Please, please stop saying "Anybody can be a creative."

There is a clandestine effort – conscious or deliberate, I cannot say – to diminish the value of creative. The thinking that fuels this conspiracy is that being creative is more a hobby than a career path. As a writer, I'm often asked to "come up with something fun" for a neighborhood event, a relative's wedding, or a school project, as if nothing were more fulfilling than to add more work to my life.

"Anybody can be a creative" is a phrase I hear bandied about ad agencies, usually by upper-management types who are trying to foster this wild idea that creativity lives in the ether, waiting for anyone to pluck its fruit. I believe the statement is said as an attempt to be inspirational. It's not. It's insulting.

For example, were I to approach my mechanic and say, "Hey, anybody can fix a car," he'd likely take umbrage. My mechanic, born with a clever knack for understanding complex machinery and trained to be among the best in his field, deserves better than my droll assessment that his skills are pedestrian at best. As creatives, we deserve the same courtesy.

After all, not only are we born with  more weight on the left sides of our brains, we have honed and labored  our craft since our childhoods. To say, "Anyone can be a creative" is no less ridiculous than saying anyone can be a brain surgeon or an NBA power forward. 

I could never be an accountant. I could never be a world champion hotdog eater or a capable plumber or a cutthroat divorce lawyer. I haven't the talent for any of those pursuits, but I appreciate those who do. I should hope they have the same respect for me. 

Jeremy Harper is Chief Instigator of Storm the Castle Creative and is not available to create your birth announcement. 

The one good practice marketing execs must adopt in 2018.

Engaging the theater of our minds, let us pretend you have $100,000 to spend on producing a TV spot. We know the reality falls somewhere between $5,000 and $2,000,000, but bear with me. When you presented your budget to your agency, the account executive probably said something dashingly low-key, like, "We can work with that," as if they had a choice. From there begins the beautiful machinations of building a TV commercial. What fun!

What you don't see on Mad Men is the barbaric process of elimination that occurs in pre-production – an exercise that whittles the copywriter and art director's epic vision into a grotesque Frankenstein that is an affordable marketing message. Most of these cuts are purely pragmatic. ("Why don't you just set this spot on the moon?" a frustrated production manager once screamed at me).

Every cut is felt, however. Shooting will be reduced from three days to one. The script will call for a majestic scene atop a Hawaiian volcano, but will ultimately be shot in the creative director's back yard. The celebrity voice over you pitched in the creative presentation will become a local talent who can manage a passable British accent. 

These are all age-old sacrifices. However, smart branding managers (like yourself) should resolve to stinking to an unbreakable production absolute in 2018: never skimp on the on-camera talent.

It is said that great photography is all about proper lighting (which is something you should never mention to a photographer). Likewise, a great TV spot is all in the casting (though you should spare the writer that truth). 

Consider a recent campaign for DirectTV, which pokes fun at backwards consumers who prefer cable TV over Dish. Conceptually, it's a mediocre idea with a big media budget. But what makes the campaign work (and work well, apparently) is the professional casting. 

Brands with heroically small budgets are tempted to cut costs by casting their articulate employees, cute relatives or (gasp) themselves in their TV spots. This may save you a fee, but it will cost you magic. Behold DirectTV's perfect casting! 

Whether plucked from the local stage theater or selected from a well-connected casting agency, the actors employed by DirectTV are the best part of what could have been a boringly juvenile idea. You can bet these thespians came at a significant cost to the brand. However, what price might have the brand paid had the campaign failed to penetrate consumers' minds and bounced ingloriously into the ether?

In 2018, resolve to improve your branding through acting. The initial costs are high, but the end result is rewarding. 

Jeremy Harper is Chief Instigator of Storm the Castle Creative and is, according to his wife, a very poor actor. 

Ending the War on "Happy Holidays"

I have a friend and colleague who hates this time of year, at least in portion. It has nothing to do with seasonal depression or Christmas commercialization or the bone-chilling cold. His Yuletide disdain stems from a benign expression and has sapped him of his good cheer. 

"I hate having to say 'Happy Holidays,'" he grouses, glaring at a growing pile of Holiday card job and ad requests on his desk. 

My friend yearns for the quaint days when "Merry Christmas" covered it all, when no one was compelled to appeal to the sensitivities of multiple beliefs. To him, including everyone means sacrificing his own culture – one that was universally accepted before society began to overthink itself into a political correct abyss. 

