(Door creaks open. Mic feedback. A long, uncomfortable pause.)
Let’s talk about the creative’s favorite security blanket. The shield we hide behind when we’re too scared to actually put ourselves out there. It’s called The Mystique.
You know the type. You go to their website, if they even have one, and it’s a headshot of them staring off into the middle distance, holding a cigarette they don’t actually smoke, and it says: “I create immersive, cross-functional, paradigm-shifting narratives for the discerning visionary.”
What the hell does that mean?
Nothing. It means nothing. It’s word salad. But to the creative who wrote it, it feels important. It feels intellectual. They look at that gobbledygook and think, “Yeah. I’m mysterious. I’m a riddle wrapped in an enigma. If you don’t get it, you’re not my client.”
Oh, really? You’re not my client? Or are you just terrified of rejection, so you’re making your job description a secret code so nobody can actually hold you accountable?
The Ego of the Enigma
Here’s the dirty little secret: We equate confusion with intelligence because it makes us feel superior. If I speak in jargon, and you look at me with a slightly tilted head, I get to feel like the genius in the room. I get to feel like I’m operating on a plane of existence you can’t access.
It’s a power move. And it is killing your business.
You aren’t being profound. You are being lazy. You are using the “mysterious artist” trope as a crutch because actually explaining what you do requires vulnerability. It requires you to take a stand. It requires you to say, “I solve this specific problem for this specific person,” and if you say that, you might be wrong. You might pick the wrong niche. You might get rejected.
So instead, you stay vague. You stay safe. You stay broke.
The 5-Second Flick
Let me walk you through the reality of the client’s brain. Because you seem to have forgotten how the modern world works.
I want you to picture a Founder. She’s got a headache. She’s been scrolling for twenty minutes. She needs a brand designer, or a copywriter, or a web developer. She lands on your “About Me” page.
She has the patience of a hummingbird on meth. She gives you five seconds.
She reads: “I create immersive, cross-functional, paradigm-shifting narratives…”
She doesn’t say, “Oh wow, this guy is deep. Let me get my checkbook.”
She says, “What the hell does that mean?” She squints. She sighs. She clicks the back button.
Gone. Forever.
You lost her. Not because your work is bad. Not because you aren’t talented. But because you frustrated her. You made her do mental gymnastics to figure out if you can help her, and she doesn’t have time for mental gymnastics. She has a business to run.
You think you’re intriguing her? You’re annoying her. There’s a difference. Intrigue invites a question. Annoyance invites a door slam. You are standing on her porch mumbling poetry while she’s trying to order a pizza.
The 7-Word Intervention
Alright. We need an intervention. I need you to take that ego, put it in a drawer, and lock it.
We are going to do an exercise. I call it the “Grandma Test,” but since you’re a creative, we’ll call it the “Elevator Pitch,” though I hate that term because it sounds like corporate consulting jargon. But it works.
I want you to describe what you do in seven words or less.
Not fourteen. Not a paragraph. Seven.
- “I turn data into visual stories.”
- “I build brands for vegan startups.”
- “I write websites that sell software.”
- “I photograph food so it looks edible.”
Does that feel reductive? Good. Does it feel like you’re leaving out the “nuance” and the “conceptual depth”? Excellent. That means you’re doing it right.
If you can’t say what you do in seven words, you don’t understand what you do. You are just spinning your wheels. You are masturbating over your own vocabulary. And nobody pays for that.
Your Homework
I’m going to give you an actionable tip. And I know you’re going to want to ignore it because it feels “icky,” but do it anyway.
I want you to write two versions of your bio.
Version One: Write the bullshit one. The one for the Creative Directors. The one with the jargon. The “paradigm-shifting, multi-hyphenate visionary” nonsense. Get it out of your system. Write it down, laugh at it, and put it in a drawer. That’s your ego talking.
Version Two: Write the plain English one. Write the one for the Founder. Write the one for the small business owner who is scared and needs help.
Say: “I design websites that don’t suck and actually make you money.”
Or: “I take complex business ideas and turn them into simple logos.”
Now. Here’s the kicker. Post Version Two. Post the plain English one. Put it on your website. Put it on your LinkedIn.
And then, I want you to watch your inquiry rate. Watch the emails come in from people who say, “Oh, finally, someone who actually makes sense.”
It’s going to hurt your pride a little bit. You’re going to feel like a used car salesman. But you know what feels better than pride? Rent money.
Clarity is kindness. Confusion is cowardice.
Stop hiding behind the smoke and mirrors. Tell people what you do. Tell them who you do it for. And tell them in seven words or less.
I have become really obsessed with the lies we creatives tell ourselves, especially when it comes to marketing. I have heard them all, even said a few of them myself. It is these lies that stop so many creatives marketing effectively. All of these lies require a change in mind-set. We creatives really need to re-think this marketing.
I sat down and collated the most common marketing lies I heard creatives tell themselves. I documented 22 of these common lies, but 21 sounded better in the book title so I conveniently mislaid number 22 and came around to “The 21 Marketing Lies Creatives Tell Themselves”.
It started as a blog post, then it started to grow into a series of blog posts, but the muse was pushing hard so I just ran with it and it became a book.
I don’t just explain these lies, but I deconstruct them and then help change your mindset, and as result we’ll turbo-charge your marketing. Because that’s my goal: help you to build a marketing machine that allows you to spend more time creating, yet continue to market effectively.
The 21 Marketing Lies Creatives Tell Themselves is available at Amazon
Every week I post at least once, giving hints and tips for creatives who want to market more effectively. Pop your email in the box below to stay up to date with all future posts.
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