<![CDATA[RICHARD DEVEAU CREATIVE

<![CDATA[RICHARD DEVEAU CREATIVE - Blog]]>Wed, 27 Nov 2024 19:11:41 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[The best advice for living comes from steve martin.]]>Thu, 02 Feb 2023 08:00:00 GMThttp://richarddeveau.com/blog/the-best-advice-for-living-comes-from-steve-martin

Some of my friends would argue that there’s no better source for advice for living than religion. Others would say that ancient philosophers such as Aristotle, Plato and Socrates have the answers. And there are those who will tell you to look to Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz.

But not me.

I look to King Tut; the wild and crazy guy; the man with happy feet; the fire-chief-Cyrano; the man with two brains; the juggling banjo player; one of the three amigos; the one whose heaven is blue — the one and only, Steve Martin.

Of all the things that Steve has said and written, and it’s a voluminously prolific list, to me the quote that sums up how we all should live is, Be Obsequious, Purple and Clairvoyant; Put a Live Chicken in Your Underwear.

So let’s break it down.

First, to be obsequious means to be excessively servile. Now, didn’t Jesus himself teach that if you wanted to be a leader, you should learn to serve? He said, “The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Robert Greenleaf wrote a book on this very subject in the late 70’s titled, Servant Leadership: A Journey into the Nature of Legitimate Power & Greatness, that has since become a foundational touchstone for thousands of business, education and church leaders.

In this age of personal branding and excessive self promotion that borders on narcissism, learning how to put others first seems like pretty sound advice to me.

Next, what does it mean to be purple? This is the color often associated with nobility, creativity, wisdom and peace. All great attributes for a full life.

And if you’re a proponent of color psychology, and purple is your favorite color, it means that you are sensitive and compassionate, understanding and supportive. You are the person others come to for help. Being needed motivates you.

Hard to argue with that advice.

Next, let’s look at being clairvoyant. This is the ability to perceive things beyond our normal senses. Our spiritual side — the non-linear, logic-suspending aspect of our nature. The ability to believe without seeing. This is the nature of faith; the wellspring of hope.

To encourage faith and hope also seems like great advice for this life, wouldn’t you agree?

And lastly, what does it mean to put a live chicken in your underwear? Well, I’d like to see you do it and try to stand still. Or try to keep from laughing while you do.
To me this is some of the best advice of all.

Have fun! Use exclamation marks!!! Never become complacent. Always be a nonconformist. Dance without pants. Sing outside of the shower. Laugh, love and live life with everything you’ve got.

And most importantly, never, ever take yourself too seriously.

So I say poo-poo to Plato. Socrates is full of mediocrities and Dr. Phil is swill.

If you want to follow some great advice for the all-too-short time we have on this big, beautiful, blue marble, then start listening to Steve Martin.

When not expressing how excited I am whenever the new phone books arrive, I can be found writing integrated marketing and fundraising direct response and branding campaigns. Or I'm painting in my studio. I'm such a wild and crazy guy.

]]><![CDATA[ADVERTISING CAN TEACH YOU HOW TO WRITE… But Fundraising Can Teach You More.]]>Fri, 05 Jun 2020 07:00:00 GMThttp://richarddeveau.com/blog/advertising-can-teach-you-how-to-write-but-fundraising-can-teach-you-more

Advertising has fostered and honed the writing skills of a number of great writers.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dorothy Sayers, Don DeLillo, Joseph Heller and Salman Rushdie all worked as advertising copy writers before or while they were working on their own stuff.

Should be no surprise that writing advertising copy can teach you how to be more persuasive. Your creative chops will be stretched as you learn to write within constrained and defined parameters.

Advertising teaches you to write with an economy of words. And you’ll learn the discipline of writing to a deadline. All essential attributes for any kind of writing.

I’ve learned these skills by selling a lot of things in my career as a copy writer: computers, motorcycles, golf clubs, industrial pumps, cameras, clothing, circuit boards, hotels and software, to name only a few.

All tangible things. And even when I’ve written copy to sell services like banking, credit, insurance, education and healthcare, I was still offering customers something tangible in return for their money.

In advertising, we sell these products and services with the aid of powerful graphic design, catchy headlines and taglines, evocative photography, illustration, film, video, soundtracks and voiceovers.