But the world is much, much smaller now. We live in an age where marketers know you better than you know yourself. Today, everyone is our neighbor, whether they live in Paris, Arkansas or Paris, France. The world is our market place, but individuals are the target audience. A seasons greeting is as likely to be "Happy Diwali" as it is "Merry Christmas." 

As an agent of advertising, I've not only accepted "Happy Holidays," I've embraced it. It's the tidy "glad tidings" that fits neatly into conversation and a corporate greeting cards. It offends no one except those who long for incandescent Christmas bulbs and aluminum Christmas trees. Faithfully translated, "Happy Holidays" literally means "Merry Christmas," "Happy Hanukkah," "Happy Festivus" or any of a dozen greetings you may wish to extend this frigid winter. 

Learn to love Happy Holidays, y'all. You'll find the season merrier. 

Things I learned by launching my own creative shop

I had no idea how many hours I'd spend sucking down coffees at Starbucks

Starting a business is like having a baby – you can't help but to pass yourself as an expert once you get started. This isn't one of those posts, though. Truth is, you start a business knowing nothing, and you likely close shop just as educated.

But I have learned a few things in the short life of Storm the Castle Creative; things I wish I knew going in, and things I'd have never known were it not for good friends. Since I am you're good friend, I share my new wisdom with you. 

1. Absorb the knowledge of your peers. I'd be absolutely nowhere without the insight given to me by friends in the business (looking at you Kitbash and Cody Scott Productions). From setting up my G-Suite business services to learning how to properly invoice a client, the people who have "Been There, Done That" are your most valuable mentors.
2. Stay in touch. Resist the urge to "do it on your own." Your former co-workers and clients are powerful sources of advice and excellent business leads. Call them. Invite them to lunch. Grab a few beers. And listen. 
3. Don't make stagnant hours unproductive. You likely won't start with a full portfolio of clients. You'll have stretches of maddening inactivity that will make you question your life's new direction. Rather than go completely mad, use the still hours to build your website, set up lunches, polish your LinkedIN – work on your brand. 
4. Bank. Lawyer. Accountant. You may be a brilliant creative, but maybe you're not much of a business person. (I'm not.) You need business banking accounts. You need to incorporate. You need to understand how taxes affect you. Visit these professionals and make their wisdom yours. 
5. Appreciate your worth. Your first instinct out of the gate will be to lower your worth to attract business. Don't. If you start your business cut-rate, you will have to dig yourself from a cut-rate reputation. Also, you might be tempted to divulge your ideas when putting together proposals. Don't. Your time and your ideas are your primary assets. Don't give them away.
6. Force yourself to "be on." As an agency writer, I wrapped myself inside a cocoon of creativity. Now I'm in business, and I have to be on. Don't ignore phone calls. Remember your follow-up emails. Be engaging and charming in mixed company. Your business will pull you out of your comfort zone. Embrace the discomfort and learn. 

I still have so much to learn, and I spend way too much time contemplating mistakes – real or perceived. If you have it all figured out, let me know.

I'd love to take you out to lunch.

Brands can be brave.

Jeremy Harper is Chief Instigator of Storm the Castle Creative who spends his free time staring into space. 

The many forms and legitimate function of advertising stereotypes

Recent news in advertising has centered on regulating stereotyping in advertising. I have two sons. Advertising stereotypes concerns me, especially when they perpetuate ideals detrimental to society’s growth.

A post in Adweek took on Carl’s Junior advertising as a prime example. Cartoonishly sexist with its bikini-clad models jamming enormous hamburgers into their mouths, the Carl’s Junior brand has long been “Exhibit A” for advertising’s negative use of stereotypes. It’s effort to reform and focus on food is applauded.

But there is a case for stereotypes.

For creatives, the stereotype is the launching point for a message that must be delivered quicker than a synapses can snap. For example, thanks to a decades-long diet of Homer Simpson and Peter Griffen, we’re all well aware that suburban Dads are a dopey, selfish slovenly lot with soft guts and an unending appetite for beer.

We all look this, right guys?

That single stereotype has given birth to a billion television commercials, ranging from beer and cable TV packages to deodorant and potato chips. And we’ll keep on perpetuating this stereotype. Why? Consumers seem to like it.

In fact, there are many stereotypes to which consumers gravitate: Sensible Mom, Hip Minority, Wisecracking Teen, Nosey Neighbor, Funky Grandma, Precocious Kid, Fun Loving Girlfriends, Savvy Millennial, Grouchy Father-In-Law. Why won’t they go away?

