Forget A.I. ... I’m in awe of K.I.
Kids’ Intelligence blows my mind, especially my own kids.
In the last few weeks, “12” bashed out a bold portrait to rival the German expressionists.
“16” crafted a Macbeth essay to out-Shakespeare Shakespeare.
Then “21” completed the 7-Dimensional Rubik’s cube (writing his own algorithms to effect over 2 million virtual turns) and is only the sixteenth person in the world to do so.
Of course, other people’s kids can be pretty amazing. Just yesterday, a classmate of “12” managed to fit most of a hoodie sleeve inside his mouth.
Can A.I. do that?
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I have never vaccinated a pig,
driven a two-million-dollar car,
cruised the Pacific.
launched a satellite,
sipped champagne at dawn in the Dolomites,
saved a dolphin,
caressed a cactus-leather purse,
illuminated the Eiffel Tower,
or calibrated a diamond.
But I have written about all of them for clients.
So next time someone asks if I have experience in their niche product category, what should my answer be?
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I hate TikTok. And yet…
Some days it feels like TikTok ate my kids’ brains. The soundtrack of my school run with the 12 year-old is now Radio Tourette’s blasting out of his phone. I hate what the algorithm serves him up. He’s just twelve for God’s sake. I hate the mood drop as he comes down off an hour or more of dopamine chain-hits.
Last week, his 16-year-old sister emerged from her room distressed at something called the Willow Project. As her distress intensified, I put on my grown-ups hat and advised that you have to be careful with what you hear on TikTok. Let’s check another source. Googling The Guardian, my go-to news outlet, I quickly realised the Willow Project was a pretty nasty money-grabbing oil venture that threatened nature in Alaska and was the long-term pollution equivalent of adding 2 million cars to the road, every year. Well. isn’t that what we all need?
I changed tactic. I assured her that she does have a future to look forward to, and what we need to do is fight, take action, be heard. She retired to her room and soon after sent me an invitation to sign the Willow Project petition on Change dot org. Out of solidarity with her, but also my own disgust with climate-“on s’enfoutiste” capitalists, I signed. Apparently 3 million others signed. And another petition submitted to Joe Biden’s administration piled on another million names.
Joe Biden signed, too. Unfortunately, he signed for Project Willow to go ahead.
Well, hell. Here was something very very bad happening to the world, my children’s world. TikTok was their chosen medium to raise the alarm, mobilise and be heard. The kids spoke truth to power. Power chose to hear oil lobbyists. As much as I hate TikTok, it facilitated something admirable.
When the oil finally hits the fan in Alaska, as it surely will, it won’t be the kids’ fault.
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99 flavours of English. Can you pick one?
Before starting a major new writing project, I first ask clients: British or American spelling? But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Let me explain.
Your choice of dialect says a lot about your brand in many subtle, and some obvious, ways.
It’s more than a question of colour vs. color. It’s a question of tone and values and the feeling your brand exudes. For example, British English is often associated with elegance, sophistication, and formality while American English is said to breathe confidence, energy, and informality. That said, style is everything and a good writer will turn those stereotypes on their heads, but you get the gist.
So how do you choose? Number one consideration is target market. If you’re mainly doing business in Europe, I recommend UK English. Despite Brexit, geography and history make British English the preferred strain across the region. However, exceptions abound and that’s okay. I had one Paris-based client that switched to American English when it embarked on an ambitious project to go public. It wanted to appear more “global” which, for that CEO, meant more American.
Some brands don’t have a choice; if part of a group, your mother company may impose linguistic constraints. Scanning the internet, you’ll notice many brands haven’t decided either way. Their website is a schizophrenic soup of “-ise” and “-ize” words, which is unsettling for the reader. Worse still, there are brands that have (badly) translated their native language website into “kind of” English. In case you hadn’t noticed, some concepts – and lots of expressions – simply don’t translate.
The fact remains, your brand’s personality is carried by the kind of language you use. And the difference can be great. Think of how Canadian French sounds to the continental French, or Brazilian to Portuguese ears. Different flavours of English can seem just as foreign; they alienate instead of communicate.
Appealing to customers means finetuning your recipe. So the English that’s right for your brand must be carefully blended just for them, whether you’re speaking to fashionistas, doctors, sports fans, shopaholics, car freaks, or small business owners.
The flavour you really don’t want is bad English. So pick carefully... and enjoy!
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True love? Or just great client retention?
When a relationship works, there’s no need to ask. You know. Call it skill or luck, but I have collected lots of loyal clients over 22 years of working for myself.
There’s the luxury brand that tested me for 1 month, then kept renewing for 33 months... and counting.
The animal pharms client who worked with me for 3 years, then called to brief me from a different company – 15 years later.
There’s also the multinational services company: 8 years.
Another luxury brand: 6 years.
Then there are the agencies in London, Paris and Brussels that have kept me busy for 7, 9, even 12 years.
I’m told I am reactive, creative, efficient, and excellent value.
Want my number?
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Which Philip McEvoy do you know?
You probably only know one of me.
Is it Philip McEvoy the copywriter? That’s cool. I’ve built a reputation on cracking tough briefs, beating deadlines, and grabbing awards.
Or do you know Philip McEvoy the translator? Also fine, although “translator” is a tad reductive. I bring French concepts to life in seamless mother-tongue English.
The me-you-may-not-know has done it all from writing killer two-word slogans to gigging as a Creative Director on international accounts.
So whatever help you need today or tomorrow, call me. All of me.
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Can you tell which paragraph was written by a robot?
Para 1. As a copywriter, I confess to being mildly concerned by the rise of the writing bot. Is this the end of the road for us honest hacks? Should we all apply now as Deliveroo drivers?
Para 2. This week, the Guardian reported Nick Cave’s response to the question after a fan sent him an AI-generated song created “in the style of Nick Cave.”
Para 3. The lyrics extruded by ChatGPT were certainly Nick Cave-like, thick with biblical darkness: “I am the sinner, I am the saint / ... I am the devil, I am the saviour.”
Para 4. Cave dismissed the song as “a replication, a kind of burlesque.” He argued that real songs arise from “the complex, internal human struggle of creation.”
Para 5. Which is all very comforting for us puny humans. But does the world of advertising care? Wouldn’t clients be just as happy with cheap and cheerful robocopy that does the job?
Para 6. Maybe. At least for certain kinds of copy. It’s time for a paradigm shift. University admission teams can no longer tell machine-made personal statements from the real thing.
Para 7. In automatic translation, apps have come a long way. But amusingly, the much-lauded DeepL still translates “garçon de café” (waiter) as “coffee boy.”
Para 8. As advertising wrestles with these new realities, quality of results will depend – as ever – on the quality of the brief. Garbage in, garbage out.
Para 9. Which suggests that this potential crisis for copywriters poses an equal threat to those who brief: the countless legions of account executives and product managers.
Para 10. So which paragraph was written by a robot? None. That was my human weakness for a little dishonest clickbait. But fear not. I’m sure the machines will lie to us soon enough.
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