What’s your space-age tesseract monument to world peace?
As a marketing copywriter, I could often tell whether a project had legs by the way its owner spoke about it. It’s like there was a secret vibe they gave off, telling me it was bound to go on to greater things.
Take this brief, for example…
It came from a client I suspected of being clinically mad (they weren’t). They needed help describing their vision to build a monument to world peace. So not the usual kind of project us creatives are used to. Give us a Chinese mattress to talk-up anyday, or some shitty, bland, corporate-whoring consultancy service to flog. Not peace and goodwill to all creatures.
Nuts to that.
The clues to that certain special something that makes a project like this different (and by association the business behind it), weren’t so much in what this client said, as in the way they said it.
Here’s a made-up conversation based tenuously on the first time I met my turned-out-not-mad client:
“Why a space-age tesseract monument though? That seems a bit… niche.”
“Ha, well yeah I suppose it is, but it’s not about building.”
“Go on…”
“Well here’s the thing — it might never get built. But if kids get to know other kids on the other side of the planet, through a school project about the monument then we’ve won. Do you get what I mean?”
“I think so, but can you explain…”
“Next time there’s a tsunami in the news, those kids will remember their friends in that part of the world and hopefully want to do something about it. That’s why I do this.”
Now, let’s contrast that with the staid alternative. I’m not saying this next project is bad, in fact I’ve had plenty of clients who talk like this, but hopefully you’ll see the difference:
“Why a space-age tesseract monument though? That seems a bit… niche.”
“We just make them because we’re really passionate about monuments. We’ve been building them all our lives and it’s just what we do. We do it better than anyone else — they’re unique and affordable too.”
Which of these would you throw your heart into? The latter might be a charming client; they could be respectful and pay handsomely too. But does it turn you on like the former?
Likewise, which do you think will fire up like-minded people who also want to get on board — like paying customers/clients/sponsors?
OK, maybe world peace isn’t your thing. You’re into wholesale human extermination based on race — not my bag, but let’s pause morality for a moment. I’ll spare you a parody like the conversation above — use your imagination. If someone starts spitting venom about genetic purity, with the conviction of client one (above) — that’s going to pique your bigotry far more than a prosaic response like client two.
The way I see it, client two is stuck in their own brand, they’re in love with their craft. Yet client one, maybe that’s also true, but there’s something bigger at stake. Something more profound and magnetic.
They’re in love with a cause (‘a’ not ‘their’). There’s a reason behind the reason for what they do. Sure, the former might also love building monuments for monuments’ sake, but there’s a meaningful purpose behind it. They get the symbology, they see the scope for reaching beyond just simplistic profit and growth, or vanity and mastery of craft.
Cause? What? Me? Where?
The astute wisdom that follows applies to every project and every business.
Yes, even yours. In fact, especially freelancers and small creative and tech businesses who think causes are toys for the big boys and girls.
When the things you write or say about your creative business sound like everyone else, or feel tired and reductive (or you can’t get started in the first place), chances are it’s because you’re thinking like client two. Heart and soul are missing from the message. There’s not enough cause. And cause gives you a powerful platform to talk (and listen) with conviction.
As a coach, I help my clients recapture that magic. It’s always in there somewhere, in their stories, their experiences. So we dig deep and stay curious. It hides in what you geek out on, the people you love serving (and the assholes you hate).
Fast forward a few years, and a different client made another philosophical point that’s worth mentioning, as I try to salvage wisdom from these witterings. This client also has a cause — keeping people safe and reducing harm at work so they enjoy life. But they also believe that business can (and should) be a force for change in the world.
If we want it, creative work can be more than just a way to clothe and feed yourself in exchange for scratching an itch. It can come with a warm fuzzy feeling too — like you’ve made a difference.
Modest doesn’t necessarily mean less virtuous
As my copywriting career advanced, fewer and fewer mad people approached me with world peace monuments. Yet I still took every chance to ask clients what they stood for, what keeps them awake at night, and what gets them out of bed in the morning. Most, although initially perplexed at my fixation with their nocturnal habits, were happy to answer, but rarely gave cause pride of place, when it came to getting their message across.
Perhaps they were scared of giving too much away. Maybe it was fear of ambition, or failing to get there. Likewise, when I explore values, purpose and meaning when I’m coaching freelancers and small creative businesses, there’s still that reticence to pin hopes on something bigger. It’s like what we do in the day-to-day feels too humble, insignificant or trivial to align with a cause — some change or injustice in the world they want to put right.
Odd that. Because we all have a secret, heartfelt mission that keeps us afloat. Running a creative small business is like getting kicked over and over in the soft bits sometimes. There must be something that fires you up, some feeling you get when you press your button — that thing you believe in.
A cause needn’t be as ambitious as ending all human suffering or single-handedly resolving the climate crisis. It could be as simple as unleashing creativity for kids, or freedom for pink moles that resemble genitalia. As long as there’s a simple truth to it. Some underlying principle, aim or movement to which you’re deeply committed. Causes are defined by the fact that they’re bigger than just one person or collection of people. You belong to and believe in, but never own a cause.
A fun place to begin experimenting with cause is to sketch out a manifesto. If you were recruiting yourself, what would move you enough to seize the banner? What do your favourite charities, activists, or political parties publish in their manifestos?
A manifesto could paint a rosy picture of the sunny uplands. Or a bleak future in which you grind the untermenschen even deeper into abject deprivation, while simultaenously hoodwinking a nation with your buffoonery and affected wit. There’d be a story behind it. Real, unashamed heart and soul.
Once cause is clear, it:
- Is something to strive for personally.
- Creates a sense of belonging and a meeting place for like-minded people who crave the same, deeper sense of fulfillment in life, from projects that truly stand for something.
- Is a deep, rich reservoir from which to draw energy, whenever you lose your way.
- Takes the focus off you, which is a real obstacle for hesitant creatives and tech minds who know they ought to do more marketing, networking or other outreach activities worth avoiding.
- Gives people something to rally behind (especially when times get tough).
People (be they clients, collaborators, customers, supporters) flock to a mutual cause, and they’ll keep returning to scrap with rats in the gutter alongside you, as you put the world right.
Just steer clear of facism, OK?
