When to lie (creatively)

It ain’t a sin if you do it right
 
My, my. What a shocking title for this article. “When to lie.” Goes against everything you were ever taught. 
 
And that is precisely the point. 
 
Here at Copel Communications, we’re big fans of creative rule-breaking, and this one is an exemplar. We’ve always said that before you go and attempt to break any well-established rule—whether of, say, composition, grammar, or layout—you’d better know it inside-out first. You need to know why it exists in the first place. And you need to know why this particular instance would warrant your breaking it. 
 
This one is, paradoxically, easier. You don’t really need to be taught why it’s good to be truthful. It’s been pounded into you since childhood.
 
Incidentally, we alternate these articles between our two core audiences: Consultants, and creatives. This one is aimed squarely at the latter. To put a finer point on it: We’re not talking about bludgeoning well-established norms of business ethics. We’re talking about creative ideation. 
 
Lie big
 
Years ago, we attended a workshop led by a prominent local poet. The people in the class were trying to write poetry. They were focusing on images. Rhymes. Structure. The output was decidedly mediocre. 
 
The poet leapt to his feet. “Tell me some lies!” he exhorted. (We can’t remember the poet’s name, unfortunately. But he really inspired this article.) 
 
Naturally, the workshop attendees looked at him askance. What was he asking them to do? 
 
“Tell me some lies,” he repeated. “Don’t say ‘I feel sad.’ Say, ‘My heart is screaming its lungs out in pain!’!” 
 
It was an aha moment for the class. The attendees—hardly poet laureates, any of them—were transformed. The output was infinitely better, more creative, more inspired. They were, to use the poet’s word, lying.
 
There are other words for this. Like “exaggeration.” Or “synesthesia.” You know some familiar examples: A “loud color.” A “busy composition.” Literally, they make no sense. But in context, they make more than sense. They convey something that the usual, threadbare descriptors can’t: a dynamic tension, an inner conflict that forces your brain to instantly meld two disparate concepts into a single mental sensation. It’s quite powerful. 
 
Knowing this, it opens entire avenues of creative output. Indeed, the more audacious the “lie,” the bigger the effect. 
 
Where (and when) to lie (creatively)
 
You won’t be surprised that this technique (if we can call it that) accounts for the underpinnings of many jokes and other types of humor. We recently wrote an ad for a compact wallet, and bragged that it could hold “up to $1.5 million... in large bills.” The client won’t get sued for running the ad; it’s clearly a joke. Years ago, we were tasked with writing a Top Ten-style radio spot for a car dealership, and one of the Top Ten signs you were at a lesser dealership was “After promising to throw in carpeted floor mats, your salesman’s toupée goes mysteriously missing.” It’s a lie. It’s ridiculous. It’s a joke. 
 
This type of creative fabrication is hardly limited to copy. Think of just about any classic movie poster, for practically any genre, and you’ll see it at work. (Would James Bond truly survive that?) It can also act as a tension de-fuser in a meeting: We recently told a client who was anxious for a written price quote (for something basic, like a blog or a press release) that it would only be about $7 million, and not the “usual” $9 million. The statement was so absurd that it caught the client off-guard. It also made the price of the actual bid (affordable!) look even better (cheap!) when it arrived on their desk. 
 
The important thing about creative “lying” is knowing when to use it... or, more appropriately, not forgetting that you can. It’s an easy tool in your kit, but you must remember that it’s there. When you’re working on a creative assignment, you can always at least try it. If you don’t like the results, then scrap that iteration, and proceed... truthfully. 
 
Need help with that next creative assignment? Contact us today. We’ll give you an honest assessment of our ability to lie, creatively, for you. No kidding. 

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