Mr. Edutainment (Adam Fairhead) writes daily notes (since 2017) about making and marketing your ideas, creativity, storytelling, and leading a creative-led business for over 20 years. Artist and family man at heart.
I queued for the original iPhone.
I queued for the original iPad.
I don’t queue for things anymore.
When Apple meant something… when it told a story about revering artists, thinkings, makers, doers… that story was worth queuing for.
And buying the story just so happened to come with a small black rectangle as a souvenir.
It doesn’t mean anything anymore, and so I don’t queue.
Those affections now lie with more nuanced things, like specific japanese brush pens I can’t get enough of, as they continue to tell a story that resonates with me.
Clearly, Apple is doing fine. But most of us don’t benefit from trying to glean insights from multi-trillion dollar strategies. Most of us benefit from seeing what moves people, what stories they tell themselves, what change they seek to make, and equipping them with that, instead.
Then perhaps they’d like what we make as souvenirs along the way, too.
eBay surprised me today.
When cleaning out a room we’re turning into our home library, we found a boxed/sealed toy I bought years ago but forgot about.
We were about to wholesale it away with some other items, but I checked eBay quickly on a hunch.
People were selling it for hundreds.
A Series 1 figure of a franchise that, to my knowledge, doesn’t exist anymore.
And it got me thinking: that is branding.
People on the internet, looking for — and buying — 22 year old boxed figurines of your thing. You wouldn’t know it by any MBA or economist’s definition of branding. Their cash register didn’t ring, so it didn’t happen.
But it did happen.
And so few brands optimize for it: of being sought after even after you’re gone, by a loyal fanbase who love what you’ve made, to adorn their places of meaning with a bit of your meaning, because of what they believe it says about them.
Put more succinctly, for people to love and look forward to more of your work.
Worth investing in, perhaps?
Part of getting traffic is making a promise. the other part is keeping it.
People stay on social because they’ve learned that scrolling is more likely to produce novelty than leaving.
A webpage isn’t just for selling. It can be almost any experience you can imagine. What would they like?
Give somebody a novel experience that improved their lives somehow and they’ll tell others who need it too.
Make good promises. Keep them.
Marketing teams could learn a lot from scriptwriters.
A lousy script starts with the script, then works on the logline (a one-line summary of the whole story designed to pique interest and draw people closer).
A great script starts with the logline, finds interest in that logline (modifying it until it resonates) then fleshes out into the full script.
Marketers do the same thing.
Bad marketing starts by just demanding what should be sold, then finding ways to pitch it to people.
Good marketing starts by demanding to better understand what change people want to make, then fleshing out the answer into what should be sold.
There are lots of examples like this. Perhaps we should explore more of them in future notes, we’ll see.
For now, it’s worth pondering scriptwriting, or reading about how the process works if you’re unfamiliar.
It might be really illuminating for you.
“Should” is an enemy of “Creativity”.
“We should raise our prices because economists say so.” Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe being sought after with a waiting list around the corner is part of your appeal.
“We should have more clients like other agencies.” Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe a handful of excellent relationships suits your team far better.
“We should use Slack because everyone else does.” Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe you have a way of doing things that suits your collaboration style better.
“We should use that new tool my peers are using.” Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe what you’ve mastered is better for your craft than the new-fangled thing.
“We should be doing more outbound, or inbound, or JVs.: Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe doubling down on what serves you and your customers is a better path.
Perhaps “Should” benefits from “Maybe” whenever it shows up in our vocabulary.
As “should” can be a fast-track to blending in with all the others, and “maybe” is an invitation to explore your unique curiosities.
The problem with advertising is that the mug wins. Great for the seller, not great for the buyer.
If webpage real estate is auctioned, you paid the most, so you show up. Everyone else stopped bidding, which is why you won.
The main solution to that problem is to use advertising as kindling, not the fire.
If you make things people actually love, and would look forward to seeing more of, there’s a good chance they’ll tell people for free. The auction got it in front of the first person who, in turn, got it in front of the second person.
If you don’t make things people actually love — you’re just there to push product and that’s that — there’s a good chance you’ll have to be a mug for a very long time.
Some designers have a 12-month waitlist.
Some designers are nervous about finding their next gig because an MBA told them to keep raising their prices.
Some designers are desperate for their next gig at any price.
If we assume they all do great work for a moment… why are their pipelines so different?
The first designer with the waitlist has a reputation for what they do, and those who see the waitlist find as much value in the waiting as they do in the final product. The wait is part of the service, and it’s one that makes people feel like they’re in the right place.
The second designer did what the gurus tell them to do. Charge more, ramp up production, template what they do for economies of scael, outsource to the lowest bidder, maximize profits. Except now they’ve put their greed before their craft, and that doesn’t make as compelling a story for the buyer, even if it’s what economists recommend.
