The ability to come up with good ideas is one of the most essential skills of a brand strategist, but this counts for little if you’re unable to express those ideas clearly and beautifully.

Unless you believe in kissing the Blarney Stone, there’s no shortcut to eloquence. Don’t kid yourself that generative AI is your friend here. It’s a form of linguistic Botox: capable of ironing out horrible creases in your language, but it will strip your prose of the charming little wrinkles that create authenticity, warmth, and character. You’ll think you’re fooling people, when in fact they are wondering why you whiff of cyborg.

If you want to learn to communicate beautifully and effectively (which you should), then you’ll need to spend quality time with beautifully effective communicators.

You’ll need to read books.

Books by people who know how to write well. Ideally, people who inspire you.

And you’ll need to write.

Not slides.

Articles.

Perhaps even books, too.

As I mentioned in an earlier article in this series, the point isn’t simply to write better: the point is to find your own voice. To develop your own style. And this isn’t an overnight process. I’ve spent 25 years doing this and I still feel like I’m searching for mine.

Over time, I’ve found that writing is more than a way to express thought: writing is a way I force myself to think. For example, four years ago I realised that I had ceased to think deeply about the models and tools I use to structure my thinking:

Why do we default to a two-by-two matrix when we map our ideas?

Why do we so often reduce brand architecture to a simplistic choice between a ‘house of brands’ and a ‘branded house’?

And what is it about brand archetypes that gives me the creeps?

So, I decided to start writing. I enjoyed the process of revisiting the history of each tool, its uses and abuses. And I was forced to confront my own uses and abuses. What started as a personal exercise evolved into a semi-practical toolkit for anyone geeky enough to take an interest.

This is something else I discovered: sharing your thoughts and ideas is an act of generosity which someone, somewhere will appreciate. I’m amazed that anyone wants to read about two-by-two matrices, Balanced Scorecards, and Kano analysis, but it turns out that quite a few people do.

I’ve also found there’s a benefit in exposing your ideas to public scrutiny: people respond with feedback. It’s fascinating to find out what strikes a chord (and what doesn’t). I’ve written three books and published all sorts of articles in all sorts of places yet still find it nerve-wracking to publish my thoughts for others to ignore, ridicule, and perhaps like. But the feedback can be invaluable. In fact, my next book builds on an article that receives more than twice the attention of anything else I’ve written.

You’ll also learn to deal with criticism.

Although the vast majority of people respond with kindness and thoughtfulness, inevitably the odd person will take exception to something you write. And sometimes when this happens, a bunch of other people smell blood and decide to join in. Marketers in particular seem to love a pile-on. Please don’t let this deter you. Anyone and everyone can comment on another person’s work. We are all entitled to our opinions.

In case it’s helpful, here’s how I deal with hecklers: I visit their websites and look at their work. What I see usually cheers me up. And then I get on with my life.

Don’t be the type of consultant who wastes their time trashing other people’s work on social media. Be the type of consultant who has the discipline to sit down and write something interesting and the magnanimity to share it for others to respond to.

And if you have the urge, I’d strongly recommend writing a book. For one thing, it’s an incredible test of tenacity, particularly if you’re fitting it in around your day job. It’s also the best business card you’ll ever print.

Best of all, if you write a book, you’ll get to work with an editor.

I can’t overstate what a great experience this can be. My last book was edited by a wonderful person who not only made the book immeasurably better, but also made me think more deeply about what I was writing, why I was writing, and who I was writing for. This goes beyond style and opens up all sorts of interesting conversations and ideas about structure and how to make life easier for your reader.

Even in the absence of an editor to guide you, the more you write, the better your writing becomes. Whatever your level of experience, if you’re a brand strategist then you should consider it part of your job to write. Wherever I’ve worked, I’ve spent as much time as possible with the marketing team to understand what content we could be producing that potential clients, partners, and colleagues might be interested in. And I’ve encouraged consultants and strategists (and client managers and designers) to get stuck in, too. The key challenge we all face is how to avoid simply adding to the noise. How can we make sure we’re contributing something useful? I’ve developed three golden rules, which I apply to every piece:

The aim of any piece of writing should be to help your reader. This rules out quite a lot of stuff: posting sarcastic comments on someone else’s article; ridiculing a misfiring rebrand; bemoaning the industry. As a profession, we devote far too much time to lampooning others. And we pay far too much attention to alpha male marketers who take pride in skewering every person or idea that offends their old school sensibilities. If you find an article, a person, or a piece of work annoying then simply learn to ignore it. And if you can’t think of something positive or useful to write, then put down your pen (or keyboard) and look for another subject.

When I worked at Interbrand, I got away with saying and writing all sorts of banalities. I wrote the dullest chapter in the dullest book about brands. People paid attention because I had an important-sounding position at an important-looking consultancy. This situation isn’t exclusive to myself or Interbrand. I’ve seen all sorts of drivel perpetrated by important-sounding people at Wolff Olins, Landor, JKR, and Siegel+Gale, too.

When I started working in smaller consultancies, I realised just how pointless some of my writing had become: more like bland corporate propaganda than genuinely helpful, informed, or interesting points of view. The aim was always to sell the company I worked for.

Forget that.

You’ll do a better job of promoting yourself and your organisation if you find something useful to say about something relevant to your audience. And then back it up. When I write, I assume the reader doesn’t know me and doesn’t care about me or anything I have to say. I assume zero authority. This means I need to work hard to justify my points: either using data, or by sharing my own experience or by pointing to the experience of others.

Your copy should stand on its own two feet.

So much has been written about branding, it’s easy to get the impression that everything has already been said and done. Fortunately, there’s a lot of dogma out there and marketers, designers, and consultants tend to chase many of the same balls.

So, find something original to say. Not for the sake of contrarianism (which I’m often accused of), but for the sake of contributing positively to the conversation (which is what I actually aim for). This is another reason to avoid AI: it’s awful at identifying gaps.

These three simple rules amount to:

  • Say something helpful.
  • Back up what you say.
  • Contribute something original.

One final thing: don’t listen to anyone who says you shouldn’t give away your thinking for free. I’ve been told by people who should know better that this devalues the thinking, the person and the profession. This doesn’t relate at all to my own experience, which is that if you write something helpful, reasoned, and original, then people will generally respond in kind.

They will share their own perspectives and their own experiences.

And everybody wins.

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