The Look, the Brief, The Design & Your Cover

This piece was commissioned and written for the Marketing Institute of Ireland Blog.

It is amazing what people think constitutes preparing material for publication. In this post, we look at what is involved in preparing materials for print. We start with how to plan ahead by writing a brief, commissioning the design, and assembling your copy and photographs. Plus what a designer wants but rarely gets.

These tips and suggestions are as applicable to new media solutions as they are to traditional printed media.

Planning

The production of a printed brochure is the sort of task that can assume all sorts of significance, sometimes it can be a case of too many cooks. Other times, if you are inexperienced and left on your own, it can be fraught.

The key to effective publications is good planning, right from the very start. So you start with the date you need it and work back. If you don’t have a deadline date. . . create one! From there you can start to work out your critical path.

Engage a Designer if You Haven’t Already Got One

At an early stage, involve a designer. If you already have a retained design house, speak to them.

Alternatively send out a sample spec of documents to get an idea of costs from three or four designers and from there, pick the one that you think you can work with. Have a look at their portfolio. Ask friends. You want an agency or designer with whom you can build a relationship based on trust. Over time they should become an extension of your business.

The Written Brief

The brief’s purpose is to ensure everyone has a clear understanding of what you are trying to achieve. It provides a good reference point as the project develops to ensure people haven’t gone off at a tangent.

The brief must comprise a complete description of the project — what you are trying to do; why it is needed; what the desired outcome is; who is the target audience; and who are the key stakeholders.

Get clear agreement in-house on what it is that you are trying to achieve. This may be an ongoing process with some to-ing and fro-ing with senior colleagues, but you are aiming to achieve a written brief.

Your written brief should cover the following areas:

  • the target audience
  • the call to action
  • quantity required and how they will be distributed
  • the deadline
  • budget
  • delivery details
  • any marketing communications issues you are trying to address
  • any ideas on colour
  • use of images, i.e. photography, illustration
  • cover design ideas
  • printing and format specifications
  • how the material will be supplied, for example in Microsoft Word

You should also include any guidelines on the use of your logo, your previous materials and if you have a sample of another design, include it.

Give the Designer Final Edited Copy

Once you have your designer onboard and they have received your brief you will need to source your materials in-house and get organised.

Design layout of a document should only begin after copy has been finalised, copy-edited and read in-house.

Yes, the development of design concepts can begin while the client is still assembling copy, but once layout starts any changes can mean effectively starting again. That in turn will add to the costs.

You should avoid giving copy to your designer in batches. Even in big jobs it is better, through good project management, to be in a position to hand over the entire copy file in one go, along with all imagery.

This is what a designer dreams of but rarely gets:

  • Everything up front, all copy and images i.e. nothing to follow.
  • Final clean copy. It will have already been copy-checked in-house and will require little further editing at proof.
  • Clearly marked on the copy will be the positioning of all the images.
  • A file of photographs/images cross-referenced to the place they appear in the copy as per the note above.
  • Captions for all photographs prepared to a standardised format.
  • Contact details – accurate and up to date, address, email, phone etc.

Editing and Proofreading

There are two distinct stages in the production process that are sometimes confused – editing/copy editing and proofreading.

Editing is the work that is done in-house before anything is sent to the designer. Good editing will result in final copy that is ready for submission to the designer.
Thereafter you are into the realm of proofreading, the process by which the designer provides you with made up pages and you read them and return them corrected.

The designer will need one person, one point of contact, with whom they liaise. That’s you! You will need to be available to provide feedback on design, check and proof read design layouts and check off proofs as they are supplied.

You alone should have the authority and responsibility to make decisions about layout and copy. Arriving at a situation where changes are being made by people who were not involved in the earlier design process can be catastrophic and costly.

By all means circulate the material in house but as the project manager/editor/copy editor you need to be responsible for assimilating internal comments and feedback and explaining that you are working to an agreed brief.

Note that the author of the material is not necessarily the best person to proofread. Not least because they can often get precious about their beloved piece of writing!

As the job proceeds, someone needs to take responsibility for proofing the job and communicating amendments to the designer. Proofreading is a different a set of skills distinct from those required for editing documents.

Personally, I like to use Adobe Acrobat for all proofing work between myself and my designer. The built in editing and commenting tools are simple and easy to use.

To Make You Feel My Love.

Today’s List

Jim Wells and his ill advised comments about GAA clubs. Aside from the bigotry and lack of understanding of these outbursts by DUP figures, they forget one basic fact about bag packing. If you don’t want your bag packed, pack it yourself. And while you’re at it, pack up your troubles in your old tin trunk and feck away off.

