Creative collaboration.

Writing – at least in creative fields – has almost always been an individual effort. The writer works alone.

In the world of advertising, like no other creative undertaking I can think of, collaboration usually happens right from the start. The client and account team have collaborated on the strategy – and when it’s time to hand the project to the creative team, you get a writer and an art director.

Maybe this is because advertising was never just about the copy.  The first ads (of the modern era) were posters – and a big part of the job was to get attention. Design is all about grabbing attention.

Direct marketing always was more about copy than general advertising was. It just takes more words to get a sale than to get awareness.

Why is collaboration a good idea?

1. As a creative person, I have to confess that working with an art director takes off some of the pressure. If we don’t come up with brilliance, at least there’s someone to help share the blame.
2. It’s faster to get to good ideas when I brainstorm with someone than when I go it alone.
3. The “words and music” have to work with each other. I may come up with marketing ideas the art director can’t execute. It’s better to figure that out before I present my work to the creative director or the account team or, worst of all, the client.

What make creative collaboration difficult?

1. When I like my idea and my teammate doesn’t, it takes effort to persuade him.
2. The more editors on an idea, the muddier it’s likely to become. Just like overworking a pie crust, you can roll the air out of concepts until they become chewy, not flaky.
3. I got into writing partly because I’m an introvert. Art directors sometimes suck the energy out of me.

These two lists are awfully personal, and not exactly comprehensive. But, to motivate myself to collaborate, I have to look at my own reasons for inspiration and see how ridiculous my “difficult” list really is.

Do you love or hate creative collaboration? What benefits have I forgotten?

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It's a candy mint AND a breath mint.

Just read another article about the poor, beleaguered banner ad in Mediaweek.

The Online Publisher’s Association and comScore want us to know that banners are about more than clicks. This follows efforts by the IAB and Microsoft to do the same thing.

True, these guys are a little biased. But, even though I’m a direct marketer and all about the click, I can’t help but hope they win.

I want the banner ad to survive – and I want it to be more than just an annoying flashing dealio that I have alter my screen size to hide. I’m not able to read with these things blinking at me!

Not everything is about an instant response. Banners could, in theory, do an excellent job of brand building. (Just remember . . . some of us will boycott ads that flash like disco lights.) They can also sell right now. This has always been true of, for example, newspaper ads – some of them extol the virtues of a product and some of them have coupons. Heck, the classified section couldn’t be more direct. It’s true of television commercials. We have branded ones and direct spots.

Both have a place. Both are important. The issue seems to be definitions and goals. Mixed or fuzzy goals lead to disappointment.

So let’s click our Certs and end the argument.

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We wuz robbed.

How do I recap such a gut-wrenching evening? The Hacks, possessing the killer instinct that screams “never say die”, persevered last evening in a game that felt more decided by the umpire than by the teams.

In a show of support by the fans not previously seen this season, the stands were filled with a rowdy lot of Hacks backers.  They came out to see the Hacks unload their impressive offense on the unsuspecting Worktank.  But what they witnessed was something altogether different:  an explosive first-inning by the opposition, dropped fly-balls by an otherwise stingy outfield, another dust eating face-plant - this time by Ms. Gawdammit (Lorene) - and one very questionable call by the ump.

The challenge of every manager is to field the best team possible, while rotating players in and out of the game, matching their skills with the best position.  But there was nothing the Hacks’ manager could do at the outset of the game last evening, when the Hacks went quietly in the top of the first.  Worktank went to work in the bottom of the inning, their hits finding holes where no fielder would ever be positioned. 

Hit after hit, the line drives over the infielders and bloops between the outfielders kept dropping, and the Hacks were left helpless to stop a six-run first inning by the opposition.

Four challenging innings later, the Hacks found themselves in a recently unfamiliar predicament, trailing by a substantial number of runs – 15-5.  Worktank was flexing its muscles, and the Hacks’ blood was beginning to boil.  Words between benches were being exchanged as Worktank’s poor sportsmanship began to reveal itself.   Things were about to get uglier.

