How many of these buzzwords can you score at your next meeting?

Buzzwords are those verbal crutches many of us depend on to get us through when we want either to shorthand an idea to someone or we don’t know what the he** we’re talking about, but we think the buzzword will convince someone else that we do.

A smart communicator will use as few buzzwords as possible. If you want to avoid the most overused ones in news releases, take a look at this article.

To avoid using such buzzwords as “think outside the box,” you will actually have to do exactly that. Maybe we need to dissect buzzwords, see what they mean, and state the meaning a different way.

How many ways can you think of to say “think outside the box?” Here are a few I offer:
• take your mind out for a wild ramble
• concept your way around the next corner
• ideate where no one has ideated before (OK, I adapted that one from the opening of “Star Trek.”)

Well, I have just demonstrated why people use buzzwords: It’s hard to think of a substitute for a buzzword. So the best approach may be to use a buzzword if it communicates an idea or concept to your audience, but not if you use it to try to hide a gap in your knowledge of the subject.

When I was writing for a company that needed brochure copy for an “enterprise solution,” I first tried to explain what their “solution” did in layman’s terms. Then I learned about the importance of “buzzword compliance.” The term means you have to use a few industry buzzwords in your writing, or else the techie audience will think you don’t know your stuff. So I sprinkled some buzzwords back in. If you want to avoid the most overused buzzwords, take a look at this article. It is specifically about news releases, but it applies to other writing, as well.

We ran it up the flagpole, but nobody saluted.

Finally, there are dumb expressions like “end result.” Where else would the result come, if not at the end? Or “dark black.” There is no such thing as light black. A less saturated black is a different shade called “gray,” or “grey,” depending on which side of the Atlantic you’re from. I hear there are 50 Shades of Gray.

Whenever you’re twitching to use a buzzword, a cliche or a dumb expression, control yourself. More powerful writing results when you think about what you’re saying and write what you think.

A young woman who’s about to graduate with a degree in English writes to me: “Do you think it would help my chances of getting a job if I took a class in graphic design?” My answer: “YES!”

Should an aspiring copywriter study graphic design?

These days, with company budgets being what they are (small and getting smaller), creatives are expected to do the jobs of two or three people. I saw an ad for a Creative Director that required the applicant to be able to write, do graphic design, create websites, manage a department budget, and interact with clients.

In the old days (as little as five years ago), those would have been the jobs of at least five people. Today, it could be the job of one employee, depending on the size of the creative department and the agency or company. Oh, and did I mention that Creative Director-of-all-Trades job was paying $30,000 per year?

Jobs for copywriters at companies are all but non-existent, which makes it a bull market for freelancers. But though I hate to disillusion this young woman about the value of an English degree, in my experience, with only that degree, your competition is everyone who can type on a computer. Everyone thinks s/he can write. But everyone knows they need a graphic designer to make Web or printed materials look good.

So I will reply to this budding copywriter that yes, she probably should take a class in Graphic Design, if not two or three, so that she can meet the current need for multi-skilled creatives in a company or agency.

Loaded for bear

Direct mail is one of those things people either hate or simply dislike. Why is that? Because most people get tons of direct mail that doesn’t offer anything they want. It simply isn’t relevant to them. Or maybe it is, but it takes the recipient too long to find out how. Either way, it’s headed for the landfill.

People decide within two or three seconds whether a piece of mail goes on the “opening” or “trash” pile, and then move on with their lives.

As an ad agency copywriter, I did mostly advertising, meaning ads, brochures, radio and TV spots. Advertising is a different animal from direct mail, I’ve learned, as I’ve had more opportunities to write direct. In advertising, you’re usually doing (a) awareness advertising, (b) image advertising, or (c) offer advertising, sometimes including a coupon. Of the three, (c) is most similar to direct mail. The offer-coupon ad wants you to do something, and it gives you both an incentive to do it and a time limit (Coupon expiration date).

The reason it’s called “direct” mail is that it comes directly to a prospect’s mailbox. Anyone writing for direct mail should keep in mind another reason: it has to communicate in a direct way in order to avoid the trashcan. And there is an art and science to doing it well.

That’s why most direct mail includes a “teaser” on the envelope, which is meant to get you to open it. Here are three teasers from direct mail pieces I plucked out of my trash at random:

• ATTENTION: TIME SENSITIVE DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED
Your Input and Signature Needed
REGISTERED DOCUMENT #XXXX-XX-XXXX

• Your 2012 XXXX Membership Card Is Enclosed
Urgent Response Requested

• SECOND REQUEST (in red)
MEMBERSHIP RENEWAL NOTICE
IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUESTED

These are certainly urgent requests for action. But only the first one piques my interest, and only because it’s requesting my “input,” and I’m always happy to share my opinions. And gee whiz, it had a “Registered Document number” on it. Sure looks official and all. Sadly, it doesn’t offer me anything I really want, so into the trash it goes.

