The 7 original ideas can be molded like clay

Early on in my career, I learned a lesson. It just took me 15 years to realize it, and now I’m making a major life change around it.

The Inspiration

Gladys Pinkerton, the first creative director I ever worked with, told me that there are only seven truly original ideas out there. (Floating in the ether, I suppose.) The rest, she would say, are just interpretations of those seven. I am not afraid to tell you that as an energetic young professional, I dismissed this theory as the musings of a pessimistic veteran. Surely, in the ultra-creative world of marketing and advertising, you just had to try hard enough and that magic, never-before-discovered idea would appear.

Before I go any further, let me apologize to Gladys for ever doubting her wisdom.

What she ingrained into my well-coiffed little head was something that is so true, that it has come back in spades.

I read it in James Webb Young’s early 20th-century book. I hear it in David Hackworthy’s presentation at last year’s AAAA’s Planning Conference (Shakespeare’s 7 plots). I see it reinforced first-hand in daily work and second-hand in the work of others.

The fundamental truths are there for us to play with. To shape and pound together like clay or weave into a rich garment.

But, I mentioned a change.

The Catalyst

Last Monday, my position was eliminated. It wasn’t much of a surprise — economy being what it is and all. My former employer, GCG Marketing, and I took a collective risk together. We shifted my responsibilities away from dedicated account service and into account planning/strategy and business development.

For an advertising agency of fewer than 30 people, this was a bold move. We had some great successes, but in the end, there were not enough sustained billings to support a full-time position. I believe that if we had started it two years ago, it would have had enough inertia to weather this fiscal storm.

GCG made the right business decision. And, I have a new opportunity.

The Opportunity

Since that first job, I’ve spent more than 15 years exploring the ways in which we connect. I’ve worked with and for some amazing professionals and seen how the wisdom of the ages, those seven original ideas, can be interpreted and combined into an infinite number of solutions. An infinite number of eighth ideas.

Now that I’m a free agent, I see a chance before me to help others discover their own eighth idea. That’s why I’m starting my own business and calling it 8th Idea.

8th Idea is bent on helping those in the “care” industries (healthcare, hospitality, not-for-profit) and small- to mid-sized advertising and public relations agencies define and refine their marketing strategy, insights and implementation. I have particularly deep experience in each of these narrow areas, so that’s what I’m going to do. Help a specific group discover that 8th Idea that will connect businesses and customers. Organizations and donors. People and people.

The Future

For one, stay tuned to this space. Subscribe to the RSS feed, sign up for emails or become a fan of 8th Ideas on Facebook. In the rush to get this business going, I haven’t been able to post as frequently as I’d like and I also have to launch a Web site.

As the days and weeks advance, I plan on not only doing business, but also doing some good. I’ll continue to use this blog as a place to seek insight and explore truth. However, I’ll also try to help “care” industry marketers with some insight particular to their industries.

I want to know what you think. Do you agree that there are only seven original ideas? Or, do you believe there are still as-yet undiscovered gems?

I bookmarked this story from CNET last week for one simple reason. It was fascinating to me. And, after an incredibly busy week and weekend, this seemed like a good way to ease back into blogging.

Evidently some technology being used in ski helmets, shin guards and equestrian equipment is making its way into the armor of British soldiers. The concept behind it is that the molecules in this orange gel liner are viscous until the instant of high impact.

The goo, under development by Blue Divine, uses “intelligent molecules” to “shock lock” together when shot or stabbed, creating a solid pad to absorb energy. The substance, called D30, returns to its “normal flexible state” after the pressure is removed.

“When moved slowly, the molecules will slip past each other, but in a high-energy impact, they will snag and lock together, becoming solid,” Blue Divine CEO Richard Palmer said in an interview. “In doing so, they absorb energy.”

If you watch the video demonstration where Palmer repeatedly strikes a hammer into the goo (which is wrapped around a soldier’s finger) you’ll see the amazing transformation from semi-solid to solid and back again.

Pretty cool stuff. As a sniper, I guess I should know about it, eh?

creative commons: http://flickr.com/photos/ogil

Yesterday I noticed a lot of interest in and chatter about the article in the London Telegraph identifying the Greatest 101 Questions of All Time which will be featured in the March issue of BBC Focus magazine. This on the heels of David Armano’s excellent post, Questions About Questions. In it, he does a wonderful job of explaining the importance of asking the right question for what you are trying to discover.

I know I’m missing a whole host of resources here, but these two current articles got me thinking.

As strategic marketers, account planners and just a generally curious lot, we really should be some of the best questioners around.

Why can’t we put something together that would be of value to everyone involved and develop a list of the Greatest Planning Questions of All Time?

No need to give away any shop secrets, but what inquiries have you made that really got to the heart of the matter at hand? Are there standbys that you turn to to get a group talking? Did someone else come up with the question that caused you to catch your breath?

Each focus group, customer interview or client planning session will be different. There’s no way to capture the context and subtlety of specific projects. Rather, this exercise might be most powerful if kept to broad conversation starters.

Add. Subtract. Pan me as a hack. Whatever you’d like.

The comment floor is open.

