Effective orgs create an intentional mirror reflection:
where language accurately defines brand actions,
and the brand’s actions fully reinforce its sentiments.
It becomes a synchronized infinity loop.
This is the brand in action
long after the “branding” is done.
It is the cementing work of brand reputation.
Lived out, it trades like currency, a gateway to better:
Partnerships. Talent. Loyalty. Market share.
It becomes brand truth. Delivered.
But when your language and actions are out of sync,
when one side doesn’t accurately reflect the other,
the brand narrative becomes
A WORK OF FICTION.
That can be a repellent when people are seeking truth
and something they can believe in -- now more than ever.
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.
The peculiar sprint to create soul-less content
Letting go of old narratives
What if “letting go” actually affords you the momentum to move ahead?
Playing it safe often means clutching to things with a too-tight grip.
This includes your outdated stories.
But if you loosen your grip and let go, your hands – and mind – are free to consider new possibilities.
What narrative are you clinging to that is no longer working?
Some stories have a limited lifespan.
They will run their course – even as others try to convince you to stay still and unchanged.
But you’re growing and evolving.
You’re ready for what’s next.
And that reassessment is essential for the growth you desire.
The story you tell is the one impression that lives on with those you’re trying to reach.
Tell the story you want them to embrace.
If you need help defining that narrative, reach out and we’ll craft it together.
The most important part of writing isn't the writing
I question everything I write.
Until I don’t.
That doesn’t mean I believe my drafts evolve into perfection.
Truth is I haven’t come close to writing the perfect piece, ever.
But what I’ve managed to learn over a few decades of writing is this:
The most important part of writing
is questioning and thinking about
what you just wrote.
This is the writer’s contemplative work that demands unmerciful scrutiny:
Is this really what you mean?
Will it resonate with the audience?
Did you use a helpful example or accurate analogy?
Did you allow jargon to slip in?
Can you say this differently but better, quicker, more human and conversational?
Is it reflective of the brand or individual you’re writing for?
Would you want to read this?
Does it educate or challenge what you think?
Does it make you want to take action?
Here’s an accepted truth:
Anyone can write and putting words on paper or a screen is easy.
But not everyone is a writer – and that’s okay and also acceptable. Not everyone is an engineer either. Which is why it’s helpful for non-writers to understand how writers do what they do.
Writing (the process) doesn’t look like
writing (the act) at all.
Writing is rooted in everything that is simmering before the first words are hammered out, after the first draft – and second, third or seventh – or however many are required until you land on a draft worthy of being final.
Writing includes thinking, mulling, stewing, questioning, arguing with yourself, walking away and letting first words calcify, returning to test if they are strong or brittle, tearing elements down and rebuilding.
It looks more like sculpting than writing. That’s because it is art.
Writing also involves letting someone with zero subject matter expertise read your draft to find out if they can follow it, to see if it makes sense even if they don’t know the technical details. Because simplicity outperforms the bravado of expert posturing. Which is to say…
Good writing is hard.
It is never automatic, and never a given.
Writing something good, once, is in no way a guarantee that your next thing will be any good. It requires doing the hard work from scratch, all over again with no shortcuts, in hopes that it too might become good.
The myth of great ideas.
Great ideas (epiphanies!) rarely “just happen” in a first draft or any draft. It’s like the fleeing fireworks display in the sky – it’s looks pretty, briefly, followed by hazy residue once the twinkle fades as you await what comes next. Instead, great ideas are the tortoises in these races to the finish line, always plodding a bit slower than we’d like but worth it in the end.
In fact, epiphanies aren’t unexpected, out-of-the-blue thoughts or ideas at all. They emerge when you prune and edit everything that’s been taking up space – in your brain and on the page. In this sense, the epiphany becomes sudden, recognizable clarity as bloated language and jargon get removed.
The great idea emerges after carefully working and examining the entire landscape and finding it has been hiding in plain sight all along.
Good writing is never over.
However, at some point it needs to be ready or complete. Complete means as far as you can take it, as well as you possibly can, with what you know right now. Because a few weeks or months from now you’ll look at what you wrote and find yet another way, possibly a better way to say it (note: when this was first written, generative AI wasn’t near the concern, a crutch, an aide — however you choose to look at it — that it is today).
For people who don’t do a lot of writing, this takes entirely too long.
For writers, there’s always a desire for more time to allow the best ideas and language to emerge and mature. And that’s because writers know what’s at stake, writers know what the right words can unlock.
We’re seeing a lot of written content feels disposable, unhelpful, noisy [add your descriptor here]. Many want to call it slop.
It feels like fast food: quick, convenient, seemingly necessary, but also lacking. And just like fast food, disposable content feels even less fulfilling after its consumed.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
Even the shortest post can have a powerful impact.
The deception is in how easy it appears (but you know the truth).
Cut yourself some slack.
The process and the action are part of the iterative and final product.
Think it through (ask more Qs and then think some more).
And then write some really good sh*t.
** For the record, I wrote and edited this piece across multiple sittings, challenging myself and what I believe about the process. Nothing comes easy.
*** The photo image is the cover of Steven Pressfield’s book of the same title and is a must read for writers.