In it, he proposed that script writers think about writing cross-platform characters with rich pasts and futures. This way, the stories would contain even more dimension and the characters would be infinitely more compelling.

…the form of storytelling is evolving, which means producers, agents, and everyone that comes in contact with your story, in addition to your audience, will be expecting it just as they expect interesting characters, dialogue they’ve never heard before, and situations that they’d either hate or love to experience.

I think it is quite smart. And, of course, I want to consider it in the context of the characters I work with every day — brands.

All brands in the market have a real (as opposed to a fictional Hollywood invention) past and a real present. While some are certainly more compelling than others, are their back-stories and present-day tales contextually rich? Can they be made deeper and more meaningful in a responsible, authentic way?  Or, if we tinker with the history, does it tarnish the future?

Standing alone in the waiting room of a 24-hour animal hospital, with a half-cup of untouched coffee, and the tinny echo of Ron Popeil as he hocked knives from the plasma screen, I began to consider a lot of things. And, without trying to sound crass or macabre about it, the experience surrounding this decision highlighted some important lessons for businesses and marketers to understand when trying to connect with customers.

1. Everyone has a back-story.
For nearly six months, Paco had suffered with a mysterious condition. Thousands of dollars and countless consultations, second opinions and research only brought us more questions instead of answers.

What we did know was that this mutt — the vivacious puppy we adopted after the original owners couldn’t afford his Parvo treatment and abandoned him at the clinic more than 13 years ago — couldn’t stop panting. Twenty-four hours a day, he sounded as if he had just run a marathon. Even in his sleep, he was breathing and snoring so heavily he couldn’t have possibly been resting.

A veterinarian was the one who gave Paco a second chance, by paying for his original Parvo treatment and finding a home for him with our family. Our current veterinarian was very thorough but simply could not pinpoint the root of the problem. A variety of confounding symptoms, but no clear-cut disease. We thought it might be a thyroid issue. Or even Cushing’s disease.

We even took Paco and his 3-inch-thick file to an internal medicine specialist. Same problem. No real answers.

After a succession of seizures at 3:00 last Tuesday morning and the resulting complete loss of bodily control, we called our regular veterinarian and the answering service told us to go to Metro West Emergency Veterinary Clinic — their partner for this kind of situation.

I drove down the empty Interstate with him in the passenger seat and conferred with the doctor on staff when I arrived. There really wasn’t much we could do at this point. My wife and I had to make the excruciatingly difficult choice to end his suffering. To bring him peace.

I was there for his last breath. His final pant as it were.

Thanks for indulging me. I needed to get all this off my chest. Now, on to business.

The Metro West clinic staff was terrific and empathetic. Their synchronized grace helped me through a very challenging time. And I believe that fluidity stemmed from the fact that they intuitively understood I had a slide show of memories flying through my head in that moment. A back-story that meant a lot to me and my young family.

While you may not be selling an experience with the same emotional depth attached to it, your customers are bringing some form of bias with them. They are subconsciously comparing your interaction to their collective experiences on this planet.

And it’s not just service businesses who should understand the power of the back-story. The relationships we have with products or even appliances are just as dependent on the place our customers are at the moment of truth.

How well can you empathize with what your customers are going through and authentically connect to this web of context? How can you improve this?

2. Details matter.
From ensuring that my paperwork was complete prior to conducting the procedure (so I could leave without delay), to giving me a personalized remembrance of our dog (his final paw print in clay), this clinic considered every last detail. And, every detail was finely tuned to the situation.

The back-story and the transaction should greatly impact the tone and manner in which you speak to customers. The founder of a very successful car dealership in this region, Carl Sewell, built a thriving brand and lifelong customers by paying excruciating attention to detail.

Are you and your team situationally aware? What tools do you use to fine-tune the details of your processes?

3. The emotional can turn physical.
By receiving Paco’s paw print in clay, I watched the intense, yet intangible emotion over losing a loved family member transform into a physical artifact on which my wife, kids and I can project our fond memories.

That the emotional can become tangible is nothing new. It’s happened since the first painter picked up the first brush. However, the way we use that metamorphosis to develop deeper relationships with our customers can be powerful, profound and profitable.

Apple took the feelings we have with our music and created a physical connection through the design of the iPod. The Lance Armstrong Foundation wrapped pride and strength around our wrists in yellow silicone.

Where are you able to bring the emotions your customers have into the physical realm?

These are just a few
The process of losing a pet helped me gain some perspective. I hope you will forgive my sharing this story, but it seemed to contain a lot of important reminders for me about the way we connect companies to people.

