A couple of days ago I came across this vision from iStone. And it’s amazing how quickly I turned off as soon as I saw the word vision.

The vision of iStone is to become the customers’ obvious partner concerning everything that involves their business system. We want all our customers to be highly satisfied with our products and services. In order to achieve this we offer a cooperate agreement.

My reaction - glazing of the eyes, idling of the brain - leads me to believe that one of the biggest issues with vision texts is how they are presented. Visions are sterile things and we’ve become immune to them. To catch a reader’s attention, the vision has to be rephrased and represented in a compelling way. Instead of starting a sentence with Our vision, it would be better to kick off with something like:

We want to see…
For us, the future is…
We can see a time when…

But this still won’t work if the vision isn’t…well…visionary. Wouldn’t it be nice if a vision created an amazing future picture of the world that taps into the reader’s imagination? I would read, and care about, the iStone’s vision if it said:

Imagine a world where business systems run automatically, doing all the administration tasks for you so you have time to concentrate on the work you love.

But of course, vision still need to be presented internally. To do that, you could simply start We work towards creating a world where…

Perhaps a pharma company could phrase a vision something like this:

We want to live in a world where intestinal pain is a thing of the past; where everyone has access to affordable medicine that treats intestinal illness instantly.

(Internally, this could be presented as: Our goal is to create affordable medicine that…)

I guess I have a vision: Think of a future where company vision statements are truly exciting statements of the possible future of our world.

Sounds good, huh? But is it possible when it comes to copywriting? Many of our customers seem to think it is - and are using long-term service contracts to achieve it.

In short, this means creating centralised supplier contracts with fewer suppliers. Because the supplier builds up a relationship and knowledge of your company, you get a better end product and use less time on briefings. And you don’t spend time negotiating a new contract for each job.

Here’s what our managing partner, David Hoskin, has to say about it. “More of our customers are looking to solidify their relationship with us in this way. It allows them to build up trust over a number of jobs until we’re viewed as an extension to the marketing department. We can be called upon when things get busy – and guarantee to always have writers available to get the job done on time. Also, with this level of trust and insight into the client, we’re able to support other agencies who offer a unique service on a project but don’t know the client so well.”

So, could this be the death of supplier juggling? Read the full article to find out more.

Transcreation seems to be something of a buzzword in the translation and communication world at the moment. But defining exactly what it is can cause some issues. So why all the hullabaloo?

Japanese-web.com puts it like this: “transcreation is to translation what copywriting is to writing.”

Basically, the concept is that while a translation merely recreates the original in another language, a transcreation takes the feeling, ideas and messages, and renders them in the new language. And in order to do that, as the name suggests, a transcreator must be creative. They have to understand what connections the original text is making with readers, and carry that over into a new language, complete with the cultural references, idioms and expressions that make the original text work.

But not everyone agrees - especially not translators, it seems. And it’s not hard to see why. The concept of transcreation relegates translators to delivering a second-rate service. They are no longer specialists. Instead they become word-for-word automats blindly following the meaning - but not the essence - of the original. Suddenly, a transcreation agency can charge more than a translation agency. For some translators, the transcreation concept appears somewhat…well…created.

This is put rather nicely by John Yunker.

If the original text is rubbish so is the translation
We’ve all seen translations that are dull and poorly worded, falling well short of engaging an audience. But maybe this isn’t always the translators fault.

The current translation versus transcreation debate assumes one key point - that the original text is already excellent. This should be the case for high-profile ad campaigns (sadly, it isn’t always); but it’s rarely the case when a text has been developed in house by a non-professional copywriter. When this is the case, a translation has no chance of delivering great text, and transcreation becomes re-writing in another language.

…but it won’t. Or maybe it will. Who can say?

Here goes a little copywriter’s rant. The phrase design to is one of the most badly used in the marketing and advertising worlds. Think about this: Our product is designed to save you money. Fine, but does it? Why not say: Our product saves you money? If it does something, say that it does it. Simple.

So how should you use the phrase design to? When you are talking about something that it not used for it’s original purpose. Something like this: Originally, perfume was designed to cover up body odour, now it’s become an essential accessory for many women (and men).

Everytime you are tempted to write designed to, remember: The Sinclair C5 was designed to revolutionise driving.