I’ll start:

• If your company was a celebrity, living or dead, who would it be and why?
• If your company was an animal, which one would it be and why? (trying to get the cliches out of the way early…I promise not to go to “tree”)
• Tell me about the last time a company truly surprised you.
• What is the one thing you won’t compromise?
• What is your favorite word? (I’m starting to feel like James Lipton)
• If you were queen/king for the day, and could change one thing about (brand), what would it be and why?
• Where do you do your most productive thinking?

While laid up in bed this weekend (and with the blushing bride and young-uns out of the house), I watched Barton Fink for the first time in many years.

In fact, it had been long enough since I’d seen this movie that I had really forgotten most everything about it. I remembered images — John Goodman running down a burning hallway, extreme closeups of John Turturro sweating over a manual typewriter, wallpaper peeling off the hotel walls — but I couldn’t remember the exact plot.

It’s so refreshing to see something with new eyes every once in a while. New perspective = new insight.

It’s a typical Coen brothers piece full of fascinating characters and hysterically dark situations, but what a film.

On the surface, a bizzare murder mystery. Below the surface a genius allegory for the painful journey of creating. An appropriate way for me to think about the process of creating a brief at times.

Staring at that page. Everything seems distracting. The place is burning down.

When, in the end, all we need to do is listen.

Anyone else find this film as phenomenal as me?

Image via Creative Commons: http://flickr.com/photos/vinduhl/

Umair Haque has a post at Harvard Business on the seven lessons learned from the Obama campaign. It’s very thoughtful, clear and insightful.

There is always someone who can say it better. I knew there would be. I would definitely suggest you read it.

I’ve recently come across Umair’s writings and find them fascinating. His words got me thinking about how these lessons overlap nicely with the notion of interconnectedness or selfless altrusim.

As crazy as it sounds, I even think the passage of laws regulating treatment of feed animals in California could be evidence that a higher purpose is evolving in our country and our world. Does enlarging chicken coops indicate a larger ideal for treatment of all citizens of the globe? Or, is it simply giving the birds more room to breathe?

Did the world cross the threshold this week? Like Umair says, are we seeing the 21st century evolution of business organization and strategy?

In the 21st century, there is nothing more asymmetrical – more disruptive, more revolutionary, or more innovative — than the world-changing power of an ideal.

But today, I’m stuck.

I’ve found it absolutely impossible to adequately reflect on the results of the presidential election from a societal, cultural or political perspective. There are many more people who will address the 2008 election more eloquently and insightfully than I could ever dream to, so I won’t even attempt it.

Suffice it to say, I am proud of my country for many reasons, and last night amplified my hope for the future. But the lens I will use as I try to cobble together my thoughts is one focused on ideas, communications and business.

To me, last night was the manifestation of Web 2.0.

The power of the collective one.

The collapse of the Berlin Wall and communism both occurred during my adult life, but I didn’t feel personally attached to these world events. Don’t get me wrong, I remember processing the significance of the pictures on my television, but there remained a disconnect.

Right or wrong, as far as I was concerned, these seismic shifts in world order happened because of government intervention and global pressures. Big entities clashing. The movement of the many, reacting to pressure from the top down. (Glossing over subtleties? Without question. But, that was my state of mind in the early 90s.)

Last night, as the tide of history washed in to shore, and the pictures of both celebrations and concessions came in from around the world, I was struck by how personally involved I felt.

This was not just the movement of many.

It was the power of the collective one.

How could a moment of initial curiosity about this first-term Senator from Illinois move from an innocent Google search to the perception that I made a difference? Not only was I witnessing the epic event in Grant Park, but I was also sharing the success of a candidate with whom I had developed a multi-faceted relationship.

A seemingly insignificant donation, made in response to an email request, became enveloped in emotion. Like a child bringing a box of coins to Sunday school with wide-eyed hope, mine was a contribution that, in campaigns past, would have not even been felt (or sought) by political elders.

Certainly he received contributions from many wealthy donors giving large sums, but by building and nurturing relationships on an individual level — something unattainable or untried in the last couple of national elections — Obama was the first that I know of to authentically harness the power of citizens to act.

A clear, compelling position, communicated across media, that started contextually relevant conversations. It demanded participation and collaboration. It allowed me to have a unique relationship with a concept and to see the importance of my story in that of the masses.

I am but one voice. Yet I feel it has risen above the din. I don’t believe there is a more powerful example of the way to make a brand work in the world today.

One of the nice parts about this time of year is it causes me to be in a retail environment with a much different perspective. When it comes to shopping, I tend to be a creature of efficiency. Get in. Stalk the prey. Put it in the cart. Pay. Leave. However, when I’m out with the family and picking over the retail offerings, it puts me in a different mindset. For some reason (circumstances, perhaps?), I find myself looking at shopping in an entirely new way. I browse. I think of people other than myself. I look for the unique. I shop.

At a recent excursion with wife and child 1 and child 2, I happened upon a product that I thought exemplified Zeus’ philosophy. Pangea Organics makes a nice bar soap. (We chose Indian Green Tea with Mint and Rose Petals — you should smell me in the morning!) The packaging design is simple, intriguing and functional. That’s because, according to their Web Site, it is made using a “Zero Waste process and 100% post-consumer paper and organic seeds like basil.” [my emphasis]

Once you’ve place the soap in the dish, you soak the package in water and plant in the ground. In a while, you have a living, breathing, carbon-dioxide-eating herb.

I think that’s swell.