UPDATE: Congratulations and thank you, people and patrons of Superfine on raising $775 for Habitat!

Superfine Fundraiser & Silent Auction for Japan
Thursday, April 14 @ 7pm
126 Front Street in DUMBO

Hey. You there. Heed the info above and frolic down to SUPERFINE this Thursday. All donations and auction proceeds will go to Habitat for Humanity International, specifically their Japan Earthquake and Tsunami Disaster Response efforts. Below are some of the goodies that’ll be on the bidding block.

Thanks to the following businesses and indie designers for their donations:

• Powerhouse Books
• McClure’s Pickles
• Kate Spade New York
• Species by the Thousands
• Kate Durkin
• Dewey’s Candy
• More to come…

There will also be a donations bucket and a few drink specials, thanks to Superfine.

I have some extended family who grew up and live in Sendai and would love for you to open your coin purse for them and their neighbors. For those who know me beyond the digital landscape, I’m moving to San Francisco in a couple of weeks so consider this a fond farewell too.

Say you’ll be there. ♥

Originally published on BBH Labs.

Certain artists are typecast, sometimes by choice. They capture a style so well that it comes to define them. Author Jonathan Safran Foer falls outside of that camp with a chameleonic thud. He keeps us curious.

In his new book, Tree of Codes, Foer does with a physical book what we often neglect in digital—he turns reading into an experience. In showing how a story’s environment affects its meaning, he gives digital storytellers a slap in the face.

Tree of Codes, breaks from the standard book format in two ways:

1. It creates a new story by tearing apart and piecing together an old one—Bruno Schulz’s The Street of Crocodiles.
2. Each page is die-cut to reveal just a handful of words and phrases.

I found the book annoying to read at first, despite its delicate beauty. I couldn’t decipher between the page I was reading and the ones beneath it. It was like a depth perception test following a mug of bourbon.

After sobering up and finding a better technique, I enjoyed the layout. Words hovered in a dream-ridden state. Thought went into each line, each phrase and how it was laid out. Such attention to the UX of reading is tough to find on the web. Foer’s analog approach would be easy enough to toy with in digital. So why aren’t we more playful with narratives online?

Brilliant writing isn’t enough to keep readers happy. Long blocks of copy, no matter how poetic, are begging for attention spans to scamper off elsewhere. In a design dominant field, it’s easy to neglect voice, tone, even punctuation. Or to forget about how each will figure into a broader environment.

Maybe that’s because we get swept up in technology. We use it to tell stories rather than to shape them. The following ideas and executions use technology to influence how stories are read. Bravo! The better ones put UX at the forefront. In doing so, they offer some lessons in communicating creatively.

• We Tell Stories: Bring physical location into the narrative.
• Telescopic Text: Let the reader decide what information to absorb.
• TextArc: Represent text visually.
• The Sweet Old Etcetera: Make static literature kinetic. There are lots more eLiterature exampleshere.
• Open Bookmarks: Consider the selfish benefits to social reading.
• Ben the Bodyguard: Communicate utility via a character.
• @RuthBourdain: Mix vinegar and oil. Hilarity ensues. (Perhaps a bit off the mark, but a good demo of re-imagining existing voices.)

These concepts and methods fool with language, narrative and technology to entertain. It’s humbling to think that a few pieces of paper and an X-Acto knife can do the same.

When we leave room for interpretation and delight, we can expand the playground for digital fiction. We can turn stories into experiences that are unique to each reader. So let’s stop neglecting the goddamn words. Pretty please?

I have entered the bog, friends, and I have seen the cranberries. Such redness! So many shades! Reds you’ve never seen before. Purples that look red, reds that look rosy, and each one exploding with a taste so hypnotically tart you’ll think: Moses didn’t part the Red Sea…he was in a goddamn cranberry bog!

No. I don’t work for Ocean Spray. I just love cranberries, and my cranberry harvesting dreams have come true thanks to my new friends at the Rocky Bog in Dennis, Cape Cod. They strapped me (and Jenny and Brian) in some leaky waders (theirs didn’t leak) and put us to work. It was all quite fanastic:

The autumn wind whipped us, but not in a slave-like manner. It was crisp, almost gentle. Once the bog was flooded, the berries floated to the surface. This was thanks to a farmer and his “water beater” which is the machine that plucks berries from their vines.

As we hiked up our waders, those already at work used long rubber tubes to corral the berries. They were cowboys with lassoes, and the berries were tiny and confused ponies. Scattered, no more.

Meanwhile, a semi-truck pulled up next to the bog. That was our cue to enter the abyss, for we had a truck to fill.

We would use our metal brooms to push the berries into the center of the corral. At the center, a long tube, reminiscent of that scary scene in E.T., extended from bog to truck and sucked the fruit up in its path. Near the end of the journey, a machine separated the berries from the vines and gunk.

