.
I had always drawn car­toons, but never really wan­ted to do it pro­fes­sio­nally. Car­too­ning as a day job meant chai­ning your­self to your table, scratching out a living in silence, inte­rrup­ted only by fre­quent trips to the cof­fee shop. I wan­ted to see more of the world than that. I wan­ted to get out, have adven­tu­res, tra­vel, make money, live in the adult world. I wan­ted to be part of the noisy, hustle n’ bustle, big city life. I wan­ted to look out my bedroom win­dow in the mor­ning and see skysc­ra­pers. Car­too­ning was too ‘college town’ for me.
So I got a job in a big Chi­cago adver­ti­sing agency. It was a good choice. It pretty much used the same part of my brain as car­too­ning, the pay was good, the work doa­ble enough and you got to inte­ract with adults most of the time. Plus it also indul­ged one’s fas­ci­na­tion with mass media that all young adults seem to have. I was dead plea­sed to be in the busi­ness.
Still, my first few years in adver­ti­sing were not easy. Wri­ting ads is a tough pro­fes­sion. There are far too many peo­ple doing it, it’s very com­pe­ti­tive, it’s hard as hell to stand out and get ahead, the stress is awful, the future is always uncer­tain, the hours are long, the wor­king wee­kends are many and the poli­tics invol­ved are com­ple­tely insane.
By the late 1990’s I was star­ting to burn out a bit. The job was taking its toll. In spite of this I found myself being offe­red a great new job in New York City, which I jum­ped at.
My first year in New York was a tran­sient time for me. Uncer­tainty about my career and other per­so­nal issues meant ins­tead of sett­ling down like a nor­mal per­son, I was going out a lot. I was drin­king way too much. About this time I star­ted dood­ling on the back of busi­ness cards, just to give me something to do while sit­ting at the bar.
Busi­ness cards are the per­fect medium for a New York barfly. They’re easy to carry around, they don’t attract a lot of atten­tion, they don’t take up a lot of space at the bar, they’re cheap and dis­po­sa­ble enough so it doesn’t mat­ter if you spill your drink on them. They’re a com­ple­tely unfa­mi­liar, baggage-free, expectation-free medium, so it doesn’t mat­ter if you never get a foothold in the gallery or publishing scene. They can simply exist without a lot of fuss.
Peo­ple wal­king past the bar on the way to the bath­room would see this jit­tery, unkempt guy in a tweed jac­ket on a bars­tool, dood­ling furiously and won­der what was up. Some­ti­mes they’d look at my work. Some­ti­mes it would be met with enthu­siasm, some­ti­mes not. Often I was asked if I publish. I’d say no, I don’t.
Saying no would inva­riably get me a funny look. Why was I bothe­ring doing something this invol­ved if I wasn’t plan­ning on publishing it? This is New York, dam­mit; you’re sup­po­sed to have a mas­ter plan for world domi­na­tion etc.
But I had the adver­ti­sing job. I didn’t need the money, not really. The adver­ti­sing paid well enough; even if it was wea­ring me out a bit. I knew how much most car­too­nists make (pea­nuts) and how hard they work (very). It wasn’t a route I wan­ted to go down.
Besi­des, I had been wor­king my ass off for over a decade. Maybe I liked just doing something for no rea­son, for a change. Maybe I liked the fact that these wee dra­wings would never be seen by a wide audience. Maybe I liked not having the pres­sure to suc­ceed at all costs in the fore­front of my psyche. Maybe it made me feel less of an ani­mal to be moti­va­ted by something other than raw ambi­tion.