The third designer has a story, too. One of desperation, which isn’t an appealing story to buy either.
Interestingly, the one that ignored the economists, slowed down, did their best, even against the headwinds of “can you do it faster”, had the best story of them all.
Your work may not fit into the metaphor at all.
But the metaphor serves as useful context when you ask yourself, “What’s your story?”
We’re cancelling a SaaS subscription in our business soon.
One we’ve maintained for close to 15 years, every month, for a not-insignificant sum of money.
One I even used to have a tshirt for.
Why?
Because they got lazy and greedy.
Rebranded, tacked on AI features nobody asked for, then increased our subscription fee by 11X, overnight, with nothing more than an email notification.
11X.
People have taken to forums worldwide, outraged and confused. The company has said nothing in response.
It’s a good lesson that if you look after your people, they’ll look after you (long, tshirt-wearing tenure). And if you take them for granted or treat them unkindly, they’ll move on.
Everyone thinks they can “vibecode” a Slack competitor in an afternoon.
Yet no one is trying to compete with Slack right now (unless you’re Microsoft or Jack Dorsey etc.)
Why is that?
Clearly, the moat isn’t the code.
It’s something bigger than that. More amorphous. More difficult to produce.
It’s the network.
The “people like us do things like this” factor.
Perhaps the code was never the moat, or the onramp, or the eagerness to try something new.
Perhaps the moat was an experience so novel, special, unique, and fit for you, that you had to tell the others.
Perhaps it always was.
One way to ensure you’re doing a good job, is to check your email twenty times daily, just in case something’s on fire.
Another way is to do such a good job, the only emails waiting for you are thank yous.
Which are you doing this week?
In scriptwriting, “Save the cat” is an expression that basically means “make your characters likeable up-front by having them do something nice”.
Blake Snyder named multiple books by that expression, to represent remembering the small details.
I think “Save the cat” should make its way into other areas too:
Restaurant? Have the chef introduce himself to guests, and bring out goodies gratis while people review the menu. Knowing the head chef cares connects you to the place.
Newsletter? Have the writer send a little personal welcome email to each subscriber, with a gift based on something unique about that subscriber.
Ecommerce store? Leave hand-written notes in your deliveries, complimenting them on their purchases, and what may go well with it. Maybe even include a tiny gift.
Are these things hard? Not really. They take some effort to do, sure, but they’re not “hard”.
Do they make all the difference in the world to recipients? You bet they do.
Seems like a pretty good trade, doesn’t it?
“That idea probably won’t work.”
I’ve heard that more times than I’d have liked.
From when I was very young, through to adulthood.
Fortunately, I never listened to it.
Fortunately, I proved it wrong, at least every time I can remember.
People have a habit of believing things they’ve seen done before, and without too much effort.
They tend to have a harder time believing things that sit beyond the horizon of today’s potential.
That idea probably won’t work.
Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try anyway.
Some great ideas take years to form, and years longer to produce.
Others take a few months and release to near-immediate windfalls.
I’ve experienced both first-hand. You’d think the latter is better.
Most of the time, the former is vastly more fulfilling.
Most of the time, I’d take the former over the latter.
Which do you prefer? The answer may reveal something about what you value more: making great things, or what making great things sometimes results in.
I don’t know about you…
But I’d rather a short, thoughtful video emailed to me, than a show-and-tell screen-share Zoom meeting. That way, if we meet, we can do so quickly, where I’ve been briefed, and I’ve had a chance to digest what you wanted to show me.
Now apply this to what you’re building…
Are you sending 30 page PDFs for review, or shooting fun videos folks can watch without thinking too hard?
Are you writing sterile, lengthy, AI-esque emails, or sharing brief, hand-written emails filled with your personality?
Are you blasting everyone with cryptic pitches, or popping over witty-yet-insightful gifts that folks can inquire about if they’re genuinely interested?
It’s always possible to respect people’s time, remember they’re human too, give them a gift, and make them smile.
It’s, dare I say it, excellent for business.
People are saturated with “interesting” things on social media.
Yet few stop to think about what “interesting” means.
When you create “interesting”, you satiate curiosities, dragging folks into more scrolling. “Oh that’s interesting. And so is that. And so is that. And so is that.”
When you create “interested”, you capture an interest and nurture it as someone becomes increasingly happy, educated, or both. “I’m really interested in this, I wonder where it leads.”
Both introduce your curiosity to the unexplored.
One of them changes people for the better, is more fulfilling, and could be an excellent foundation for your venture.
Which is it to be?
Someone commented on my watch the other day.
In a world where most people have Apple Watches on, they observed I had a cartoon bunny on my wrist.
“What does your watch do?” they asked.
“It tells the time and it makes me smile” I replied.
“Is that all?” they inquired.
