Saturday, April 14, 2012

KAMIKAZE COPYWRITING COURSE/LESSON 1: WRITING HEADLINES. Good friend Betty Gammage, former student, PC grad, Creative Circus co-founder says I’m good at explaining specific How to Do. It’s hard to explain how to “do” headlines without classroom give and take, but here goes.


*** While I’ve tried to help you grok the relationship between the Kamikaze Key Fact and Creative Concept, I really haven’t said much about How To Concept.  Some good books cover it (the new edition of Hey Whipple, Squeeze This, for example), so I’ll assume you have your KCWP (Kamikaze Creative Work Plan) written, pushed and concepts ready. 

I mention Concept here only as part of my Process.  Concept is a many layered, complex thing integral to the headline process.  Don’t think you can go right into writing headlines without it.  Doesn’t work that way.

Headlines pop up concepting, but there’s a big difference between a concept and a headline (clue: reread Concept vs. Illustration).  This is about headline process - my process.  Knowing the mechanics of what I do may help you discover, refine, redefine yours.  Hopefully you’ll find practical tips, insights, inspiration you can use.   If your process isn’t exactly like mine, you’re not necessarily doing it wrong (unless you skip the part about the 10-12 pages).

I start where I always start.  The Lexis/Nexis of every creative assignment, the Kamikaze Creative Work Plan.  I add whatever product info I’ve gathered, emails, notes, competitive facts, random thoughts I’ve already written down, etc.  The flotsam and jetsam of Prospect knowledge.

Once my partner and I decide which (four, five, ten or more) concepts (not ads – concepts) we want to play with, I start Running Lines.  I do mean lines, plural to point Overkill.  At least ten-twelve pages (single spaced) for each idea. 

I write down every line my partner and I spit out tossing around ideas.  Sometimes these “concept” lines turn into headlines.  Sometimes subs.  Sometimes random scraps of body copy.  Sometimes just scraps for recycling.  I save them all, as I won’t know what they are before I push, pull, re-imagine and grind them out until I should have bottomed out – then push out more.

My process uses markers and that beautiful, expensive tracing paper agencies supplied when we hand drew comps.  I’m addicted – markers glide, letters flow - so do ideas.  Some writers use pencils, pens, note pads, binders, composition books, crayons, laptops.  Whatever works for you.

There are no words in my head when I write.  Many writers do.  No right or wrong, just mine, yours.  I see images, colors, nothing that makes sense.  They only turn into words when they come out my fingers.  Until then, it’s just – stuff.

I start headlines by writing what I call positioning lines.  Not even close to anything you could use, they plainly state what I want to say.  I run as many of those through my concept, Prospect and partner as relate.  These help me Translate the Thought.

This isn’t about thesaurus synonyms.  I ignore the words.  For a headline to be conceptual, do more than parrot your strategy, you must show the thought behind the line.  Thought translation starts there.

What does “Translate the Thought” look like?  What does it do?  It turns “I hate sitting in traffic” into something the concept and prospect could agree on -  “I know why birds fly,” maybe.  “Gas guzzling” might translate into “eating dead dinosaurs.”

Well translated thoughts are visual – you see them.  Not because they’re loaded with descriptors, because they engage prospects, speak in the language of concept.  Make them participants, no just readers. 

As I progress, translations get better, with some real stinkers – wild hair lines, really – mixed in.  Don’t self-edit.  Those stinkers can point you in new, exciting directions later. 

It may not feel like it 3:00 the morning of internal presentations, but there’s no such thing as one great line per thought.  When things seem to have run their course (i.e., nothing new, I’m thinking dinner), I take all the papers off the floor (good days, they can be knee deep), pile them in groups and copy them on lined paper.  Not all – just those I think have potential.  I keep the rest to mine for inspiration if/when I come up dry working this first bunch.

I group various versions of the same line, single-spaced.  Skip a few lines, put wild hairs and singles by themselves.  Order thought progressions so I can see how they developed.

The lined paper list (which has usually grown in the transfer) goes into the Mac, adding more lines, twists, progressions, word/order changes, etc.  I don’t worry about caps, punctuation, spelling, correctness.  Just key them in, watch them grow.  

Each step, lines become more Prospect Centered.  Get closer to the final language of concept that’ll become the style my body copy takes.  Speak more directly to the heart of the Prospect. 

Sometimes I veer off strategy.  Sometimes, I push it.  Sometimes the line/thoughts differ enough to present two strategies, let others help decide.  If the strategy changes, I start over.  Good strategy, bad lines?  Keep the strategy, put the lines aside.  I read every line out loud, or have someone else do it. I need to hear the lines, not just read them.

Many copywriters’ headlines are always good, but rarely brilliant.  They run lines until they get one they like, stop there or work until they have three equally acceptable headlines their partner agrees to comp.  These writers offer a preliminary page or two of lines that stop at the ones they settled on.  Many are variations of the same line.  One uses “the,” another “a”; the same words get scrambled into different orders; maybe one word changes.  Still the same line.  Not a bad exercise, but if the root doesn’t pass, it’s always back to square one.

If something totally off the wall shows up, they rarely run it to pages of variations.  Too often it dies:  If there’s an odd line out, there must be something wrong with it!

Had they kept at it, the lines might do a 180, change tone, emphasis, approach.  Then twist, turn into several pages of something else.  You never know where a great line comes from, where it starts (beyond a smart, creative KCWP), where it’ll take you before it ends up at “One Show!” 

All those extensions of the same line, twists turns, wild hairs too many people ignore can lead straight to Cannes, NYC, London, LA.  Where do you want to go?  Follow those lines, even if they take you to the trash.  You’ll never know until you do.