Speaking of packing up your troubles, I had heard via my daughter there was a wee girl from Gortin in Tyrone singing on X Factor. Now, let’s be clear about this, if she is from Tyrone, she could be the biggest crow in the Gortin Glens, but she would still get my vote. Even though I greatly despise the X Factor. Tír Eoghain vincit Omnia. However, and it’s a big however, the other day whilst following a link posted by a friend I watched Janet Devlin sing. I was totally transfixed. Unbelievable voice. Just shows the talent hiding in Tyrone and from Tyrone. I’m putting her X Factor number on speed dial.

I went out the other night after our match for a typical night of acting the tin pig with our senior camogie team. Has to be said that one of the best parts of being involved are the manic nights spent in bars in Portstewart talking shite and acting the fool, even though I’m too old, too tired, and too long in the tooth. On Sunday, the night ended with a lift home in the boot of Big Riko’s car. That’s what living is.

Cyclin’. Fuckin’ hate it. Next.

Today I got the house back. Peace at last, children off to school and although I love them dearly, I also love my mornings working alone in peace. Long may it continue. Next to buy a big supply of firewood, get the stove working and move easily between the two rooms. Drinking tay, coffee. Whatever it takes.

Charles Bukowski. Never read much of him before but bought his collected poems last week. Most enjoyable thing I’ve read since I bought Norman MacCaig’s Complete poems. Very different, both formidable tomes of pomes but both excellent. Nuair a tá me in a sheasamh ar mo thoin sa leithreas, tá athas mór orm.

Losing things. I lost my wallet three times in one day last week. Drives me crazy. Angela lost her iPhone for about 36 hours. She was going ape. I found it. I’m going to get a prize.

To Make You Feel My Love. . . The penny just dropped with me that this is a cover of a Bob Dylan song – I knew I’d heard it before. Adele does a great version. But I’ll finish with yer woman from Gortin.

Thanks for Asking

Someone asked me the other day what I do. Good question.

In the last week I have done work paid and pro bono for the following in a freelance capacity, that is either working for a graphic design house or myself.

  • Recycling business – copywriting
  • Oil business involved in supply and recycling of home cooking oil – copywriting
  • Cardiac Risk in the Young – PR work
  • Higher education institution – copy writing, copy checking and proofing
  • A unit of a large sporting organisation – marketing consultancy
  • A kitchen manufacturer – copywriting
  • Eoghan Rua – PR work & web maintenance
  • Marketing blog
  • Design agency – copy checking & editing
  • Social enterprise – annual review copy editing/proofing.

So I am currently working on an Annual Report, several brochures, PR for CRY,  and a range of other stuff. Have a couple of new clients coming on stream in the next week too, which is good for me.

So, thanks for asking.  What do you do yourself?

The Difference

Eyes on the Prize

Yesterday I was doing a PR photo thing for CRY with John Lundy, Jim Grattan and Jessica Delargy of the IFA.

It involved getting together with Jonny Evans of Manchester United for a photo shoot to promote Cardiac Screening.

Jonny agreed a while back to become a patron of CRY and this was the first opportunity we had to get to meet him, get some pics done and for John to explain to him a bit more about CRY. I was interested to see what this well paid professional footballer was like in person.  He was a nice guy, quiet, unassuming. Certainly not a bigtime Charlie as John would describe some of them.

By way of contrast, on Monday afternoon my nephew and good friend Sean Leo headed to Limerick to study for a PGCE at the University. In the boot of the car was tucked a bag of half a dozen or more O’Neills balls to keep him occupied. Alongside various provisions that his mother had carefully packed for his trip. Although he will likely be back on Friday it was a poignant moment. I took myself off.

Two years ago about this time of the year Sean Leo and his two brothers set off round the world for six months. It broke all our hearts to see them go, it was as if they were never coming back. In reality at any given time, half the young people of Portstewart seem to be in Thailand or Oz. Six months they were back, better for the experience. For me it was part of the making of the County Championship winning team that a number of them had been away together for a real adventure. A sort of bonding.

As I met Jonny yesterday and stood shooting the breeze I couldn’t help comparing him with the young gaelic players I know male and female. Without being in any way big headed or overbearing Jonny casually mentioned that he had someone to open his fan mail at Old Trafford.

He also told us in passing how he accidentally drove his golf cart into a lake having lost control of it and had to jump clear. It wasn’t a drunken prank – the wheels locked on a downward slope and he had to jump clear, hurting his leg in the process. He seemed most perturbed about the fact that his phone was wrecked in the water.

He was a personable young fella. Similar to young players I know and work with. No airs or graces. The difference is that yesterday whilst Jonny relaxed in his hotel in ‘recovery’ after Manchester United’s 8-2 hammering of Arsenal, our players were up for work, school, whatever. Certainly not PR photoshoots or endorsements.

