Are your words saying the same thing as your pictures?

One of the joys of living in a tiny TV market and watching local broadcast is having a good laugh at the expense of local advertisers.

Granted, the advertisers may not see it that way.

And yes, you may identify this unflattering indulgence as a case of schadenfreude. (Maybe that should be a Words Good Good Word Of The Week?)


Schadenfreude, a delightful sounding German word for delighting in the pain of others is a morbid and mirthful time for everyone but the most conscientious and uncorrupt.

But let’s face it: there are really only three good alternatives here.

1) Cry.

2) Stop watching.

3) Call the business and offer to fix their advertising.

Since I‘m a cold-hearted human whose tear ducts have been paved over, crying is out.

To stop watching would require initiative to do something else, and I’m inherently lazy.

And being afflicted by a non-enterprising, introverted kind of lazy means I’m not reaching out to anybody I don’t have to. I’d rather gouge out my own eyes with grapefruit spoons.


So, hello schadenfreude!

Anyway, there’s a local funeral home that advertises on TV with some frequency.

Their ad copy says what you expect: all the normal loads of caring, compassionate boilerplate. Most of the words talk about sincerity and sympathy and such.

Then there’s the swimming pool and the alcohol.

Yes, the image that is firmly cemented into my gray matter is the shot of the men in the family who run this caring and compassionate concern gathered around a poolside patio table with cold, frosty beer.


Nothing in funeral service advertising speaks to caring and compassion like backyard swimming pools and cold beer.

Now, shall I play devil’s advocate?

The message sent by the cold, frosty beer is this: “If it matters to you, we are not Baptists.”

And granted, there might be some method to that madness.

If the receptionist at the funeral home is tired of answering every caller’s first question by saying, “Sorry, we are not Baptists,” that cold frosty beer by the pool is a good way to qualify the prospect before they ever pick up the phone.


That insane bit of possible genius notwithstanding…

As you know, when writing advertising, the single most important person in the message is the customer.

In my humble if hyper-enthusiastic opinion, the best funeral advertising of all time is the Forest Lawn radio of years ago in Southern California.

The campaign was called, I believe, “Celebrate A Life.”

Each commercial was a monologue by someone fondly remembering a deceased friend or family member, and how incredible and joyous the sendoff was.


I’ve never heard any advertisement that made me say, “Wow, I wish I could be that dead guy.”

But this came close. (Talk about the opposite of schadenfreude!)

Ya know what those Forest Lawn commercials never said? “And we chose Forest Lawn because the entire funeral home family likes to drink frosty cold beer around the backyard pool paid for by my funeral dollars.”


Watch the words that are going with your pictures.

Words and picture must complement each other. It doesn’t matter whether they’re on the screen or in your listener’s mind.

The words might be good. But something in the equation might be bad. Unless, maybe, there’s a madness method afoot.

Words good. Madness thoughtful? 
Cheers,

Blaine Parker
Your Lean, Mean Creative Director in Park City
 
LIGHTNING BRANDING ON AMAZON
The Kindle edition of our new book is now available at Amazon for the REDUCED bargain price of $9.95
 
For details about our new Lightning Branding courses, both do-it-yourself and we-do-it-with-you editions, click here. (There's even a video of us!)

DON’T BALTER ABOUT, YOUR BEER-SOAKED BABOON!

Yes, today’s Good Word is “balter.”

The word "balter” means to dance artlessly, without grace or skill.

In other words, it's dancing like a lot of geeky guys do at their junior prom.

It might even be how we dance in this missive. Words Good does not claim to bring any particular art to you or your writing. But it does bring a great degree of clumsy enthusiasm. And occasionally, it offers up a fun word without any clear need for that word.


However, with a word like “balter,” is "need" really the issue?

Balter is about the fun, the thrills, the joy of lex.

Words? Good!

Balter? Better!

As great as they are, you can’t run around plugging big, unusual words like “brobdingnagian” into your everyday conversation.

But a word like “balter” can find a home in your daily chatter.


Let’s say your friend Walter gets drunk and tries to dance yet again.

You can call him Baltering Walter. Perhaps he was even that beer-soaked, baltering baboon at the top of the page.

“Balter” is a good enough word that you could even start a whole movement about it.

You might start printing and selling T-shirts that proudly proclaim, “Balter on!” and it becomes a thing.

