You're Doing It Right: 4 Authentic Company Voices

Brand tone of voice: this is the way a company sounds as an entity. Businesses may not be people in the sense that they should be able to contribute huge amounts of money to political causes, but they do have a group voice, and they matter. Companies like MailChimp are renowned for having distinctive, engaging corporate voices, but who else is doing it right?

Planet Fitness: Judgment Free Zone

Known for being the economical option in gym memberships, Planet Fitness has taken a solid stance with their brand tone of voice. And what's more, they haven't backed down from a position that has some more serious health enthusiasts miffed (my more athletic friends among them).

Rather than trying to compete with more robust gym offerings, Planet Fitness targeted the large majority of us who would rather watch the Biggest Loser than re-enact it. Across all of their efforts, the Planet Fitness voice emphasizes a sense of belonging over anything else.

And it's a wise choice—the message "you are not alone" is much stronger than "you are not healthy enough yet." And urban-cowboy agency Red Tettemer O'Connell + Partners applied the verbal rough edges that resonate with those of us who are well into the double digits of body fat.

But did it work? According to the New York Times, absolutely: membership has increased 25% in a year and female members in particular are three times the industry average.

MakeLoveNotPorn.tv: Tagalicious

When it comes to finding content with verbal precision, Experience Goddess Oonie Chase nailed it. In an industry that's traditionally ignored the nuance of human sexuality, MakeLoveNotPorn.tv aspires to offer us more.

Previously, options for finding erotic content included: search based on sex act terms or stereotypical roles, recommendations from others, looking at a few tiny scene captures, and good old trial and error. In short, the majority of pornography (and ways of finding it), relied upon objectification rather than something deeper.

Since MLNP took an unconventional approach to providing erotic video, it makes perfect sense that they took a likewise unconventional approach to finding it. The team created language around this material not previously available, using tags like: tender, talkative, joyful, married, and sensual. When's the last time you saw that in the back room of your local sex shop? It's truly inspiring to see an industry building a sophisticated language around what was mostly grunting and pointing before.

Subaru: Experience Over Status

This car company may just be the only one whose ads I a) don't hate and b) remember. They've been putting out some great commercials that do something wonderful: they don't talk about features. Hell, a good portion of screen time doesn't even focus on the car itself, but rather the environment in which the car exists. What matters to Subaru owners is what experience they can have with their vehicle, not the car itself.

It's like they took the Volkswagon approach of contextualizing what makes their product great one step further. Sometimes, what you don't say speaks louder for your brand than what you do say.

American Cancer Society: Official Sponsor of Birthdays

I wish I could do a slow clap for that tagline. I mean really, it's an incredible challenge to take a topic that's deeply difficult and turn it into something hopeful that doesn't sound saccharin. I believe credit for that feat goes to The Martin Agency.

I love this example of brand voice because it isn't easy. MailChimp's playfulness isn't necessarily easy to create, mind you, but being funny and off-beat is a little more natural than being authentically inspiring as well as calm and approachable. To replicate the feeling of having someone who understands what a cancer patient is going through in copy tone is an achievement to tip your hat to a few times.

Voices like these make me feel happier when it comes to writing copy for the purpose of selling something, whether it's an idea or a product. I've enjoyed creating web content partially because most of the time, someone intentionally visits a site with purpose as opposed to having an ad thrust upon them. But when done well, advertising can be an art—and one that's worthwhile for everyone.

Now what I'm still trying to figure out is why cat supply companies haven't capitalized on the fact that they may be the only industry that could legitimately leverage cat videos to sell a product.

What's in a Name? (And Why I Hate the Word "Content")

I'm feeling angsty lately, and it's not just because of my first ever Twitter debate. I am a woman of words, but I haven't found the right words for what I do with content. I've been reading Mike Monteiro's Design is a Job (one of very few books I've given five stars) and found myself feeling out of place but in the best kind of ways.

(Okay the best kind of ways really happen in Austin, where you see things like a dude walking his dog on a unicycle. Seriously, I can't make this shit up. Moving on though.)

I'm going to bring you back to your SAT days with this analogy, inspired by a man who likes Tastykakes more than your average California resident:

Designer : Artist :: BLANK : Writer

When I say "writer," I'm talking about creative writers—you know, the kind who sit around drinking absinthe and scribbling out poetry... and hanging out with painters. These are pure artists; they create art for its own sake, not deliberately intending for it to fulfill a practical purpose.