Sure, genius may show up in body copy or when you’re fooling around, trying to get started.  But when all is said, written, edited, kept and/or rejected, you can’t pick the real gems without running every line as far as it’ll go.  (ADs, GDs, WDs, don’t let your partner get away with too few lines.  Even if you have to pull each new line out of them, don’t settle.  It’s your book, too.  It’s as much your responsibility to demand great headlines as it’s your writer’s responsibility to demand great graphics.)

Sometimes your first line is the best.  But how do you know if you haven’t run as many as you can, as far you can?  If you don’t follow wild word combos that make you wince, but hide true brilliance, to evolve?  Especially since after the first half-dozen or so pages, a writer often can’t tell which lines are good, which stink, which foretell genius down the road.

Your partner, ACD, CD, best copy friend are invaluable.  Even if they can’t write a great headline to save their job.  They see what you can’t.  You may disagree, but they can make an excellent point you miss.  Add that perfect bit you’ve been struggling to find.  An important note:  Don’t throw anything out.  You may need your pile of rejects when you present to your CD or even to the client.

Working alone, I print out the list onto a different color paper, in a totally different font.  Anything to make it look fresh, new. I take walks, ride the elevator, go to a movie, talk about anything else.  It’s important to put spaces between you and all that work, so you can actually read it, taste it, feel it.  If you don’t, it’ll all sound so familiar you’ll skip over words, lines, thinking you know what they say.  Then later, have to ask your partner to reset the headline because you missed a typo, forgot to edit out, add/subtract a word or three.

If I’m in house, desperate for distance from the familiar, need to spark something new, I may go out to my car, blast music, dance in my seat.  At home, I play music LOUD (Latin, Big Band, Leonard Cohen, Maria Callas, Jonathan Richman, Ima Sumac, Zappa – anything different, unexpected, fun).  Bang my conga drums.  Stuck in a cubicle, I play with office toys, count ceiling tiles, do yoga  (moving always seems to help), make faces out the window, down the hall.

Whatever I do – even if it’s just five minutes’ worth – I don’t think lines.  CA isn’t far enough away for this kind of thought divorce.  Crossword puzzles, Sudoku, meditation are.  Anything that distracts, helps you relax.

Everything will look new when you come back.  You’ll see things you missed.  Lines you hated then, show promise now.  Lines you once loved are now embarrassing (don’t fall so in love with a line you can’t weed it out later).  Showing your work to someone else helps, but hitting the refresh button in your process first takes off your blinders, turns you around so you let go of where you started, actually hear what they say.

Not everyone needs conga drums to keep words flowing.  But we all need spaces between our thoughts to let great lines happen  (it’s the third stage of the Creative Process – Incubation).  No one – I repeat – NO ONE – ever got to the top putting out three pages of lines and calling it “done.”

If that’s not how you do it, fine.  Just make sure you do whatever you do - often.  Not doing it too long can rust your process. 

I had one student who always showed up shirt buttoned wrong, hair unkempt.  Shaking from Starbucks and Diet Coke, if he had one page of lines, he had twenty.  And those were just the ones he remembered to bring.

Were they all brilliant?  Not even close. But we went over each one, deciding which had promise, which were fully formed.  Ferreted out wild hairs and direction changes he needed to play with.  Not surprisingly, he always ended up with at least half-dozen truly brilliant lines I wished were mine.

Other students?  Five-six pages, tops.  Did it matter?  Today Mr. Prolific’s book’s full of work that’s won CLIOs, flown him to Cannes, been published in Archive, CA.  Brought home Gold Pencils, London International Awards.  You want it, he has it.  The hottest agency recruiters and headhunters all know his name, his work and an agency willing to bust their budget to hire him.

What else could you want?  The same thing he works so hard for.  He isn’t picturing hot shops in fabulous cities grinding away at 3:00 a.m.  He works for perfection.  For the joy of it.  A true Kamikaze Creative, If it isn’t his best, it isn’t good enough.  In the process, he comes up with the some of the best anyone could do.  And many a good deal better.  

His lines don’t just state the obvious, give the visual a title.  They suck you in.  Speak to the Prospect’s inner needs, desires.  Stop you from turning the page, going on to the next screen or forgetting what they said.  If they’re funny, they also have a message.  If they have a message, you can’t ignore it.

There’s one more technique, but it’s hard to explain. 
Going through a line and coming out the other side.  I’ve never been able to explain it so any sane person can understand, but ad creatives are seldom sane.  Here’s how it works for me.

When I get to the end of one direction, know the direction’s right but haven’t found the genius line, I stare at it.  It’s as if I physically go through it, come out where I see it from behind.  Almost like it’s meaning is backward.  If I’m lucky, I see a new conceptual, almost spiritual direction.  If I’m luckier, I see the exact line I’m looking for.  That’s all I can tell you.  Doing this – however it works – usually takes me that last step from really good to breakout fabulous.

I don’t know if it’s a visual thing, a meditative thing or what.  Like Alice’s looking glass, everything goes topsy-turvy; letters turn into cats and a new thought translation hits.  Maybe perfectly formed.  Maybe the start of another twenty pages.  Those who grok it (and I acknowledge I don’t give much to go on) usually tell me it’s amazing, works like nothing else. 

Go figure.

But that’s how I write headlines. 

Editing Tip:  I’ve done five edits, cut out 300+ words.  It’s still longer than I want, but I think it says what I need to say.  How’d I do it?  Check in next time, editing lines is the next step in writing great headlines.

COMING AS SOON AS POSSIBLE:  Practical things you need to know about headlines and body copy.  Scientific method stuff you shouldn’t wait for experience to teach you.

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