As an alternative to the annual spring debutante ball, where fresh young flowers are introduced to society, you’ll begin seeing that annual satirical rite, The Annual Autumn Balter Ball, where besotted balterers celebrate the death of the season among the brown, crunchy leaves of another wasted summer.


And just by the way, speaking of trees…

Whilst researching “balter” for your dining and dancing pleasure, Google informed me that “People also ask, ‘What is a Dendrophile?’”

I had to ask, too. It sounds like something the cops might be able to run a sting for. "Let's nail those disgusting dendrophiles, damn it!"

Indeed, knowing something about the word “dendrites” did not inform any further understanding of dendrophilia, which sounds just a little bit dirty.

Seems a “dendrophile” is a tree lover.

So very quickly, while baltering about with Google, your artless scribe succumbed to the juvenile joys of fabulous phonemes with no regard for usefulness or practicality.


Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Anyway, Words Good Good Word for Daily Use is “balter,” to dance artlessly, without grace or skill.

Bet you can find a place for it. 
Cheers,

Blaine Parker
Your Lean, Mean Creative Director in Park City

LIGHTNING BRANDING ON AMAZON
The Kindle edition of our new book is now available at Amazon for the bargain price of $19.95.
 
For details about our new Lightning Branding courses, both do-it-yourself and we-do-it-with-you editions, click here. (There's even a video of us!)

"What have I done?"
--Nicholson at the Kwai Bridge

Indeed, what have I done?

This screed is a mess.

It all began with a question: What profound gem of copywriting or marketing can I toss your way as a parting thought for 2020 that will change your life in 2021?

And the answer: Probably nothing.

You are witnessing the not-knowing of writing a regular weekly assignment in an effort to be useful, purposeful and intentional.

Sometimes, this exercise is just hopeless.

Go ahead. Leave now. Save yourself.


Something I’ve found myself doing lately is thinking back.

Not with nostalgia, but curiosity.

What writers have made me sit up and take note? What writers have influenced my work in one way or another?

They are a diverse and intelligent lot, all smarter than I. Some of them you probably know.

Ogilvy. Bernbach. Williams. Godin. Gossage.

Well, maybe you don’t know that last one. Howard Gossage is a kind of a cult figure among copywriters. He died too young, but still had a profound impact on ad guys as diverse as Goodby Silverstein’s Jeff Goodby and late, great, Guerrilla Marketing guru Jay Conrad Levinson.


But there are other, less likely writers.

For instance, there’s the late New York Times columnist, Russel Baker.

I was in junior high school when he wrote his column about how to carve a Thanksgiving turkey. His prose made it clear how hysterically funny a newspaper columnist can be--especially when he’s not writing about politics.

I also remember the opening paragraph to Baker’s satirical piece about televised sports, titled “Kaleidosport.”

“For days, we sat at the box mesmerized by sport. We saw the Mets beat the Nets and the Jets, saw Pancho Segura score a hole in one, and watched thunderstruck as Evonne Goolagong came off the bench in the final seconds of play to whip the mighty Nebraska Cornhuskers with a line drive to center field.”


That’s just the beginning. It becomes a lesson in crazy.

I remember discovering PJ O’ Rourke, known today as a conservative pundit, via an article he wrote for Car & Driver magazine about competing in an off-road rally in the new Jeep Cherokee.

In the article, he touted the joys of packing a suitcase while drunk (when you get to your destination, opening the suitcase is like Christmas).

He asserted that while Michael Nesmith has zero skills to offer as a rally competitor, he is an excellent conversationalist, and that was sufficient to put him in the car.

And O’Rourke’s saying that a hotel-catering shrimp cocktail looked like “a Sea World exhibit gone horribly wrong” was an object lesson in how a simple line of excess can break up a roomful of people.


Sometimes, a writer is sticky for just than a single line.

For instance, Carl Sandburg’s “The fog comes on little cat feet.”

It’s a seven-word gem that is firmly ensconced in my gray matter. In another life, it might have been good ad copy. It's succinct, crystalline and memorable.

David Ogilvy is so very quotable. But from his writing, there are two lines that stick with me as quintessential.

One is his classic headline: “At 60 miles an hour the loudest noise in the new Rolls-Royce comes from the electric clock.”

The other line is an admonition to advertising professionals: “The consumer is not a moron. She is your wife. Don’t insult her intelligence.”

Pow! Right in the kisser! (Oh, look. That's a quote from Jackie Gleason.)


I can also pretend I read the classics.

