Gold
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(this is a Howies picture)I don't believe in having didactic rules and proprieraty process for going about strategy – it's quite simple, yet quite hard……….
Understand the business issue and our role in solving it
What do we know about the audience/culture/market that will help us?
What is the core thought?
Why is that right?
Where should this happen?
How do we evaluate success? (this bit gets missed a fair bit)
That said, I do have some sort of approach that has emerged, when I say it, people seem to nod their head. Probably because I'm quoting others.
I wrote this for something or other:
Behind every business problem is a very human behavioural problem you need to change. The art of strategy is making people care enough to behave differently
When they don't want to be sold to anymore, if they ever did, we need to start with what they're interested in and work back from there. Real problems and tensions in real lives
So we should stop thinking of them as consumers and start thinking of them as actors and fellow protagonists in our ideas and content, because that’s the key to engaging with the few to create cultural noise with the many
Which is critical because the many – light buyers – are the key to brand growth and they simply don't care
Therefore simply outspending the competition, or expecting people to pay attention, is not just a failure of imagination and a willingness to understand what motivates people, it is also commercial suicide
Bbecause in world where people have better things to do, the enemy isn't the rest of the category – it's indifference
I think those are kind of the core principles. Not earth shattering, but at least, if you ever have the misfortune to work with me, you know what you'll be getting.
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I did what I thought was some pretty good thinking on something or other. The people with me at the time did too.
so I wrote it up, then got lots of feedback from the people who weren't there that clearly showed they didn't get it.Which was my fault not theirs.
Because when I looked at what I'd done, it was pretty well written but I'd clearly got carried away with writing a piece of prose and not a piece of planning. It was lovely to read, it was even concise but it didn't make any point really well.
Smartness is all well and good, but when you're trying to communicate it to others, you need hooks to hang that smartness on. Memorable, pithy distilations of your thinking.
It's good for your audience but it's also good for you. Boiling down your thoughts into a series of soundbites helps re-appraise your thinking, cutting out what's unnecessary, keeping what's working and, also seeing how it can get even better.
I forgot that.
Which just shows the distict disadvantage of the indpendence that comes with a little 'seniority'.
You just don't get the constant feedback that naturally comes with a good mentor to report to.
It pays at every level to seek out as much input as you can, but I dare say that actually becomes more important with experience, not less.
One final thought. If you're working on a presentation, you really should rehearse in front of someone who isn't involved, because then the mirror neurons fire and you see your stuff from their point of view, not yours.
Suddenly all sorts of flaws – pace, delivery, ordering, clarity and, in some cases, fundamental problems with logic , structure and argument – become clear, stuff you just don't see if you're too close to it.
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My one year old little girl has a cough that's keeping her awake at night. So Mrs Northern and I are taking in turns to sleep with her.
The routine seems to be putting her to bed okay, eventually stumbling up ourselves, being woken by a little coughing fit around 2am, waiting for her to either go back to sleep or give out frightened little yelps and then remembering it's your turn and stumbling into her room, or turning over and going back to sleep, secretly relieved.
If it's my turn, the little monkey might want to play, she might wriggle while she's firmly cuddled and has her fine, candy floss hair stroked, but she does eventually go to sleep.
Then I drift off, usually awoken by a little bundle has quietly rolled over and put a hand on my arm.
She's okay and sleeping fine, but she just needs to know Daddy's still there.
My little girl can't speak yet (beyond pointing and saying 'Dat'), but her little questing hand talks to me in a way that her words, when they finally come, will never do.
Sometimes the feelings evoked by being a parent are just too intense to articulate, they really are.
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The best planning internship opportunity in London is now open. Get a move on.
I couldn't find an appropriate picture – you know, metaphors for open, hard work, opportunity etc.So here's a swan in a car park instead.
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I had the children to myself on Saturday, which was lovely. Before reading, painting, trip the park and then on to see the parrots at the pet shop, there was a little bit of watching Toy Story while Daddy made breakfast.According the the academics and psuedo experts on Mumsnet, telly is a total no no for under two's but then again, in the real world you can only do your best.
Ona another note though, one has to marvel of the genius of the makers of kid's telly and films, whom, ever since pioneering Sesame Street have, at their best, made stuff that rewards both kids and parents watching with them.
I've never understood why ads and stuff don't manage to follow the same idea. I'm sure there are some but I can't think of any off-hand.
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My love for Yorskhire Tea s far from secret. So it will be no surprise that I read their IPA case study with interest.
There are many things to love about the Little Urn campaign, but what I love best about the data in this case study, is that my beloved Yorkshire Tea is a genuine exception to the iron Double Jeopardy law of brand loyalty.
Basically, brands with a higher market share get that share mostly from having lots of buyers, who are also slightly more loyal that average. But Yorkshire Tea's share comes from having a lot less buyers who are a lot more loyal and drink buckets of the stuff.
Contrary, bloody minded and opposite to conventional wisdom (actually not of course, double jeopardy is ignored or just plain unheard of amongst most 'seasoned' marketing folk) – how wonderfully Yorkshire of Yorkshire Tea.
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There's a great quote about fast food, "Speed and convenience is everything, flavour is secondary".
Now one could argue that culture has followed suit beyond food; with music, films, books,telly everything- lots and lots of stuff when you want it, how you want it, with less thought about quality and more about quantity. And predictability.
Then there's the devices and media we enjoy stuff on these days.
The impact of 3D cinema in place of actual content that takes your breath away.
An IPod that's an approximation of the rich tones you get from an old school seperates system.
Watching a high quality, cinematic HBO drama on an IPhone.
Somehow we're managing to squeeze the 'occasion', full flavour and TEXTURE out of the experience.
Like fast food.
More, more more.
Now, now now.
Without bothering with flavour.
Or stopping to taste it.
