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Amy Swift Crosby

the story is in the telling

Code.

February 21, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Even this half-beat public bus in Bombay has one.

Lucky are the doctors, therapists, lawyers and journalists — among others – when it comes to professional codes. Their days are governed by rules and laws – by an organized body of ethical standards that deems “yes we can” or “no we cannot.” It’s not that there aren’t gray areas, but at least they’re held to a baseline of collective agreement. For creative’s, consultants, entrepreneurs, marketers, in other words, most of us — we call our own shots. At a minimum, we aim for ethical, but there are hundreds of questions that live in a pretty gray area.

I heard Anthony Bourdain interviewed on NPR last weekend and he talked about his own code, mostly bleeped for national radio – that basically said he wouldn’t live his life or be part of anything he couldn’t stand behind. Nor would he work with people he “didn’t genuinely like.” He was more graphic (as expected), but in a nutshell, said – no bullsh$t. It’s easier to say that once you’re successful and in a place of power. But what about when you’re still in the hustle? Still building? Still pitching? Still perseverating over “yes I should” or “no I shouldn’t”?

I had a great brand ask me to pitch work on spec recently, to write messaging as a means of interviewing for the (big) project. I wanted the work. I really like the client and brand. But I know better than to invest a day in tagline development without a complete brief, without feeling invested, and without an official engagement. Doing business development and client woo-ing may be part of the job, but all of us who work in undefined business landscapes have to recognize a fools errand when we see one. Submitting a half-baked idea in order to ‘seem’ the most clever / creative / smart isn’t the way I want to win an account. I have a website, a portfolio and a weekly blog… if they want to see the work. You likely do, too.

I can tell when my code has broken links pretty easily; I’m uncomfortable with the arrangement (at best), or annoyed with terms (trying to understand why I agreed)  — at worst. It happens much less than it used to, but it still happens #stilllearning.

We all need codes. But when they’re on a case by case basis, when they’re too malleable, when we make exceptions and call it the rule, we break them without ceremony.

Have a standard. Make sure you can live with it and hold yourself to it. If not you, then who?

Force.

February 14, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

It almost never works.

At the root of it is tunnel vision, with no room for other ideas or possibilities. Railroading, bullying, one person’s will over another — that kind of force is easy to spot.

But there’s another kind, a more insidious, subtle version – and I’m guilty of it too.

If you’ve ever tried to impose your (good) will on something or someone who doesn’t want it as much as you do, you’ll recognize this. It usually seems like a “no brainer” or a “win-win.” It might look like one person trying to put an idea or business together, and the other not responding with urgency or next steps. They might say one thing, but do another. Years ago, I tried to put together a partnership with a world-renowned architect and a luxury furniture retailer. He was willing. They were excited. Meeting after meeting seemed more promising than the next. But the middle partner (not pictured), the person who was critical to the deal itself coming together to ultimately oversee the marriage, made it so hard, so complex and so unappealing to everyone — that we all walked away. But I hung on, even when everyone had left the room, as it were. I made persuasive marketing decks and delivered the starchitect to their showroom, because my vision was crystal clear. But no amount of vision, if you aren’t listening (and adjusting) to what’s really going on, is going to make something happen. My blind attachment to the idea was essentially forcing a key through a hole that did not fit. I didn’t have the wisdom to balance perseverance with practical facts.

We can push so hard and work so hard and try so hard that even when we aren’t literally forcing ‘people’ to do something we want, we force ideas where they aren’t meant to bloom.

I see force happening all around us right now, most clearly at the highest levels of office. Let’s remember that it’s easy to see the rigid, unyielding, aggressive behavior of uneducated heads of state, but much harder to see it in our own good intentions.

Moves.

February 7, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Sometimes I think our path to finding agreement — the way we fight, disagree, recover or come back – define us even more than the big issues themselves.

Conflict or differences in opinion happen all the time – in marriage, in business, between countries and between partners. Alec Baldwin recently interviewed the actor John Turturro and both shared that there are times during the making of certain, high stakes films, when each have wanted to walk off the set — where the disparate visions of key stakeholders (actor / director / producer / investor) don’t seem like they can be (peacefully) resolved. The only scenarios that worked allowed everyone to come back to the conversation with their self-respect in tact. We can all relate to that. You hope discord moves the conversation in a healthy way — with no black eyes — and that it pushes an idea / issue / team to its full potential. But does how you get there…also matter?

Our moves define us, ultimately. And that includes our passivity or inaction. We can (and will) make mistakes, throw bad passes, get sloppy, fail the people we most want to impress — but our course, words and gestures in finding our way back is what will be remembered.

It’s fun to win, and nice to be right, but hopefully not at the cost of anyone losing too much to recover.

Consider not just the stakes, but how it will feel to win what’s at stake. Make the moves you also want made. It’s the most generous thing you can do, and unlike the Super Bowl, where credit is obvious and comes with a ring, no one will likely know all that you did to change the game.

That’s okay. Do it anyway.

Rope.