Have I missed the boat here? Are you offended? Are there other lessons you would extract from this situation?

The first subject I wanted to cover was an article I read in the New York Times about neurology. Benedict Carey penned a feature back in April about some researchers who  have uncovered molecules that may be responsible for activating memories in our brains. As an account planner type, I am curious about the catalysts these scientists have revealed.

Up to this point, researchers (and philosophers) have believed that experiences are imprinted on our brain cells and the cells can collaborate later to recall the event. Carey has a great way of describing this:

…brain cells activated by an experience keep one another on biological speed-dial, like a group of people joined in common witness of some striking event. Call on one and word quickly goes out to the larger network of cells, each apparently adding some detail, sight, sound, smell. The brain appears to retain a memory by growing thicker, or more efficient, communication lines between these cells.

Apparently, Dr. Todd C. Sacktor and André A. Fenton have identified a substance, called PKMzeta, that clusters on the outskirts of our synapses and connects the memory dots for the cells in our heads. In an experiment, Sacktor and Fenton were able to block this molecule in mice which caused the animals to forget lessons learned just the day before.

Are we on the verge of being able to control our memory? How soon will you be able to stop by your local Walgreens and pick up a pill to enhance what you remember?

Before you go rent a copy of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Carey dedicates time in the article to highlighting ethical concerns already being raised by this finding. As with any scientific advancement, it can be used for good or for evil. I wouldn’t want to ever risk losing the recollection of the birth of my two children, but could I deny the possiblity of helping someone stave off dimentia?

And what impact will this field of study mean for marketing? Can we draw any parallels between the chain of connected brain cells and the way customers recall our brands? Is there a way to enhance these connections? To improve consumer engagement through understanding these chemical connections?

What do you think?

How important is it for our society to have happy endings?

What about stories with denouments which reflect the tenor of the times? Is it crucial that the sentiment matches the cultural contentedness barometer?

I read an article recently from the BBC Magazine that gave a nice overview of the ups and downs of endings.

We may think of Greek drama in terms of the unrelenting tragedy of Oedipus Rex or Medea. But even the Greeks expected a happy ending, says Alan Sommerstein, professor of Greek at Nottingham University.

“Greek tragic productions came in sets of four – the fourth was always a roaring farce. And not all tragedies had what we might call tragic endings.”

…

And there was a belief that a tragedy could actually make people happier.

“Aristotle argues that tragic drama gives pleasure, arousing the emotions. I would think myself of Shakespeare’s time which was pretty grim, with the plague liable to break out.”

I don’t pretend to have any answers as to whether or not a happy ending makes us sad or a sad one happy. What I do wonder is how this relates to marketing stories.

We bring people together with our products and services, often by way of a story. Is it important in this story to achieve the “right” ending, or is it more important to achieve an ending that elicits an emotional response? An opportunity to forge a deeper, more meaningful connection?

And, how does this level of emotional resonance change the way we start the story? How we imbue the characters with texture? How we set the stage?

Does a relationship based on emotion — either happy or sad — contain more value than one based on an outcome?

If you have thoughts, I’d like to hear them.

We have clients who don’t listen to our brilliance. The more fortunate few can’t get a photo to align like we want because of our limited HTML skills. We also get the pleasure of dealing with auto DMs on Twitter and live in places where it’s snowing another foot in town (or hit another record high for February). Wow. Can you believe the gift we’ve been given? (for those of you who don’t know me well yet, the sarcasm filter is about to rupture)

Something hit me today to put things into perspective.

In between a back-to-back meeting Friday and family obligations Saturday and Sunday, I have been thinking about any number of compelling subjects to cover. Lots of rumination on the subject of balance. There’s a post that Gavin wrote which struck a chord and I want to comment on. There’s even some amazing neurological research coming out that I’d like to consider.

As I sat down to start fleshing out some of these topics this evening, I stopped to read an article in our local newspaper (the Fort Worth Star-Telegram), which altered the way I’m seeing things.

Now, I want to talk about soccer (football) and homelessness instead.

Oh I’ll get back to heady account planner/marketer-type issues, but that will have to wait for another day.

The article I read was written by David Casstevens. It chronicled the work of two people in town who are dedicated to giving homeless men a connection to a street soccer team. It’s a local iteration of a national organization called Street Soccer USA, founded by Lawrence Cann. This particular group plays and trains regularly and even competes in with some of the 16 other homeless teams throughout the country.