Our arms grew tired, but encouragement pushed us forth. In the distance, a land-bound Bostonian shouted: Round ‘em up, fellahs! We got hot corn chowdah and pumpkin bread for yah. Just the words we needed to press on.

The berries grew redder throughout the afternoon…so pretty. My waders leaked like an overly caffeinated elephant, but what a day. And now I’ve got some fine cranberry jam in the kitchen.

Midwest Airlines is disappearing into the folds of Frontier Airlines. The first sign of this merger was an audible one: the flight attendants’ accent. Good bye familiar, nasel-ridden midwestern voices. Hello news anchor sounds of no known origin.

As a Milwaukee native, I found this change jarring. But the worst was yet to come, as displayed below in my calculation of the brand acquisition:

The equation, broken down, looks something like this.

Step 1: You take the blue Midwest Airlines logo and mix it with yellow, resulting in Frontier’s green color scheme.

Step 2: Multiply the scenario by half a dozen frisky animals (like Larry the Lynx and Flip the Dolphin), imperative to Frontier’s branding and fleet of air carriers.

Step 3: Delete half the cookies and take away their warmth. To explain…Midwest Airlines is known for its signature “baked on board” chocolate chip cookies. Every customer receives two, with melting morsels aplenty. But on a recent Frontier flight, I received one lone cookie—and it was straight out of the cooler. So Frontier has cut the supply in half and ditched the easy bake oven, at least for now. A recent tweet from @MidwestAirlines promises to reintroduce the warm cookies soon.

Fingers crossed.

This morning, Google delivered to me a reinforcer: Make today a Meatless Monday.

There I sat, ferociously hitting refresh in my Gmail spam folder. I was expecting an email I feared had wound up in Spamville. Patience! my mind exclaimed. But I was too far gone, pummeling my way down Bobby Brown Boulevard.

No new messages appeared. In fact, all that changed on the page were the Google sponsored ad links, which advertised Spam recipes. Each sounded more disgusting than the last:

• Spam Skillet Casserole
• Vineyard Spam Salad
• Spam Hashbrown Bake [serves 8]
• Ginger Spam Salad [serves 1]
• Spicy Spam Kabobs
• Spam Imperial Tortilla Sandwiches
• Spam Breakfast Burritos [serve with salsa]
• Spam Vegetable Strudel
• Spam Veggie Pita Pockets
• Savory Spam Crescents
• Spam Fajitas
• Spam Swiss Pie

Sadly, my click-thru rate for these ads was a remarkable .33%. Check your spam ads, you may understand the temptation.

The veggie entries are particularly disturbing. Also, on the off chance you’re making Ginger Salad I ask that you leave the slimy, matchstick-sized pork shoulder out of it.

If I were bulimic, I’d wolf down such salty treats in (or for) an instant. Instead, I’ll be cooking up some ratatouille to the tune of $7.06 spent at the veggie market. Rather than eating Spam alone in a corner as your arteries weep, join me!

If you were on death row, which would you choose—a firing squad or lethal injection? That’s the question my friend Anna Jackson asked me while riding a Staten Island-bound ferry. We almost died that day. (Not really, but for a time the captain was playing Battleship.)

Anna was referencing the media frenzy surrounding death row inmate Ronnie Lee Gardner, who opted for an execution-style sentence earlier this month. When his time was up, he was shot down in the manner of an old western. Some believed Gardner’s choice to be publicity-driven. His only other option in the state of Utah was lethal injection.

Filling people with bullets is a legal form of punishment. Atone for thy sins! Wait, let me just check my calendar…yep, it’s 2010. I did some extensive research on medieval European death practices. The findings, noted below, are more ridiculous than a traditional firing squad. But only slightly.

1. Death by BB gun, your eyes shot out with a Red Ryder
2. Electrocution by hand buzzer, delivered by clowns
3. Tarred & Feathered
4. Tarred & Pleathered
5. Eaten by snapping turtles and cannibalic vampires, both wearing braces
6. Tethered to an ‘80s exercise bicycle in high gear, Ace of Base’s “The Sign” on repeat
7. Dull guillotine and/or butter knife thrower
8. Plastic surgery and a moustache implant to look like Hitler, German voice box included
9. Skipping stoned to death (survival time: 3-5 years)
10. Covered in honey and blown from a cannon into a bee farm

Dear friends,

For a long time my words were scattered. They drifted, not without purpose but without shelter. And now…they have a home: jecca berta.

I’ve rounded up short stories, feature stories, interviews, web copy, game copy, iPhone app copy, semi-colons, et cetera. Welcome, my darlings.

Have a look around, let me know what you think. Meanwhile, my typewriter keys will continue bitch slapping paper at a frenzied pace. It’s a brutal relationship, though not a new one. Ask any writer. The paper always says “it felt like a kiss.”

