How to Get from NowhereLand to SomewhereLand at a Client Briefing

If we accept the idea that all writing consists of pre-writing, writing and re-writing (and I do) then the pursuit of creative clarity — which is my mission — has to begin at the first phase.

In commercial and corporate communications the first phase is always the brief. The brief can be a daunting experience where a client ‘ums’ and ‘ahs’ around some vague issue, or issues, that they’d like you to tackle for them. In this case the creative clarity alarm bells start clanging big time and your personal desire to flee the room clashes with your professional need to solve the problem.

The best thing to do in this case is try not to grimace, keep your eyes on their eyes, stay quiet, and nod ever so slightly in encouragement. If this feels like you’re channeling the archetypal therapist trope then good — you’re on the right track.

But also take notes. Keep writing words and images or shapes or just doodle on your iPad or notebook. This not only helps access your subconscious creative daemon, it also stops you from thrusting your fist into your mouth to stem the imminent squeal of horror that you may feel welling up inside.

If there are other people in the room — other clients — chances are they will be subordinates to the one speaking, and as such they will remain largely silent as their superior flails around in NowhereLand trying to nail the reason they brought you in.

Don’t make eye contact with any of these people unless they attract your attention or try to add a comment first. If you look at them, and they feel you looking at them, they will hate you for it. They — like you — wish they weren’t in this meeting, and by looking at them you mark them as present and inadvertently raise all kinds of existential questions. Questions that nobody wants to face sober, on a workday afternoon.

Eventually the main client delivering the meandering monologue filled with meaningless phrases, industry jargon, corporate cliches and the occasional ‘dad-joke’ (even female clients deliver dad-jokes) will stop talking. This is your moment. This is where you need all of your grit and steel to come to the fore. This is when everyone in the room can legitimately look at you for a response.

The response you give in this moment will make or break the trust you need to establish with your client. If you fail here, you lose the chance to work for this client (which is bad) but you also abandon the opportunity to find out what the hell this client’s problem is exactly (which is awful, because it will haunt you for the rest of your days).

First, let the silence extend itself into the room and raise the level of anxiety and discomfort ever so slightly. Picture the elephant in the room raising its tail in the universal gesture of imminent defecation. Think of a short phrase that gives you comfort — it might be ‘happy birthday’ or ‘hallelujah’ or even ‘oh boy, here we are again’.

Then, when the air of desperation is about to explode and people vibrate on the verge of rushing for the door or hiding under the table, nod slowly, even purse your lips if you feel that way inclined, and give them this line:

“Okay, so if I’ve got this right, you’re looking for a way to …”

The ellipsis is of course everything. Those three dots contain the essence of what you have gleaned from the ramble through NowhereLand. It may or may not have anything to do with the notes and scribbles you’ve been making. It could be anything from, “increase sales” to “improve customer relations” to “entice your already overwhelmed employees to please read and respond to your emails.”

And here’s the kicker — if you get this right, if you nail the need, you will witness an almost Mexican wave of relief run through the room. People will literally lean back in a dizzying display of communal gratitude.

The best verbal response you’ll get is, “Yes! That’s exactly it!”

The worst response might be along the lines of, “Obviously — that’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

But the most useful retort will be in the region of, “well, yes and no.”

This is the most useful response because it opens up a new line of dialogue, one that takes everyone in a direction that at least promises clarity and resolution.

See what you did there? You didn’t provide the solution, you didn’t even come up with a creative angle yet, but what you did was put up a signpost that says, “This Way To SomewhereLand” and that’s your job as a corporate creative.

And because SomewhereLand is where everyone wants to go, there’s a good chance they’ll let you tag along for the ride.