At the moment, I’m doing a direct mail campaign for a client. To maximize his budget, the mailings need to be relevant to his target audience. The letters will present them with an offer they can’t refuse—if they’re in the market for what he’s selling, and if the prospects’ dissatisfaction with other providers is as high as we think it is, they will be.

But I won’t simply say, “When you choose XYZ Company, you’ll get (unique benefit).” I will go beyond that and build my message around this idea:

“When you choose XYZ Company, you will get (something they really aren’t getting now and want badly: all the service they’re paying for). Our service tracking system calculates exactly how much service you are getting from our company every week. And if you don’t get every bit of service you are paying for, that week is FREE!”

There is an additional incentive to do it: When the prospect responds within a certain time limit, either by calling or by sending in an enclosed postage-paid card, and sets up an appointment, s/he will get a free demo of the service, and s/he will be able to see measurable results! I can’t reveal how (client confidentiality), but it is a doable offer.

There is no risk and no obligation involved. There is everything to gain. Why wouldn’t the prospect respond?

• First, we’re offering something the target audience is VERY interested in (getting the most for their budget, because most companies don’t give them all the service they pay for).
• Second, we’re doing something else no one else in the market is doing: backing it up with a measurable guarantee of performance.
• Third, we’re offering a FREE demo, which gives a representative a foot in the door.
• Fourth, we’re giving them a sense of urgency about responding, since the offer expires in a couple of weeks.

In addition, the letter and the postcard will have a code number that will let us track results. A 1% to 3% response rate is standard, but if the list is honed to include only the best prospects, it could be higher.

Finally, we won’t leave it there. We’ll send prospects two more direct mail letters, each one highlighting a real pain the prospect has that my client can relieve. After that, any prospects who haven’t responded yet will receive three brochures at staged intervals detailing the same three surefire (if we’ve found out they work in DM) pain-relief scenarios.

So the net of it is this: If you’re the creative putting together a direct mail campaign, don’t kill yourself trying to think up a fancy, possibly creative-award-winning headline and tricky copy for your direct mail letter. Keep it simple (not that it’s easy). Put your head together with your client’s and come up with a solid offer of something the prospect needs and wants, something relevant to his or her needs. Then state it simply and compellingly. And finally, plot out your campaign and keep with it. That’s all there is to it. Now, go and get relevant!

POSTSCRIPT:
A day or two after the first mailing of 50 letters, my client received a call and made an appointment, the first of many, we hope. Second letter is going out early next week. Common wisdom says a 1% to 2% response rate is good for direct mail. In this case, just one new customer could easily pay for the marketing effort! Successful campaigns don’t cost, they pay.

Have you ever felt a slight jolt upon reading a sentence like this?

“The gathering of aunts and uncles were festive and fun.”
OR
“The choice of stocks, bonds and mutual funds were incredible.”

Well, I hope you feel at least a mini-jolt!

Usually, disagreements between between a subject and a verb are not so noticeable. Of course, you are very smart, and you know that in both of the above sentences, “were” should have been “is,” to agree with the singular subjects, “gathering” and “choice.”

When subjects and verbs clash, it seems to be because the writers of those disagreeable sentences match the verb to the last word before the verb, instead of to the subject.

Diagramming? Ugh!

So what are the parts of speech, and the parts of a sentence? If you are uncertain, here’s a link to a good, basic explanation of what’s what, with quizzes to test your knowledge. Sometimes, your Word “Spelling and Grammar” tool will give you a hand, but remember, it’s just an unthinking robot. It often steers you wrong. So it’s better to know what’s right, so you’ll be sure to write it right.

On the TV news, I heard a woman being interviewed about a crime. She said, “…then that gentleman shot him and ran away.” Or something like that. Hey, lady—a guy who shoots people is no gentleman, unless he’s a cop, in which case he’s a “police officer.”

What I’m getting at is the excessive niceness of using the word “gentleman” for any old bloke. Of course, long ago, a gentleman was a fellow with some property and some manners, a man who was, if not in the upper class, at least in the upper-middle class. Someone you would call “Mister” instead of “Hey, you!” But today, people use the term, “gentleman” to refer to anyone from a gangster to a king. But hold it, folks. The word has connotations and denotations you might not mean when you use it, to-wit:

Gentleman riding to hounds

• A chivalrous, courteous, or honorable man.
• A man of good social position, esp. one of wealth and leisure.

Not every old anybody you meet is a gentleman. So isn’t it okay to call a male human a “fellow,” a “man,” or a “guy,” depending on the context? For example, consider the following:

“That man at the entrance gate said we ought to park in Row R.” Generic male human.

“A fellow I know can get you a good deal on tires.” Implies some personal knowledge of the man.

“Who told you that?” “I dunno. Some guy at the bar.” Generic with a tinge of disrespect.