“Isn’t that enough?” I replied.
Telling the time is a useful feature.
Making me smile is also a useful feature.
When we make things, we don’t need for our things to do everything. We get to choose which things make the cut. Focus on just those things. Be great at those things.
Isn’t that enough?
If AI can make “pretty good” posts, ads, pages, emails, and code…
At the hands of anyone who will push the button and claim the output as their own…
Then “pretty good” loses a lot of value in the market. Because everyone has that button now.
And if you think “pretty good” is going to be enough for your market, just because you think it looks “kinda cool”, you may be in for a rude awakening, today, or tomorrow.
But if you decide that “pretty good” isn’t good enough for you…
And you strive for something greater…
(Whether that means matching that same quality by hand but with a better story, exceeding that quality, or both…)
Then you may find fortune sees favour in your contribution.
Not all at once. Maybe not today. But your odds exceed the alternative, don’t they?
If you think great images will resonate with your choice of market…
But an algorithm wants you to make trendy videos instead…
Do you do what your audience wants, or the algorithm wants?
It’s seen as a tough question. Brands and individuals wrestle with this question among many.
Do what the algorithm wants and you’ll receive a boost of distribution, garnering the attention of those who will engage with it, but never engage with you, because they were there for the trend, not for you.
Do what your people want and you’ll never be blessed with that distribution, but with enough effort you’ll find a much smaller group of people who will sometimes see what you made, and appreciate your contribution.
Big and empty.
Small and engaged.
One option engages marketing directors who have reports to write, full of numbers to impress their higher-ups.
One option engages whomever is thinking about the whole, and wants to make change happen.
They both have their place. It’s useful to know which one you’re choosing, and why.
One of the joys of our studio’s “talent network” is the number of people involved.
Corporates tend to ponder how few people they can get away with. People are often treated as expendable, replaceable cogs in a machine. Fewer people to deal with.
But the reverse is far more compelling: the more caring, creative human beings you involve in a process, the more ideas, agency, and value is added.
The talent network’s beautiful for this, because whenever a specific need comes up, there’s a caring, creative human being who adores that very specific thing, desperate to sink their teeth into it.
This is vastly different to the typical studio scenario, where specific needs are met with a homogenization of creative, a regression toward mean, a “how can we get this approved without deviating from our usual process” solution that marginalizes the opportunity to delight those it will exist to serve.
One of my great joys is to be a creative, an artist, who cares so deeply about my craft. Another great joy is to collaborate with those who feel the same way.
“Delight at every stage.”
This sentence stood out to me today in a meeting while reviewing a new “cold” campaign experiment that tests some edutainment theories we’ve been sandboxing.
Not because it’s novel and new.
But because it’s not. It’s what we teach for every stage of a product, or a product’s marketing, pre-and-post-sale.
It just stuck out to me because it’s long been obvious in those domains, yet “cold” campaigns have always been slightly more amorphous, due to the regulations and headwinds they typically face.
And yet, despite all that, it really comes down to the same principles we use elsewhere, and this one is no exception.
Sometimes, headwinds and other influences make us think something has to be different, or harder, or more complex than they should be.
Challenge those assumptions.
It might be that they’re just as philosophically aligned, simple, and on-pattern as the rest of your strategy.
When I build things, I try to remember:
1: Would my 6 year old self be proud of this, if he were here to see it?
He didn’t have the weight of the world, nor the complex social structures it impose on us, imposed upon him. He just wanted to make cool stuff and share it with others. Would he be proud of whatever I’m building right now, or would he be disappointed that this is what lies ahead?
2: Would Mum be proud of this, if she were here to see it?
She wasn’t influenced by any of those social structures or weights either, because the downstream effects of my actions didn’t affect her. She just wanted to know I was happy, safe, and fulfilled. Would she be proud of whatever I’m building right now, if she was still here to see it?
There are lots of other voices that matter a great deal. Voices of people alive and with me today, whom I love dearly. But that’s not what this post is about: this is about making sure I’m also being true to myself when I create.
Because I’ve lost myself before, and it’s hard to see while it’s happening.
Maybe the voices in your world are different to mine.
But find some, and confer with them in your mind, as I do with my 6 year old self and my Mum.
Even though they’re gone, it doensn’t mean they’ve left you.
This week, I spent hours wrestling with personality quirks of characters in a show I’m working on.
The areas they harmonize, the areas they disagree.
The outfits they won’t need until future seasons, but are worth knowing in advance for continuity of design language in other objeccts.
In the culture of their world, what came before that will never be seen, to make a coherent world-view that influences how they walk, what they reminisce, and what they hope for.
Why?
Can’t you just draw a cool-looking character and call it good?
You can…
But any old machine can do that.
People don’t connect with cool pictures and novel stories.
They connect with something deeper than that.