I’d also like to thank two fine gents: Zander Brimijoin for designing the lovely header above and the Minister of Technology for his technical prowess and patience with my many questions. Much obliged.

xo,
jecca

“You mustn’t say anything against the Machine,” says the main character of E.M. Forster’s The Machine Stops. Forster’s world is one that worships technology. Communication is virtual and constant. Like instant messaging. Friends in other countries materialize before you to chat. Like Skype. Information is omnipresent, but reverb outweighs originality. Like Twitter. Oh, and the story was first published in 1909.

Eerily prophetic, this 100-year-old tale foretells how we communicate today. In doing so, it forces us to think about how we approach technology.

The next time you’re creating an iPhone app or a social media presence, etc., consider three key principles of Forster’s story that describe our age:

1. Information is more accessible than ever.
In Forster’s world, information of any sort is attainable via knobs, levers and wires. People jump from one topic to the next because there’s so much to choose from, and it’s all at their fingertips. Minds never rest, bodies rarely move away from the control board. (Might we credit the author with predicting the obesity epidemic too?)

Content is amazingly accessible in our age too. This is a gorgeous thing. From a CMO’s standpoint, it’s also terrifying. The increase in the availability of information makes it much harder to stand out amid the noise.

There are more than 125,000 apps in the iTunes Store. Every few minutes, another is submitted. What will make yours succeed? What new information are you providing, and why is your method of delivery or interaction better than existing models?

2. In-person communication is being replaced and enhanced by virtual methods.
Back to Forster. The Machine controls everything: transportation, telecommunications, lighting, music, food, death…everything. It even has a button for forgotten words. (Handy.)

Forster’s downfall was that he saw technology as a force that pushed people away from one another. He assumed it mandated how people used it. But we can choose to create things that enhance communications and bring people closer together.

We’re already doing so with virtual communications and mobile technology. Location-based services are in their infancy. That’s fertile ground not just for entertaining game play, but for helping people build relationships while navigating spaces around them.

3. We find silence disturbing.
Towards the end of the story, the Machine breaks down, and humanity goes with it. They’re lost on their own in a sea of silence. They’ve gotten so caught up in the accessibility of information that the conduit has become a crutch to their minds.

We’re nowhere near that apocalypse, but it’s an amplification of what we experience when the internet breaks. We momentarily forget how we behaved without it.

Our minds want to be filled. We’ve grown accustomed to relying on the tools in our hands to do so. Half of all time spent on mobile phones is devoted to social networking.

The next time you’re out to eat, look at the number of people on phones—texting while chatting, checking into Foursquare, taking photos of their meals. We’re overflowing with options and tools to replace silence.

Instead of simply replacing silence or adopting the “let’s build it so we have it” solution, ask yourself why you’re creating a mobile app or a Twitter presence to begin with. Because they’re popular? That alone is a poor reason. Design experiences and apps that maintain a long-term outlook, that add value on an ongoing basis.

Value is sustainable. And as the chart in this BBH post shows, it works on a range of levels, from inspiration and entertainment to utility and access. Approached successfully, it’ll invite repeat use or engagement.

In Forster’s world, silence is disturbing because people don’t know what to do without technology. We’re far more creative than that. Our problem is we don’t know what not to do with it. Taking a step back from technology and figuring out what people want and how they behave is a necessary first step in developing products and services that will delight and withstand.

When I moved to New York in 2003, I had the privilege of working for the man who invented the Hamburglar (and went on to run DDB Worldwide). Keith Reinhard hired me to intern with Business for Diplomatic Action. During that time he encouraged me to pursuit my interest in copywriting, the field he started out in. I drafted a handful of radio spots for the Bud Light “Real Men of Genius” campaign that DDB Chicago ran at the time. A few worth sharing: Mr. Proverb and Cliché Reciter, Mr. Air Guitar Player and Mr. Neighborhood Dog Walker.

BUD LIGHT PRESENTS…MR. PROVERB AND CLICHÉ RECITER

Bud Light presents Real Men of Genius.
Background vocals: Real Men of Genius

Today we salute you, Mr. Proverb and Cliché Reciter.
BV: Mr. Proverb and Cliché Reciter

You’ve got a way with words, even if they’re not your own.
You say a rolling stone gathers no moss. Have you ever seen a stone roll?
BV: Such wise words

Like an endless bowl of fortune cookies, you’ve got an answer for everything.
You can have your cake and eat it too. But when would you ever not eat your cake?
BV: Oh! That cake is tasty

Sure, curiosity killed the cat. But did it ever so much as scratch the people?
BV: Back off crazy cat

So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, man of borrowed expressions.
Because when life throws lemons, you may not make lemonade, but you’ll tell others to.
BV: Mr. Proverb and Cliché Reciter

Bud Light Beer. Anheuser-Busch. St. Louis, Missouri.

