There’s a theory of being “cursed with (too much) knowledge.”  

We walk into work most days expecting (or suspecting we are expected) to know. To know how; to know when; and most important—to know why. We are, after all, being paid. And in the vast majority of scenarios this makes all the sense in the world, and pays dividends. Our eduction, our experiences come forth and we deliver the goods. Our math adds up. Our wisdom saves the day.

Until it doesn’t. 

We are cursed when the new math confounds our established order (witness decentralized/crypto finance). When the old pieces don’t fit in the new puzzle (witness anything destabilized by software). Or worse, when we shun something that will become brilliant because we think we know better.

This is where the frameworks of creativity and innovation can help break the paralysis of too much knowledge; and can instill a resilient usefulness in times of chaos. 

Because at their core, creativity and innovation share the element of surprise. 

Both creativity and innovation are breakers-of-pattern and routine. If creativity and innovation didn’t surprise us even a little, our audiences wouldn’t notice or care or engage. Surprise = Impact. But let’s not let surprise seem uncontrollable or a lark or solely the result of the audacious. There can be a rigor to surprise. The business of ideas has proven frameworks which enable teams to bring surprising results in the face of the seemingly insurmountable, delivering clarity and confidence. These tools can help illuminate assignments, help evaluate ideas, and help creative and innovation teams remain potent. A few of my favorites:

Stick to the Edge

Successful creativity and memorable innovation straddle the known and unknown

Howard Gossage wrote about this in the late 1960s in a chapter titled, “Is There Any Hope For Advertising.” (And if you haven’t read The Book of Gossage, well, stop reading this and start ordering that.) His premise was to develop ideas that sit on the edge of an audience’s comprehension. “So the trick is to place an idea close enough in so [the audience] gets it but far enough out that [they’re] not able to flyspeck it, only accept it.” The surprise occurs in that narrow edge co-mingling confident familiarity with the unknown. (Gossage’s hopeful logic being a client wouldn’t dare criticize something outside their comprehension. If only!)  

The same theory is regurgitated in various forms by Chip and Dan Heath in Made to Stick (2007), and by Rory Sutherland in his book, Alchemy (2019). The logic of “Sticking to the Edge” being just enough of the familiar lowers defenses, while just enough of the unfamiliar provokes novelty and the potent combination surprises and sticks around in our neurons. 

Framing creative or innovation output through Known/Unknown helps business partners evaluate and get comfortable with:

• Who we’re addressing, and in a specific context (what the audience knows or doesn’t)

• The allure and value of balancing familiarity and novelty 

• The necessity to focus; after all, the edge between Known/Unknown isn’t the place to build elaborate concepts

* * *

Defining Inevibility 

Flywheels are everywhere, especially in marketing

Jim Collins writes about inevitability. His monograph, Turning the Flywheel, distills the potent concept of strategic momentum:  X inevitably leads to... Y inevitably leads to... Z inevitably leads back to... X inevitably leads to... an unstoppable system. It’s worth noting this is not easy—there are, after all, few Amazons. The issue is less the inevitable part and much more What Are X... Y... Z... A, B, C, Etc. and in what order do they trigger inevitability?

In marketing and innovation we benefit from two components of the flywheel concept:

1. Defining actionable points in time and place (i.e. What is X?) along a customer journey

2. Clarifying what might trigger movement forward in that journey; and how we’d measure and attribute movement; or, to be specific—what kind of surprise might grease the skids?

Here’s a useful holistic question to help jumpstart flywheel definition: 

“Once exposed to [the packaging, the name, this part of a web experience, this video, that poster, the idea, etc. - a potential X, Y or Z along a marketing flywheel] how will the audience’s behavior change?” 

This question speaks to Audience, Moment/Context and Motivation. 

The search for inevitable solutions has to begin with those we presume to address. Specifically, we need to confirm their mindset. As Sutherland puts it in Alchemy, “We don’t value things; we value their meaning. What they are is determined by the law of physics, but what they mean is determined by the laws of psychology.” Our fundamental task is to understand our audience’s mindset, their most potent meaning, relevant to a potential stop along the flywheel. 

