Tag Archives: Copywriting

And When Necessary, Use Words

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Pope Francis at Casa del Marmo, the Juvenile Detention facility in Rome

“Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words.”

Fr Austin’s words to me after Easter Sunday mass yesterday, quoting St Francis of Assisi.

I was having a short conversation with him on the subject of priests and their sermons, having been asked by BBC Radio Ulster to go on air this morning to talk of how priests might improve their weekly homily.

Ironically, in an example of miscommunication, Radio Ulster had been led to believe that Pope Francis had called upon priests to up the ante with their weekly homily. As it transpired the new Pope didn’t say this at all. It referred to a much earlier comment by Cardinal Ravasi back in November 2011 for priests to embrace new media in their communications. He pointed to the likes of Twitter as a media that would appeal to the younger generation. The Catholic Herald reported:

“A Vatican cardinal has appealed to clergy to liven up “dull, flavourless” sermons in an address at a conference in Rome.

Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi, president of the Pontifical Council for Culture, claimed that homilies had become “irrelevant” to worshippers who were used to the thrill and excitement of modern technology such as the television and the internet. He said: “The advent of televised and computerised information requires us to be compelling and trenchant, to cut to the heart of the matter, resort to narratives and colour.”

Fr Austin’s comments on St Francis immediately steered my thoughts to our modern day Francis. Certainly the new leader of the Church is aware of the power of words, but his signature so far has been actions, not just what he has said. Both bear close scrutiny. Since the announcement on 13 March he has dispensed with much of the starch, stiffness and conservatism that Pope Benedict brought to the office.

Last Thursday he said mass and washed the feet of juvenile inmates in Rome’s Casal del Marmo juvenile detention facility. This in turn prompted a series of open letters from young inmates in an LA Correctional Facility including the following:

Dear Pope Francis,

When Jesus washed the feet of his friends he gave an example of humility. I have been raised to believe that it is only with respect in hurting your enemy that you are a man. Tonight you and Jesus show me something in this washing of the feet something very different. I hope we kids learn from this.

Dear Pope Francis,

I have never been to Rome. I do not know if it is near Los Angeles because all my youth I have only known my neighborhood. I hope one day I will be given a second chance and receive a blessing from you and maybe even have my feet washed on Holy Thursday.

Since being elected, the Argentine Jesuit has eschewed the trappings of office. He has declined to wear the elaborate red, ermine-trimmed Mozetta favoured by Benedict. His choice of residence, the Domus Sanctae Marthae rather than the expansive top floor Papal Apartment in the Vatican. He has gone walkabout to meet real people and ventured off script frequently. His message at the Chrism Mass on Holy Thursday was an appeal to Priests to go to the outskirts to minister to those at the margins. A challenge for the times we live in, if ever there was one.

Returning to Cardinal Ravasi’s original exhortation on the Priest’s weekly sermon, those people at the margins may not be present in the Chapel every Sunday. Nor are they necessarily open to the appeal of social media. Many feel they no longer form part of the broader Church. And, the institutional Catholic Church in turn has damaged itself with them, with its failure to adequately address the failures of priests and religious implicated so disastrously in child abuse and the subsequent failure of the Institution to deal with the victims in a meaningful way. A culture of us and them has evolved and developed and grown exponentially. The communication has been poor.

Priests in Ireland that have dared critique aspects of the institutional Church’s behaviour have been censured and silenced. Often they are respected local clergy, men and women whose stock clearly doesn’t rank high in Rome with the Curia. Little to commend there, in examples open communication, clarity of message and freedom of expression. It has become unhealthy. A case of ‘do as I say not as I do’. The Curia in Rome under the Benedict regime has been allowed to strengthen its hand, and instead of showing openness, welcome and forgiveness it has closed ranks. Benedict in some of his keynote addresses has used Latin. That in itself is anti-communication and displays however unintentionally a Church that is out of touch and not of its time.

The New Pope Francis on first impression, offers an alternative and possibly a last chance for the Church reinvigorate its true mission. He is thus far an inspiring Shepherd. The excellent blog Whispers in the Loggia allows watchers to absorb word and deed from Francis. Although aware of the strengths of modern communication, he has shown himself thus far to have mastered the art of the simple message irrespective of the medium. It harks back to a simpler Church with a more powerful mission.

Fr Austin’s reflection on the words of St Francis have never been truer.

“Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words.”

‘It’s about what you do Joe’ he said to me as a parting remark, ‘not what you say.’ As an Easter message from the Pope, or in this case the local Parish Priest, it couldn’t come simpler or more relevant than that.

The Man with the Hat, the Moustache and Three Greyhounds

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Tenders. That old chestnut. I wonder have the people that write tenders ever actually completed one? If they had they might spare a thought for those of us that, from time to time, are required to ‘do them’ to try and earn a living.

I recently went for one and praise God was successful. Took me about four days equivalent in hours to complete it. I also worked on another for a client, they were unsuccessful falling at a minor administrative hurdle, not being able to tick a particular box. Another one I assisted with during the summer has yet to be awarded. We have run out of bated breath to wait with.

The inclusion of seemingly important but arbitrary criteria like ISO 2000 are a serious pain in the arse. Granted, their inclusion is an easy hurdle to place in the way of a would be supplier. To me ISO suggests that you are good at ticking boxes. It doesn’t necessarily mean you are a good manufacturer, printer, designer or whatever your expertise. Therein lies the rub.

Likewise a client recently was required to demonstrate their ability to provide business continuity in the event of a fire, flood or other act of God. The fact is that had there been any natural or man made disaster that impacted on production, they would have been able to continue their business by subcontracting. They just hadn’t written down how they would do, so busy were they actually getting on with doing what they do.

I must admit I am gamekeeper turned poacher. I used to devise these fiendishly clever criteria thinking I was the big guy. How the suppliers must have despised us. I faced down a supplier once, he was expressing legitimate concerns about not getting a face to face meeting. Our process was rock solid, tight and fair. This guy just wanted the opportunity to tell us he could do the job. His business later went bust. Not my fault, but I’m sure we didn’t help.

I accept people need these sorts of processes. It’s nice it you happen to win a few but often you don’t get that satisfaction. And as one client told me, these things are often written so the right person gets them. That’s true.

If its written for a guy with a hat, a moustache and three greyhounds, then it’s most likely that the guy who applies who has three greyhounds, a moustache and a hat will get it.

the precipice

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how many people stand on the precipice looking down how many would dare approach it how many around us in the current world would feel better falling falling into the abyss than facing life teetering yes on the brink imagine falling falling how many people’s worlds have collapsed because of greed can we see them the haunted look in their eyes hunted how many have nothing to show for a lifetime of work how many over-extended themselves in the expectation of plenty how many distraught torturing themselves at being unable to provide for a wife children self whether they are loved or unloved understood or not does it matter anymore who cares how many have had all their support systems kicked away before they decide to kick away their own stool how many need something to dull the pain permanently to just wish it would all go away peace for just one day just an instant just one moment one moment just an instant instant. yes.

A Letter From West Britain

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A pint of plain is yer only man

Dear Charles,

We’re having the most wonderful time here in West Britain.

The native Celts are such a quaint people, very much like the Scots, but not at all like the Welsh.

I can understand why Queen Victoria was quite taken with the place when she came here. It is such a shame we left them with such wonderful buildings.

We went to this frightfully large football stadium called Croke Park where they showed a video of young men wrestling with one another.

The stadium was so large, one wonders what it must be like on the top floor on a breezy day. Exceedingly windy. A bit like sharing the bed with your father after some haggis and turnips when one is staying at Balmoral one would imagine.

The lovely gentleman presented Philip with the most beautifully carved ash. Will be excellent for beating Grouse next winter one thinks.

These dear people, the really have tried most awfully hard to make us welcome. One dear chap with a large tummy seized the royal forearm quite forcefully in Croke Park. I got quite a little shock to tell the truth. I thought Philip had overmedicated again. Thankfully a dear chap form the police removed his hand before he tried any funny business. Of course your father didn’t notice, he was busy looking at some young girls in short skirts chasing each other.

We also were taken to a large pub that makes its own beer. It was very amusing. The people there seemed to think one hadn’t seen beer poured before. One remembers your aunt’s mother and I cleaning up after Andrew when we converted the Hanover room into a country pub for he and his friends to play in. Those other awful chaps. Your father was most keen to drink the beer they served, but one reminded him that we had been advised not to use the WC.

The Glory of Her Ass

Last night we had some jolly Irish dancing and bagpiping. The accents are most dreadfully funny. One can’t understand a word they say.