The top of the fifth started innocently enough with a lead-off single.  Up strode Gawdammit, in need of a hit to ignite a rally.  The pitcher unleashed a high-arcing ball, falling squarely against Gawdammit’s swinging bat.  The ball skipped past the pitcher towards the second basemen.  Gawdammit took off from the batter’s box.  One step, two steps, threeeeee – and down she went, a billow of dust exploding around her.  The ball reached the second basemen – and was booted.  Gawdammit, with little time to brush herself off, rose to her feet and darted towards first base.  The throw was late and she was safe, covered in dust, but victorious in her battle with the her feet.  A butt-mark firmly etched in the baseline between home and first served as a memento to the occasion, and rallied the next few batters.

Three runs were in, the score 15-8.  With runners on first and third, Glamazon (Averyl) took her place in the batter’s box.  Digging her feet in, she shared a few off-color remarks with those in the immediate vicinity, the catcher and the umpire.  The pitch was unleashed.  The umpire said something – which no one on the field could understand.  Glamazon swung and laced a line drive over the second basemen’s head, seemingly scoring another run and keeping the rally alive.  As the Hacks were celebrating, the umpire strode out onto the field and called Glamazon back to the plate.  What was this?  The umpire was saying the batter “wasn’t ready”?  WHAT??!?! 

The crowd erupted in boos.  The Hacks dugout screamed expletives.  And coach Jayboyzee?  He unspeakably did nothing, coaxing Glamazon back to the batter’s box, even after she had decided to stay at first base, come hell or high water.  A Lou Pinella moment was lost.  At least one run, perhaps more, were wiped from the scoreboard.  And on the next pitch, Glamazon grounded out.  Frustration, anger and questions of corruption and back alley payoffs were raised.  Angry as coach Jayboyzee was, he reminded his team that, while winning was fun, fun was ultimately the goal.

The Hacks completed one more inning, admirably scoring four more runs in the top of the sixth, but came up short of redemption.  Worktank had won, the Hacks winning streak ending at three.  And what did the Hacks do in response to such a heartbreaking loss?  Had fun.  They pierced some liquid filled aluminum cans with keys, popped the caps and quickly downed some drink.  Good times, indeed.  Final score, WT 16 – Hacks 12.

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Bring it on.

What do a Lil’ G (Gina) belly flop around third base, a Marcus (Marc Smith) game ending kneeling catch in center field and two lovers running towards each other on a beach have in common? 

They all happen in slow motion.

Fresh off of Glamazon (Averyl) becoming the Hacks first disabled list player, thanks to a fractured knee cap, the team was down a woman, but up in spirit.  HipCricket (who?), our competition on Wednesday evening, was recovering from a string of losses and hungry for a victory.  They weren’t about to let the Hacks, on a two game winning streak, get in their way.  Lines were drawn in the dirt, the umpire yelled, "Play ball!" and the epic battle was under way.

As has become the norm for the Hacks over their past two victories, the first three runners reached base with Sobeau (Sarah), Wario (Mario) and Lil’ G filling the bases.  Up strode riceBURNER (Tyson), his mighty bat strung across his shoulder, his feet digging into the batter’s box, his fierce gaze glaring out to the helpless pitcher.  It took but one swing to send a shot through the infield, scoring two runs and igniting a rally that fizzled after four runs had crossed the plate. 

Back and forth the teams fought, the runs piling on as the innings ticked by.  After two, the Hacks porous defense had relinquished their once comfortable lead, as fly balls were missed, throws were dropped and ground balls skipped past the infielders.  By the time the merciless second had come to a close, the Hacks deficit was but two runs, trailing 8 - 6.

Their once dominating pitcher, riceBURNER, abandoned ship as other priorities called.  The Hacks were left to wonder how they would fare against this resilient team without their starting pitcher and most impressive offensive force.  As they pondered, they also scratched across two runs, tying the game at 8.  The Hacks may have momentarily experienced a loss, but they were determined not to experience another.

Reliever Jayboyzee (Jason) entered the game unproven on the mound.  Armed with a nasty backwards spin pitch that appeared to immediately throw HipCricket off balance, he managed to hold them to a single run as their lead inched ahead by one.