Two reasons: consumers eat them up and ad agencies find it cost effective to spoon it ‘em out. After all, the majority of advertising isn’t meant to nudge society forward. It’s designed to connect with consumers in very broad ways. To stray from stereotypes is to take a risk. Considering the cost of a 30-second TV spot, most clients are willing to exchange a stab at the avant gard for a proven commodity.

Stereotypes aren’t going way, but they can evolve. Dopey Dad can acquire a few IQ points. Father-In-Laws can lighten up and Precocious Kids can speak more like real kids. But don’t count on too many Carl’s Junior transformations. Somebody has got to sell the burgers.

Push Your Brand Forward Five Years

A couple years ago, I was working on conceptualizing a television spot for a small (but rapidly growing) brand.  Many people in the room seemed to carry a pre-conceived view about the brand, often dismissing and even smirking at concepts that placed the brand in an elite light.

Jump into your time machine and concept five years into the future. 

“Come on,” was a common assessment. “That’s not who they are. Be realistic.”

Rather than build up the client, there seemed to be a greater focus on bringing the brand down to earth. I suggested that we focus on what the brand aspired to be. Why? Because this is how we want our consumers to view our brand.

Aspired Advertising accepts that we as advertisers aren’t 60 Minutes. Our lot is to enhance the image. Though we should never embellish the brand beyond disbelief, we should proceed using the brand’s potential as the base.

Here are three Aspired Advertising tips that can accelerate the process:

1.    Move the brand up five years. Never start at the brand’s current state, but imagine where the brand could be in five year’s time. It will have grown, right? Become stronger. More attractive.  Start with tomorrow.

2.    Push to be bold. Many clients are modest to a fault, hoping that consumers will organically see and accept their beautiful attributes. Instead, be brazen and bold; as bold as your audience. For they do not wish to associate with tepid brands. 

3.    Respect a brand’s challenges. Small brands that take on the Brand Establishment are brands deserving respect. Take up the creative sword and adopt their cause. View the battlefield through their lens. Then you will work to elevate your creative to the brand’s aspirations.

Bonus advice: If you can’t be excited for the brand, tap out. It’s okay. Find a brand that stokes your fire. 

Confessions of a Macho Marketer

I can do macho. Don't let the hipster hat fool you. I've chopped wood. I've been known to eat a rare steak. I once popped my own jammed thumb back into socket and only cried for an hour. 

Are men really on the sum of that one part?

In advertising, writers are sometimes required to perform Macho Marketing, which is to fluff the chest hair of a product or service. The creative brief reads something like this:

AUDIENCE: Men, TONE: Manly, DUE: ASAP

For nearly 20 years, I've pumped iron for dozens of brands, in categories ranging from power-tools to golf tournaments, men's hair cuts to hunting. Over the years, I've noted a number of trends associated with Macho Marketing. We men are simple creatures, content with our grilling and overstuffed recliners, subservient to the intelligent practicality of the women of our lives (if secure in our belief in our superior upper body strength). We're not "politically correct," though we're resigned to be seen antiquing with our spouses if it means being allowed to watch a football game later in the day. 

We ignore our rising blood pressure, our weakening hearts, and our bad cholesterol, but place the utmost importance on maintaining an erection that lasts just short of three hours. 

We look terrific without a shirt. Except when we don't, and that's cool too. We're unafraid to show our adorable dopey side, willing to set aside all sensibility for the sake of an enormous television we can't afford. Oh, we do speak knowledgeably on the important topics: beer, sports, mowing grass, grilling. We're only made completely helpless when asked to watch our kids or to make a reasonable decision about home decor.

We go big or not at all! We admire the imagination of the dudes who transform backyards into hockey rinks. Our heroes wrestle bears and bungee jump from bald eagles. We ignore our rising blood pressure, our weakening hearts, and our bad cholesterol, but place the utmost importance on maintaining an erection that lasts just short of three hours. 

Hand us a pistol and we'll shoot you a bullseye. Send us for groceries and we'll come home with frozen pizzas. Request romance and receive tickets to a monster truck show. It's all good, because we're men, as noted by our baseball cap worn backwards.

Yes, I am an unrepentant Maestro of Macho Marketing, and I have the beer-breath to prove it. Should I be worried that I've contributed to an industry that has whittled an entire generation down to a Horrible Hagar cartoon? Should I not probe deeper into the male psyche and learn his secret yearnings, his hidden talents, his deepest wishes for his enduring legacy?

Nah. (Burrrrrp)