Kranz On Copy: Insights and answers on copywriting and writing copy

What's in a word? Often, how marketers define a word, and how consumers experience its meaning, are two very different things.

Consider my dictionary, the Random House Webster's College Dictionary, published in April 2000 and proclaiming on its cover, quite presciently, "Includes new words for 2001." I loved my previous reference, a paperback copy of the Oxford American Dictionary, but the spine literally cracked in two and besides, I needed authoritative spellings for contemporary neologisms, such as "website" (or is it "Web site"?).

But what makes the Random House a "college" dictionary as opposed to an ordinary dictionary? Does it have more words? More esoteric words? A guide to making the beer-can pyramid?

As far as I can tell, it is exactly like any other dictionary -- except for one thing. I bought the book just four years ago and already the pages are turning yellow. Now, this is a reference book, and one would think that, by design, a reference book should be printed to last. Not so, I guess. Apparently, a "college" dictionary is a book with a short shelf-life, one designed to last, oh, I don't know, perhaps four years or so.

By contrast, there's Gotham: A History of New York to 1898, a colossal boat-anchor of a book that I bought at about the same time as the dictionary; its pages are as snowy white as the day I first opened it and started to read. (I'm almost finished, I swear.) Gotham is published by Oxford University Press, and the good folk across the pond have done their customers the courtesy of printing the book on acid-free (or at least low-acid or buffered) paper.

What does "upgrade" mean to you? You might think it means valuable new features and services. Well, to the people who produce the accounting software I use to manage my business, it means "shakedown." They've targeted numerous messages my way warning me that they will no longer offer any tech support for the version I bought a long, long time ago, way back in . . . . 2002. I could either "upgrade" to the 2005 iteration, or take my chances on a software that will not be supported by its manufacturer. None of the allegedly "new" features have any meaning for me whatsoever.

Nice. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy about this certain software provider. And by "warm and fuzzy" I mean -- well, you can guess what I mean.

I applaud you for getting past the headline to reach this first sentence. Truth is, the promise of "a message from the president" -- be it on a website, in a brochure or in a catalog -- is usually interpreted as a threat by most readers. Nine times out of ten, this "important" message is either an exercise in vain promises ("We're dedicated to exceeding your expectations!") or a forum for self-congratulation ("That's why we've been named Number One three years in a row").

Is there ever an occasion when a president's message can be a valid part of a marketing communication? Yes. When the person behind the message means something to your customers.

Take Lyman Orton for example. He leads every catalog of the Vermont Country Store with his message. But consider the context: Lyman is a descendent of the store's founding family and the catalog's brand is deeply rooted in its non-corporate, honest-Yankee image. His message is the printed equivalent of neighborly chit-chat at the general store counter. He has license to communicate "personally" with his customers because his customers expect no less.

Another, more esoteric example: The Mosaic catalog. A treasure-trove for jazz aficionados, Mosaic offers exquisite reissues of classic jazz recordings (complete with beautiful B&W photos, expert discographies and fascinating essays), many of which have been previously unavailable for decades, if they had been released at all. The president and co-founder, Michael Cuscuna, has a recognized track record as one of jazz's leading producers and as an authority on the esteemed Blue Note label. He's an expert and his opinions mean something; his recommendations carry weight. His customers welcome his messages.

Should you lead with a president's message? Only if she's known and respected by your customers. Or if she holds a gun to your head.

Around and around we go . . .

Last month, I ranted and raved about circular branding -- marketing messages that tell us the brand is all about . . . the brand.

Among them was this choice tag line heard on WBUR in Boston: "Collaborate. Create. Succeed. This is what we do. This is how we do it."

Well, since my post, the tag has changed a bit. The company still collaborates, creates and succeeds, but now their three big verbs are followed by this line: "This is what we do for our customers."

A modest improvement, to be sure. But why did it happen? Is it just a coincidence that the tag changed after my post . . . or do I, like The Shadow, have the eerie power to cloud men's minds?

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows . . .

Last week, I had a conversation with Jon Warshawsky, one of the authors of Why Business People Speak Like Idiots, as prelude to an article on fighting bullshit that will appear on MarketingProfs.com.