A slow chant began to fill the dugout as Glamazon rallied the troups, her play recording pencil fiercly scribbling the action into the scorebook.  Out, single, single, run, single, out.  Two outs recorded, a tie game and runners on base.  SoBeau and DoubleDub (Willie) finished the inning with back-to-back singles, driving home two more runs before the inning came to a close.  Hacks 11 - HipCricket 9.

As beads of sweat began to build on Jayboyzee’s forehead, the competition pushed another run across the plate and drew to within one.  The Hacks heartbeats had quickened as the taste of victory lingered so close.  Would one more inning be all there was?  Or would fifth be quick, facilitating a 6th inning?  The actions of the next few moments unveiled the answer to that mystery.  With a quick run scoring single by Mr. Downtown (Dave Brown), the Hacks had padded their lead, but omens of innings past loomed in the Hacks collective mind as the bottom of the fifth began.

A slow roller back to the pitcher by HipCricket’s leadoff hitter had "Out #1" scribbled all over it.  The glove went down to field the grounder, but the ball resisted the glove’s allure and darted off its leather, squirting feet away and allowing the runner to reach first base.  The next batter strode to the plate as the outfielders jogged in reverse, leaving much of the shallow outfield unprotected but the outer depths sprinkled with gloves.  The ball screamed off the batter’s bat, launched deep into the leftfield night.  Lil’ G, having positioned herself near the Oregon state line, had a play and settled underneath the fly ball.  As their confused runner reached second base, Lil’ G cradled the ball in her glove, the out recorded.  Unleashing a strong throw to the cutoff man resulted in a double play, as the runner was unable to get back to first base before the throw arrived.  A quick third out was recorded and the three-run lead remained, a lead seductive in its vulnerability, but tough in its unwavering strength.  The fifth inning had come and gone in a flash, and the upcoming inning six was deemed the final inning.

The Hacks needed insurance.  And assurance that they wouldn’t be going home with a loss.  DoubleDub came to bat with a plan.  Hit it hard, hit it far, and run like hell.  And, as Averyl is my witness, he did just that.  As he screamed towards third base, Twingo raised one palm, pleading him to stop.  But her other hand, distracted with a half-empty beer can, wasn’t able to convey this same urgency.  Around third he barreled, determined to record the team’s first home run of the game.  Two strides from home, the throw from the outfield arrived to the pitcher who applied the tag and recorded the out.  A heartbreaking way to start the inning, but the Hacks remained unfazed.

Three batters later, the Hacks had added another run to their total as Lil’ G stood at first base.  Lil’ Bri Bri, with runners on first and third sent a ball deep into the gap in center field.  As the outfielders chased after the ball, Gina, her injured knee twice wrapped in bandages, raced towards third.  As she hit the bag, her mind set on scoring, her feet quickly made other plans.  As her toes tangled against the base, her body was launched forward and her feet continued running sideways.  When her face met the ground, the taste of home never felt farther away, a cloud of dust lifting into the air.  As the tag was applied, Lil’ G could not decide which was hurt more, her knee or her ego.  Holding true to form, she brushed it off, spit the dirt from her mouth and readied herself for one more inning of outfield play.

The tension from both teams was palpable as the bottom of the sixth began.  HipCricket trailed by four, 14-10, but knew they only needed a few moon shots to walk away victorious.  Coach Jayboyzee’s palms were sweaty as he gribbed the softball, initially struggling to find the strike zone.  The defense behind him may have felt the tension, but didn’t display the nerves as they quickly recorded two outs around a one out walk.  And after HipCricket scored another run, making it 14-11, anything was possible.

Their next batter, a big-bopper, strode to the plate.  And on Jayboyzee’s first pitch, he sent a shot that was scorched towards the centerfielder, Marcus.  His first game in the outfield since little league, there was a brief moment of panic.  As the ball began its trajectory back down to earth, he stumbled; his knees buckled.  His legs folded underneath him.  He lifted his glove, pinched his eyes closed and felt the punch of a ball slam against the palm of his hand.  Miraculously he had come up with the catch.  The final out had been recorded.  The Hacks, amost too exhausted from the drama, were elated.  Victory, and a 3 and 2 record, was now theirs.