Nearly every company wants to include its history on its website or in brochures. But very few company histories are interesting to read - and even fewer could ever be used as an advertisement. Finding a compelling way to talk about company events a hundred years ago isn’t easy. Some companies use graphs, some bullet points and others turgid text. And very few are successful.

And then I came across this:

He just wanted a decent book to read…

Not too much to ask, is it? It was in 1935 when Allen Lane, Managing Director of Bodley Head Publishers, stood on a platform at Exeter railway station looking for something to read on his journey back to London. His choice was limited to popular magazines and poor-quality paperbacks - the same choice faced every day by the vast majority of readers, few of whom could afford hardbacks. Lane’s disappointment and subsequent anger at the range of books generally available led him to found a company - and change the world.

‘We believed in the existence in this country of a vast reading public for intelligent books at a low price, and staked everything on it.’
Sir Allen Lane, 1902-1970, founder of Penguin Books

The quality paperback had arrived - and not just in bookshops. Lane was adamant that his Penguins should appear in chain stores and tabacconists, and should cost not more than a packet of cigarettes.

Reading habits (and cigarette prices) have changed since 1935, but Penguin still believes in publishing the best books for everybody to enjoy. We still believe that good design costs no more than bad design, and we still believe that quality books published passionately and responsibly make the world a better place.
So wherever you see the little bird - whether it’s on a piece of prize-winning literary fiction or a celebratory autobiography, poitical tour de force or historical masterpiece, a serial-killer thriller, reference book, world classic or a piece of pure escapism - you can bet that it represents the very best that the genre has to offer.

Whatever you like to read - trust Penguin.

This was a full-page ad at the end of a Penguin book, and as soon as I started reading it, I was hooked. So why does it work so well?

For a start, the opening question sets up a little mystery for the reader. We hate an unsolved question, and we read on to find the answer. The same question puts us in Allen Lane’s shoes, we can feel his frustration - we’ve all searched the newsagent book stand looking for something decent to read, knowing that if we don’t find something we face a long, boring journey.

Then there are the details. Exeter train station, a packet of cigarettes. These locate the story for us in something concrete that we know and understand. Notice that these aren’t overdone: we don’t know if it was raining, or hear about the bussle of a busy station. But there’s just enough for our imaginations to flesh out the story.

Next are the emotions. We know that Lane was disappointed, angry even. Using these emotions enables the story to make quite dramatic claims (he changed the world). It also lends weight to the words believe and trust towards the end.

Then comes a strong (and slightly humorous) link to the present day. Things have changed the story tells us, but the belief at Penguin stays the same, and that means we won’t experience the same frustrating moment on Exeter train station.

Finally, it doesn’t tell too much. It doesn’t talk about takeovers, factories opening in Asia or recent product innovations. It tells just one story - the one that supports Penguin’s basic principles.

So, if you want your company story to do more than just be a list of facts and figures, look back into the past. Every company has an starting point - and with the right treatment, it can be used to enhance you brand.

You can read the full Penguin story. This version was a little too long for my taste. But still, every paragraph contains elements of what’s described above.

In one of his books, John Simmons (writer, brand expert and much more) recounts a wonderful story. I’m going to paraphrase the story here (appologies, John, if I get anything wrong):

John had just finished his book Great Brand Stories: Innocent, and emailed one of the founders of Innocent Drinks to let him know everything was done. John received a reply that said something like: “well done, it’s a beautiful day, you should go to the park to celebrate”. So John sent back an email that looked something like this:

Subject: Out of office reply.

John Simmons is not in the office. He’s in the park enjoying the beautiful day.

This story made me think. Are we missing a trick on our out of office replies? Surely, this is a good place to build closer relationships with clients and suppliers. Explaining what you are doing could be the starting point of a friendly dialogue when you get back. It would certainly add a little more personality to your communications - and as we often only ever meet each other over email, extra depth is something we could often use in our work relationships.

Obviously, in some cases, details can be less than helpful. It may not be a good idea to write: “I’m not in the office today. I’m in court facing charges of shoplifting.”

But “I’m skiing in Norway for four days. Barring accidents, I’ll be back in the office on Friday and will get back to you then.” is a nice thing for people to read. We all take holidays, go to children’s birthday parties, travel on business. And it may be nice to share this information with clients.