—

BUD LIGHT PRESENTS…MR. AIR GUITAR PLAYER

Bud Light presents Real Men of Genius.
Background vocals: Real Men of Genius

Today we salute you, Mr. Air Guitar Player.
BV: Mr. Air Guitar Player

You don’t sport a leather jacket. Nor do you wear assless pants. You don’t even own a guitar. Yet somehow you’ve become the world’s biggest rock-n-roller.
BV: Living in a dream

So what if you never made the high school band? Nobody knows you’re tone deaf now, music man.
BV: Play on!

You don’t know how to play an E chord because you don’t need to know how to play an E chord.
BV: Keep playin’ on!

So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Johnny B not so good.
Because when the jukebox kicks in, that tavern is a one-man stage starring you. Did somebody say “encore”? I’m afraid not.
BV: Mr. Air Guitar Player

Bud Light Beer. Anheuser-Busch. St. Louis, Missouri.

—

BUD LIGHT PRESENTS…MR. NEIGHBORHOOD DOG WALKER

Bud Light presents Real Men of Genius.
Background vocals: Real Men of Genius

Today we salute you, Mr. Neighborhood Dog Walker.
BV: Mr. Neighborhood Dog Walker

They say dog is man’s best friend. With seven poodles to your left and two cocker spaniels to your right, you’re the most popular man in town.
BV: Man’s bestest friend

Your office is a tree-lined park. Your restroom is a fire hydrant. And your briefcase? A plastic baggy.
BV: Don’t forget the baggy

Thanks to you, Scamp no longer does his business on the living room floor.
BV: Good dog, Scramp

So crack open an ice cold Bud Light you keeper of the canines.
Because while your buddies prefer milk bones, you fancy the fresh, smooth taste of Bud Light.
BV: Mr. Neighborhood Dog Walker

Bud Light Beer. Anheuser-Busch. St. Louis, Missouri.

A brand’s vanishing act risks being seen as oddly plucky or, worse, patronizing. This is particularly true if the reasoning behind it is rooted in a short-sighted quick fix or a publicity stunt. You might as well slap a Band-Aid onto an ulcer. In Parts I and II of this series, I looked at Muji, Starbucks, McDonald’s, Freshjive and, briefly, Al Green. Their changes in behavior imply not “brandlessness” but a desire to define a new brand or reinvent an existing one.

Motivating factors for their experimentation ranged from a new business line to product transformation to declining sales. Was it worthwhile? Redefining an established brand—even if this means making it less visible in the traditional sense—can certainly add value. But only if marketing performs in line with product and operations.

Muji’s behavior is evidence of a larger trend in which the brand is “baked in” to the product. The quotes, as you may have noticed, reference the new CP+B book written by Alex Bogusky and John Winsor. It’s subtitle captures the premise: creating products and businesses that market themselves. The book sounds like it was written by advertising gurus. Easy to read and full of clever lines. It’s as if they’re baked right into the product. Wait a minute…!

While Baked In serves as a handy illustration of how innovation fuels success, I found shortcomings in the idyllic setting it assumes. Baking the marketing into the product is of course excellent in theory, but it is far from practical or possible in most situations. The examples referenced (my favorite was the “Dog Edition” of the VW Passat ) are great, but the case studies lacked depth. I don’t know how to craft the type of atmosphere in which:
A.) CEOs, engineers and designers apply a marketing mindset to their daily jobs, or—
B.) marketers sit at the table with these folks early enough in the process to affect how the product and story are crafted.

“Baked in” is the exception to the rule. I agreed with almost everything that was in the book. But countless factors need to be aligned, some before a product is conceived much less rolled off the assembly line, for it to work. If it does, bravo. It may earn a place among an elite group that includes Muji, Google and Burger King’s Chicken Fries. Yet even if there is a delicious story baked into the product waiting to be told, the story isn’t always meaningful to the consumer. When the iPod launched, it’s distinct design and white headphones broke through. It also had an amazingly captivating and aggressive communications campaign that was entirely distinct from the product. Anything can be baked into a product. That doesn’t mean it will move off the shelves. Whatever’s baked in still needs to be communicated 99% of the time.

I began this series talking about symbiosis and the need for marketing to perform alongside product and operations—for them to complement one another. This holds true for all brands—new, stale, reinvented, rehashed, etc. If your business philosophy and communications align with what your audience cares about, it will be infinitely easier to get them to engage with your brand. Experimentation implies risk. All the more reason to be strategic in your actions. The difference between a well thought-out experiment and an irreverent publicity stunt will be seen in the bottom line. Address shortening attention spans with long-term thinking. Otherwise, the bird on the zebra’s back will only call attention to his crooked stripes.