Maybe I just saw myself swim­ming in this crazy, des­pe­rate, horny, exis­ten­tial, urban, greedhead-frenzy sea of ran­dom bodies, and maybe the act of sit­ting at the bar and dood­ling for no rea­son was my little anti­dote for it. My little piece of drift­wood to cling on to.
It is a very agreea­ble fee­ling, when you know you have something spe­cial and won­der­ful hap­pe­ning, but you don’t feel any par­ti­cu­lar need to let every­body know about it. I knew the car­toons were good, I knew I could do something with them. But I also knew the publishing mar­ket. I knew those media folk weren’t ever going to make my life easier. Ins­tead of wai­ting to be dis­co­ve­red, I was doing the oppo­site. I was deli­be­ra­tely kee­ping them from the commerce-minded peo­ple, who I just knew would spoil everything the moment I let them anywhere near.
Then the inter­net came along and chan­ged everything.
I’m not sure how I got into the inter­net so hea­vily. It just snuck up on me. One day I just built a web­site and star­ted pos­ting my dra­wings on it. A few months later 9 – 11 hap­pe­ned and all hell broke loose. Peo­ple were being laid off all over. Peo­ple were at home, sur­fing the inter­net. I guess that’s when my work star­ted get­ting noti­ced. Peo­ple star­ted blog­ging. I star­ted blog­ging, too.
The world has chan­ged since 9 – 11, any­body who thinks dif­fe­rently is a fool. And for some rea­son I find myself far bet­ter sui­ted to the post-9 – 11 world than the fun, pros­pe­rous, party-central one that came before.
The future we see before us is a chao­tic one. Somehow sit­ting there at a Manhat­tan bar in the late 1990s, end­lessly dood­ling away for no rea­son, I got a glimpse of the impen­ding chaos a few years soo­ner than my more sta­ble, pros­pe­rous, well-adjusted friends.
And now it’s infor­ming my adver­ti­sing career.
Chaos can be a posi­tive thing. Chaos is inhe­rently part of the crea­tive act. To embrace crea­ti­vity means you must also embrace chaos. Things don’t hap­pen when everything is neat and “just so”. Crea­ti­vity is all about dis­rup­tion. The peo­ple who tell you that crea­ti­vity is pain-free are liars. The peo­ple who tell you they’ve got a plan are liars. There is no plan. There’s just you, God and the need to invent. And this uncer­tain world is what most of us now find our­sel­ves ente­ring, willingly or other­wise.
Crea­ti­vity equals chaos. Chaos equals crea­ti­vity. Embrace it or die. I’ve already done so. I know all about it. It almost cost me my liver but like I said, edu­ca­tion is expen­sive.
The Crea­tive Age is upon us. The Chao­tic Age is upon us. We are sca­red. Damn right, we should be sca­red. But out of the terror comes the ama­zing oppor­tu­ni­ties for us to expand both on the mate­rial and spi­ri­tual level. The fewer safety nets there are to save us, the less choice we have to be anything other than our­sel­ves, the less choice we have besi­des doing what is mea­ning­ful to us. And fin­ding our­sel­ves, doing what mat­ters, beco­ming the per­son we were born to be, this is what God put on this earth to do.
We live in ama­zing and inte­res­ting times. I intend the book to do a damn good job pro­ving it.