Second, the moment. To paraphrase Alfred Hitchcock, we need to clarify, “life minus the boring (non-actionable, non-potent) parts.” You don’t care about our marketing, until suddenly it stands a chance of resonating. That’s when change becomes more likely to occur; where a surprise creates impact. Sifting through a journey map of potential moments is valuable effort—as much to define all the moments we can effectively ignore as those we should focus upon. 

Then we can work to instigate some manner of surprise—the motivation—to inspire a change in the audience, inevitably moving them forward. In other words, given Audience Mindset X + Moment Y... what Motivation (Z?) stands the best chance of effecting change?

From a resources standpoint, we’d be wise to define the fewest, most salient points along a (flywheel) journey where meaningful behavior change could occur. Defining salience creates efficiency, and helps creators and innovators focus resources.

* * *

Digging for Gold in the Back Yard

A metaphor for efficient creative action

Years ago, a few of us writing ads for the U.S. Volkswagen account got an assignment: Launch the new Jetta using billboards in major markets. The comms plan was inspired—given budget, and audience mindset, we could more effectively reach our target alongside major roadways, than on TV. (This was prior to digital’s establishment.)

Now do the the math: 20 markets X an average of 7 unique headlines per market = a lot of headlines to be written. And yes, there would obviously be overlap of headline ideas between markets. But our assignment required some location-specific concepts in the mix. 

It gets worse. 

Let’s say in order to achieve 100 printed headlines across all markets, we needed to present at least... 200 to the client. Clients need idea choice to gain confidence. In order to get to 200 individual ideas mounted on foam core and pinned to the presentation room wall—we probably needed more than 200 ideas presented to the Creative Director for their approval. Hold on, we’re not done yet. In order to field more than 200 ideas to our boss, we likely had to generate close to 1,000 ideas amongst the writers.

Now here’s the assignment, which I’ve tasked to MCAD Copywriting students over the years:

Please write at least 100 headlines. In the next week.

Most people balk. 

Our underlying psychology makes an erroneous assumption: I need to deliver 100 pristine, Cannes Lion-worthy headlines... or I will die. 

So naturally we freeze. We protest. We waste valuable time.

Here’s where the “digging for gold” metaphor comes in handy.

If I told you gold was guaranteed to be found somewhere underneath your backyard, which approach would you take? To clarify: The “gold” in this story = potent ideas. 

1. Invest time digging deeply in a single area

2. Quickly dig dozens of shallow holes

Remember, you don’t know if the gold is close to the surface or deep or if there’s one or many pockets of the ore. 

Neither approach is wrong, and in the metaphor of creative work I’ve seen both work. But the second approach works all the time, while the first is a mad gambit and will generally fail. Why?

We want to learn, as quickly as possible, where the gold is not. 

Moving quickly, not investing craft (yet) in the process, helps us discern what resonates and what doesn’t. Spinning up numerous tests gives us valuable insights around how success might take shape. This approach to idea development, to scaling iterations or innovation is a form of due diligence. If we metaphorically dig hundreds of shallow holes, we can speak with greater confidence about those areas which warrant greater effort. 

And by “holes” I mean themes. Using our new VW Jetta assignment as example, we could write headlines under the following themes:

• New standard features in total

• Each new standard feature by itself (i.e. more potent stereo, better ergonomics, lighting, engine power, power windows, etc.)

• Number of total standard features

• Ratings/reliability of Jettas and/or VWs

• Affordability vs competition

• Trunk space

• Range of exterior color options

• Fuel mileage

• Interior roominess

• German engineering

Now in our gold digger metaphor, ask yourself, could you write just ten headlines about the new VW Jetta’s roomy trunk? That’s likely a whole lot easier than writing 100 headlines.

