A quick note on children’s brands

August 15, 2010


Proper spellings of children’s brands that I’ve encountered today.

Outside of Crayola, I’d have spelled every one of these wrong. The last is the most surprising to me. Not Milton Bradley, which was a staple of my childhood, but MB Games. Flip the box over, and you’ll see a link to Hasbro.com. A quick Wikipedia search confirms that Milton Bradley was taken over by Hasbro.

In 1984.

My peanut butter is in my chocolate and all of that, right?

In other spelling foibles, Fisher-Price has a hyphen. I had no idea. Also, I swore Play-doh was spelled without the “y.” Funny – I’m convinced it’s spelled EVEN MORE wrong than it actually is.

This is all without mentioning the brand-less watercolors I wiped up yesterday.

Tags: Isaac, Sierra, Words |

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Searching for a new SearchTest

June 29, 2010


With search testing comes the need for original, unrelated words.

The goal, of course, is to make sure a Web site’s search function works. You throw unrelated words in, of course, so you can search for them. And while the standard “SearchTest” will bring up a series of specifically coded pages, that word is boring.

A total yawnfest, you guys. And predictable, which, apparently, my former ad agency self won’t allow.

So I apparently go for the angular. A recent set of test search words: “Waldo.” “Kraken.” “Yeti.” “Kilroy’s Revenge.” Sharp corners. Weird combinations.

Look at that. It’s like a Styx album threw up on your computer, right? I contend it could be part of a new phonetic alphabet.

Either way, I’m not far away from assigning search terms to the more memorable Final Fantasy elementals, or John Tenta wrestling aliases, and when I get to that point I fear I’ll have gone to far. Please keep me in your thoughts.

Tags: Career, Words |

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Killing hyperbole: or, a lesson learned from the “Lebacle” overreaction

May 12, 2010


Last night, Lebron James had a bad game.

One bad game. Against a very good team. In a pressure-filled playoff atmosphere.

And, from the sound of it, the world is coming to an end.

Henry Abbott expertly covers the “sky is falling” aspect of this one bad game in a recent post on his blog, TrueHoop:

The “LeBacle” may soon prove to have been one of the darkest moments in Cleveland’s miserable sports history.

But please, spare us the assertion that after one bad night we know James has always had a permanent flaw. It’s just absurd, and amazingly some of it’s coming from the faithful in Cleveland. Twitter, Internet comments, my e-mail inbox, Facebook, all are loaded to the gills with talk that he’s doomed to mediocrity, psychologically deficient or was intentionally tanking.

As if those 69 playoff contests and 548 regular-season games were the aberration, and this one horrible night was the truth. As if the guy who scored 25 straight against the Pistons in a similar situation needs a lecture, from Twitter, on embracing the challenge.

Somebody should make a big list of all those people who think they now know James is a doomed player, and we’ll revisit in a decade.

He’s talking about basketball writers. But there’s a tone to this that reaches across all subjects, one that draws a sharp line showing the difference between writing WITH passion and writing FROM passion.

The first is all about embracing what you do and attacking it with gusto: cherishing each word, taking your shoes off and splashing around in the subject matter, laughing and waving your arms, delirious with happiness because – damn it – you love this.

The second is allowing the moment to cloud your judgment, letting hyperbole set in, overreacting and ACTING THE FOOL, as the more street-worthy performers might say.

The first leads to emotional prose. The second leads to 24-hour news channel hype.

We’re all guilty of the second.

Admitting we’re guilty helps us focus on the first, by identifying our own overreaction and acting accordingly. With grace. With all sides measured. Without filtering common sense in search of a sensational stance.

Tags: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Soccer, Words, Writing |

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Web sites need scripts, too

April 7, 2010


It’s old (well, SIX MONTHS old, which is, like, a BILLION YEARS in Web time) but I stumbled across a great quote from the illustrious Karen McGrane that sort of sums up why I’m so goofy excited about the idea of words – and other content – getting some real mainstream attention on the Web (and why I’m so surprised it hasn’t happened sooner).

“We’ve spent the last 5-10 years on the web just figuring out how to build a printing press….great…now, look at any other great media property and what goes into making that great media property. The same thing has to happen online.”

-Karen McGrane, speaking at Atlanta Showcase, September 2009

And upon reading that, I remembered my own thought – something that came to light in MY OWN HEAD. It’s one thing to say “let’s do this, because it’s obvious you guys,” but, let’s face it, there are still a lot of people – people in a position of budget allocation – who don’t get why we need to worry about Web words and content.

In other words, when put into a position where we’re forced to explain the importance of content strategy to a Web client who just doesn’t “get it,” we need to develop real world examples and comparisons that resonate with a traditional marketing mindset.

Because these people probably aren’t Web people. They’re marketing people. They’ve taken a class, you know, and they’ve been raised on television and print and direct mail and why do they need a Web content strategy when all the words they could possibly require are already on this brochure that their niece designed seven years ago.

Put it in their terms.

Compare it to television.

Every Web site is like a major television commercial shoot. There’s a director who drives production – the programmer – and there’s a videographer who can make everything look beautiful – the designer. And on equal level, there’s the writer who penned the script and set the initial mood.

This script writer? That’s your content strategy team.

Would you spend $100,000 – or even $1,000! – on a television commercial, but skip the script?

Of course not.

So why do it with a Web site?

And suddenly, things begin getting a little clearer.