I’m loo­king at this piece and saying to myself, “Damn, I wish I could still write like that…” But I can’t. When I wrote that, I was a lot more poor, unem­plo­yed and des­pe­rate than I am now. “Hun­ger is the best spice”. No money or suc­cess can replace the artis­tic edge that pro­lon­ged poverty & under-achievement gives you. Sad but true.
Would I want to go back there, for the sake of “Art”? No. I was there once already. And it suc­ked.
Yes, it was an adven­ture. But only in retros­pect. At the time, the rea­lity was far more mun­dane and une­dif­ying. Besi­des, new adven­tu­res inte­rest me now, a lot more than the old ones do. Happy but true.

June 6, 2008

10 things I hate about web 2.0

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1. Recon­ci­ling the huge gap bet­ween how inte­res­ting and impor­tant you tell your clients it all is, ver­sus how inte­res­ting and impor­tant you actually find it all your­self.
2. The end­less train of online armchair quar­ter­backs end­lessly trying to engage you with end­less rounds of men­tal mas­tur­ba­tion.
3. The same usual sus­pects whi­ning end­lessly on about the same usual sus­pects.
4. The idea that spou­ting end­less hyper­bole about the latest doohic­key wid­get is actually an inte­res­ting, com­pe­lling and worthy way for a grown man to spend his free time.
5. The well-intentioned but mis­gui­ded belief that anony­mous loser douche­bags are actually entit­led to an opi­nion.
6. Peo­ple at con­fe­rence panels, pre­ten­ding that the only rea­son they’re atten­ding is to offer valua­ble insight to their fellow man, as oppo­sed to just pim­ping their wares and/or scou­ting for con­sul­ting gigs.
7. The per­va­sive use of the term, “2.0″ to desc­ribe anything other than inter­net soft­ware e.g. “Love 2.0″, “Women 2.0″, “Brea­kup 2.0″, “Food 2.0″, “Reli­gion 2.0″, “Music 2.0″, “Poetry 2.0″, yak yak yak…
8. Any blog­ger with higher traf­fic than my own.
9. The popu­lar but mis­ta­ken belief that there is a vast, uns­top­pa­ble army of peo­ple in the world who actually care about this shit.
10. The sopho­mo­ric con­ceit that “The Con­ver­sa­tion” is two-way. To quote Fran Lei­bo­witz, “The oppo­site of Tal­king is not Lis­te­ning. The oppo­site of Tal­king is Waiting”.

May 23, 2008

word-of-mouth is not created

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“Word of mouth is not crea­ted, it is co-created. Peo­ple will only spread your virus if there’s something in it for them.” — Hugh MacLeod.

Something I said on Twit­ter recently. Thanks to John Moore of Brand Autopsy fame for pic­king it up. Rock on.

May 16, 2008

the cultural problem

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So some­body was asking me the other day, “What’s the deal with these large tech com­pa­nies? As soon as they get to a cer­tain age and/or size, they all seem to go into ‘cri­sis’ mode…“
My reply was, well, when you think about it, these large com­pa­nies are in most ways very for­tu­nate. They have lots of money, lots of smart peo­ple wor­king for them, lots of com­bi­ned know­ledge, and lots of mate­rial capi­tal to build other stuff with.
i.e. The have lots of capi­tal– human, finan­cial, inte­llec­tual, tech­ni­cal etc etc.
But they will also have a lot of bag­gage. Lots and lots of dif­fe­rent entrenched posi­tions to defend. Thou­sands of them.
So they way I see it, their pro­blem isn’t “mate­rial”. Their pro­blem is CULTURAL.

It’s not the sum of their parts that is the pro­blem; it’s the way human beings relate with each other, inte­ract with each other, that is cau­sing the pro­blem.

i.e. Often with tech com­pa­nies, we wrongly blame the pro­blems on the tech itself. As with all things com­mer­cial, it’s the peo­ple that mat­ter.
[UPDATE:] One of my favo­rite mar­ke­ting wri­ters, my friend, Mark Earls left a com­ment below:

Great post, mate. And spot on.
I find it stri­king that all the dif­fe­rent kinds of mana­gers I meet in all kinds of dif­fe­rent sec­tors still pre­fer to desc­ribe and draw their busi­nes­ses as if they were a machine or some tech­ni­cal thing at least; how they pre­fer tech­ni­cal soun­ding stra­te­gies and defi­ni­tions of their cha­llen­ges (“the busi­ness plan­ning pro­cess” etc) to the honest accep­tance that the rea­son why all busi­nes­ses are tricky beasts is that they’re built on, with and by humans.
Of course, it’d be easier if busi­nes­ses were more like machi­nes but they’re not. And if stra­te­gies were like mecha­ni­cal (i.e. human-lite) things — borne of a robo-mind and imple­men­ted by an army of repli­cants, maybe.
The sad truth remains that everything in busi­ness is about peo­ple, their inte­rac­tions with each other and the ideas and assump­tions that shape those inte­rac­tions.
I’m not sure it’s just the tech busi­ness that suf­fer this way: finance, manu­fac­tu­ring, air­li­nes and — god bless, em — govern­ment agen­cies are just as delu­sio­nal about this stuff.
Go get ‘em!