These carefully crafted and often audience-tested messages are placed everywhere we know our target audience will be — on their television and computer screens, in their print and online newspapers and magazines, on their favorite websites, embedded in their mobile apps, on their billboards, their radios, and in their malls and stores.

Even with all of these elements of persuasion at a copy writer’s disposal, making a sale is still an extremely difficult thing to do.

Over the course of the twenty years I’ve spent writing copy for several advertising agencies and countless clients, I’ve had some great successes, some disastrous failures and the awards and scars to prove it.

But all of this was a proverbial piece of cake, a walk in the park, an add-your-own-cliché for “easy,” compared to what I do now.

For the last nineteen years, I’ve raised hundreds of millions of dollars for nonprofit organizations of all sizes, shapes and missions.

And I’ve done it with nothing more than words on a page.

One or two sheets of paper folded into an envelope. Display and social ads, Text and video on a landing page. A message sent to your email inbox.

If you want to learn how to tell stories that can literally change the world, that have the power to speak deeply and profoundly to people’s hearts and minds, that have the ability to influence, move and compel people to act — including the most difficult act of parting with their money — then you may want to learn how to write fundraising appeals.

If you want to know how to mine the resonant power of words, there really is no better training ground.

Asking someone to make a single contribution to a cause is one thing. Convincing that person to become a loyal donor and give repeatedly is quite another.

Donors become loyal because they’ve made an emotional connection with an organization, a cause, a mission. They believe and support what an organization stands for and accomplishes. And they are passionate about it, whether it’s feeding hungry children, sheltering the homeless, spreading the Gospel, saving the whales and wolves, or curing cancer, diabetes and Alzheimer’s disease.

Making this emotional connection, fostering this belief, and fueling this passion is the job of the copy writer.

And the fundraising copy writer offers nothing more to his or her audience in return for their check or credit card number than the implied promise of the good feeling a donor will experience when they give — the good feeling that comes from being able to help, from being given the opportunity to meet a need, make a difference and have a real, tangible impact on the world. In short, given the chance to be a hero.

Now that I think of it, these are all pretty powerful things to offer. Being a hero is more powerful than a motorcycle, or a golf club. More powerful than a computer, a pump, or a hotel room.

Maybe my job writing fundraising appeals is actually easier than it was when I was selling stuff. Maybe…

But since I’ve been writing print and digital nonprofit fundraising communications, I’ve not only become a more skillful writer and storyteller, I’ve also realized that I feel better writing copy to raise money for nonprofits than I do to sell stuff for corporations.

Sure, I could easily sell you another golf club. And occasionally I still do. But I’d rather convince you to feed a hungry child.

If you want to truly hone your writing skills, then learn to write fundraising appeals. You’ll not only become a better writer, you’ll also help make the world a better place at the same time.

If you want to learn how to write fundraising appeals, Mal Warwick’s book, How to Write Successful Fundraising Letters, published by Jossey-Bass, is a great place to start. And you can always contact me if you want help with your next fundraising campaign.

]]><![CDATA[The Most Important Attribute a Writer Must Have to Write Well.]]>Fri, 06 Dec 2019 20:32:06 GMThttp://richarddeveau.com/blog/the-most-important-attribute-a-writer-must-have-to-write-well

If I were to ask you what makes a great writer in any genre and medium, you might answer that a mastery of language, grammar and punctuation is most important.

Or you may say that developing a unique writing style or voice is key. Or better yet, being able to write in many voices.  You might tell me that an extensive vocabulary is vital, or perhaps editing skills.

You might believe that developing a writing discipline or that research and organizational skills or even a thick skin are the most critical elements that make up a great writer.

While all of these skills and attributes are important to writing well, there is one that rules them all.  If you lack this one trait, mastery of all of these others will indeed make you a good writer, but not a great writer.

The attribute I’m talking about is empathy. Without empathy, writing in any genre—from a sales brochure to the great American novel—will likely fall short of true greatness.

Writers must have the ability to see the world through someone else’s eyes, to completely understand what another person is experiencing and do so from that person’s frame of reference.

A great writer must be able to wear another person’s shoes and make them fit as well as their own.