So, I’m going to try it. I’m out of the office until next Tuesday. Send me an email - and you’ll find out what I’m up to. And of course, I’ll get back to you next week.

After four years in Denmark I’d come to a very definite conclusion: Danes swear. A lot. In English. At the most inopportune moments.

Don’t get me wrong. I swear like a trooper. But there’s a time and a place for it. In Denmark, you can be confronted by an English taboo word at any moment. In business meetings, surrounded by families at the Tivoli aquarium, on huge billboard posters. It can be embarrassing - and it nearly always makes me cringe.

(We’ve already written about the topic: check out David’s post on a Danish pop song, or this WordSpin article on a certain alcopop campaign.)

So, one thing I was looking forward to when I moved to Norway was being able to relax without worrying about when the next unsuitable swear word would come out. The Norwegians almost never swear in English. If they do, it’s always to stress a point and never in a business meeting. All was going well. Until I visited Stavanger. There I saw the f word proudly splashed on a shop sign. (I’m not going to show a picture of the sign on this site, but if you want to see it you can.)

The sentiment is similar to this one (also spotted in Stavanger)…

So what is it with the people in Stavanger? Why is it, as soon as you go to the west of Norway, they start getting offensive in the shop windows?

There are two really good reasons to check out this YouTube video.

Firstly, it reveals that Denmark is the happiest place on Earth. Blue Zones has surveyed hundreds of thousands of people around the world and it seems that Danes are just really happy - not just at the time of asking, but with life in general. Which, if you live in Denmark, may be enough to make you forget about the weather for a while.

Secondly, it’s a great example of comments becoming more interesting than the piece they are commenting on. When I checked, 106 comments had been left - and the debate is raging as to why Danes are so happy, and whether they really should be. It’s fascinating reading. But be warned: not everyone is happy for the Danes…

As a longtime resident of Denmark now living in Norway, I’m often asked what’s different between the Danes and Norwegians. I’ve already posted about the service industry in the two countries. And over the last few months, I’ve begun to notice another major difference: the idea of a good time is completely opposite.

The Norwegian attitude is expressed wonderfully in this passage from Odd Børretzen’s book How to Understand and Use a Norwegian: A User’s Guide.

“[The Norwegian] wants the time he spends with other people to result in something sensible, or enable him to:
1. learn from it
2. have a child by it, or
3. obtain a good Fisheries Agreement.
The Norwegain has never quite understood how people from other lands can find it morally justifiable to sit in a pub, at a sidewalk cafe, or in a marketplace for hours, and talk about anything for no other purpose than just sitting there talking.”

The more time I spend in Norway, the more I realise this is true. Norwegians love to be doing something in their spare time. They climb mountains, go fishing, walk the coast, sew, better themselves. The idea of doing ‘nothing’ is thoroughly alien.

Compare this to the Danes, whose idea of a good time is nothing but sitting and chatting with friends.

I saw this sign on the Metro and have come to the conclusion that it’s a classic example of bad writing.

“There may be camera surveillance on all Metro trains…” is about as vague as it gets. Either there is camera surveillance on all trains or there isn’t. Without being able to understand the Danish version, I’m guessing that the issue is all. There may be camera surveillance on some Metro trains… makes sense.

But the problem could also be with the modal verb may. In which case, the sentence could read: There is camera surveillance on all Metro trains… .

This is an example of good intentions going to waste because of poor execution. While us non-Danish speakers appreciate the effort put in to giving us information in English, the effort is pointless if the English version isn’t checked for accuracy (and sense).

And it’s a lesson for all writers, whether writing in English or any other language. The written word is fixed and the reader rarely has a chance to double-check the meaning. So you have to be 100% clear in what you write…and the reader must be left in no doubt. For me, this is the number 1 golden rule and it is more important than style, tone of voice or conciseness. Because if the reader doesn’t understand, you’ve failed in your main goal.

So what’s the best way to ensure your writing is clear? Ask someone else to read it - because although it may make sense you, it may not be clear to the reader.

But back to the Metro. There is one more possibility. It’s possible that the Metro authorities don’t know if there is camera surveillance on all trains or not - in which case, they’d be better off not writing anything.