January 22, 2008

meatball sundae [part two]

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Recently I did an inter­view of Seth Godin about his new book, “Meat­ball Sun­dae”. As Seth desc­ri­bed it:

Meat­balls are com­mo­dity pro­ducts, built in a fac­tory, adver­ti­sed all over. Stuff we need. All the same. Ave­rage pro­ducts for ave­rage peo­ple. Unre­mar­ka­ble, but impor­tant. The back­bone of our world so far.
The sun­dae is the new mar­ke­ting. Blogs and Face­book and goo­gle and crowd­sour­cing and all the stuff that we get exci­ted about. It works great if you’ve got a social object or a pur­ple cow. But put the sun­dae on a meat­ball and…

There’s a pas­sage in the book that really got me thin­king, all to do with ice cream:

Willie Wonka isn’t dead, but he’s bald
In the heart of the newly hip Union Square neigh­borhood in New York City is a brand-new land­mark: Max Bren­ner [Cho­co­late by the Bald Man]. Max (I’m told that’s not his real name) pur­por­tedly runs a chain of inc­re­dibly expen­sive cho­co­late cafés based in Aus­tra­lia. He’s got almost a dozen shops there, with other out­lets in Israel, Sin­ga­pore, and the Phi­lip­pi­nes. The chain is pro­fi­ta­ble and gro­wing fast.
This is the place to come if you want to order the Warm Cho­co­late Soup, which comes with crunch cho­co­late waf­fle balls, straw­be­rries, and marsh­ma­llows and costs ten dollars. Or, for the ambi­tious, The Cho­co­late Mess, which is a warm cho­co­late cake eaten with spa­tu­las straight from the pan, with a moun­tain of whip­ped cream, ice cream scoops, cho­co­late chunks, tof­fee cream, warm cho­co­late sauce, and pos­sibly, tof­fee bana­nas. It’s $12.75 for one per­son or $37 for four.
Max’s is pac­ked, with lines of up to thirty minu­tes for a table. And most tables are filled with adults, not kids.
Just down the street from a Max’s, you’ll find the much more rea­so­nably pri­ced Sun­daes and Cones ice cream shop, which is pretty much empty.
Why?
If I want something ordi­nary, then it bet­ter be cheap. I can get cheap and ordi­nary by the gallon at Costco. On the other hand, today’s spoi­led con­su­mer is willing to pay almost anything for the exc­lu­sive, the note­worthy, and the indul­gent.
Sun­daes and Cones isn’t cheap and it isn’t expen­sive. The ice cream is deli­cious, but not revo­lu­tio­nary. They sell a good ice cream cone at a fair price. And that’s no lon­ger enough.

A cou­ple of days ago I wrote Seth the follo­wing e-mail:

Sud­denly the thought occurs to me, that perhaps there’d be fewer ‘Meat­ball Sun­daes’ out there if the Web 2.0-consultant-guru types spent less time trying to sell luc­ra­tive, hot-fudge-and-whipped-cream con­sul­tancy gigs to the meat­ball fac­to­ries.
[Ice Cream Metaphor:] The thing that made Tho­mas and English Cut work so well was, well, he’s not selling meat­balls. He’s not even selling Bas­kin Rob­bins. Heck, he’s selling something that makes even Ben & Jerries look kinda down­mar­ket. And the hot fudge I bring to the table ain’t too shabby, either. On a good day, at least ;-)
Your pas­sage in the book about the two ice cream shops in Union Square was totally correct. The trou­ble is, too many peo­ple are loc­ked into the mass-market, neither-cheap-nor-remarkable brac­ket, so they’re not ready to lis­ten to you pro­perly yet.
I love your ideas, you know that, but I’m gues­sing it may take twenty, thirty, even fifty years for “Society” to fully absorb the brunt of your mes­sage. Luc­kily you have loads of smart, book-buying peo­ple out there who do get it…
We live in inte­res­ting times.

Seth wrote back to me the following:

THAT is the entire point of the book.
Phew! Someone got it!

Twenty years? Fifty years? Which is why Seth says what he’s tal­king about is not evo­lu­tio­nary, but revo­lu­tio­nary. Make of it what you will…

January 7, 2008

note to marketers: people like treats, dammit!

