Tag: storytelling

Inception Marketing

In a world where businesses fight for attention, inception marketing can cut the noise. This unconventional technique aims to implant desire into your buyer’s mind, subconsciously intriguing them to make decisions.

But how would you approach this?

As per due course, identifying and understanding your target audience is fundamental. Perhaps serendipitously, knowing who your ‘people’ are is riff with classification – demographic, psychographic, and so on. But how do you distinguish character? Dreams? Accomplishments?

Wear their shoes!

Imagine what it’s like to be a member of your target audience. Consider their daily routines, challenges, aspirations, and sources of joy. Empathize with their experiences, and you can gain valuable insights into what motivates them and how your product or service can address their needs.

I’m not saying it’s going to be easy work. It will take time, bottomless curiosity, and creativity to craft compelling buyer personas that will make a difference in your pursuit of growth. You might even have to look the opposite way. Envision your competitor knocking at your door. How would you understand them? What questions would you ask? Then, alas, you can ask the grand question – what message and associations do you want to embed in your target audience’s psyche?

Your answers should create a deep, emotional connection and tap into their subconscious desires, beliefs, and aspirations.

Remember, storytelling is the key.

Evoke sentiment and eagerness and delve into universal themes that address the human experience.

And sometimes broad is better. Subtle and indirect. The goal is to make a long-lasting impact, build brand affinity, and, most importantly, influence their attitude toward your brand in the long term.

What are your thoughts on this marketing tactic?

Kokeshi – A Story

Do you know what a kokeshi is?

Some nights, I brush my daughter’s teeth.

Somehow, it’s an arduous undertaking that I would prefer to leave to my more inclined husband. But tonight, I took it on with confidence.

Lo and behold! I opened her bathroom drawer to reveal not one but three containers of toothpicks. I could smell the faint glimmer of mint, and as I observed the labelling on the bottles, I discovered three different flavours altogether – mint, cinnamon, and KOKESHI.

Now, I presumed that the flavour on the label would match the scent of the toothpicks. So began the exercise. My daughter and I smelled each bottle. Mint, yup mint. Cinnamon, oooh that’s cinnamon. Kokeshi? My daughter inquisitively smelled the toothpicks in the distinct red-orange packaging. Smells like flowers, Mom! I took a whiff and debated, no no, I don’t think so.

I peered through the cheap plastic receptacle and saw that the toothpicks were a different shape. I uttered to my daughter, must be because of this. I pointedly placed the bottle in front of her eyes. We weren’t satisfied. They did look different from the others, looking fancy for picking up appetizers. So, my daughter proclaimed, check Google! Check Google! And with the swipe of a finger, the answer arose –

Kokeshi

Kokeshi are simple wooden Japanese dolls with no arms or legs that have been crafted for more than 150 years as a toy for children.

They are symbols of hopes for bountiful harvests, wishes for good luck and fortune and embody an appreciation for craftsmanship and culture.

Now, this would have been a great answer, but in our case, it was REVELATORY.

I looked in front of me.

Standing peacefully erect on my daughter’s bathroom counter for as long as I can remember was…a…KOKESHI.

Not any kokeshi. A doll I lovingly received from my mom’s very close Japanese girlfriend, Misuko, back in 1985.

My daughter and I squealed with delight. The happenstance was nothing short of extraordinary! And to think, it only took 38 years or five times the length of my daughter’s life to discover it.

Sometimes, life throws you curveballs. Most of the time, you catch the ball like any other ball, on any other day, with the same approach and sentiment. But other times, life passes you inexplicable gifts—gifts that bring light and love into every inch of your being.

As marketers, throw and catch balls. But once in a while, BE the ball and notice the infinite bubbles of gratitude that permeate your life.

Peace y’all!

11 – Tripping

Daisy was always looking for inspiration, the appearance of cursive writing or the look of a padded, bulky knit sweater featuring crimson and indigo animal characters like Filburt. Anything creative, really, would do.

The day she noticed something, she quizzically peered into a bathroom mirror, hoping because she was in the large stall, her sweater would reverse. 

Utterly distracted, Daisy made a note never to do it again.

“My progress has become insuperable from all the months of writing exact-sized phrases and headlines with five words or less.” Daisy thought fast while twiddling her phone in her hand.

“Have things changed in A Day? What were things like when I first started anyhow?” she thought. “Well, I was definitely more satisfied. Had a bounce to my step, could care less about the matchy-ness of my outfits. I also felt more powerful, like people were listening to me, learning from me, and so on.”

Stroking her phone, Daisy continued, “However, today, everything is an exercise—an exercise in recalling (all types included).” Distracted, she goes on, “I have great hair, and my skin is young, it seems. On that note, ageing has not necessarily imparted more wisdom or money in my purse.”

She was always digressing.

Back home, Chona grabbed her fire orange Frank & Oak bucket bag and booked it out the door. She was late, again. Always leaving the house ten minutes post-shower. She hopped into her 2008 white Rogue and took off toward the light. 

The road was slick, and rain dripped down hard, like her binary code pleated skirt that streamed neon pink zeros and ones from her waist down to her thighs. 

She hated driving, though. It was dangerous in Elevententeen, and she knew one day it would kill her. Still, she cranked the radio and listened to old 90s songs like The Cranberries’ Linger. She hummed this tune imagining it more regal played on the baby grand piano at her dad’s house. 

When she sat back to play, his gigantic TV wouldn’t let her use the old music books, so she had to carefully balance grade 8 Royal Conservatory in volumes six, seven, eight and ten. The chords? They prevented her from falling. 

Daisy’s next big project was sitting in her bag. She put it in there to prevent its glorious shimmer from stirring the Outsiders’ eyes. It could kill, and she didn’t want to be a murderer tonight.

Finally arriving, she stepped out of her car. There were Dreams everywhere! She blinked. Then, blinked again. Her eyes started to roll back into her head, and she could feel the surge streaming now from her crown down to her feet, hiding neatly inside her red rain boots. 

In her room.

Someone painted her Brooklyn studio apartment bright orange-red! So, she knew the test had begun.

Should she attack? Chona could barely hold her head up, let alone break out into dance and song. She would just have to sleep it off, her phone continually buzzing that darn song. Then, like all the other times, she passed out. What remained Wide Awake in complete consciousness (forget Artha today) was her supple orange bucket bag. And within it, her project, slipping away…