Bring on Worktank tonight.  So what if they’re near the top of the pack, sitting comfortably in third place?  The Hacks have the talent, desire and moxie to take them down.

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Let's go Hacks!

Expectations were flying high as the Hacks arrived at Maplewood to play the vaunted Poo-blee-seeees.  Freshly minted team jerseys graced the torsos of each player, the Hacks’ logo being worn with pride.  A win would pull the Hacks even at .500 and continue the momentum from their dramatic victory only two nights before.  Bring it on, the players were saying.  We can take this team.  We can win.

A reconfigured lineup placed Riceburner (aka Tyson) as the starting pitcher, a role he would excel at.  From the first pitch, it was obvious the Pubes would have their hands full.  Pitch after pitch brushed the strike zone, forcing the opposition to stand, bat on shoulder, and be called out on strikes, or swing and hope for the best.  The best was not to come.  After one inning of work, Publicis came away empty handed.  The score, 0-0.

The Hacks immediately went to work in the bottom of the first, the first four batters all scoring, capped by Tyson’s bases-clearing triple.  By the end of the inning, fists were pumping, high-fives were slapping and the sizeable fan-base were hooting and hollering.  The Hacks were in the groove.

The following half inning was like none the Hacks had seen before.  Four pitches were thrown.  Three outs were made.  As the band Starship so gloriously sang so many years ago, the Hacks were saying to themselves, “Nothing’s gonna stop us now”.

That is, except for the stale offense that appeared at the bottom of the second.  Five batters, no runs.  By the end of two, the Hacks led by a comfortable, but vulnerable 5-0.

Just as the Hacks thought Publicis would go down quietly, they erupted in the top of the third.  A once solid defense sprang a leak as ground balls skipped past infielders and throws sailed wildly against the backstops.  A once cocky Hacks team had suddenly seen their lead slip away, as Publicis scored six to take a 6-5 lead.

Not to be outdone, the Hacks came out in the bottom of the inning with something to prove.  Nearly batting around the 18 man and woman lineup, eight runs crossed the plate, capped off when a drawn-in outfield watched a K-Arlene (aka Lana) fly ball find its way over the left fielder’s head.  By the end of the third, the Hacks had regained the lead, 13-6.

And the Hacks may have walked away from this game with the trifecta: healthy, happy and victorious, if not for what occurred in the top of the fourth.  With runners on first and second, a Publicis batter sent a fly ball to the gap in deep left field.  As Lil’ G (aka Gina) and Wario (aka Mario) ran full speed towards the ball, the rest of the players watched helplessly as they collided, the ball falling untouched beyond their reach.  Lil’ G lay in pain as Wario threw the ball back in.  The crowd gasped.  For a moment, Lil’ G lay motionless.  And then she stirred, her reassuring smile sparkling across her face.  She rose, hobbled but insistent on staying in the game, her grit and determination symbolizing everything this team stood for on this day. 

The Hacks tacked on five more in the bottom of the fourth, and after Riceburner put away Publicis in the top of the fifth, the game was called official, the Hacks victorious once again, 18-9.

Next game is next Wednesday, 7:30pm start time, at Dahl Playfield (in Ravenna).  I’ll send out a reminder next week.  We hope to see everyone there.

Pictures of last night’s game can be found here.

Go Hacks!

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Victory at last?

After falling victim to both a rain-out and a lights-out in the first four weeks of the season, the true potential of the Hacks had yet to be revealed, as inconsistent play and erratic fielding had plagued an otherwise impressive looking team.  What was needed, the team agreed, was some solid weekend practice to sharpen their skills, refine their hitting technique and add some swagger to our championship-dreaming strut.  So after two weekends of well-attended practice, the Hacks arrived at a crossroads in their season, win and have a chance to play in the playoffs, or lose and remain one of the last standing winless teams.  The Hacks were not about to let the latter happen.

Our competition, EducationDynamics, was already legendary in RAT League circles, known as the company whose President called an emergency practice after their first loss of the season.  The Hacks would have their work cut out for them.