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It’s now a well-told story. Krispy Kreme dough­nuts came out of nowhere, attrac­ted a cult follo­wing, spread like wild­fire, got over-exposed, then collap­sed under its own weight. When I could only get them by making a half-hour pil­gri­mage across town, I went there all the time. Once they became rea­dily avai­la­ble in my local cor­ner deli, I stop­ped eating them.
When I was a little kid in cen­tral Mas­sachu­setts, there was this local, old-style dairy named Pinec­roft, that ser­ved the best ice cream ever, but only during the sum­mer months. Then the dairy got sold to a big­ger com­pany, and the next thing you know they were ser­ving ice cream all year round. It never tas­ted quite the same after that.
Rosé tas­tes a lot bet­ter in the South of France than it does in Lon­don, no mat­ter how much you’re paying.
Lobs­ter is con­si­de­red a real deli­cacy, expen­sive stuff. Back in the 19th Cen­tury in New England wha­ling towns, local boar­ding hou­ses often had the follo­wing sign outside them, in order to attract the sai­lors’ busi­ness: “Lobs­ter only ser­ved 4 days a week!”
I only lis­ten to my CD of King’s College Choir during the Christ­mas holi­days. It pre­ser­ves the magic.
Scrim­ping and saving over many months for a $4000 English tai­lo­red suit is a much more uplif­ting expe­rience than buying an entire war­drobe of them with a sin­gle swish of a diamond-encrusted cre­dit card.
I rarely eat Bar­be­cue, but it’s usually the first thing I head for when I tra­vel to Texas. When I tra­vel to dif­fe­rent pla­ces, I always like to sam­ple the local fare. I once tried eating Mexi­can food in Geneva. Never again.
Though they pro­du­ced all three Lord of The Rings movies at the same time, they made you wait a year bet­ween ins­tall­ments. Peo­ple floc­ked to see them all.
One of the things I am most loo­king for­ward to in 2008 is the final sea­son of Batt­les­tar Galac­tica. It will be well after sum­mer till I see here in the UK, on DVD [I don’t own a TV]. I’ll pro­bably buy it the same day it beco­mes avai­la­ble, and I’ll pro­bably watch the entire series in a sin­gle, marathon ses­sion. I can’t wait!
Back when Kathy Sie­rra was blog­ging, she wouldn’t post very often. Every two weeks, perhaps. But BAM! when she wrote, it was ste­llar stuff. A real treat to read.
I guess you can already see where this is going: Peo­ple like treats. Peo­ple are indif­fe­rent to com­mo­di­ties, even when the qua­lity of the lat­ter is high. Your down­fall begins the minute peo­ple no lon­ger have to wait in line in order to get your pro­duct, the minute they no lon­ger per­ceive it as a treat.
[Update:] David St. Law­rence makes a great com­ment below: “When they are no lon­ger social objects, they are no lon­ger inte­res­ting.” Exactly.

December 23, 2007

so what’s all this new marketing stuff, anyway?

