the story is in the telling

Itches.

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If you want to know more about someone, participate in a naming exercise. You’ll learn a lot, and fast.

Whereas in many other business interactions it is hard to decode individual and organizational motivation, the process of naming a company, product or brand is an easy tell about the stakeholders.

One of my primary jobs is to name things. In the past few weeks, I’ve found myself around the conference room table with multiple teams in different cities, trying to name companies. Some yearn for clever names that sound like rock bands or production companies, while others want more neutral, confident references that speak to DNA or methodology. Certain generations are solving for Instagram hashtagability, while others are measuring against the seriousness of an investor deck.

One of my favorite aspects of this process is that you can start to see who needs to be creative (maybe they’ve been handcuffed by a suit), or who wants to leverage lowest common denominator (franchise owners). Need is worn right on the sleeve when it comes to names.

Taken further and applied elsewhere, it’s easy to see a hidden agenda unearthed when someone dominates a conversation (control) or mentions their accolades at any opportunity (acknowledgment). It’s all there if you’re paying attention.

All of us have a creative/emotional/professional itch we need to scratch. Sometimes it’s more obvious than others. But certain habitats reveal them in such a poignant way.

It’s so fascinating to watch these unintended confessions revealed. Naming discussions just happen to be an easy place to hear them. But they’re actually everywhere, if you listen.

Content.

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It's not easy to make something that feels exactly like nothing else.

On a recent call with the global marketing director of a major fitness brand — someone responsible for managing messaging across all channels — she paused to ask me a more philosophical question: “What do you think the secret to creating compelling content is? These days, everyone seems to be in the ‘game.’ ”

It’s true, and admittedly, something that I often wonder about. It seems that anyone with a Mailchimp account wants to say something…or feels that they should be saying something (whether they really have something to say or not). With the rise of social media, email and web marketing, communication platforms are ubiquitous, which means that ads and campaigns — and in turn subjects, headlines and body copy — are earnestly written, edited, and sent, from anyone who can.

Some do it well – we click every time, because we feel disarmed or moved or paused by what they have to say.

Other campaigns remain unopened, invisible in the marketplace. No matter how much noise they make, if nobody cares…well, nobody cares.

Inner monologue aside, my answer to what makes good content is simple: if you can sink your teeth into an idea — go beyond the obvious, unveil a truth that’s on people’s minds but not yet on their lips — you have something worth broadcasting. Rich content can be everything from useful/everyday DIY, to big ideas, unpacked into smaller bites we can all understand. But compelling writing actually comes from thinking original thoughts, first. Writing is the last step in that process.

Here’s my personal litmus test:
Am I saying something new, and if not new, in a refreshing way?
Does this feel personal, persuasive, disarming, useful?
And most importantly — does anyone care?

And when I write for myself, I go one level deeper:
Does this feel truthful/vulnerable and connected?
Do I think that saying it will help at least one person feel less alone in their thoughts?

Anyone can contemplate, aggregate, pontificate. But to matter today, you have to relate.

Triggers.

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Natalie Massenet, founder of Net a Porter, with her new Farfetched partner.
Image Courtesy: Farfetched

I’m (so) not enough.

Why aren’t I achieving more?

Maybe I’m lazy.

Or… just not as smart / good / connected.

What the WHAT is this lovely (hideous) and supportive (diminishing) self-talk? Oh, it’s mine, actually. I found myself thinking this as I read through a WSJ profile on the founder of one of the biggest ecommerce / fashion platforms that ever was — and her new venture.

Is there someone who has this effect on you? Every time I read about the ever-inspiring Natalie Massenet, some kind of inadequacy alarm goes off inside me.

Maybe it’s because she was a writer/ editor / content maker, like me, but ascended it.

Maybe it’s because I knew her 15-years ago. She seemed smart and cool but not like the head of a fashion empire or a digital genius (which means it’s about hard work, nothing more or less.)

Or, maybe it’s because she was paid $150 million for her start-up. And that is depressingly awesome.

At the root of it is little to do with her and more to do with what she triggers for me, and what each of us needs to answer for ourselves:

Am I being true to what I want to do / build / offer to the world?

Triggers bring on existential angst, for so many reasons.

But hopefully you recognize yours, as I recognize (and hereby confess) mine, which is half of getting over them. But I’m thankful for her existence and frequent reminder of what I’ve done, not done, and still want to do.

Even though she really does get me every time.

Generous.

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You don't have to be a sadhu to be surprisingly kind. Photo @Jenniferromans

This is a story about the (surprising) gestures of others, and their lasting impact.

When I first got out of college, I worked at CNN, as the assistant to a very visible VP. While he was away at a European bureau, my (new) used car caught fire while I was driving it, melting the gasket. I was new to Atlanta, to my job and company, with no real friends yet  – working with a limited budget — and had to quickly solve how to get to and from work every day. In 1994, you bought a car through classified ads, so most of these negotiations took place on the phone.

