Just a few weeks ago, Dave Trott, as in THE EMINENT DAVE TROTT, highlighted a LinkedIn promotional piece by Chris Miller, "the copywriter with his own strapline."
I'd noticed Chris some years ago--because of that brilliant little fillip of a strapline. He's funny, I said to myself. I'll keep my eye on him. And see what I can learn him or, more candidly, steal from him.
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A Rake's Progress. 1, The Heir. |
The promotional piece Trott liked reminded me of those great 18th Century etchings by William Hogarth. They had a wit, a sensibility and a quirkiness I just loved.
I was mad at myself for not having gotten there first. Instead of dwelling on my jealousy, I reached out to Chris Miller, "the copywriter with his own strapline," and asked him to write a blogpost for this space. My note to Chris read: "Actually, you exemplify my main advertising thesis. Do something different. From your "strapline" epigram to your 18th century comix."
Unlike so many people I reach out to, Chris followed through with the piece below.
If you don't know Chris, you should.
You can meet him below.
Why not write him a note and say "hi."
Like I said above, "he's funny."
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COPYWRITER, SELL THYSELF.
Like you, dear reader, I'm a George fan. A lover of his humerus-tickling George Co. ads and his mighty blog. Together they offer a glorious drip-feed of Tannenbaumian wit and Georgian
wisdom.
As it happens, I'm also partial to doing a wee bit of self-promo. Although, sadly, the dosage of wit and wisdom is woefully homeopathic by comparison.
George gave me a free hand to write anything. But I believe it was my personal stuff that caught his eye. So I'll talk about that.
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My strapline/tagline/endline
I once wondered why we copywriters don't do unto ourselves as we do unto our clients. Or, more specifically, why we don't tend to write our own straplines. Stuck for an answer, I promptly wrote one for myself.
One of the benefits of now being "the copywriter with his own strapline" is that the line differentiates me from other copywriters called Chris Miller. Because Chris Millers are ten a penny out there, believe me. Check the list of your Facebook friends. You'll find at least three there.
Christopher Charles Miller, Donald Trump's former Defence Secretary, goes several steps further by sharing all three of my names. And the same year of birth. He's also a wearer of
spectacles and, like me, has a frown that can curdle holy water from a distance of 300 metres.
(I'd be inclined to see an attack on the Capitol as something that had to be stopped at all costs, though. So the similarities aren't endless.)
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"I heartily recommend me." --me
During the Covid lockdown, a fusion of boredom and financial necessity prompted me to create my own little ads for social media.
I probably should've involved an art director, but I thought the ads' roughness had some sort of charm? Is that the mot juste? Notre Georges would know.
Anti-email mail
Paper was all the rage in my youth. OK, I'm going back a bit, so it might actually have been papyrus. But let's not quibble.
I believed, with the following ink-and-paper mailshots, that fighting for attention in someone's inbox might be a battle I could sidestep altogether by landing on their desk instead. And,
hopefully, to continue sitting there long after an email would've been closed or deleted.
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Hallmark, eat your heart out
Despite being Mr Misnomer 'a non-Christian Christopher' I get as dewy-eyed as the next bauble-hanger at Yuletide. Sentimental sleigh-bell-loving sap that I am, here are a few things I sent out at the most wonderful time of different years.
As you can see, I wrote 1) cards and 2) a label for a wine bottle.
The design work was done by 1) my pal Malcolm Thompson and 2) Rob Taylor, CD at Like A River.
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The would-be Wordsworth wordsmith
I've had a few flurries of activity on LinkedIn that, I hoped, would raise my profile. Naive soul that I am, I mistakenly assumed a few years ago that some advertising-themed limericks were
the way to worm my way into the nation's hearts. (I mean, c'mon, who doesn't love a heartworm?)
I branded them "Limillericks". (Geddit?) But under no circumstances should you attempt to say that word aloud unless you're in the presence of a medical professional capable of
disentangling your tongue from your uvula. I remember one getting a like from George. (The first of those shown here.) That, it's fair to say, made my day.
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Old school
Cut to a few weeks (and centuries) ago. I started posting my comic strip Ye Olde Creative Shoppe on LinkedIn. As before, I was clinging to the ridiculous notion that someone would
see these and conclude that I was precisely the kind of copywriter they were looking for.
It seems to have acquired a (very) small following. So I may persist with it for a while. Or at least until villagers clutching burning torches and pitchforks arrive at my door, demanding I
do something less annoying with my time.
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Going live with a self-promotional project, despite the stakes being spectacularly low, makes me sympathise with nervous clients more than I'd care to admit.
Oh, and while I'm on the subject of wide-eyed terror, writing for George's blog isn't for the faint-hearted. Yet here I am.
No, it hasn't been easy typing while biting my nails. But as I've got to the end, I've improved significantly. My ability to dentally self-manicure at 60 wpm is a skill I'll be adding to my CV.
Thank you so much, George. And toodle-pip, you lovely people, you.
Chris
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