It began quietly enough.  The first few pitches to leadoff hitter extraordinaire, Lil’ G, managed to arc at a towering 18 feet in the air, much too high to be called strikes, and resulting in a first-batter walk.  Coach Jayboyzee was next to bat and swung at the second pitch he saw, hitting a slow roller to their second basemen.  Previous teams would have vacuumed the ball up, tossed the ball to second for a force and on to first to complete a 4-6-3 double-play.  But ED was not one of those previous teams, and their fielding ineptness was revealed when the ball rolled under the second baseman’s glove and into right field for a hit.  The first-inning onslaught was on. 

When the top of the first inning had ended and the dust had literally cleared, the Hacks had scored more runs than they had managed in their first two games combined.  10 runs had scored, thanks to some timely hitting from the ladies, and one monster homerun from Riceburner (aka Tyson).  Smiles had returned to the faces of the Hacks as they took the field.  They might actually win this game, they thought.  All they had to do was play some solid defense.

This proved harder than imagined.

While our new second basemen, Distracta (aka Kimberly), was swallowing up groundballs right and left of her, Riceburner, the hero of the top of the inning, was quickly becoming the goat of the bottom of the inning as ground ball after ground ball found a way either underneath his glove or into our dugout behind the first basemen from errant throws.  EducationDynamics was fighting back, and before the inning had come to a close, had pulled to within four runs, 10-6.

The powerhouse offense that had generated 10 runs in the first inning unspeakably disappeared in the second inning, scoring no runs in a quick five batter at bat.  The swagger had vanished, and ED was smelling Hacker red.

As our lone fan in the stands, Kelly Sellers cheered on SoBeau’s every pitch, she was powerless to do anything as the Hacks watched their lead vanish and ED take their first lead of the game.  By the end of the inning, the once mighty ten run lead had turned into an unimaginable one run deficit.  The Hacks were speechless – Pablo the Pup, the dugout mascot, providing the only source of comfort to an otherwise forlorn team.  

Lorene strode to the plate, the team in desperate need of a rally.  The clock was ticking on the game, as the first two innings had taken nearly an hour to play.  The game was nearly over; this would be the final inning.  She swung – contact was made – a slow roller to the infield was bobbled, and a rally had begun.  Before long the bases were loaded, but two outs had been recorded.

Cue‘The Natural’ music.  Quack strode to the plate, the most crucial at bat of his young Hacks’ career, with the team’s first victory on the line.  An injury during practice the previous week had plagued him, and the manager had debated benching him for the game to get some rest.  The runners fidgeted at their bases as Bill stood at home, his sore right shoulder throbbing in pain, waiting for his pitch.  It was slow to the plate (as balls are in slow-pitch softball often are), and Quack swung hard.  The ball took off from his bat, the players on the field arcing their heads to watch the trajectory of the ball as it sailed into right field, each base runner finding their way to home as Quack victoriously stopped at second base.  A bases-clearing double had padded the Hacks lead and the crowd, all one of her, was going wild.  Riceburner followed quickly with his second home run of the night, completing the 19 run outburst for the Hacks. 

Now, all the Hacks had to do was keep ED from scoring 8 or more runs. 

Seven runs later, there were two outs, the tying run on third and the winning run on first.  Riceburner, the team’s new closer, threw his last pitch, which was hit to the shortstop.  Mr. Smith fielded and threw a wild throw to first base, in the dirt.  For a split second the entire team had a loss flash before their eyes.  But before the ball rolled to the backstop, Wario, the substitute first-basemen, made an incredible scoop of the errant throw, somehow keeping his foot on the bag.

3 outs.  Game over.  The Hacks win!

19-18.

And sorry for the long write-up, but the first victory of the season deserved it!

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Week 4 and the tension grows.

On an incredibly balmy summer (or is it still spring?) late evening in Queen Anne, the Hacks came to play.  Warmed up from a successful Saturday morning practice where 80% of the team attended and the thirst for their first victory of the season, the team arrived early and determined to play hard. 

Evenly represented by nine women and nine men, the lineup was packed eighteen deep.  As game time neared, our first fans of the season arrived, thunder-sticks in hand, “We’re #1” foam fingers in tow and vocal chords ready to cheer loudly.  Nine groups of two tossed balls back and forth, loosening up their arms and practicing their catching while the half-racks of beer stayed cool and untouched.  This was going to be the Hacks night.  They were certain of it.