One day, as I zigzagged between mechanics reports on the fax machine, printing insurance documents, my busy phone bank, and a mess of papers accumulating on my desk, a nearby manager – who also reported to my boss – came by my office. She admonished my use of work hours for “personal calls” and informed me that she’d be taking it up with the boss. I was distraught, embarrassed, and unsure of what side of “right” I was on. If I was out of line, I wanted to volunteer that information myself, rather than get reported by Lady Blah Blah.

When the VP called from London later that day — back when long distance calls sounded crackling and distant — I relayed what had happened (and was so nervous that I started to cry). The first thing he told me to do was go into his office and shut the door. Saving me from office humiliation with this gesture was my first surprise.

Next, after hearing me out, and having actually already gotten an email from the ambitious manager, he said, “I got her email, but I trust your judgment. Take care of your situation, do your best job, and let me know how I can help you when I get back.”

This guy – in the midst of the Gulf War news crises — could have fired me, or at least leveled me before moving onto more pressing tasks. But he gave me the benefit of the doubt — an unproven 22-year old, and definitely the least important person there. I’ll never forget how that felt, and how it changed how I trusted myself.

We likely don’t realize how our (re)actions or words impact people for years to come, and how impressions make a lifelong mark. I could have shared a negative story to illustrate this same point  — because there are some (juicy ones) that stand out. But I wanted to share this one because we all have a choice when we react, and inside the hours of any given day, get unexpected opportunities to make one.

It doesn’t seem we can lose by choosing generosity.

Details.

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H&M wisely tapped director Wes Anderson, a master of detail, to make a short holiday film. Note the focus on story, not clothes. Everything, in every frame, was a decision.

Isn’t it refreshing (I’d even say exciting) to go into a business / restaurant / office where they care about the details? Where a potted plant sits in ceramic instead of plastic? Where the floor of a fitness studio gets swept or mopped between workouts? Where the dentist gives you rose tinted glasses to ward off glare? Where meeting rooms are stacked with pens and pads of paper? Little things often move the needle on whether we come back / buy more / comment / reTweet/Gram / recommend.

I found myself at an athletic club recently, a bit perplexed by the clock on the wall that still hadn’t been changed since daylight savings time, a wrapper on the floor — right next to the garbage. The absence of Kleenex (anywhere.) Television sets in multiple corners — all on the same channel. And my favorite — an exclamation point after the gym’s address in the footer (maybe they’re excited about their location?)

Thoughtfulness often appears in the smallest of ways. And some would argue that customers don’t really notice these seemingly minute details because the bigger goal — the service or product itself — should take center stage. But it’s all part of the experience — from what they see on your website, to what they experience in person, to what they view on social media. You’re one brand, not five. And you’re always saying something — whether you put thought into it or not.To think our choices, as business owners, as brands, don’t impact sales, retention, loyalty — is a blind spot.

Sweat the small stuff.

You don’t have to do everything (resources are usually limited and most of us don’t have Wes Anderson-style budgets), but make sure what you DO decide to do is intentional and says what you set out to say.

Marriott.

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I haven’t noticed Marriott in years. When I think of that hotel chain, my brain goes to airports, insurance conferences and big plastic name tags. And they’re good at those things. But this ad, which is now running globally, disrupted that status quo for me.

The industry analysis on this campaign has been to emphasize the company’s investment in employees and celebrate a heritage of service. As we all know, when employers invest in employees, they feel motivated and committed to the work they do facing guests. But why I like it, apart from the brilliant creative by the New York agency Mother, is that exposing staff members to ballet isn’t just about witnessing culture, poise and grace — it’s about learning to embody those qualities in one’s self — physically applying those concepts and forms. This demands a relationship to your body, an awareness of the expression on your face, the nuance in the curve of a hand, attention to posture at all times — even when no one’s watching. For all the reasons we love watching a ballerina in action — and can spot one on the subway sans tutu — Marriott gifted a legion of employees with movement that feels intentional and precise, because they knew that it wouldn’t just have an impact on how a man carries a tray or the way a meal is presented — but how he is, as a man — or how she is, as a woman.

You don’t have to come to that training with mounds of self-respect / self-esteem / self-knowledge. But what you get out of that training is all of it — without the traditional focus on external service practices, “the booklet” in this case. When you teach people how to own the feeling you want to embody, not just wear a mask that looks like it, they become aware of it across all the roles they play.

You can arrive to your desk everyday, unshowered, in your pajamas with bed-head-bun, or you can get dressed, brush your hair and smell amazing — whether anyone sees you or not. Circumstance — being a waiter, a remote freelancer, a stay-at-home-mom, doesn’t dictate who you are — but how you hold yourself, treat yourself and regard yourself, tells the world everything about how you are. But mostly it tells you.

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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.

Photo - Andrew Stiles

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