It’s easy to see how empathy plays a role when writing a novel, a stage or screenplay, a short story or poem, and even when writing non-fiction, such as a biography. Creating believable, multi-faceted characters, musical dialogue, powerful scenes and settings becomes easier and more authentic if you can see them through another’s eyes, senses and frames of reference.

But empathy matters greatly when writing sales or promotional copy, too. Empathy enables the copy writer to see the benefits of a product or service through the eyes of the customer.

Doing so enables the writer to not only reach a customer’s intellect and get inside their head, but to also touch their heart, move their soul and persuade them to act.

Empathy can even help a writer imagine what a product feels, even if that product can’t actually feel anything. In the example I’m about to share, empathy allowed me to go even one step further, to imagine the feelings of the object that the product I was selling impacts. Namely, a golf ball.

I asked myself, what would a golf ball be feeling if it was about to be hit by a club that could launch it further than any other?

I wrote this ad for Tour Edge from the ball’s perspective…

While scientists have discovered that empathy is partly genetically determined, which means that some of us have more of it than others, I do believe empathy can also be cultivated and mindfully practiced.

The more you exercise your empathic muscles, the stronger they will become. And as your empathy grows, so will your writing.

Remember, be the ball!

When Richard isn’t making golf balls tremble in their tees (usually because they have no idea where they will land), you can find him writing digital and print fundraising and marketing campaigns for his clients.

]]><![CDATA[How I Scared Stephen King]]>Wed, 24 Jul 2019 07:00:00 GMThttp://richarddeveau.com/blog/how-i-scared-stephen-king

Back in 2000, I was writing for a digital advertising agency, and a company called SoftLock was one of our clients. SoftLock had developed the technology that enabled books to be downloaded from the web, unlocking the content after you paid for it. Not even Amazon could do this yet. And Kindle wouldn’t exist for another seven years.

Simon and Schuster, a leading publishing company, had partnered with SoftLock to host and release what was then the world’s first downloadable e-book, written by the iconic author Stephen King--a novella titled, Riding the Bullet.

Stephen King wrote Riding the Bullet exclusively for this new digital medium and wanted it to be available by download only. So in addition to his voluminous writing achievements, King was also responsible for launching the e-book industry.

Simon & Schuster set the price for Riding the Bullet at $2.50 per download. The option to download one chapter at a time for 25-cents each was considered, but eventually nixed.

So far, not so scary.
My assignment was to write the digital advertising campaign to promote the
e-book, entice Stephen King readers to use this new technology, and announce when and where they could get the book.

I remember the thrill I felt when Simon and Schuster sent me an advanced copy, which I read voraciously to prepare for the campaign.

I was a huge Stephen King fan when I was younger. I can vividly recall sitting in my living room one evening in the 80’s, reading Pet Cemetery late at night while my wife and kids slept. I nearly jumped out of my skin every time the old house creaked or the wind rattled a window. The fact that there was an actual pet cemetery right around the corner from our house served to greatly amplify the mood.

The ads I wrote were approved by Simon & Schuster easily and quickly, much to our delight. And the national online media plan was then approved. With the date of March 14th set for the book’s release, we launched the campaign to run for six weeks prior to the day of the launch.

But here’s the scary part.
King himself predicted his book would generate somewhere around 60,000 downloads. Since none of us had any prior experience with this new publishing medium, this seemed a reasonable number. And at $2.50 a pop, $150,000 wasn’t a bad return, particularly since there were no printing, binding, shipping or inventory costs involved.

But, to Mr. King’s, Simon & Shuster’s, ours’ and the rest of the world’s surprise, within the first 24-hours of the book becoming available, more than 400,000 people tried to simultaneously download and pay for the book.

The completely overwhelmed server crashed and cascaded, causing the computers of countless customers to also crash. When the server was quickly repaired and back online, after all was said and done, more than 500,000 people had downloaded the book.

It goes without saying that an estimated $1.2 million return was a hell of a lot more than $150K. A scary amount more.

The reverberations caused by such an overwhelming response to this new digital method of delivering and reading books sent shockwaves throughout the industry, changing the future of publishing (and reading) forever.

Just like Alan Parker, the main character in Riding the Bullet, the publishing industry also got into a strange car and embarked on a frightening ride into the unknown. And while Alan Parker’s ride eventually ended, the publishing industry is still evolving as new digital technologies, platforms and media enable writers and readers to discover and explore new ways to connect.