—

(McGrane quote via Leen Jones, who is also illustrious when it comes to that content strategy biz-ness.)

Tags: Career, Content Strategy, Technology, Words, Writing |

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Information architecture in real life

March 31, 2010


All it takes is a serious dive into the concept of information architecture – or, for those who aren’t mired in the seemingly over-technical terms used in Web development, the organization and structure of information – to see it everywhere you turn.

It’s in the music I’ve compulsively organized on iTunes, in the lists I periodically release on the world, in the books I’ve threatened to arrange by Dewey decimal system. It’s in the way I create a hierarchy for my to-do lists and in how I take notes.

High Fidelity becomes not so much a film about an independent record store as much as a manifesto in music architecture, with its lists and classifications and rankings creating a structured view of what makes good music (and where you’d find that good music). A trip to the grocery store becomes a test in correct pathways, a real-life walk through the hierarchy not unlike the food section of Amazon.com or Williams-Sonoma.com.

Last night, while searching for a graham cracker pie crust, I found that some grocery stores have a long way to go in this regard. Following convention, I searched the baking aisle. Not finding it there, I searched the frozen pie crust section. Then, the cracker aisle. Only after asking a clerk did I find the crust.

Next to the Mexican food.

Naturally.

If this grocery store had been a Web site, this flaw would have been a crucial failure of IA. His excuse: “Well, it’s next to the pie filling.”

My internal response: “Well, then the pie filling is in the wrong place, too.”

I walked out, convinced that I could have organized the store better – and convinced that I was a few steps from jumping into the deep-end of geekery.

Tags: Content Strategy, Technology, Words |

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Atelier: a method of craft

February 22, 2010


ate·lier
Pronunciation: \ˌa-təl-ˈyā\
Function: noun
Etymology: French, from Middle French astelier woodpile, from astele splinter, from Late Latin astella, diminutive of Latin astula
Date: 1699

1 : an artist’s or designer’s studio or workroom
2 : workshop

Great word, though this only hints at the way it was used by Jeffrey MacIntire from Predicate, LLC in his editorial strategy presentation “The Day 2 Problem.”

In that presentation, MacIntire set “atelier” against “factory,” comparing both as opposites in editorial production models (in simple terms: how articles are created). Positioned as one of the five arguments of editorial strategy, the message was clear: there’s a major issue on whether your copy is manufactured or alive. You can churn out fluffed up writing with little heart and a high Lowest Common Denominator factor, or you can spend time crafting copy as if it was something worth paying attention to. A work of thought and intelligence. Of (* gasp! *) substance and (* shudder *) art.

As if it was something you conjured up in a small, cozy workshop.

I like that.

Tags: Content Strategy, Words, Writing |

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Metagames

February 17, 2010


When I worked in CallCenterLand, dutifully typing conversations for the deaf and hard of hearing, I would count my time by a not-too-complex system of circles and Xs.

My ten hour day would be broken into 40 15-minute parts, each represented by a circle. I would cross them out, one by one, until it was break time. Upon my return, I would dive into the next set of circles. Each 15-minute period graphically represented, I would find myself with a visual reminder of how far I had come. Circle. Circle. Circle. X. X. X.

Even earlier, on my walks home from grade school, my route would be broken into one-block segments. How fast could I reach the end of stage one? Could I beat my record for stage three? The sixth block was extra long – like a par 5, I suppose – and it would be the biggest challenge.

This is the thought behind creating lists – not just to determine what needs to be done, but also to physically rid yourself of yet another stage, the dark black line crossing out a completed task signifying accomplishment like no other form of communication ever has.

Large or small, these are a form of metagame: namely, creating tasks within larger tasks. I suppose the true definition comes from true games; mini-games inside of ordinary tasks, like time trials during dishwashing or not touching the sidewalk during stage seven of your walk home, are now seen in today’s videogame world with increasing abundance. But for me, the idea of a metagame is just as much the way we spend time separating our everyday accomplishments into more palatable pieces.

No one can eat a sandwich all at once, or do the laundry in one load. Yet, we try to tackle projects in lumps – we look at writing books, not chapters; we look at writing campaigns, not individual print pieces. We take in the whole, even when it’s human nature to chop things up into pieces. It’s human nature to want completeness, even if it’s completing just one portion of a larger body.

I could talk more about metagames – and the issue of completeness – but I’d be entering into the territory of a fantastic article by Sleepover, San Francisco. An excerpt:

When a game has built-in achievements, explicit hidden items, and other layered-in experiences, it’s usually pitched as added value. In reality, they’re only adding in time consumption — a measure of value most likely derived from the era of arcades.

I believe the main reason games like Farmville maintain a huge player base is the enticement of the metagame. The actual game mechanic of farming — which comprises most of the game — is unfathomably dull. It’s the abstracted layer above the farming that creates the primary motivation: ribbons (achievements), new items, leaderboards, etc.

But the blur of time-consumption and value is simultaneously damaging Farmville. Because satisfaction is derived only from the metagame, success is a measure of how many hours you’re willing to play, not your abilities. Players who have invested a lot of time into the game end up feeling bitter about the fruits (or vegetables) of their labor.

You have to see the page for yourself. The article is a series of metagames of its own.

(Via someone, from his or her blog. Can’t remember. Sorry.)

Tags: Technology, What I've Been Reading, Words, Writing |

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