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Some peo­ple call it “The New Mar­ke­ting”. Some peo­ple call it “Mar­ke­ting 2.0″. Wha­te­ver name you care to give it, I get asked about it a lot. Here are some ran­dom thoughts, in no par­ti­cu­lar order.
1. “The New Mar­ke­ting” came about because of two uns­top­pa­ble for­ces: [A] The inven­tion of the inter­net and [B] the begin­ning of the demise of what Seth Godin calls the “TV-Industrial Com­plex”. Thanks to the inter­net, as Clay Shirky famously sta­ted in 2004, “the cost and dif­fi­culty of publishing abso­lu­tely anything, by anyone, into a glo­bal medium, just got a whole lot lower. And the effects of that inc­rea­sed pool of poten­tial pro­du­cers is going to be vast.” While this was going on, large com­pa­nies found out that peo­ple were star­ting to ignore their ads. We have too many choi­ces, too many good choi­ces, and we’ve got­ten too good at igno­ring mes­sa­ges.
2. Seth Godin is quite rightly the world’s most res­pec­ted wri­ter on mar­ke­ting. That being said, a lot of peo­ple haven’t heard of Mark Earls yet. They’re both friends of mine, so I don’t want to com­pare them too much. Seth is a mas­ter of taking com­pli­ca­ted ideas and pre­sen­ting them in a way that any Ave­rage Joe can unders­tand. Mark is more of a Mar­ke­ting Geek’s geek. His stuff makes uncom­for­ta­ble rea­ding for anyone in mar­ke­ting who hasn’t been stretching him­self lately.
3. The most impor­tant asset in The New Mar­ke­ting is “having something worth tal­king about”. This makes cer­tain mar­ke­ting peo­ple squea­mish. A lot of us grew up in an era of flashy com­mer­cials for rather unins­pi­ring pro­ducts, and something in our DNA makes us believe that’s the pro­per way to go about things.
4. If I had one big insight from the last year, is how The New Mar­ke­ting has everything to do with how your pro­duct or ser­vice acts as a “Social Object”. Kudos to Jyri Enges­trom for tur­ning me on to it.
5. My second big insight from this year was lear­ning that, even with a fairly every­day pro­duct, you can create social objects simply by using your pro­ducts to make social ges­tu­res. That’s what we did with Stormhoek. The mes­sage wasn’t, “Here’s why you should buy our wine”. The mes­sage was, “We think you’re kinda cool, and we like what you’re doing. We’d like to be part of it, somehow.” And much to everyone’s sur­prise, it wor­ked rather well.
6. Blogs were the big story for 2005. You­Tube for 2006. Face­book for 2007. What’s the big story for 2008? I have no idea. Nor do I think it mat­ters. For the big story, really, is always going to be the same. Web­si­tes comes and go, but “Cheap, Easy, Glo­bal, Hyper­lin­ked Media” will be with us fore­ver, save for Nuc­lear Holo­caust.
7. A lot of what fuels The New Mar­ke­ting is quite simply, the most impor­tant word in the English Lan­guage: “Love”. It’s hard to get someone to read your web­site if you’re not pas­sio­nate about your sub­ject mat­ter.
8. I’m trying to train myself to avoid “Mic­ros­mo­sis” i.e. mis­ta­king of a mic­ro­cosm for the entire cos­mos. If you got all your news from blogs, you’d be for­gi­ven for thin­king that there are just two phone com­pa­nies– Apple and Nokia. But Sony, Moto­rola, LG and Sam­sung sell a lot of pho­nes, too. Just not to our friends.
9. My Defi­ni­tion of “Web 3.0″: Lear­ning how to use the web pro­perly without it taking over your life. I’m not hol­ding my breath.
10. Why is it so hard to explain The New Mar­ke­ting to large com­pa­nies? Because the peo­ple who work there are simply not pre­pa­red to relin­quish the idea of con­trol. Live by metrics, die by metrics etc.
11. I find all this more inte­res­ting when I don’t take it too seriously. Like all things inter­net, it’s far too easy to get carried away.
[UPDATE:] Robert Sco­ble lea­ves an inte­res­ting com­ment:

Friends are going to be the big story in 2008. Here’s a post about why it’s wrong that I’m a gate­kee­per bet­ween my friends and you.

November 5, 2007

isolate [my new business card]

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This is the design for my new busi­ness card [No, I am not joking].
Feel free to use it your­self [or any other car­toon on gaping­void] for your own sch­wag– biz cards, t-shirts, cubicle pos­ters, Power­Point sli­des, wha­te­ver. As per usual, the full details and regu­lar licen­sing terms are here etc. Or again, as per usual, you can order prin­ted gaping­void busi­ness cards here at Street­cards etc etc.
[Yes, “Iso­late Their Pain Cen­ters” sums up my whole Hugh­train mar­ke­ting sch­tick pretty well…]

June 17, 2007

but what if i fail

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[One of the dra­wings I did for Seth Godin’s latest book, “The Dip”.]
Social Objects and Home­less Peo­ple
So I’ve been thin­king some more about Jyri’s Five Prin­ci­ples of Social Objects, espe­cially how they apply to gaping­void:

1. You should be able to define the social object your ser­vice is built around.
In gapingvoid’s case, that would be the car­toons for the most part. The straight wri­ting part I’m less con­cer­ned about.
2. Define your verbs that your users per­form on the objects. For ins­tance, eBay has buy and sell but­tons. It’s clear what the site is for.
The verb that springs to mind is “share”. Not only do peo­ple re-publish them on their blogs, they’re also allo­wed to upload them onto other media for free: pos­ters, t-shirts, stic­kers, wha­te­ver works for them. My licen­sing terms are pretty open.
3. How can peo­ple share the objects?
The key word here is “re-publish”. Microsoft’s Steve Clay­ton is pro­bably the most well-known of my “re-publishers”, as he’s always using the Blue Mons­ter car­toon for dif­fe­rent things.
4. Turn invi­ta­tions into gifts.
Again, the Blue Mons­ter car­toon would serve as a good exam­ple. Mic­ro­soft emplo­yees hand out Blue Mons­ter sch­wag as an invi­ta­tion to start a con­ver­sa­tion about Mic­ro­soft. The Blue Monster’s main func­tion is not about the mes­sage, the Blue Mons­ter is about the social ges­ture.
5. Charge the publishers, not the spec­ta­tors.
D’accord. The peo­ple who put the car­toons on their busi­ness cards are doing the paying, not the peo­ple recei­ving them.

Somewhere along the line I figu­red out the easiest pro­ducts to mar­ket are objects with “Socia­bi­lity” baked-in. Pro­ducts that allow peo­ple to have “con­ver­sa­tions” with other folk. Seth Godin calls this qua­lity “remar­ka­blilty”.
For exam­ple: A street beg­gar hol­ding out an ordi­nary paper cup cup won’t start a con­ver­sa­tion. A street beg­gar hol­ding out a Star­bucks cup will. I know this to be true, because it hap­pe­ned to me and a friend the other day, as we were wal­king down the street and a guy asked us for some spare change. After­wards, as we were com­men­ting about the rather sad para­dox of a home­less guy plying his trade with a “luxury” cof­fee cup, my friend said, “Star­bucks should be paying that guy.“
Actually, my friend is wrong. Starbuck’s doesn’t need to be paying the home­less guy. Because Star­bucks crea­ted a social object out of a paper cup, the home­less guy does their mar­ke­ting for free, whether he knows it or not.
Although I sus­pect he does. I sus­pect somewhere along the line the poor chap figu­red out that hol­ding out a Star­bucks cup gets him more atten­tion [and spare change] than an ordi­nary cup. And sud­denly we’re seeing social reci­pro­city bet­ween a home­less per­son and a large cor­po­ra­tion, without money ever chan­ging hands. Wha­te­ver your views are on the plight of home­less peo­ple, this is “Indi­rect Mar­ke­ting” at its finest.
And of course, the way I mar­ket my car­toons and my other various enter­pri­ses is not all that dis­si­mi­lar…
[Bonus Link:] A won­der­fully thought-provoking pod­cast inter­view of Seth Godin. Disc­lo­sure: He kindly gives me a brief men­tion about 23.15 minu­tes into it.

June 4, 2007

2012 olympic “brand launch”