With that, I will say that Shakespeare has done it for me with one line, but not any of those lines so oft repeated they're now seen as clichés.

Instead, it’s Marc Antony’s soliloquy over Julius Caesar’s body: “And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge, with Ate at his side come hot from hell, shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice cry, ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the dogs of war.”

No, it's not a cheery sentiment. But not all writing is cheery. Sometimes, it needs to be potent and powerful.

(Forgive me for not writing this in the proper format for iambic pentameter.)

An equally sticky, deadly line for me couldn’t be from a more different source.


It is said by Charles Bronson in the movie, The Mechanic. [SPOILER ALERT.]

Mob hit man Bronson has been training aspiring mob hit man Steve.

Steve returns the favor by betraying Bronson and killing him.

Steve moves into Bronson’s house. He's now living large on the memory of his mentor. He goes to the kitchen and opens the freezer door.

In the freezer, Steve sees a note. Bronson’s voiceover reads: “Steve, if you're reading this, it means I didn't make it back. It also means you've broken a filament controlling a 13-second delay trigger. End of game. Bang! You're dead.” And the refrigerator explodes.

Cheery and violent! (Monty Python.)

What is the point of all this?


Let’s call it a New Year’s Call To Action.

Write inspired.

And know that you’ll find inspiration in the unlikely places.

Read what’s evocative.

Find words that make your head explode.

When words take you by surprise, ask, “Why?”

Obviously, you can't copy it. That's called plagiarism. But you can hold it in your hand like a shiny jewel and raise it up to the light and understand what makes it shine.


Even bad craft has value.

Sit with a group of friends opening their fortune cookies and you see it in action. as they read their fortunes aloud, each person in the group writes something new based on that little slip of bad copy.

There is value in raw material all around you.

Be informed by it, and it can inform your writing.

And your writing is one thing you do that can clearly set you apart. It will let you raise the bar in your service to others.


Being surprising enhances the sell.

And in your professional life--maybe even your personal life--the loudest noise will be the electric clock.

Bang. You’re living large.

Happy New Year.

Got a favorite inspiring line? Reply to this email and share it. If we get enough, I’ll compile them for another Hot Shots.
Cheers,

Blaine Parker
Your Lean, Mean Creative Director in
Park City
 
LIGHTNING BRANDING ON AMAZON
The Kindle edition of our new book is now available at Amazon for the bargain price of $19.95.
 
For details about our new Lightning Branding courses, both do-it-yourself and we-do-it-with-you editions, click here. (There's even a video of us!)

​
​We spend so much time talking brand, we don't spend a lot of time talking copy...
 
And recently, your relentless scribe had the opportunity to write a piece of direct response copy that was 100% successful.
 
Please understand, I'm not patting myself on the back. Had I failed at this, it would've been inexcusable. 

Instead, I'm offering it as an example of how anyone can write a good advertisement for almost any product or service.
 
Personally, I have never in my life written an advertisement for a motor vehicle or a motorhome. So, that makes me unqualified in that area, right?
 
Of course not--but a lot of so-called "pros" will try to tell you that.
 
First, some backstory. As you may know, the fabulous Honey Parker and I have a podcast called CoupleCo: Working With Your Spouse For fun & Profit.
 
For two years, we've been driving across the country in the CoupleCoach, a 25-foot C-Class motorhome. We've been interviewing entrepreneurial couples about crushing it in business without crushing each other. 

We usually show up with two black bags. One contains good microphones. The other contains good wine. (People are scared of microphones. They are not scared of wine. It helps loosen up the conversation and makes the subjects very happy.)
 
COVID-19 sent our transcontinental travel plans were sent into a sideways skid. Nobody really wants strangers showing up, regardless of whether they're toting microphones and wine. So, we decided to sell the CoupleCoach.
 
Step One: Take the CoupleCoach and have the outside professionally cleaned by a commercial truck washer, complete with Armor All on the tires. (BONUS: You feel really cool sitting in line, waiting with all those tractor trailers.)
 
Step Two: Park the RV someplace pretty. Take a comprehensive range of photos using the phone's camera set to HDR. Use a photo editor to crop the images, deepen them and boost the color.
 
Step Three: Write the copy.
 
Here's where the fun begins. (If you fail to see the merriment in this mission, you'll probably just want to go hit the unsubscribe button. That's OK.)
 
Creating this copy requires understanding: a) your Core Customer, b) the benefits of your product, and c) your copywriter's voice.
 