The human work of caring more deeply than that.
The feeling that someone wrestled with the nuances for a long time, pulling together worlds worth getting lost in.
Many won’t even notice it, consciously. But they’ll feel it, unconsciously.
This is the human work of making things that matter for people who care.
It’s worth every struggle, especially when nobody’s watching.
Think about what made you decide to choose the creative path you’re on.
About what made you decide it was worth pursuing in the first place.
Isn’t that enough?
If we love great art, creations, ideas, worlds, stories, products…
And part of why we love them is the humanity, the connection, the effort, the heart, the care that went into them…
And as human beings we love to see such things unfold in order to build connection and care for those things being built…
Then maybe part of what makes it resonate with people isn’t the finished piece, perfect, manicured, and ready for the world to see.
Maybe part of what makes it resonate is being invited to follow along in the journey, witnessing the ideas, the struggles, the doubt, the ideas that didn’t work.
Maybe we want to see all the bad stuff, so we can celebrate in the good stuff, too.
Perhaps that journey is precisely the thing we need in order to truly appreciate what you’re doing.
Perhaps the bad stuff is part of the good stuff.
Perhaps it’s time to be vulerable, not perfect.
When there are lots of projects going on at once…
And lots of team members who need your feedback…
And lots of reports you need to speak to…
And lots of decisions you need to make…
And lots and lots and lots and lots…
The best way I’ve found to deal with them all, is to slow down your inner voice.
T o s p e a k a l i t t l e b i t s l o w e r i n s i d e .
My inner-voice can be mile-a-minute, if I let it. Flitting from concern to concern, thought to thought, thing to thing, barely finishing one thought before another starts up. Faster, faster, faster.
I’m convinced it’s one of the places that anxiety and stress come from.
But when you slow it down… and give each thought… space… to be…
One word… at a time…
Suddenly…
Things feel calmer. Much, calmer.
As though, there’s space… and time… for all of the things… to take, their turn…
And somehow… it all… gets done.
Try it sometime.
AI wins on speed, and average output.
Machines will always win those metrics.
So don’t compete on those metrics.
And don’t seek customers who shop based on those metrics.
Brands invest in UGC, CSR, influence, all sorts of things.
Every one comes with a huge list of to-dos, best practices, and gurus who reportedly know best.
But what’s it all for?
Likeability and trust.
It’s for likeability and trust.
Why not just focus on that, instead, and let the rest come along for the ride?
Talent is a dangerous word.
We might hear it and think, “we have some, others have more, so therefore they’re better than I am”.
But if you’re a video game character, ‘Talent’ isn’t a stat. ‘Skill’ is a stat.
‘Talent’ is the starting balance of ‘Skill’ that your character comes with.
Characters starting without a starting balance, can outpace those who did, by training their ‘Skill’ stat.
Outside of sport, this is true for most people, at most levels of play.
You are entirely, fully, completely capable.
You always have been.
It’s hard to say at times like this.
But I maintain it’s worth being a “hopeless optimist”.
“Hopeless”: You don’t hold out hope that the optimistic point of view will necessarily be correct, or that things will somehow turn out better because you thought that way.
“Optimist”: You try to see the good in the things around you, even if there is also bad, and try to show support towards the good parts in case it helps them overcome the bad.
For example. The current UK government is busy trying to chip away at any good person’s relative use case for freedom of speech. But the hopeless optimistic view is, the current government is doing that, but that’s not to say the next will.
Another example. I supported a whole bunch of artists who sold NFTs around 2020–2021. Not because I thought it was going to be a “big money play”, but because I believe in artists. Some were grifters, others were trying to make art and got labeled as grifters by grifters. The hopeless optimistic view is, supporting artists, if you can, is a good idea anyway.
Know what you believe, know what you value, then try the “hopeless optimist” hat on.
If nothing else, it’s better for your blood pressure.
Not every project needs to be successful.
No good person would expect that of you.
But a good person might expect you to:
1: Stand by your work. If you release something into the world, let it be something you’re proud of. I try not to ship anything I’m not truly happy with, even if it means a few uncomfortable conversations with other contributors. Those contributors, the recipients, and myself, all deserve the opportunity to fill their days experiencing great works.
2: Do right by those who trust you. I’ve had projects fail before, and the first thing I try to do is do right by those who trusted me, as best as I’m able. To a good person, that’s just as valuable as if the project was a success, and builds their trust in you even more.
3: Do 1 and 2 without waivering. We can waiver on a great many things. Confidence. Energy. Skill. Mood. Hope. I’ve waivered on them all and more, too. But so long as we still stand by our work and do right by those who trust us, we can go again tomorrow.
I create a newsletter called GrowthCandy. Each issue shares one idea to help build and spread your work, delivered as a short comic. Fast to read. Easy to apply. Hard to forget!