January 31, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

When you come to the end of it, it’s only because warning fires were shot, conversations were had, ultimatums may even have been given…and things (still) haven’t changed. Ropes are long. They’re braided. They look simple, but they’re a complex weave that hold things together — really heavy things. They can take a lot, but they can’t withstand everything.

Knowing how close you are to the end of a rope is hard to measure, because you don’t know until you’re hanging by a thread typically. We find ourselves there when we haven’t been seen or heard, when too much goes unsaid, when a threshold is on the immediate horizon. And this is where it’s hard to not blame other people or situations, and instead, take one more shot at preserving the thing you’ve built or made together. It may be the final effort you make to save something that seems too painful/cumbersome/dysfunctional to save — it might be a role you’re in, a relationship, a job you do, the impact someone has on you — again and again. The thing is, it’s hard to resuscitate something that’s hanging by a thread. There’s just not enough material there.

If you’re thinking about rope, it’s time to communicate about it. If you haven’t communicated enough, and you’re at the end of it, it’s going to be even harder. So it’s worth knowing early on — am I in “rope” territory? And if so, where am I on it? Middle? Close to the end?

The bad news is that we only tend to think about rope when we’re looking at the end of one. The good news is, ropes are deceptively strong. Take one more step, if you can, to extend yours. You might be surprised by your own resilience, and by how much more there was that you couldn’t see.

Recovery.

January 24, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Intentional chilling. In case you need a visual.

Performance has infiltrated our lives. It seems like everyone I know, work with, hang with, partner with, is performing at such a high level, and in a multitude of applications. If you’re reading this, it’s also probably you.

They’re dope at their job.

They’re incredible parents.

They also give Ted Talks.

They’re developing an app.

They do the right thing, thanklessly, over and over.

They just ran an Ironman.

And even though deep down, we know it isn’t always about being great at stuff, it turns out, a lot of people just are above average, at lot’s of things. It’s not by accident. They work at it — and aim for it with gusto. Just keeping up with the number of communications that come through the door every day — with some thought and intelligence – could also be some level of performance. We apparently each send or receive at least 150 emails a day. What the what. All of us kind of have to perform at a higher level these days.

So if Performance (yes, capital P), has become not only our Plan A but also our Plan B — meaning, if we just cant’ help ourselves – how much have we scheduled in recovery? I recently spent an entire day doing restorative stuff. I just kept going deeper and deeper into a “rest” state — throughout the day — and by the end was ready to climb the Empire State Building. It had the opposite affect on me — rather than relaxing me into a state of subdued Zen, I was energized into a buzzing little bee. So it worked. I was no longer flattened but instead, emboldened.

Recovery takes discipline. But there’s something really amazing about people who aren’t frazzled, who have command over their lives and schedules, who aren’t in a total state of reaction throughout the day, who aren’t panting through calls and meetings — because the tail is wagging the dog.

Rest is productive. Do it like you mean it.

Out.

January 17, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Most of us (except the lawyers), think more about how to get “in” to something, than how to get out of it: How to break into a market or industry, how to get into a retailer/venue/distributor, how to get into the right partnership, relationship. How to “enter” is our predominant focus in life (because it’s usually fun), much more than how to “exit” (which is usually hard or at least less inspiring.)

But exits are just as important, and inevitable. Last week The Limited brand announced its plan to close of 250 Limited stores. You can be sure they had a deep, deliberate market penetration strategy decades ago, when they launched, and now are busy forming ways to get out of leases, liquidate merchandise, and disengage or relocate 4,000 employees. This month, some key relationships in my world are coming to a close, because the contract is over — or the reason for being has shifted. It’s strange, and hard sometimes. People and circumstances can leave their imprint on you — financially, philosophically – emotionally. But there’s so much to be learned from endings, if we allow it. The first being that other relationships may be just beginning, and in forming them, we all have to consider “what does the end look like…from ten different angles?” Because, it’s not just a contractual question – it’s a mindset that has to organize itself in a certain way — from day one.

Glory days feel never-ending. But all things change, evolve, morph — or die. Our honesty with that truth actually makes a thing better, for longer, with much more potential to repurpose — should that be possible.

It doesn’t have to be a bummer. It just has to be a plan.

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About Me

photo of Amy Swift Crosby

I’m a brand strategist and copy writer. I mostly work with partner agencies or directly with the leadership or founding team at a brand. My primary mission is to connect design and messaging solutions to business missions. I work with start-ups and Fortune 500 companies, across beauty, hospitality, wellness/fitness, CPG and retail. This blog reflects my personal writing and explores our humanity – often as it relates to work, space, time and language. You can review my portfolio here or connect with me here.

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The Brandsmiths Podcast



Brand Strategists Hilary Laffer and Amy Swift Crosby tackle business questions with candid, (mostly) serious and definitely unscripted workshopping sessions. Guests – from small business owners to CEOs, executive directors and founders – bring their head-scratchers, hunches and conundrums to Hilary, the owner of a boutique creative agency in Los Angeles, and Amy, a copy writer.

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