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[The papa­razzi get­ting in their photo ops etc. Watching them was somehow more inte­res­ting than watching the spor­ting celebs on stage.]
My friends at Edel­man kindly invi­ted me this mor­ning to the “Brand Launch” of the 2012 Lon­don Olym­pics [No, I wasn’t paid. Just so you know]. Here are my thoughts, in no par­ti­cu­lar order:
1. Any­body who’s ever stu­died the Olym­pics knows what a huge poli­ti­cal and eco­no­mic under­ta­king it is. Frankly, I find multi-billion dollar exer­ci­ses in good inten­tions a bit off-putting. I mean, look at The Mille­nium Dome. That being said, if they manage to pull iit off, it’ll create thou­sands of sus­tai­na­ble jobs for Lon­do­ners, not to men­tion re-develop the whole east end of town.
2. The event was very slick and stage mana­ged. Quite unlike the geeky con­fe­ren­ces I go to. You could tell all par­ti­ci­pants rehear­sed their script for weeks befo­rehand. But hey, the sta­kes are high, so what the heck…
3. Sebas­tian Coe, the 1980 Olym­pic Gold Meda­list and front man of the Lon­don Olym­pic Com­mit­tee, is actually very good at his job. You can tell he pas­sio­na­tely belie­ves his own sch­piel. With this kind of thing, it’s easy to be cyni­cal. The hard part is being sin­cere, not to men­tion, effec­tive.
4. From what I unders­tand, they ori­gi­nally pitched it to the Olym­pics Com­mit­tee as “The People’s Olym­pics”. Living in a basi­cally libe­ral, tole­rant large city of 10 million peo­ple, I can’t say I’m sur­pri­sed. What I did like about their rea­so­ning was that their sch­piel wasn’t so much, “Let’s use the Olym­pics to ins­pire young peo­ple to find their own great­ness via Sport”. Their sch­piel was more, “Let’s use the Olym­pics to ins­pire young peo­ple to find their own great­ness… within them­sel­ves. Doing wha­te­ver it is they do, not neces­sa­rily Sport”. I actually thought that was quite cle­ver. In a good way.
5. I’m not used to these mega-huge, super-slick PR events. But it was inte­res­ting to see. I actually came away far less cyni­cal than I had ori­gi­nally pre­dic­ted. So good luck to them.
[UPDATE:] Seth Godin is not impres­sed:

If you are paying money to someone who talks like this, may I sug­gest you stop? And if you work for someone who talks like this, time to look for a new gig.

I know what he means. When large, highly-idealised, expen­sive poli­ti­cal sche­mes start going on about “The Brand”, “Inc­lu­si­vity”, “Exci­te­ment”, “Pas­sion” etc, it all gets a bit cheesy [Like I said, remem­ber the Mille­nium Dome?]. But I disa­gee with Seth re. the 2012 Olym­pic logo. I quite liked it when I first saw it.

June 3, 2007

the cult of the brand r.i.p.

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Janine Ram­lochan makes an inte­res­ting point that she lear­ned from wor­king with a Japa­nese team. The empha­sis is mine:

It became clear, the ‘wes­tern’ approach to brand-building did not apply in the same way ~ par­ti­cu­larly, as wes­tern brand-building has nor­mally been used to extend rele­vance in the absence of inno­va­tion. In mar­kets where con­su­mers were more “innovation-chasing”, brand-building nee­ded to be balan­ced with inno­va­tion for a brand to sur­vive. And if a brand carried too much bag­gage for a new inno­va­tion, it would some­ti­mes make more sense to just launch a new brand instead.

This brings me back to my rather surreal days as an adver­ti­sing copyw­ri­ter: “You were exci­ted about Nike. You were exci­ted about Star­bucks. You were exci­ted about Apple. And now here’s your chance to get exci­ted about diet super­mar­ket ched­dar!!“
For twenty-odd years the Wes­tern mar­ke­ting world totally got into this idea of “The Brand”. Even the part of the Wes­tern mar­ke­ting world that has lousy brands.
i.e. This Pla­to­nic ideal that was was somehow more than the sum of its parts via-a-vis your com­pany, your pro­duct and your repu­ta­tion. It was nos­tal­gic, idea­li­zed, roman­ti­ci­zed, backward-looking and, for all its warm n’ fuzzy stuff, extre­mely cyni­cal.
It was meant to bring com­fort and con­ti­nuity to both mains­tream Wes­tern society and, I sus­pect more impor­tantly, to Wall Street tra­ders and aging, second-rate cor­po­rate hacks with big mort­ga­ges. Lucky them.
Far too many peo­ple, when asked why they get out of bed in the mor­ning, only have one genuine ans­wer: “Because I need the money.” The Cult of The Brand evol­ved the way it did, pri­ma­rily to keep the lat­ter con­ten­ted.
Which is too bad. Life is short.