The hard way differentiation happens

If there's one thing I've learned in the branding / marketing / messaging space over the years it's this:

An excessive amount of time gets spent on how orgs position what they do, concocting the exact blend of words that seem novel in an attempt to say it unlike anyone else is doing it... while little time is spent scrutinizing how "it" gets done and why.

Differentiation doesn't happen as a result of flowery, expertise-driven language or prettier pictures.

It comes by articulating what you do simply, plainly, clearly, unmistakably --and offering it as an accurate reflection of the lived experience.

[ ** side note: people who say they want to create something "out of the box" are not the customer. They are people who have tired of their existing efforts that must not be delivering results, which triggers the desire for more extreme changes ** ]

The perceived hard thing (differentiation) becomes an elusive treasure hunt... while ignoring the obvious thing (clarity and accuracy) because they haven't defined it or see it as too easy to be made so simple (in reality, this is hard).

I liken this to the Kerouac quote:

"One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple."

Until then, many will continue to do a hard thing -- using too many of the wrong words and making things more complicated than they need to be.

It gets even harder when dollars are put behind those words that fail to build trust and move the needle.

And in my experience, that's where the pursuit of simple clarity and accuracy begins.

When your chosen words lose their meaning and intent

Two questions we are not asking ourselves and taking seriously enough:

·        What happens when our language choices lose their meaning?

·        What’s at stake when we rely on vague or overused language? 

As an outcome of our autopilot content creation, here’s that what I think happens: audiences gloss over it, they apply their own meaning or definition to worn-out words, or worse, they dismiss it — and you.  

I believe this happens often, especially when we try too hard to sound smart rather than communicate clearly. And I say that as an audience member and a writer who must fight against autopilot smarts.  

So I’ll ask – what does this business language say to you:

-- Innovation

-- Transformational

-- Brand

-- Speed / Acceleration

-- Strategy

-- Next

You’ll have definitions that differ from mine – and possibly your audience (I have three definitions for each – precise, generic and negative).

When people read these words in context of your content churn, expect that they will apply their definitions accordingly. I do, and I think you probably do, too.

I put these once well-intended words into what I call The Canon of Acceptable Business Vernacular, language that is predictable, rudderless, highly overused and often intentionally vague — the opposite of what should be conveyed, of having distinction and uniqueness that everyone claims.

You know many of the Canon’s entries — formerly known as “buzzwords” at the height of their overuse. Eventually they cool down and become part of the Canon, awaiting resurrection from someone who doesn’t know quite what to say.

But the Canon doesn’t make you or your writing any smarter. Rather, audiences recognize it as business-speak void of the substance and clarity they crave.

And here’s the real danger:

When you turn to the Canon and expect it to do the heavy lifting, you forfeit clarity and meaning.   

When you use the Canon's opaque words by default without testing, asking others and getting clear about what you mean, your words lose their value.

Standing out isn’t about fitting in with a vague vernacular and trying to look or sound the part. It’s about giving audiences a reason to believe because you left no doubt.     

As I see it, we outsourced much of our thinking and language a long time ago by applying so-called “best practices” without asking critical questions about meaning and intent (unless, of course, the strategy is a cut-and-paste and hope-for-the-best approach, which is not a wise strategy and kinda feels like generative AI).   

Sure, it’ll take some deeper thinking and iteration – which will require a bit more time – even as you "accelerate at speed toward the next brand innovation breakthrough that will transform lives." But that’s also the point.

Which brings me to this old trope: Mean what you say and say what you mean.

While you might find it cliché, you’ll do a lot worse if you choose to ignore its simple genius.  

Give AI slop a hard stop.

Here’s a truth about the perpetual mudslide of AI slop:

It’s avoidable. Mostly.

And here’s how:

• Cull your connections to people you’ve met, you know well, and trust their insights. Numbers of connections mean nothing. Real human connections are what matter.

• If someone in your network is a slop-slinger, mute them.

• You’ve been conditioned to scroll, but a habit formed can be a habit broken.

• Search with specific intention vs. scrolling aimlessly.

• Seek out insights from your people vs. hoping they appear in the timeline. The timeline is not your friend. It is a slop-fest.

Then, close the tab.

Close the app.

Close the laptop.

Turn off the device.

AI slop is a digital phenomenon.

Live outside your devices and live more slop-free.

“Stay hungry” isn’t near as fun as staying curious

This is not your typical post.

What follows is an online-offline exchange with one of the best creative minds in the business right now — Greg Walter of 2Tall Animation.

His sports-related animation studio has become a sought-after partner across global sports leagues and their teams with millions of eyeballs on the content they create. And for someone who I assumed owned the cheat code for timely, buzzworthy creative content, I didn’t see this question coming — at least not from him.

The question he posed online to fellow creatives is below, and what I feel strongly, via my own creative practices, is simply one way to respond to it.

