I went off a little yesterday on Twitter about all the crazy titles people are putting on their business cards in the marketing services world. Here’s one: Chief Storyteller, Apprentice Zen Teacher. Come se what?
Storytelling is big business today. Why? Because video is such an important communications device – and it’s billable. But before everybody and her brother could make a crappy video and tell a crappy narrative, the art of storytelling required discipline – the thoughtfulness and restraint to tell stories with fewer pictures and words.
Now digital and ad agencies talk about story telling all the time. First we must understand the brand story. Then we must be able to translate the brand story and articulate into business strategy for management. Only then can we tell the story to consumers. And now, pray tell, thanks to social media, the story goes both ways now. Around the brand campfire we listen to consumers tell our story… and we encourage them to tell it to others.
The real story on story.
Sorry to go all geeze on you but I saw a wonderful print ad in The New York Times paper paper today. It wasn’t anything X 768 — it was two honking color half pages by L.L. Bean at opposite corners of a spread folio. The headline was “gear that stands the test of time” (left) “now ships free all the time” (right). The left page showed a close up of the heels of two Bean boots. Since the story was about product durability and free shipping, the picture of the boots was amazingly rich. Shot by the Annie Leibovitz of boot photographers, the color, patina, texture and composition of the boots said “wear.” The shot also said tear, but not too much. The heels weren’t too worn, the settle of the leather not too weighted. The cant of one boot to the other, like a kiss.
The picture reminded me on a pair of my father’s L.L. Bean boots. It captured me. It helped me tell my own story. Sometimes the best storytelling in marketing communications is not explicit. It’s provocative. In this “fast twitch media” world, I don’t have time to sit through a mini-movie on the durability of a boot, made by an NYU film student at $35 an hour. Don’t tell me the story, remind me, incite me, coddle me into my own story. Bravo L.L. Bean. Ship me a pair of my daddy’s boots. (Actually, I think I still have them. Maybe I’ll just put ‘em bad boys on.) Peace!