Design (once called "commercial art" long, long ago in a land far away) take elements of art and make it work for its money. Good design can delight and challenge in the same ways good art does—but it starts with an agenda. I'd argue that art with an agenda is walking the line of design.

Writing a novel with an agenda, on the other hand, is a fast way to get bitch slapped by an editor. Creative writing that trends toward intentional messaging may be a sin, but the upside is that "commercial writing" that trends toward the artistic (think storytelling rather than fact-spewing) is desirable.

That's good news for me because personally, I prefer to create things with a purpose and I prefer to do it in a way that people actually enjoy. I love art and literature, but what I want to spend my time making is something with a goal in mind. That's just the way I roll. Unfortunately, my Dad is still telling me I need to write the next Harry Potter novel to make it big with my word skillz.

So going back to my lovely analogy. I'm the BLANK and there's good reason why I'm struggling to fill it in. The problem with the label "content strategist" is that it implies strategy only, not execution. Something like "copywriter" implies the opposite (production without high-level architecture). I do both. I love both.

I'm more than a content cow, but less than a strategic saint.

In his book, Monteiro uses the phrase "information designer" (he rails against the label "information architect") which I like better than "content strategist" because anyone who understand what real design is understands that strategic thought drives what ultimately "looks pretty." I'm not a super big fan of "information," however, because it implies pure fact and structure without the seriously important nuance of tone and feelings in addition to downright useful information.

Then again, here's another confession: I don't like the word "content."

I was so relieved at BarCamp Philly this year when one of the speakers, David Dylan Thomas, said as much during a session. My beef with the word is that it's a catch-all and I almost always prefer to be specific with my word choices. (Related: I also hate the word "specialist" for the same reason.) But, as he pointed out, it seems to be a necessary evil for now.

So if I need to stick with "content" to avoid pigeonholing myself and the word "designer" accomplishes what I intend from the strategy-execution combo perspective, should I call myself a "content designer"? Somehow it doesn't feel quite right. It feels like I should know how to use Photoshop better.

I really want to know what other people think. If you're like me, what do you call yourself and are you satisfied with that label? If you're a designer, how do you feel about me calling myself a designer of words? I know what I can do matters more than what I'm called, but as a lover of words, I want to find the right ones to convey my meaning!

The Editors' Mile High Club

I’ll admit it: the editor’s version of the Mile High Club just isn’t as sexy as the original. We try, what with all that sensual red ink and bumpy-looking notes from the turbulence, but it just doesn’t have the same kind of allure as bonking in the bathroom at 37,000 feet.

Still, editing on a plane is where most of my really great intellectual intercourse happens. Why is that? Here are some of my theories:

• I’m stuck in one place. As a kid, I was way more effective when I did homework in the car on the way to whatever extracurricular my mom was toting me to that day, and I think this efficiency-from-confinement has carried on into adulthood. I can’t go clean something or walk the dog or any other form of constructive procrastination because I’m literally strapped down. Middle seats are especially effective.
• Distractions are minimized. Wireless service becoming more widespread threatens to change this fact, but until they make it free (probably never since they all airline carriers seem one barrel of oil away from charging for carry on luggage), my sanctuary is safe. Though some passengers express curiosity about the large stack of paper binder-clipped in front of my, most are busy sleeping open-mouthed or reading the latest John Grisham novel.
• When traveling, less is more. I edit fiction by hand, and there are times when the analogue way of doing things just plain pays off. I don’t have to watch my computer battery or buy those overpriced, poorly designed headsets for the in-flight movie. Plus, I can concurrently eat and edit on that little tray table; can you?
• I find really great character details to pass on to my writers. You just see great stuff when it comes to traveling, like a woman eating a salad from Cinnabon or the smell of a middle-aged businessman obsessively crunching corn nuts washed down with tiny bottles of whiskey. Or the word “lavatory,” which only seems to be used on airplanes.

Writers have their favorite places and ways to write, and the same is true for editors (we’re not paper-pushing desk monkeys!). Many of these conditions can be achieved in other, less expensive settings (like when riding the bus or a sitting in doctor’s waiting room even if you don’t have an appointment), but for me, it’s still a sure shot to stick me on a plane with a manuscript.

Of course, a plane is not the strangest place I’ve ever chosen to work my editorial magic; editing in a bar is sure to set the stage for pick-up lines. Maybe there’s hope for sexing up the mysterious world of editing after all.