I talked with Greg about this before posting to get his blessing on sharing insights from our exchange (slightly modified). Frankly, I would’ve responded publicly in the app, but found I had more to say than the tiny window afforded. I also think a lot of hard-working, thoughtful and creative people who have been on the scene for a while can glean some helpful takeaways here. At least that’s my hope.

GREG:

To the Gen Xers, the children of the 80s, the greying ass-kickers who are still at it, still risking, still creating… what are your tricks to staying sharp, creative, and hungry?

ME:

Greg, I saw your post and it got me to thinking….

While I lack any tricks or life hacks, I interpret your question as being about “more work” or new work – and, I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling drained by “feeding the beast” and doing “treadmill sprints” more often than I’d like to admit.

So I have to stop looking at this as “work” and, instead, as curiosity. A curiosity that I trust will feed new ideas that become the energizing work we “get to” do — not just have to do.

I know, curiosity = buzzword, so let me explain my take.

My version of curiosity isn’t surface-level and business-relevant hot takes of saying, “dang, look at Agency X killing it over there. Why didn’t we think of that? How can we riff off that?”

No. What I mean is:

Go hang out with younger people.

In particular, I’m looking at people who are 15 to 29 years old (and young 30s). And here’s why:

The age range reveals an interesting learning loop. 15-year-olds are starting to think for themselves, breaking away from parental molds and “discovering” who they are, their likes and dislikes.

A lot of it is peer-induced, but it’s the beginning of noticing trends. Trends that, like all trends, once existed in a different time, different shape or container, and are now recycled for a new generation. This to me is a well of fascination.

They fall in like and then in love with things borne of the 80s or 90s or aughts often without knowing the origin source, because it has a new twist on it just for them. So looking at them and through their lens, I see things of my past differently.

We have a choice — we can be the old farts who say, “I remember when Don Henley sang Boys of Summer back in 1984” and shake an angry fist at a cloud when we hear a cover of it; or we can embrace The Ataris version that is faster, more punk-pop, swapping out a Dead-head sticker on a Cadillac for a Black Flag sticker (which, arguably, I’d prefer). It’s the same dang thing slightly tweaked for a new audience. And I realize I can love them both.

It’s the sharpness and clarity of old becoming new again. That makes me hungry to learn more. To ask “what if” more. Pursue more.

Same is true for college-age people and those post-college young adults entering the workforce and adulting, what they are willing to work for (and not work for), their questioning of purpose, value, commerce – a more cerebral, personal awakening that isn’t solely material, but feeds their choices.

The more time I spend with those younger than me by a good stretch, the more alive they make me feel, the more curious I become, the more I translate that into my work of creating and mashing things up. Because if the cliché of there’s nothing new to discover is only partially true, then it’s in the remix where all the next great inventions exist.

CASE IN POINT:
I would love to know what percentage of your younger audience consuming 2Tall’s basketball results content has a clue that it is a mashup of a Charlie Brown Christmas and NBA personas and outcomes. It’s like an Easter Egg for us Gen Xers, with a wink and a nod to say, I saw what you did there!

But that knowledge isn’t necessary for a younger jet set to love it. That’s feeds their hunger. Not just borrowing from the past, but making it relevant for today’s audiences.  

Funny, when I get together with some of our long-time friends, I’m often more energized in hanging with their college-age kids. Talking and experiencing music, culture, whatever. It’s absolutely life-giving when you have a curiosity mindset.  But if I reduce my exposure to those my age, we digress into easy and comfortable territory, talking about the trials of aging, our latest health issue, stress, problems, because we’re on the same chapter together. While it can be comfortable, it also can be life-draining.

I think the more bold, the more crazy, the more inspiration from the unlikeliest places, the better. That’s where genuinely fun and interesting ideas come from.

Maybe your NBA playoff results look totally different — or don’t exist at all — if you and your team aren’t mining your childhoods, or rewatching a Charlie Brown Christmas with your kids.

So, how many other cultural levers can we find and pull and borrow from to make an old thing totally new?

This is what stirs the creative juices, IMO.

Not another brainstorm in the War Room.

Showing up and being present in the lives of those a generation or two behind us has so much give-and-take value for both side. There’s so much to glean and rethink — if we’re listening and paying attention. Because everything we’re looking for isn’t mysterious and hiding. It’s residing in our past memories and histories, waiting to be rekindled in a new way.

You’re already there. You’re leading the way in many respects.

Keep leaning into that grab-bag of curiosities and what-if mashups.

And for all the geezers who live for the data over the art, you can feel confident knowing your delivering both.

GREG:

Holy Crap, Thad. This is an amazing take. Never thought about it this way before. And it's totally true. I love hanging out with 20 somethings, but I never thought about it this way. This is how we stay relevant, keep moving forward, and keep our edge - it's by being around people who are in that stage of life where they're testing, striving, remixing, rethinking in a way that 50-somethings generally aren't.

I love hanging out with my 50-year-old friends because it's comfortable.

But I love hanging out with 20-somethings because it's electrical.

Maybe that's why I'm one of the few who really likes having teenage kids. It's invigorating as heck.