It’s a different world. He told us how he didn’t like Arsenal and wished they had scored more, saying ‘I was telling the lads “let’s get into these’ns” so I was.’  I smiled for a minute at this young fella urging Rooney, Giggs and Co to get stuck into it.

On Sunday in a changing room in Newbridge at halftime I heard the same sentiment from one of our senior camogie players. A world separates them but really there is much in common.

The difference is that one is a top class athlete with the greatest team in the world. The other, plays for Manchester United.

You in Your Small Corner

Ah right. Today, Wednesday, we are back into routine. Tousleheads, morning refuseniks, lost shoes, missing schoolbags, homework done and undone. Notes, tears, tales from the classroom. Spellings, pointless notes, dinner money,lumbering cello, forgotten PE gear.

Once when Peter started Pre school I called in to see when he started and the teacher said today. So I left him with her to get on with it. Didn’t do him any harm.

It’s funny the wee morning routines. Every day Sorcha and I had a race to the door. ‘let’s have a wace daddy’ she’d smile with her Sorcha smile. She always won. Twas great.

And, no matter what I’m at in the morning, it’s her I’ll stop and smile at, her in her small corner and I in mine.

The Uniform Uniform.

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Tomorrow the children return to school. Four of them. The youngest commences pre-school in a few weeks. That will be fun. The early morning routine starts again tomorrow.

The trouble will start tonight trying to get the moonlighters a-bed. And then to tin-open them out of bed tomorrow. Maybe the lure of new teachers will get them moving. Maybe not. I used to enjoy returning to school myself, seeing all the lads again and having the craic.

Myself, I got up at a slightly earlier time today to wean myself off my bed. It has been a short summer but a long one in other ways. And difficult too at times.

So, back to school tomorrow. The school notified us all on the last day of school that the uniform requirements were being tightened, black shoes, conservative-grey-trousery. Load of nonsense. My son’s on the school council. Were they asked for their opinion as the children affected? Not a bit of it. All very PC to have these school councils. . .

It may appeal to the school’s sense of where it thinks it should be. But in truth it is an unnecessary step, carried out with no reference to the appropriate guidelines from DENI, which were no doubt drawn up at great cost and consultation.

Nowadays you can’t do anything without consultation. So why didn’t they ask our opinion? If somethin ain’t broken, why try and fix it with a measure that will cause antagonism. There are some clothes that children will wear and others they won’t and I’m not falling out with mine over some rule brought in on a whim.

If there is a ‘breach’ I will be asking the school to speak to me, not the child. They don’t buy the clothes, so they are not responsible if they aren’t suitable in this wonderful middle class regimented 4×4 nouveau riche world we live in down by the seaside.

And here, whilst we’re at it, what about a uniform for teachers? Now there’s a thought.

The Watering Can

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Wee boys pee all over the toilet seat, the floor – you name it.
Drives their mothers mad esp if they sit on the toilet and unsuspectingly thigh-absorb a puddle of wee-boy-pee.

In our house it is the source of frequent bollixing to the boys. Right enough one of them – and I will spare his blushes by naming and shaming the pee-meister – appears to use a watering can for maximum spray and spread.

Several times a week the girls will howl in soaked-disgust at another wet ass. The mother of all bollocking starts accompanied by protests of innocence.

Note to girls – boys will be boys – get over it.

NOTE: no iPhone predictive spellings were used in the writing of this post. #Idiots.

Detritus

Imagine the time between knowing you are alive to birdsong, the smell of cooking, the sound of children, the laughter of others. And that instant when you hover on the precipice. . . an instant. Neither here. Nor there. Who knows how long it is. Does the world slow down, ending in slow motion or is it over. What do you hear? At that stage, do you care? Do you really give a fuck? Do you now? Will you then? Will it be too late?

The home detritus forgotten. All the menialities, trivialities, banalities. The ties, that tie you to what. What really matters? In the end nothing. Have you done a good job. Or a bad job with whatever you were given. With this life you were given and what you’ve done with it. Did you try hard, were you honest. Did anyone care. As the last bits of gas bubble out will you be happy or sad. Good or bad as the song says. Will you even care?

Will time pass slowly, will you get the chance to look again at what you did. To pause. Will a great voice say to you, with the benefit of hindsight now, would you like to reconsider that, would you do that the same way? Would you do different?

And what then? What if your answer was no? That’s it. I made my choice, I took my chance and that’s what I did then. I wouldn’t change jack.

And, with the people gathered around you, what if there was someone there you didn’t care for. Would you be able to summon the last bit of your very being and tell them to get out, to go away. Imagine the last sound echoing through your dead ears was a fool you couldn’t bear in life, now destroying your very death. What would you do? Sit bolt upright in the bed assuming you were in a bed and tell them to fuck off. They would of course be offended. But what of your offence? You can’t offend the dying. Can you?