CORE CUSTOMER: This motorhome is smallish at 25 feet, but it's also expensive. It's also built on a Mercedes Sprinter chassis, which is an object of desire. So the Core Customer presumably knows something about Mercedes, and has some money to burn. The customer will have a decent level of income and sophistication--and little to no experience with RVs. We'll call the customer Sophisticated Newbie. So, while a first motorhome might be a daunting prospect, Sophisticated Newbie has accomplished things in life. This person also wants to have fun.
 
BENEFITS: The key benefits are a) the Mercedes chassis, b) the rig is really clean, c) it is loaded just enough, d) it is well maintained, and e) it's a great size for a newbie.
 
VOICE: Did you know that I'm a smartass? (Don't answer.) We'll have to reign in the smartassery for Sophisticated Newbie, but just enough. This person is buying a fun machine, so we still need to have some fun. We have to project confidence with a smile, and be reassuring to the our Sophisticated Newbie.
 
Now, about the competition...
 
Just for the fun of this exercise, I found two competing ads for a comparable rig. Same maker. Same chassis. Same model line. Here's the first ad: 

"Approx. 8900 miles, two slide outs, Mercedes diesel, kitchenette, rear queen size bed, Onan generator, propane range, microwave, electric/propane fridge, A/C, propane heater."
 
Twenty-three words! Zero character! Buy now! (The minimal photography and drab images are especially persuasive.)
 
The other ad has more photography. It's somewhat better. At the same time, it manages to make the RV look like a mobile prison cell. Even on the outside. And the owner's stuff is still all over the place--in the RV, in the closets, in the storage compartments.
 
His ad also has more copy. It's about 300 words long. Here's an outline of what each paragraph details:

• A bullet point about the RV I learned recently.
• Bullet point
• My aggressive statement of defense about you.
• My preferences and what you need to expect.
• How you must behave.
• Bullet point.
• Bullet point and my tangential experience. Your experience will vary.
• More about me.
• Even more about me, a bullet point, and my vacations.
• Bullet points.
• Bullet points.
• Bullet points.
• Bullet points.
• Bullet points.
• There are more bullet points, but I won't mention them.
• More about my trips.
• One problem that I'm turning into your problem.
• Good bullet point about me offset by a bad bullet point about me.
• More about my vacations. One thing I'm guessing about. Why you should buy this during a pandemic.

The call to action should be, "Please phone Eeyore at his convenience." 


So, here now, your relentless scribe's copy for the CoupleCoach...

The Coachmen Prism 2200LE is the best of both worlds: the legendary Mercedes Sprinter 3500 chassis, and a roomy, comfortable C-class coach. (A friend with a much more expensive Sprinter-based C-class peeked inside this one, and was really bummed out. His rig was just more expensive. This one was more roomy.) The Sprinter is a pleasure to drive. And once you park and open the slide, the coach has plenty of living space. We've had 8 people inside and felt perfectly good about it. (Not sure you can do that in a van.)
 
The walk-around queen bed features the upgraded mattress. It's surprisingly good by any standard, not just RV-bed standards. The entertainment center features a 32-inch flat-screen TV and a surround-sound bar, as well a stereo system with CD/DVD. Kitchen features a combination microwave/convection oven, a three-burner range, and a dual-fuel refrigerator (electric/propane). Works great. Always had ice for our beverages.
 
Bonus: we bought this rig new. That means we handled all of the road trials so you don't have to. And (for real) we've never pooped in the toilet. This is one clean rig. We've lived and worked in it for extended periods. The swiveling cab seats are great for that. We've always had plenty of storage. There's also a custom made black walnut dinette tabletop, and a custom sink cover/cutting board. Both are handcrafted artisan product by Boone Creek Farm in Missouri. (The original factory components are also still in the rig.)
 
All regular maintenance has been performed by Mercedes Benz of Draper. We've also had warranty work on the coach performed at the Coachmen factory. Additionally, we had Coachmen install tank heaters so the rig can be used in colder weather. The Onan generator has very low hours. There's a Zamp portable solar panel, which is really convenient. When you park your rig under a shade tree, you can still put your solar panel out in the sun. (The coach came pre-wired for solar as a standard feature.) The receiver hitch is great for your bike rack. All six tires are fairly new, and still have plenty of life left in them. When not in use, the rig has always been stored under cover in St. George.

Here's a link to the full specs...