On the part of the makers, creating more clones polystyrene for jaded palates to cram themselves.
On the part of the consumers, not giving content the respect it deserves.
Like drinking vintage wine from a plastic cup.
Or buying Yorkshire Tea Gold and not making it in the pot.
Yes yes, more stuff out there, more interesting, more connections for all sorts of ideas.
But more isn't always better. To make connections and mould newness out of the cacophony requires quietness and concentration. Instead of blocking out yourself and your consciousness with constant noise, remembering how to hear and feel them.
Little wonder then, that when something comes along with real texture and flavour, people respond.
They remember what it's like to feel something, to be challenged, to escape pre-programmed life for a bit and experience something real, tangible and maybe a little raw.
The unashamed joy and feelgood that was Mamma Mia. For example.
The wave of mixed up pride, hope, connection and wonder that was the Olympics.
No surprise that advertising that sets out to make us feel something these days can be commercial dynamite.
From a very complex mixture of guilt, hope, inspiration and, perhaps, even revulsion…….
To the pure, uncomplicated joy that is being around kids.
Or even a shared, intake of courage and pride and determination.
No surpise then that John Lewis' fantastic output won the IPA's.
It sets out to make you feel something and tugs at the cultural mess around the need to resolve the tension between the need to still buy new stuff and appearing to be a bit more considered and 'old fashioned values' in austere more morally ambiguous times.
Little wonder when so much advertising is banal, pre-programmed, triangulated, message orientated, devoid of texture and flavour, work like this reminds us what we have become, and what we should really be aiming for.
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If you're an aspiring planner, you're probably looking to do an internment.
You have a choice.
You could learn about politics and meaningless proprietary processes at places like Grey, Ogilvy and Leo Burnett.
You could learn about doing 'advertising' that shifts brand scores but not much else.
You could contribute to the 95% of marketing communications output that is largely banal, unnoticed and met with indifference.
Or
You could learn about real craft, ideas that change minds, affect culture and, more importantly, solve business problems with creativity – rather than 'brand problems'.
You could make a difference, work harder than you ever have before and end up doing the best work of your life.
You could have fun along the way, learn to surrender your ego and meet some great people who only come through the door to do great work.
Not politics.
Not to be cool.
But to make a dent in the universe (yes I'm quoting Steve Jobs).
You could start on the long road to developing the skills and track record that could lead you to working where the hell you liked – inside or outside of the agencies, or advertising.
You might also learn more than you wanted about Leeds United from Graeme Douglas and crime fighting from the red sock wearing, marathon running Paul Colman.
There's a post here to look at. Keep your eyes peeled for the official invitation on the blog.
And it's paid. In an industry that flogs young people to death, that's very rare.
While you're there, tell the bastards to open a Northern office.
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So I was sat on a train, en-route to Heathrow and eventually the Nurburgring, Italian race cars and ridulously good Italian cuisine. You'd have liked it (it was work by the way).
I found all this exciting when the trip was first planned but, to be honest, one hour into the journey I was already missing my little boy and baby girl and the prospect of not seeing them for two days wasn't all that welcome.
Because there's a big difference between the IDEA of a thing and the reality of actually doing it. That's why it's very easy to agree, in October, to have the family around on Christmas day, when you're feeling all noble and pleased with yourself for being a good, loving family member – the idea of it sounds appealing.
It's also why you probably curse your luck mid-December as the reality of the work and expense become apparent, not to mention how excruciating your brother in law is, or how just know your cousins will outstay their welcome and Grandma will annoy everyone by telling them how to make their kids behave.
There's a big difference between what we think will make us happy and what actually does.
Just like the times, at home, when all I want is half an hour to myself. Sometimes it's perfectly understandable, in a world where one has to lurch into gear every single day at 6am to be in charge of nuclear powered offspring, to be a little whistful towards the days of no responsibilty and doing what the hell you liked.
But as soon as I get a taste of it, all I want is my family. It's always nice when it gets to 8pm and the kids are in bed and it's just the two of you for a bit. But we can't resist going to check in on both of our sleeping little children at bedtime, because we already miss them.
It's true that I'm happy and at peace when I'm in tremendous pain swimming lap after lap, but nothing compares to the simple pleasure of jumping up and down on the trampoline, or reading to Evie Suzanne.
All it takes is a brief spell of the everyday to be taken away to be reminded just how stupidly, deliriously wonderful the everyday actually is.
That goes for work too.
I once had the chance to work in the foreign city of my choice, and great brands with truly exceptional practitioners. I turned them down because we were planning a family.
Now I would have learned more than I could ever dream of, about the job but also about other cultures. There isn't a day when I don't wonder about what might have been, the work I could have done, the stuff I could have been involved with. But then I remember I plan for a living, which really isn't the same as work. I remember to really not care that it's not Nike, that it's mostly engine oil because the Nike bit is the pretentious self image bit that really doesn't matter.
Doing something every day you actually enjoy, that you don't suck at entirely (colleagues may disagree with that bit) with people that are largely OK is the bit that matters.
What I'm saying is that wanting to a famous planner that works on the coolest stuff known to man is OK, but that's not where happiness comes from. It comes from being a planner in the first place and hopefully being given a chance to flourish in your own way.The clients matter less than what you make of them.
Job satisfaction is a comfortable illusion anyway of course, all the little failures and victories at work serve a vital purpose to make us feel useful, but really, for me, work pays for family that is afforded freedoms that others, not so fortunate, don't have.
I heard on the radio about a Mum who walked 40 minutes to school with her son because they can't afford public transport. Then she walks an hour to work.
We are so lucky. People in agencies are so lucky.
Amidst all the politics, deadlines, jostling for 'profile' and whatever else, sometimes it's worth remembering to be happy, by remembering where that really comes from.
NORTHERN PLANNER 