300 Words

I’ve always fancied myself as someone on the precipice of becoming a writer. I’ll admit to the occasional vague, fleeting fantasy of the prestige that comes with being defined by creativity. But until now I hadn't given much thought to what being a writer actually means. This on its own goes a long way in explaining why I am not that now, and probably never will be. But, since I’m on the topic at the moment, let me flesh out what exactly it means to “be” a “writer”.

So first things first: Is there some measurable threshold that could demarcate who is and who is not a writer; a line in the sand that empirically demonstrates success or failure in the realm of communication and creativity for its own sake? Of course not. That’s ridiculous and probably insulting. So naturally I’ll give it my best shot.

The notion of successfully “being” in this context can be measured in any number of ways. I’ll examine three of them: Audience, accolades, and earnings.

Audience

To me, success in terms of audience is regularly being read by more people than I have friends on Facebook. A crude yardstick if ever there were one, but it skirts the chance that my FB friends are nice, and out of sympathy, read whatever garbage I vomit onto a page. In order to assure myself that it isn’t just my mom and wife who read this stuff, we must surpass that threshold.

Accolades

And speaking of my mom and wife, (the more I look at that phrase, the more it seems as though the two could be one. They aren’t, I assure you) they are suspiciously supportive of my pencil drool. So some good, solid, third-party pats on the back are needed to differentiate between irresponsible encouragement and actual kudos.

Earnings

Replacing my current income (had I any) with money paid for writing would be a great indicator of success, if not entirely over-ambitious. In fact, now that I’m married, if our combined income could match what I made while employed – or even half that – I would count it as a success. Come to think of it, if writing brought enough money to buy one sandwich per day I would count myself a winner.

So that covers the “be”. What about that other part – “writer”. What is that?

Technique and content – two elements that must achieve equilibrium before a message can be properly received by its audience. Simple messages require little technique. Think street signs; just be clear and brief. Likewise, complex thought deserves precision, subtlety, and nuance in execution. The writer’s trick is appropriately applying his technique to match his message. But herein lies a very important implication; that the writer writes something worth reading. Otherwise you, the receiver, might be presented with miles and miles of very readable empty space (see above).

And above all else, ignoring the fact that I categorically fail at each of my own metrics for success, and forgetting for the moment that my technique falls somewhere between teratoma and high school freshman, I have nothing to say. Not worth you reading anyhow. And that’s why, I think, I’ll only develop as a hobby writer, rather than as a professional.

So that’s the landscape I find myself in – resigned to the fact that money will be made elsewhere, and writing pushed the margins of my day. It’s not so bad, really. Like I said before, there is no message that will go unheeded as a result. But I still hope to develop my skills, so my nothing to say won’t go entirely unnoticed. As a result, I am challenging myself to write a minimum of 300 words of nothing, per day, no excuses, for one week. I’ll start tomorrow.

Lincoln's Dilemma

Congratulations! You’ve just been handed the keys to the Lincoln Motor Company in last ditch attempt to salvage Ford’s underwhelming luxury brand. What do you do now? You could sell parts and patents to the Chinese for enough money to literally skydive with a golden parachute; but do you really want to be remembered as the guy who finally killed the Town Car?

Ok, bad example.

A business model with an expiration date

For too long Lincoln has simply gussied-up the exceptional work done by their “blue-collar” brothers and sisters in a half-hearted attempt at brand stratification. And while badge-engineering is, to an extent, an accepted practice by manufacturers occupying space across multiple demographics (i.e. economy & luxury makes), it is neither as thinly applied, nor as extensively used as it is between Ford and Lincoln models.

And herein lies the major problem: Lincoln does not have the luxury (pun very much intended) of falling back on the rock-solid reputation of a parent brand in the same way that Acura, Infinity, and Lexus enjoy the near mythic reliability of Honda, Nissan, and Toyota. Admittedly Ford has moved heaven and earth to convince the buying public that theirs is a brand finally worthy of comparison to neo-traditional competitors from Japan and Korea, but this has done little in the way of bolstering their luxury arm.

In fact, the shift in perceived quality at Ford has drained what little value Lincoln held, prompting major differentiation between brands now to be found in the buying experience and service orientation, rather than on a product level. And while these are important elements of a successful luxury brand, they are not enough on their own.

Solving for Lincoln

The first order of business is clarify, if not redefine entirely, the role of the American luxury car in a competitive and globalized businesscape. We must reconcile with the notion that consumers shouldn’t have to sacrifice quality for domestic loyalty, realize the right to build the finest cars in the world, and recognize that heritage and evolution are not mutually exclusive.

This challenge is met through the conception of a halo project – a clarion call of brand values to inform design language and performance ideals – something that excites a new generation of potential Lincoln enthusiasts. Our new flagship will be from the beginning a proof of concept in engineering perfection, not an exercise in mass production, and never to be used as fleet meat. The Lincoln Halo will breathe life into the brand by highlighting strengths in the current portfolio and buy enough time to ready the next generation of product made in the Halo’s image. But this begs two important questions: Who is Lincoln now, and who must Lincoln become?

Well, who we are now is underscored in a Polk survey showing that at 60 years old, ours are the most “distinguished” customers in the industry – three years older on average than Cadillac buyers (the  next closest competitor) and 10 years older than the performance oriented Audi – BMW crowd. So for argument’s brevity’s novelty’s sake let’s split the difference and start getting to know our new target market: At 55 years young, the Lexus buyer becomes a challenging yet highly enticing source of inspiration and income. And the expectations they bring are no less than perfection in terms of reliability, refinement, class, and tech. But builder beware; we must never take the fatal misstep of imitation – as the nature of imitation is limitation in terms of creativity and innovation. So with that in mind, and market share ready to be stolen, our new product portfolio begins to take shape.

And now to address the third and final major challenge to becoming a world-class luxury brand: The buying experience. As your grandfather moved through the ranks at his job, the guy who sold him his first Ford also sold him his first Mercury and then his first Lincoln. And until recently, this was status quo. Now, Ford and Lincoln showrooms have specific employees with specialized training, a step in the right direction. But we need to go one step further and completely decouple the two brands. Separate showrooms, service centers, customer support call centers, and any other touch-points potentially shared between the two families must be different, must feel different, which is imperative for success in brand-conscious China and developing Asia – markets we must find success in to remain competitive on a global scale.

And that’s it! Generate excitement; build to the consumer; and Honor Thy Father but move out of his house. Think you can handle it? We’ll be right here if you’ve got any questions.