But “gentleman?” I wouldn’t apply it to a homeless guy living under a bridge. He may, in fact, behave in a gentlemanly manner (especially if he’s a former banker, investment broker or Humanities major). But still, I’d reserve the term for someone who is several cuts above a “guy.” Wouldn’t you?

I wonder if all this “gentleman” business is about the drive to eliminate “elitism,” that bugaboo of Yankee down-to-earthism. If every man, no matter how uneducated, crude or penniless, is a “gentleman,” then no one is really “elite.” If every 8th-grade dropout hanging on the corner talking trash is a “gentleman,” then where is the honor in being called “gentleman?”

On the other hand, it might be a well-intentioned attempt to honor every male citizen’s potential, or not to judge a man one doesn’t know. But now, let’s put the shoe on the other foot, in this case, a lady’s foot.

English ladies

As a woman of a certain age, I recall fondly the days when store clerks and waiters called me, “Miss.” The first time someone called me, “Ma’am,” I looked around to see who they were talking to. I had crossed the Rubicon from “Miss” to “Ma’am” without knowing it, and finding it out that way stunned me temporarily. I’ve gotten over it now. I don’t feel like a “Ma’am,” still a “Miss” on the inside. But my outside apparently has given me away. Not fair, I say, but alas, there’s nothing to be done about it, so I will adopt the motto of the alley cat, Mehitabel, in Don Marquis’ brilliant book, “Archy and Mehitabel.” “Toujour gai, I say, toujour gai!”

A couple of months ago, I wrote Web copy for several healthcare-related sites. Here are the links, if you want to go see them. This was a hurry-up job involving five websites AND five brochures. WARNING: I was not asked to proofread them, so you may find some errors in punctuation, etc. NOT MINE! So go see them!

Cobalt MedPlans
Cobalt Talon
Cobalt PHP
Cobalt PWC
Cobalt Ventures

Here’s a note from a client whose Web articles I’ve been proofreading and editing for a couple of years—a nice gentleman out in California who sells large tracts of land in the western U.S.

Liz, I find your corrections amazing, very detailed, and so critical to me presenting an intelligent article. I like your side notes also as it makes me rethink any assumptions I might have written late at night. Thanks again for all your help!

It’s always nice to be appreciated.

Once, I worked for an ad agency that had a regional KFC organization as a client. We did all kinds of collateral for them, including window signs. The production manager, Wanda, put one that had just been printed in quantity (500 or so) up on the glass wall separating her office from the front lobby. As I was walking by it, I stopped in my tracks. It read:

Chicken and Bisuits
$5.99

Nobody had proofed the copy. There was so little of it, the production manager probably didn’t think it was necessary.

I asked her, “Wanda, what are ‘bisuits?’” She looked up and asked, “What?” I said, “Well, I wondered what a ‘bisuit’ is. ‘Cause they’re selling them at KFC for $5.99.” I pointed at the sign. It took a few seconds for the penny to drop, and then, Wanda gasped and nearly fainted. A very cost-conscious person (a skinflint, actually) she was, and now she realized the agency would have to eat the cost of re-printing 500 window posters, this time touting Chicken and “biscuits,” not “bisuits.”

Not proofreading can cost you money! Far more than hiring me to do it for you.

Hire a professional to make sure your print or Web text is okay before you publish it. Ads, brochures and Web articles need to be grammatically correct, easy to read, and properly punctuated. If they are, you’ll look professional. If not, well… it could mark you as very unprofessional, and even unintelligent. Is it worth it to hire a proofreader/editor? You be the judge.

If you’re gonna use slang terms like “gonna,” you gotta learn to spell them properly, or you could get yourself into a whole lotta trouble with the police.

Here’s a case in point, reported in today’s Kansas City Star. A student at Lanier Technical College (in Georgia) sent a text message he meant to say, “Gunna be at West Hall this afternoon,” but the auto-correct feature changed “Gunna” to “Gunman.” On top of that, the text message was sent to the wrong number.

Rly?

Whoever received the messaged called the police, and panic ensued. A north Georgia high school and middle school were locked down yesterday for fear the “Gunman” might be at large in the area. But finally, the texter was located and let off the hook when the lawmen realized he wasn’t a Gunman, just a lousy speller and a sloppy texter.

These tragic spelling mishaps needn’t happen. Watch what the heck you’re texting, how you’re spelling words, and how your “auto-correct” is messing with them. And for heavens’ sake, get the phone number right. Technology—ain’t it great?

Stoney Broke, author of the story, “Colfax Mingo and the Demon Woman,” has decided he wants his own blog, instead of posting here. Adios, old cowboy. He’s hanging his Stetson over at Story Corral. Pay him a visit, and soon he said he’s posting another installment of the tale of Colfax “and his tangles with life.”