And, no doubt, while contemplating the trunk, you’ll dig up a new theme or ideas that fit under other themes. So you assign yourself a new theme every few hours. And lo and behold, a couple working days later you and I have at least 100 worthy headlines, each. Well on our way to pleasing the boss and the client. 

Almost as important, we won’t have invested as much of our ego in the process and won’t feel wounded receiving feedback. The moment we shift from broad, generalized “digging” to focused, craft-oriented labor is the moment our fragile egos invest. If my singular, highly polished (and protected) idea meets resistance, I’ll fight back in part because of the pain generated by my ego (i.e. “But look how hard I worked!”).  Whereas, if I share a dozen shallow ideas and meet resistance with them all, I know there’s more backyard to dig in...and based on the tenor of the feedback, I know where to dig next for greater impact. And my ego doesn’t even bother showing up to cause trouble. 

* * *

Can-If

Morgan and Barden’s brilliant feedback framing

Speaking of evaluating ideas...

Adam Morgan and Mark Barden published A Beautiful Constraint in 2015. It is invaluable. Chapter 4: “Can-If” presents a means of structuring conversations around creative or innovation work for success and momentum.  It is useful among the people doing the work, but even more so when those outside the core process are engaged to react.

As you’ve no doubt experienced, reacting to ideas gets personal, subjective and emotional, and often very easily. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as those qualities suggest concern and engagement. But making decisions around new thinking, especially when resource investment is concerned, is so often stereotyped as the opposite—we ought to be calculated, aloof even. But we’re human. 

“Can-If” solves most of the human factors inherent in reacting to new ideas. It is, as Morgan and Barden write, about changing, “the nature of the conversation.” It is, indeed, about surprising ourselves—finding the means to unlock resistance. 

Most of our evolution primes us to begin with “Can’t.” Rejecting possibility also rejects risk. For our cave dwelling ancestors, “can’t” literally kept us alive. We can’t do X because... Bears. Or Gods. Or the Unknown. We are not that far evolved from those caves to resist this human inclination, even in the relative safety of a Zoom meeting. 

The problem with “Can’t” when evaluating innovation or marketing concepts is that it ends the conversation. It places a figurative stop sign on the table. It very quickly introduces resentment. It doesn’t really matter what the rationale is for why we can’t, the phrasing itself is harmful if our intent is creative breakthrough or innovation. We have to learn to resist those parts of our ancestry that no longer serve us as they once did. 

“Can-If” asks us to remain optimistic, and to steep reactions in terms of possibilities not barriers. It is a refreshing framework to collaborate within. Here’s an example from Morgan and Barden’s book, using an industrial bakery and product innovation as the centerpiece:

OLD PHRASING  

“We can’t use that type of new packaging because it will slow the line down.”

CAN-IF PHRASING

“We can use that type of new packaging if we run it on someone else’s line.”

Note the absence of an emotional stop sign. Legitimate concern is given its due, without calling proceedings to a halt. This framework is surprisingly useful when engaging legal feedback. 

“We can leverage [this cultural moment] if we focus content on our established legacy in this space.”

For me, an unsung benefit of “Can-If” results in what we learn from framing “if.” That additional, new step asks us to continue inventing, to continue solving (not stopping), to simply... continue! 

But my favorite aspect of this framework is, as the authors describe: “It forces everyone involved in the conversation to take responsibility for solutions.” That notion alone, that we are united in a shared charge when reacting to ideas, is worth the price of admission. 

* * *

Creativity and innovation are charged with feeding an endless maw. 

Pure talent is one antidote, but it’s rare and like to take vacations. Artificially-derived solutions haven’t solved the need, yet. So we mere humans rely on frameworks to aid our journeys. Individually, each harnesses some element of surprise: 

Sticking to The Edge helps us balance the daring with the familiar

Marketing Flywheels helps us clarify forms of inevitability

Digging for Gold offers diligence to unearth more 

“Can-If” defines a surprisingly potent way to evaluate new thinking

There are more, of course. The point is to use them. To develop a proven set of approaches you and your team can rely upon, time and again.

It sure beats the alternative.