But one thing will never change… our perpetual yearning for great stories. As Stephen King himself wrote, “Books are a uniquely portable magic.”

And someone else said, “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. But the person who never reads lives one.” Hmmm, seems to me that this profound statement could also become the premise for another Stephen King story... Stephen, what do you think?

If you’d like my help crafting your next digital ad campaign or would like me to tell the kinds of stories your digital and print direct response fundraising donors will respond to in overwhelmingly numbers, then send me an email.

I’m not the least bit scary to work with. Just ask my no-longer-dead dog.

]]><![CDATA[Confessions of a Fundraising Copywriter]]>Tue, 25 Jun 2019 07:00:00 GMThttp://richarddeveau.com/blog/confessions-of-a-fundraising-copywriterWriter-for-hire Rich Grant Takes on a Lapsed-Donor Case

My name is Rich Grant, writer for hire.

I was in my office with my feet on the desk. I had poured a second cup of coffee from a fresh pot, and it was warming my hands. I drink a lot of coffee. What can I say? I’m a word slinger. It’s a living. It pays for the coffee.

I was brooding over my last case. It was an acquisition job. I had written a direct-mail appeal that beat the control by 165-percent, and the client never said a word. No “wow.” No “thank you.” Not a peep.

I was staring out the window, watching the rain rivulets race each other down the pane, when I heard the knock.

“It’s open.”

She breezed in like she was floating on a cloud. Her heels were that high.

She was wearing a dark business suit, white blouse and carrying a burgundy briefcase under her arm. Her red hair was pulled back into a tasteful bun. She had a thin, sharp face, like a runway model. She closed the door and turned to me with a hard eye.

“You Rich?”

“And proud of it,” I said.

She looked at me aggressively and didn’t say anything. I smiled pleasantly. I was beginning to feel like my hero, Spenser. Well, more like his creator, the late Robert B. Parker.

“You being a wise guy?”

“Only for a moment,” I said.

“I don’t like this,” she said.

“Well, it’s a start.”

“And I don’t like funny either,” she said.

“That’s OK. I’m not always this funny.”

She glided into my guest chair.

“My name’s Denise Doherty.”

“I love alliteration.”

“What?”

“There I go again.”

“Look, mister, if you don’t want my business just say so.”

“I don’t want your business.”

“OK,” she said.

She stood and walked toward my door. She opened it, stopped and turned around. Her look softened.

“I came on a little strong,” she said.

“I noticed that.”

She closed the door, came over and sat back down in the chair in front of my desk. She looked at me for a time. No aggression. Just taking notice.

“Ever work in any consumer advertising agencies?” she said.

I nodded. “The nose?” I said.

“More around the eyes.”

“Very observant,” I said.

“The nose has been broken,” she said. “I can see that, but it’s not flattened.”

“I got out before it got flat,” I said.

She glanced at her briefcase a few times before opening it, reached in and handed me a couple sheets of paper. “I need you to help me find someone. Well, actually, several thousand someones.”

“Who’s missing?”

“Our donors. They’re lapsing. A lot of them. And we want you to help us get them back.”
“What have you done so far?” I asked.

“We just keep mailing them our regular appeals,” she said, “hoping they’ll eventually give.”

I glanced at the spreadsheets she handed me and noticed a couple of things right away. “Listen,” I said, “I can help. But I don’t risk my neck like this for free.”

“What do you charge?”

I told her my rates and she agreed.

“Have you done any predictive modeling,?” I asked.

“No.”

“I’d like to start there. I’ve got a guy. He’ll handle it.”

Her eyes widened, “He’s not going to hurt the file, is he?”

“Trust me. He’ll cut your file into segments, but they won’t feel a thing. The segments will have scoring trends. We can then reduce or eliminate mailing appeals to the lower-scoring segments.”

“Do we then delete them?”

“No,” I said, “We should send a couple of planned-giving appeals to the whole lapsed file.”

“Planned giving?”

“Sure. Not all lapsing is bad, you know. Some of your donors could be newly retired, living on fixed incomes and, despite your charming personality, still love your mission and want to support your organization.”

“And put us in their wills?”

“Exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Then I work my magic. We can begin to test offers. I can also add some versioning for lapsed donors to your best-performing appeals. Have you ever offered a matching grant?”

“No,” she said, “but I have been thinking about doing one and I already know a few donors who would be willing to pony up the dough.”

“Then that’s where I’ll start. Matching grants often work well for reactivating donors. I’ll write a heartstring-pulling, purse-string-opening letter the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

“You know,” she said, “I don’t know why I didn’t like you at first, but I’m really warming up to you.”

“That happens a lot,” I said.

“Buzz on the street is you really have quite a way with words.”

“Thanks. I’ve been told I play a mean alphabet.”

“How about a drink? My place?”

I pointed to my wedding ring. “Happily married. Don’t want to raise anything but funds with you, Denise. Sorry. Really appreciate the offer, though.”

“Oh, well,” she said, “can’t blame a girl for trying. So when can I expect to see the letter copy?”

“Have it to you in a week.”

“OK,” she said, “here’s my card. My e-mail address and number are on it.”

“What an unusual place to put them,” I said.

She smiled, reached over wrote another number on the card. “Here’s my cell. Just in case you change you mind.”

“The only mind that will change will be that of your lapsed donors.”

“Too bad,” she said. She got up without saying another word and left my office. I picked up my coffee. It was cold. But my heart was warmed by the thought of another chance to help one more worthy nonprofit organization raise more money to do more good.

Sure, I’m a hired pen. Lots of people think all I want is another notch on my MacBook Air. But I learned a long time ago that life is never like the brochure. I know because I wrote the brochure. But since I started writing for nonprofits, I have no problem sleeping at night.

I poured myself a fresh cup, sat down, turned toward the window and put my feet back up. It had stopped raining. And I was no longer brooding over my last ungrateful client.
I had a new case now. I had some missing donors to find and was already writing the letter in my head… Dear Preferred Name…

When Richard DeVeau isn't living a double life as writer-for-hire Rich Grant, he can be found in his office above the pool hall, next to the honky-tonk, penning digital and print direct response fundraising campaigns. You can email him for help with your next case.

This was originally published in Fundraising Success magazine.

]]><![CDATA[what does a creative director do?]]>Sat, 27 Apr 2019 07:00:00 GMThttp://richarddeveau.com/blog/what-does-a-creative-director-do

I get asked this question a lot.

Over the years I’ve answered it by describing my functional roles, such as the one who oversees the creative process and team. The gateway between the client, the client service team, and the creative department. The creative bar raiser and standards bearer.

Other times I’ve described my role as cat herder. (If you’ve ever managed writers, designers, art directors, photographers, actors, producers, voice talent and the like you’ll know how appropriate this is.) Surrogate parent. (Don’t get me started on the topic of managing spoiled kids with a misguided sense of entitlement.) Brand and message platform police. (Self explanatory.)

But for the last few years, here's how I’ve described what I do: I encourage failure.

On the strange looks I often get, I continue to state that “creative” by its very definition is something that’s never been done before. There is risk involved in developing and championing the unfamiliar. The completely new. The untested and unproven. The never-been-done-before.

It's important to note that I didn't say "irrelevant" creative. Don't mistake the pursuit of creative for its own sake with contextual creative. A truly creative solution is one that is on strategy, echoes a brand trait and solves the problem at hand.

But it does so in a completely new way. A surprising mash-up. A whole new perspective.

Those who have worked with me have heard me say often that I've not done my job unless I've made the client nervous. (Usually making the client services team nervous first.)

This is the kind of breakthrough, attention-getting, results-generating work I want my creative team and myself to feel free to create.

But if creative people don’t feel secure, don’t feel comfortable exposing their hearts and souls without fear of being crushed, don’t feel someone has their back (and their front), then all you’ll get is safe solutions. Middle of the road ideas. Rehashed and recycled creative.

So my job as a creative director is to encourage failure. To support misfires. To buttress bumbling.

Because out of that free-flowing process will eventually emerge an idea so powerful that it can literally change a client's business model, alter an industry, effect the culture, and impact the future.

A good creative director is one who, as Seth Godin wrote, “knows the difference between failures that are better off forgotten and failures that are merely successes that haven't grown up yet.”

So that's my job. I encourage successes that haven’t grown up yet.

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