In the book, Warshawsky and his colleagues Brian Fugere and Chelsea Hardaway describe the major causes of corporate bullshit -- obscurity, anonymity, hard-sell tactics, and downright tedium -- and offer practical alternatives for more effective communicating.

Idiots argues that plain-talk can help lift you from the morass of cubicle-culture and improve your career. I couldn't help but wonder if, instead, honest straight-talk will have you put out on your ear.

If you told the truth at work, would you be appreciated or fired?

Just a week ago, a good friend of mine was fired largely because he is the kind of no-bullshit truth-teller Idiots applauds. I know him well enough to know that he's not a crusader nor an arrogant know-it-all; in fact, he takes great pains to be sensitive to other people's concerns. But he does have a passion for his work and he will speak his mind. Unfortunately, he found himself in a very conservative work environment (at a liberal university, no less!) that didn't appreciate his "crossing the lines": My friend had the nerve to say "hello" to sachems two levels over his head!

In our conversation, Warshawsky did concede that there are toxic work environments where bullshit is the required language of all who wish to survive -- in those environments. I conceded that it may be best to leave -- if you can.

We both agreed that truth-tellers often extract the most lucrative revenge. How many corporations stifle honest expression, and eliminate truth-tellers (the euphemistic rationalization: "She's just not a 'team-player'") only to spend ten-times what they would have spent on salary to pay for the services of consultants? Consultants who then tell the corporation what it has avoided hearing from its employees?

Tell the truth: How are things around your cubicle?

Here's the way things usually work: Some people make stuff, then hand the stuff over to other people to sell it. But what if the sale began as the product was conceived and designed?

That's exactly what they're doing at Design Continuum, a consulting firm of industrial designers, mechanical engineers, graphic artists and assorted anthropologists featured in today's Boston Globe.

Instead of making what you will then cramming the results down the consumer's throat, they begin with a most radical (in the original meaning of the word -- "at the roots") design approach: They observe real people in real life situations. Then they apply what they learn to products that solve real problems or meet real needs.

One of Continuum's fundamental beliefs? An approach to research that's akin to Alexander the Great's attack on the Gordian Knot: "If something is really important to at least one-half of the population, the chances of not finding it after closely interviewing seven people is less than 1 percent."

The proof is in the pudding and Continuum has a heck of a lot of pudding to be proud of. The Swifter Mop. The Reebok pump sneaker. The Cambridge SoundWorks T-300 Tower speaker. (The latter grew from an observation that while men buy speakers, women "try to hide them." The T-300 is a beautiful blonde-maple piece of furniture intended to blend into a room's decor.)

What if that same "observe-learn-solve" approach were applied to our own products and services? Suddenly, marketing wouldn't be an afterthought, but a starting point -- a place to begin.

What if?

(P.S. A big thanks to David R. for catching and correcting a typo in this post!)

Is there a title for your profession that sets your teeth on edge? One that's so fundamentally misguided and inappropriate that it makes you cringe every time you hear it?

For me, it's "wordsmith," a loathsome synonym for "writer" that becomes even more foul when it's used as a verb, i.e., "Let's 'wordsmith' this a bit before we send it to legal for approval."

I'm not unsympathetic to the original intention of the word, which was to remind people that writing is real work, like smithing, and not a casual dalliance for people who have a way with words.

But "wordsmith" is hateful nonetheless. Why? Because it suggests that writing is a superficial activity, a kind of polish applied to ideas, knowledge and strategies that have already been fully formed. By analogy, a "wordsmith" is to marketing what an interior decorator is to architecture -- an executor of trivia, master of the irrelevant and unimportant.

If you aspire to be a "wordsmith," you're aiming too low. If you allow yourself to hire a "wordsmith," you're doing your business a grave injustice. Here's what real writers really do:

1) Real writers investigate your needs, market, business and audience, then develop a strategy for connecting your business to customers.

2) Real writers create a structure that presents your message in as clear, simple and powerful way as possible.

3) Real writers manipulate tone, voice, vocabulary, point of view and a host of other rhetorical considerations to lock your message within the imaginations of your prospects and customers.

All marketing writers worth their salt do all three of these things -- and not of one of these three is remotely related to "wordsmithing."

"Wordsmiths" erode their own profession. What rubrics, titles and types undermine yours?