Your father keeps talking about the Dear Micks, I fear he may have been talking too loudly when his hearing aid was out of battery.

Today we are going to the National Stud Farm. As you know that’s the real reason one came here.

Still, one thinks it has been worth all the other dreary nonsense if we can get a few of the horses sorted out.

I hope William and Catherine are keeping well. Her sister’s bottom has been causing quite an impression, one has been told by Philip. One hopes it won’t lead to another Anus Horriblis.

Is mise,

Elizabeth R

(Your Mother)

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Writer

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My paternal grandmother lived in a fairly remote cottage in Tullymore in Co Armagh. She died before I was born, so I never had the chance to meet her. She was by all accounts a bit of a character.

At one stage in her later years, she broke her leg and was housebound. Having been predeceased by her husband, she was home alone, no-one called that often. So to break the loneliness she started writing a letter to herself everyday so the postman would call on his rounds and she would have someone to talk to.

I can empathise with her. One of the downsides of working as a freelance is that very occasionally, and usually when I am cloistered away working on something, I find myself sometimes spending an entire day talking to no-one other than my young daughters and Joanna, our Polish babysitter. The girls potter about the place and occasionally come in to brief me on some drama concerning Peppa the Pig, or perhaps the hens that live in our back garden. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy talking to them and to Joanna. Her English is a hell of a lot better than my Polish; in fact my two-year-old daughter Treasa has now started speaking Polish too.

That is the loneliness of the long distance writer. When I worked at UU I spent a few years as my only departmental representative on a particular campus and was happy in my own company with my colleagues and my boss in particular an hour away if they were needed (and they were!).

I miss the casual conversations with people you might run into at the coffee shop, when posting a letter, when to-ing and fro-ing, to and from meetings, home, other offices etc etc. I don’t miss all the nonsense though, not one little bit.

The last week I have been working for a partner in the US and another here in Ireland, conscious of two time zones. It is interesting the perception when you are working for others. The work must be done, but your own time is the malleable, flexible factor. To do it late at night, early in the morning, whenever. Snatch an hour here and there. It is essentially a solitary pursuit, one that is highly satisfying, and rewarding. I do occasionally miss the opportunity to bounce things off others in person.

And the loneliness? Well, I suppose at least I haven’t resorted to emailing myself. Not  yet anyway.

26 Ways

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A few years ago I came across the writing of John Simmons. At the time I was sort of casually hunting about looking for a decent book to give me some fresh ideas on writing copy for business. When I worked at the University, the management and the administrators about the place wrote deadening, stultifying prose that was teeming with best practice, deliverables, cutting edges. . . the whole effect of course was to create a centre of excellence. Aren’t they everywhere?

I knew that this sort of tripe most definitely wouldn’t do if I was going to work for other people. Although I could write with the best of them, I could feel myself gradually getting mired in this nonsense.

Any books on writing copy seemed to be written more in the form of self help books by American copywriters, full of big bold headlines like ‘How to ensure your email is opened’ or ‘Twelve ways to write a sales letter.’ All good stuff I’m sure, but I didn’t feel the immediate need for a writing recovery programme.

So when I discovered John Simmons work almost by accident, it was a breath of fresh air. I think the first book I read was The Invisible Grail. The opening sentence reads:

‘The basic narrative of this book is the quest for the ‘grail’ that will enable brands to build better relationships with their audiences.’

Hmmm I thought, interesting but not rocket science. As I read on however I became more and more enthused. John Simmons advocated an entirely new way of writing for businesses. Creative. Engaging. Using humour. Poetry. Taking inspiration directly from great works. He says:

‘Words are a creative force: words that write poems, tell jokes, engage people in conversations. Words that tell stories.’

This last sentence in particular intrigued me. Telling stories. Reading The Invisible Grail, I quickly moved onto his other works, We, Me, Them and It and Dark Angels. These books tell the story of how you can write well for any purpose without lapsing into corporate speak. But more interestingly how to bring your work alive be being daring, adventurous and using the influences that are all around you. Anyone who is interested in improving their writing should read them. Now.

I have started his latest work which I am enjoying: ‘Twenty-six ways of looking at a blackberry: How to let writing release the creativity of your brand‘

If you have the chance and the time, try reading John Simmons. You’ll find at least 26 ways to improve your writing.