Or would you be better saying nothing. Letting yourself die without them knowing what you really thought. But at that stage would you really care.

Would you?

Global Downturn Means Local Upturn in YUMIES at Training

There are many symptoms of the credit crunch around the country these days. There’s been much talk about admission prices to GAA Championship matches being too high and club fundraising being badly hit. But, as always, when Mammon closes a door, someone else opens a window.

In our club, we’ve noticed a new and not altogether unwelcome trend. What’s that you ask? Well, there’s more Young Under-8 Mammies In Every Saturday than ever before. YUMIES we’ll call them and yep, if its glamour you want, our indoor sessions are the place to be. And because they are there our coaching cohort is rising in direct proportion to the glamour quotient.

The economics? Well, previously YUMIES would have considered the Saturday morning training session the perfect time for a bit of retail therapy. Mugs like myself were unwitting accomplices to the Celtic Tiger in that we coached the kids so that the YUMIES could shop till they dropped. But now, with times harder, belts tighter and the credit card well and truly crunched, shredded and in the bin, the YUMIES need something else to do of a Saturday morning.

And what better way to pass the time than to cheer on every kick from young Seamus who, God help him, was born with the co-ordination of a baby giraffe on ice. His ma doesn’t see that tho’. Or the sad and sorry case of Finbar Fogarty who has recurring goldfish syndrome – every time something is explained to him he instantly forgets it – an invaluable skill in the intriguing world of international espionage but useless in the cut and thrust of an Under 8 Blitz. Still, he’s the apple of mother’s eye. Likewise young Gervaise Johnston whose father hails from Cheshire, thereby fuelling the misguided suspicion of at least one of our coaches that gaelic games are an inherited and inherent feature of the ‘Irish condition’. For them a drop of English blood is enough to taint the prospects of a successful club career. Us progressive thinkers argue our point, but young Gervaise unwittingly and effortlessly proves the opposite each time he tries to kick a ball. His sweet and fragrant mother looks on, unconcerned.

Our club decided to ignore worries about player burnout and bans on collective training – all so that we could continue our Under 8 coaching programme over the winter months. During the summer we traipsed our intrepid young team around the County with the usual mix of enjoyment and abject disillusionment. The former generated through watching all the kids build their game sense as the summer progressed, passing, moving, shooting when it was time to shoot and generally learning the ways of the gaelic warrior but most of all enjoy it. The disillusionment brought on by the occasional moron on the sideline that should know better.

Anyhow, we decided our players needed the winter practice to avoid the hedonistic attractions of foreign games and to fend off the bushrangers with the oval balls that might seek to steal our Under 8s from before our eyes. Further motivation was provided by one particular match when the opponents, dressed all in black were seen spraying on Lynx deodorant before the game and listening intently to Al Pacino exhort them to look for the inches all around them. The black Under Armour skins they all wore and the crates of energy drinks told us all we needed to know about shamateurism amongst the Under 8s.

Not that we wished to join them, or even necessarily beat them. Big hallions of cubs with scary black gear smelling of perfume don’t scare our fellas. Not when we are the better ball players – and we are. That’s a good place to be but only one way to get there. Winter indoor training.

Besides all that – we now have a secret weapon. The YUMIES. Such was the exotic and beguiling fragrance of one of the YUMIES as she floated past that Packie, a grizzled veteran of the County team with twenty three years on the senior squad, lost the run of himself mid team talk to the young fellas and muttered “Bejaze”, eyes a- glazed. Another young lady, a market researcher by profession I’m told, politely asked one of the coaches if she could record the number of touches each player had on her BlackBerry to see if there were any trends. He was overcome, beguiled even and could only mutter “yes, that’s fine.” One young executive had brought her laptop to training. We discovered afterwards she was downloading drills from the GAA website for one of the coaches. Another parent, herself an athlete of some renown, offered to assist the actual coaching. Her coaching attire raised many’s an eyebrow amongst other things but when she demonstrated how to bend and lift, the coaching session stopped and jaws dropped in wonder and amazement.

The matter of the YUMIES was discussed at a committee meeting. Some claimed they were a distraction. Other claimed this was a visible asset – greater parental involvement. The acid test was when a leading ladies designer store ran a bumper retail event offering all manner of finery, at a ridiculously attractive price. To a woman our cohort of YUMIES turned up at training – this one bringing fruit juice, that one bringing snacks, the other recording stats. Our statuesque coach doing her thing and the rest being generally helpful.

Credit Crunch? What Credit Crunch? These YUMIES have just discovered a whole new way of living. And don’t they just love it!