Before the homeless men are allowed to compete — they will play an area team Saturday at the practice field one block west of the Presbyterian Night Shelter — each must open a savings account and deposit an agreed-upon sum every month. Gray and Wilson also request that they volunteer at the shelter. In the future, players will be asked to share their stories at churches, schools and civic-group meetings…

…They loaded into two vehicles and headed south. A member of Robbins’ church donated $200 to cover expenses for the daylong adventure. In Austin, they ate hamburgers for lunch and then went on a field trip.

“Do you want to put on your jerseys?” Gray asked.

Everyone did. Dressed in matching red and white, the players posed for a group photo and walked wide-eyed around the University of Texas. Most had never set foot on a college campus.

At that moment, this loose bunch of homeless men felt like — and became — a team, the North Texas Stars.

In street soccer, four players on each side compete on a hard surface about the size of a basketball court. The Stars played three games in a church gymnasium against what, for now, is the only other homeless team in Texas. The Stars won all three.

“Some guys were about to pass out,” Robbins recalled, smiling at their competitiveness and effort. “They played like this was for the World Cup.”

Perhaps I should pause here and open up my personal vault for a moment. I have played soccer for more than 30 years. It is part of who I am and aside from my wonderful family, the sport brings me some of the few moments of sheer joy in my days on this planet. For several years now, I have wondered how I could take this passion for the sport and use it to help others. Looks like Lawrence Cann, Karla Gray and Warren Wilson have opened up an avenue for just that.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Our industry’s work creates some profound and meaningful connections. And, I can honestly say that since I’ve started focusing exclusively on planning for my little company and thinking about the evolving world of business, I have had a genuine professional re-awakening. I am energized by what is happening and by what so many awe-inspiring marketing thinkers are doing.

However, this is an example of something so visceral, so raw that it struck a nerve. One person reaching out to another. A beneficent relationship at its most basic and pure. Help. Humanity. Hope.

It’s probably bordering on the cliche, but the issues that seem gargantuan to all of us are likely the envy of those without. And I guess sometimes it takes more closely understanding the plight of others to realize this.

I’m sure there is a lesson in here for marketers, but that seems wrong to even consider. I’d rather just reflect on the goodness of what Gray and Wilson are doing rather than soil it with talk of profit and loss. So, instead, I’m going to send my email of thanks to the reporter and start the process of connecting with these valiant missionaries to offer my assistance.

If any of you want to know what happens next, tell me. If there is enough interest to warrant it, I’ll post periodic updates.

In men, images they consider to be beautiful appear to activate brain regions responsible for locating objects in absolute terms — x- and y-coordinates on a grid. Images considered beautiful by women do the same, but they also activate regions associated with relative location: above and behind, over and under. The difference could be the result of evolutionary pressures on our hunter-gatherer ancestors.

With something as ethereal as beauty being linked to specific, gender-based neurological pathways, can we begin to consider the same processes valid for other subjective judgements? Are the same neurons firing as customers interact with and adopt our brands? How should marketers and planners account for these variables of perspective and behavior?

John Tierny posted a story to his blog last week that related to an interview I saw on, of all places, The Colbert Report. In it, Tierny reports on the study by UCLA geography professor Thomas W. Gillespie in which he applies two aspects of the island biogeographic theory to posit theories on where Osama Bin Ladin may be hiding. The concept is that, like wildlife, a human dispersion pattern will decline exponentially the farther you look from the point of origin. Tierny pulls a key quote from the report featured in the M.I.T. International Review that can explain it much better than me:

Distance-decay theory states that as one goes further away from a precise location, there is an exponential decline in the turnover of species and a lower probability of finding the same composition of species. The theory of island biogeography states that large and close islands will have higher immigration rates and support more species with lower extinction rates than small isolated islands.

These theories can be applied over varying spatial scales to posit bin Laden’s current location based on his last reputed geographic location. Distance-decay theory would predict that he is closest to the point where he was last reported and, by extension, within a region that has a similar physical environment and cultural composition (that is, similar religious and political beliefs).

They’ve even identified the building in which they think he could be hiding. It’s in Parachinar, Afghanistan, 12 miles from Tora Bora.

Fascinating.

What I’m wondering is how this relates to marketing.

Can we apply similar principles to products?

To distribution strategy recommendations?

How do definitions of geography shift when discussing the plane of ideas? Do trends behave in the same way? Do human connections and/or relationships decline exponentially the farther you get from the source? Or, does technology allow us to maintain the strength of this connection regardless of time and space?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Image: http://flickr.com/photos/1yen (CC)

Regardless of ideology, this is a true example of a solid narrative arc.

FDR figured out radio.

Kennedy harnessed TV.

Obama is shaping political communications for the next generation (is it “socio-political networking?”).

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.