As game time (9:30pm) neared, the sun began to settle in deep behind the trees, bringing dusk in its wake.  Bats wings fluttered in the sky overhead, while bats on the ground hit some practice grounders.  It was then when something odd and unsettling overcame many on the team – it was getting dark, but the lights weren’t coming on.  Practice throws became dangerous, nearly-invisible orbs falling out of the sky.  This was not good.

A call to the ‘No-Lights’ hotline revealed what was becoming frighteningly obvious – the lights were not going to come on.  And when the umpire of our game jogged out to our position in the outfield and called off the game, we were left with an empty pit in our stomachs, aching to play but empty of competition.  And that’s when the fun began.

As was demonstrated during the season’s first rainout two weeks back, the Hacks know how to make a good time out of a bad situation.  Needing to quench a thirst for competition, they turned to the untouched half-racks, puncturing aluminum cans with keys and pencils, imbibing the contents within seconds.  With crushed cans beginning to litter the outfield, others turned to a Lil’ G special, Toilet Tag.  How best to describe?  Think having to freeze in a seated position when tagged, your arm ‘walking like an Egyptian’, to only be unfrozen by someone pulling your arm down and ‘flushing.’ 

High school antics?  Perhaps.  But to the Hacks, such entertainment on an evening of unfulfilled promise was required to ease the pain. 

As to who will be held accountable for such an unfortunate occurrence, so we can be sure this never happens again?  The Hacks, in true Hacker fashion, will be scheduling an Error Meeting to decide…

Two games next week.  Hope ya’ll can come out and watch.

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Counting clicks.

Isn’t it odd that, whenever you have firsthand knowledge about something you read in a newspaper, you realize the article is full of inaccuracies? I say this as someone whose college major was Journalism (about 500 years ago) – so I sympathize with news writers. It’s never easy to pull together every stakeholder’s perspective and have a coherent outcome.

I was still surprised, and a little appalled, at yesterday’s New York Times article called “Put Ad on Web. Count Clicks. Revise.”

The premise was that – suddenly – advertising could be measured. Ads could be objectively compared. Marketers – as never before – would know what worked.

I realize I’m in the direct marketing biz, so I have a better idea than most that this is not revolutionary news. That, in fact, this has been going on for about 100 years (literally) – and the Internet has only made measuring results both easier and more complicated. But this article is in the Media & Advertising section. Shouldn’t the editor of this page be a little better informed?
How about the people they quote? Shouldn’t they have a clue? Here’s what the featured spokesperson of this new era says:

“It’s putting numbers to an industry that never had numbers before,” says Mr. [Darren] Herman, 27, who started and sold three media and technology companies before founding Varick last summer. “It’s nice to be able to tell your brand manager or the chief marketing officer which audience is interacting with the unit, what time of day, what day of the week, and what the response is on certain types of offers. Before, nobody could really tell you that.”

Seriously? Never had numbers before?  I’ve been measuring the results of advertising since before Mr. Herman could ride a bike. (Yes. I’ve already admitted that I’m very old.) Others have been doing it for even longer.

It’s true that back then I didn’t know what time of day my responders wrote their checks or filled out their BRCs. But I certainly knew what the response was to different offers. I wasn’t doing TV commercials 27 years ago – but even back in those days, DRTV professionals knew what time of day and what day of the week was most effective to advertise.

To read in the Times that big agency holding companies are just now ”starting data practices, hoping to latch onto what is expected to be the fastest-growing category of online advertising in the next five years,” makes me shake my head. Many agencies – most of them from direct marketing – already have sophisticated data practices. We don’t need to hire laid-off spreadsheet readers from Citigroup or Bank of America. We have really smart data analysts on the team.

One more NYT quote:

Getting advertising agency employees to rely on data is difficult, agencies say. And as people trained on Wall Street migrate to Madison Avenue, executives anticipate battles between creative types and wonks.

I’d like to suggest that the follow-up article can be about those battles between creatives and . . . let’s call them the “suits”! That’s something we’ve never seen before on Madison Avenue. (Back off. Old people get to be sarcastic, too.)

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