Here’s the first installment of a story some cowboy residing in my brain, name of Stoney Broke, wrote awhile back. It’s called “Colfax Mingo and the Demon Woman.” It’s rated PG-13 for language and occasional comical adult scenes. I hope you enjoy it. If so, watch for more installments to follow.

The author, Stoney Broke

“Ask Sally Smart”
The Octavia Bee-Gazette
June 26, 1998

Dear Sally Smart,

I am a 46-year-old single man, good-looking, hard-working, physically fit and know how to treat a lady. However, it seems like every woman I am attracted to has some fatal flaw.

One gal had three giant brothers with body odor who thought no man was good enough for her, and they would gather real close around me and glare at me whenever I came over, until I finally gave up.

Another one would bawl like a baby every time we went out, because she was still all hung up on her drunken ex-husband who ran out on her six years before.

Yet another one was real mean, and she went and had my old dog, Charlie, put to sleep to get back at her last boyfriend, which made no sense whatsoever. I could go on, but you catch my drift.

Sally Smart, what am I doing wrong? I’ve asked my friends, but they’re just as confused as I am. So please answer soon, as I am just about at the end of my rope here, especially without old Charlie to talk to.

Sincerely,
Flummoxed

5:06 PM, and the Amazon Bar was waiting for Colfax Mingo.

At the moment, Colfax was attempting to raise a bubble or two off a sliver of Lava to scrub axle grease off his hands and studying his face in the mirror. Jowls, not too bad for a man of 46. Eyes, a striking shade of blue the ladies at the Amazon sometimes remarked on, especially when he wore his fancy royal blue dress-up shirt with the pearl buttons. Hair, sandy with a few strands of gray. Hairline, receding a bit, but you might just think he had a high forehead. Holding my own, he thought. Okay.

He grabbed the nail brush off the garage sink and had just begun working seriously on the black under-nail gunk when he heard the ding of the air bell. Damn, he thought. Don’t let it be garage work. Just five dollars regular, maybe, which Sonny could handle, and then it would be Miller time.

Sonny yelled at him, “Hey, Col! Here comes Sara Lee!”

Colfax looked out the garage door and saw Sara Lee Giddons’ big brown 1976 Chrysler New Yorker gliding up to the pumps. He remembered the geography of that car’s back seat very well. And of Sara Lee. Last year, they had come together like the two elements of a plastic explosive, with similar results.

The entire basis of their relationship had been Colfax’s obsession with Sara Lee’s rear end. He dreamed about that generous derriere, awake and asleep. And as he went about his daily business in a sort of buttocks-induced trance, practically anything could remind him of it. A Big Boy tomato. A ’56 Buick bumper. His own chin cleft when he was shaving. For months, he was stumbling all over the station, butt-struck and, he thought, in love.

He and Sara Lee craved each other like sweet chocolate. On her lunch breaks from the Silver Saddle Cafe, she would drive over to the station, where he’d have the garage door up, the “closed” sign already hanging in the window. She’d pull into the stall, he’d lower the door, and they’d get down to business in the New Yorker’s plush back seat.

She’d suck on Colfax’s earlobe and sigh into his ear, “Oh, Mr. Mingo. I think my rear end needs workin’ on. Or is it my front end? I just don’t know. But you can find out, can’t you, Mr. Mingo?”

“Let’s see about that rear end first,” he’d say, spreading his hands over her behind and massaging it deeply as he pulled her to him. She’d sigh, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him hard enough to turn him inside out.

After completing a ten-point check of her rear end, he would turn his attention to Sara Lee’s front end for awhile, and soon the interior of the New Yorker would be festooned with clothing, like a big rock beside a swimming hole. Then Sara Lee would murmur, “Oh, Mr. Mingo, I think I need a new… drive shaft, don’t you?” Her coffee-black eyes would smolder, setting Colfax on fire, then Sara Lee would pull him down, and soon Colfax would find himself bouncing like a little boat on Sara Lee’s big swells.

Now, seeing her again, Colfax felt a residual flash in his loins. But it was all over between them, had been for months. And he’d had three girls since Sara Lee.

Over the years, Colfax had gathered a large body of evidence indicating that his pecker wasn’t the best judge of relationship material, but he still couldn’t figure out what to do about it. Sara Lee was a case in point. While the sex part had been stupendous, at those other times, quiet times, when they had sat on the cushy couch in front of Sara Lee’s big-screen TV watching “Austin City Limits” and sharing a bowl of microwave popcorn, Colfax had felt flat and empty.

One appliance, two breakfasts!

Sonny ambled over to Colfax, his pimply brow furrowed and his thumbs hooked into his belt loops. “You want me to handle it, Col?”

“Naw, got to see her sometime,” Colfax mumbled. He squared his shoulders and headed toward the New Yorker.

Copyright 2012 Liz Craig. All rights reserved.

[To be continued]